The Chain of Destiny (16 page)

The weather had shown little improvement since the previous day and there was little traffic; the professor drove fast, slowing down to go through Marlborough and then turning on to a side road which led them through the centre of the forest, until the trees thinned and they reached Great Chisbourne, a small village with
the forest at its back and rolling country beyond. The main street was wide and lined with nice old houses, and at its end the professor turned the car through an open gateway and stopped before the house at the end of the short drive.

It was of a comfortable size, of mellow red brick, and with an ancient slate roof which rose in a series of irregular gables, interspersed with tall, elaborate chimneys. It stood in large grounds with trees grouped behind it and a grass lawn before it, ringed around with flower-beds; even on such a dull day, it looked charming.

Suzannah went with the professor to his front door, which was opened as they reached it by a small dumpling of a woman with white hair and black beady eyes. He greeted her with a hug and a kiss and turned to Suzannah.

‘This is Trudy, my old nanny; she lives here and looks after me when I come here.'

Suzannah shook hands, conscious that she was being studied closely, but not, she thought, unkindly.

‘There's coffee waiting,' said Trudy. ‘I'll show you where you can put your coat, Miss Lightfoot, and you, Mr Guy, be sure and hang yours up in the closet.'

Suzannah was borne away and shown a well-appointed cloakroom at the back of the hall, and presently returned to find the professor lounging on the gilt and marble table standing against one wall of the hall, his hands in his pockets, whistling. The hall was warm and welcoming and had wood-panelled walls and a polished floor with thick Turkish carpet down its centre. There were high-backed, rush-seated chairs on either side of the table, which held a great bowl of hyacinths, and wall-sconces with mulberry silk shades. A pleasing
sight, although it was the sight of the professor which pleased her most.

The room which they went into was long, reaching from the front of the house to the back, with a low-beamed ceiling, a huge fireplace and bay windows at each end. The floor was as highly polished as the hall and strewn with silky rugs in faded jewel colours, which were reflected in the swathed curtains at the windows. The furniture was a pleasing blend of comfortable armchairs and sofas and much polished dark oak. There were wall sconces here too, capped in ivory silk, and some splendid paintings in elaborate gilt frames, mostly portraits Suzannah hoped that she might have the chance later of inspecting them.

They sat by the log fire and drank their coffee, the dog between them, and once again the professor didn't allow the conversation to stray from general topics. Perhaps that was just as well, reflected Suzannah, for otherwise she might find herself saying more than she meant. But even so she was enjoying herself; she was discovering that when the professor was there nothing else seemed to matter; the fact that she had no money, no clothes and a hazardous future seemed unimportant. She decided, as she sat there, that she would enjoy every minute of the day and never mind anything else.

Presently he fetched their drinks from the Jacobean oak court cupboard before, at Trudy's invitation they crossed the hall to have their lunch. The dining-room was furnished in the Stuart style, with a long side-table, its burr-walnut inlaid with floral marquetry, the chairs around the table elegant William and Mary. There were long crimson curtains at the windows and above the fireplace was a wooden carving of fruit and flowers. Suzannah paused to look at it. ‘That looks like Grinling Gibbons,' she ventured.

‘Well, I hope so, since he carved it.' He smiled at her. ‘Come and sit down and let us see what Trudy has got for us.'

Trudy, besides being a nanny, was an exceptional cook; no frills, no
nouvelle cuisine
, but little cheese soufflés for starters, followed by steak and kidney pudding, properly made with oysters and mushrooms and accompanied by boiled potatoes and sprouts, and for a pudding a bread and butter pudding which qualified as ambrosia.

‘I dare say you come here as often as you can,' observed Suzannah, as she poured their coffee.

The professor had watched her tucking in to the good food with hidden delight. ‘Indeed, yes. When I marry I shall make a point of coming here each weekend; this is, after all, my home, and I should like my children to grow up here.'

She was just a little bit muzzy from the sherry and the wine. ‘You are going to marry, Professor?'

