The Noble Doctor

by Gill Sanderson

  THE NOBLE DOCTOR

  GILL SANDERSON

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  It didn't seem a year since Jenny's wedding, Midwife Lucy Stephens thought. She looked at the carefully framed photograph on her wall. In the middle her friend Jenny, gorgeous in her long white dress and sitting in her wheelchair. Lucy and her friend Maria, both bridesmaids, stood on either side of Jenny. And now Maria had found her man and had married wonderful Tom. Jenny had been a bridesmaid again.

  Always a bridesmaid, never the bride! Who cared?

  She remembered the conversation she'd had with the Reverend Madeleine Hall. Lucy had just caught the bouquet that the bride had thrown. In fact, she'd caught half a bouquet. The great arrangement of maroon and lemon roses had been designed so that it would split in half. And the bridesmaids had caught a half each. 'You caught it, now you're supposed to get married,' Madeleine had said.

  'Maria can go before me,' Lucy had said. And Maria had married first.

  Lucy grinned. She wasn't worried, there was plenty of time. Life was good at the moment. She loved the city she lived in, she was enjoying her work as a midwife and learning more every day. She had a big family to support her, many friends and a full social life. Yes, life was good.

  A one-year wedding anniversary present had to be paper. Lucy carefully wrapped the pack of expensive writing paper she had bought and taped a card to the side of the pack. Now she could get ready.

  It wasn't exactly a party. But Mike Donovan, Jenny's husband, had invited a few old friends and a few people from the department to a drink at the Red Lion. Just to celebrate one good year.

  What to wear? Lucy opened her wardrobe, pursed her lips. It was only a casual drink but, still, a girl liked to look her best. The white sundress with the small silver pattern or light-coloured trousers and a darker vest top? Both would show off her summer tan. Then a few minutes on her hair and just a touch of make-up and— Her phone rang. Just when she had decisions to make. Slightly put out, Lucy reached for the receiver

  'Hi, sweetheart,' a confident, male voice said. 'Change of plan. I'll pick you up at your place and we'll walk over to the party together. I may be a bit late, so you'll have to wait for me.'

  Simon Day. The junior registrar she'd seen something of during the past few weeks.

  'I can walk there myself. We'll meet there as we arranged.' Her voice was cool. Confidence was a good thing for a doctor but you could have too much of it.

  Simon didn't notice her lack of enthusiasm. 'I've got news for you,' he said. 'Well, really news for both of us. I've landed that job in America, working in Chicago. A great career move.'

  She was pleased for him; he'd talked of nothing else for weeks. 'Simon, I'm so glad. When do you start?'

  'In a couple of months. And there's something else. They say they're short of midwives at the moment. You can come with me; we'll go as a couple. We could make an announcement tonight.'

  'An announcement?'

  'You know.' His voice was impatient. 'About us.'

  Lucy blinked. What was this? A proposal? On the phone? Typical Simon. And it came to her with sudden and absolute clarity. Not only did she not want to go to America with Simon, she also didn't really want to see much more of him. He took too much on himself.

  Still, she didn't want to be unkind. Gently, she said, 'Simon, I don't want to go to America. I love it here, with the work and my friends and my family. I'm a home girl. And about us going as a couple—we're friends but we aren't a couple.'

  His voice grew irritated, as it always did when he couldn’t get his own way. 'Of course we're a couple. Everyone knows that.'

  'If they know that we're a couple, it's because you've told them so. Whatever there might be between us, Simon, it's only just beginning.'

  They had been for drinks together, gone to a concert, but that was all. He had walked her home a few times, kissed her outside the hospital accommodation. It had all been quite pleasant but...

  'Is this an argument or is it an ending? Lucy, I won't be messed about.' Now Simon was seriously annoyed.

  Lucy tried to be patient. 'It isn't an argument and it certainly isn't an ending, because nothing has really begun. Simon, I don't want to go to America with you but I'm sure you'll find someone who will.'

  'If that's the way you feel.' Simon rang off. She wondered if she ought to feel guilty, then decided not. So Simon was not for her. But, then, who was? Over the past year she'd been out with perhaps half a dozen men on casual dates. None had really attracted her. Simon had been the best of them—but now that was over she realised that she wasn't too bothered. Perhaps she was too choosy, her standards too high? She decided not. Jenny and Maria had both done well. Somewhere there would be a man for her, and when she met him it would be obvious. Or she'd remain happily single.

  Now, what had she been thinking before Simon had phoned? What to wear? It was an informal party. She'd wear the comfortable trousers and vest top.

  It was a warm summer evening. Jenny's little party had spilled out of the Red Lion and was sitting on benches in the garden. Lucy kissed her friend and her husband, gave them their present and accepted a glass of white wine. Then she sat on the nearest bench and talked to whoever was passing. She was among friends, she loved this.

  'Lucy, good to see you!'

  Lucy squinted upwards. All she could see was two figures outlined by the setting sun. One was obviously John Bennet, the Obs and Gynie consultant, she recognised the voice. The other was just an outline.

  'Hi, John, welcome to the party.'

  John moved to one side so she could see him more clearly. 'Before I join the festivities, I've got to have a quick business talk with our celebrating couple,' he said. 'So you can do me a favour. This is Marc Duvallier, he's to be one of our new SHOs. Could you look after him for a moment? Marc, this is Lucy Stephens, just one of the superb midwives that really run the department. See you in a while.' And John was gone.

  Lucy felt her hand taken, shaken gently. 'I am most pleased to meet you, Midwife Lucy Stephens,' a voice said. 'May I sit next to you?'

  Their eyes locked for a second, a minute, an hour— who knew? Then silently Lucy indicated that there was a place next to her on the bench. She wondered what was happening to her. She couldn't have spoken if she had tried. Marc Duvallier sat by her. The cheerful hum of conversations round about suddenly seemed distant; there was only herself and this man in a tiny bubble world of their own. She was bewildered