‘Certainly. Would you like to see the gardens before it becomes too dark?'

And if that wasn't a snub, she reflected, what was?

She got her coat and they went through a door at the back of the hall, into a glassed-in patio which in turn led to the gardens beyond. Even in mid-winter they were a delight: narrow paths bordered by shrubs and trees, a gazebo at the end of a long walk edged with flower-beds which in the summer would be a blaze of colour.

‘You like it?' asked the professor.

‘It's heaven,' declared Suzannah. ‘I don't know how you can bear to be away from it.'

‘I am able to come for most weekends,' he pointed out. ‘We aren't far from the motorway, you know, it's a quick run up to town.'

She was dying to ask him if he would drive up to town each day—surely not?—or live in London during the week and rejoin his family at weekends. He must have read her mind, for he said idly, ‘Of course, my wife and children would have to divide their time between London and here…'

‘Yes, but when they start going to school,' she pointed out seriously.

‘Ah, then I should have to commute.' He smiled at her. ‘There's a charming little pond at the end of the garden; shall we have a look at it?'

He wasn't going to allow her to see into his private life. She went rather red at the idea of prying into it. She said briefly, ‘I'd like to see it. How big is your garden?'

‘About four acres—there's a kitchen garden and a small orchard beyond.' He took her arm. ‘There's a paddock, too. There are a couple of worn-out donkeys there; no one wanted them, so they live out their elderly lives here…'

‘Oh, how nice. Will they do for the children when you have them?'

‘Admirably. You are not bored with my aunts, Suzannah?'

‘Bored? Goodness, no. It's heaven, not having anything to bother one, you know. But now I have some money I shall go into Marlborough and get the papers and find work.'

He came to a halt, and still he was holding her arm, so she stopped too. ‘Ah, yes, I was wondering if you could see your way to staying at Ramsbourne House for a little longer; I believe that I know of something which might suit you.'

The last thing she wanted. Especially if it were to be near his home. She must get away at all costs. She said, ‘I really had made up my mind to go right away from here.'

‘Why?'

She went rather pale. ‘Well…it would make a nice change.'

‘You have a reason,' his voice was very even, ‘but you don't want to tell me, do you, Suzannah?'

‘No. No, I don't, if you don't mind.'

He nodded and started to walk on again. ‘Shall we go and take a look at the donkeys?'

‘Yes, please. Who looks after them when you're not here?'

‘Trudy's nephew. She was born and brought up in the village, and most of her family have looked after us. She never married, but she has three sisters and any number of nephews and nieces; they run my home between them.'

He opened a wicket gate at the end of the path and entered the paddock. There was a large shed at its farther end, and along one outside edge was a high brick wall, crowned with tiles. He nodded towards this. ‘The kitchen garden is on the other side; that leads to the back yard and the garages. That roof you can see is the barn; we'll take a look at it presently.'

The donkeys were in the shed, standing contentedly side by side. They were elderly but well cared for, and ambled over to meet them as they went in. The professor reached up to a wooden box on a ledge above his head and pulled out a handful of carrots. ‘This one's Joe—the one who is eating your carrots is Josephine.'

They stayed a little while with the gentle beasts, and then crossed the paddock and went through a narrow wooden door into the kitchen garden, walled and sheltered, with peach and pear and nectarine trees against the red brick. There was a greenhouse, too, with a vine wreathed around its walls. ‘Been there for ages, long
before my time,' observed the professor. ‘We get good grapes from it.'

The garden was a model of orderliness, with rows of cauliflowers and winter cabbage, leeks and Brussels sprouts and, under cloches along one wall, neat rows of seedlings. The professor took his time looking at everything which rather surprised Suzannah; it seemed to her that he had enough on his hands, operating and presiding over out-patients and checking on his patients in the wards. She asked, ‘Don't you get tired? I mean, you have a busy week at the hospital, I expect, and then you come down here…'

‘Ah, but you see, this is my real life. I love my work, but I believe that I am a country man at heart. I count myself very fortunate that I have the best of both worlds.'

They wandered out of the kitchen garden and into the yard behind the house, and he inspected the barn roof and then took her back into the house through the back door.

It was getting dark already; there were lights into the stone passage which led to the hall. He took her coat and Trudy came from the kitchen with the tea tray.

‘Muffins, Mr Guy,' she told him as she went past, ‘and a nice chocolate cake I made this morning, seeing that you were coming. There's sandwiches with Gentleman's Relish, and some nice thin bread and butter.'

Suzannah, sitting by the fire again, could think of no way better to spend a winter's afternoon than by a blazing fire, eating muffins and listening to the professor talking about nothing in particular.

She sat, looking into the flames and wishing she could stay forever, envying from the bottom of her heart the girl she thought he was going to marry. She took a
quick peep at him, sitting there, his long legs stretched out before him, the dog with his head at his master's feet. In the firelight he was better-looking than ever. She remembered the first time she had met him and his cold stare… He looked up and the stare wasn't cold now; indeed, it caused her to frown a little, so that he said casually, ‘I suppose we must think about going back to the aunts. They expect us for dinner.'

She got up with the vague feeling that he had been going to say something else and then changed his mind. ‘I've had a lovely day; thank you very much for inviting me.'

He went unhurriedly to the door and held it open. ‘I shall be coming down again very shortly: I promised Phoebe that I would take a look at Sir William; she seemed rather worried about him. She asked after you, by the way.'

Suzannah was surprised. ‘Did she?' She sought for something suitable to say. ‘That was very kind of her.'

‘Possibly,' said the professor, and followed her into the hall.

He left Ramsbourne House very shortly after dinner that evening. He had wished his aunts goodbye and then invited Suzannah to see him out of the house. She went with him, thinking that perhaps she wouldn't see him again, for she fully intended to be away before he came again. At the door he turned her round to face him, his hands on her shoulders.

‘Next time I come we will settle your future, once and for all. No more jobs which lead nowhere—something permanent.'

He bent and kissed her hard, and was gone before she could utter a sound.

His kiss shook her badly, so that she didn't remember
his words until some time in the middle of the night. Something permanent, he had said, but perhaps it would be somewhere she would see him, and that was something she was determined not to do, not even if it was only on rare occasions. He had mentioned training as a nurse and probably he had spoken to someone at his own hospital where his word was taken heed of, and that wouldn't do at all. ‘I must make a clean break,' she told a drowsy Horace, and then lay awake until it was getting light, wondering how best to do it.

She had had an almost sleepless night for nothing, for fate had taken a hand again. It was the following afternoon while the old ladies were taking their post-prandial nap that Suzannah was sitting in the drawing-room writing out an advert to put in
The Lady
magazine and another one for the local weekly paper, made possible by fifty pounds in the envelope Snow had handed her that morning with the murmured observation that the professor had asked him to let Suzannah have it when she came downstairs. There was a scrawled note with the money, begging her to accept it, ‘just to tide you over; you can repay me later.'

She had been reluctant to accept it, but with money she could do so much more, not only advertise but travel to interviews should they be forthcoming.

She was making a fair copy when Snow came soft-footed into the room. ‘Miss Davinish has called, miss. She would like to see you; I told her that the ladies were resting, but she said she had come to see you.'

‘Me?' Suzannah jumped up in surprise. Perhaps Miss Davinish wanted her back—perhaps the cottage was vacant again and she could go there to live, only she couldn't: it was too near the professor's home…' Thank you, Snow; would you ask her to come in? Lady Manbrook wouldn't mind?'

‘Certainly not, miss. She is acquainted with Miss Davinish.'

Phoebe Davinish came into the room with an air of being entirely at home there. She stood for a moment just inside the door, studying Suzannah, who was standing uncertainly by the table. She said, ‘Hello. I'm on my way home and it seemed a good opportunity to see you.' She sat down and undid her fur coat. ‘I dare say you're wondering why I've called to see you?'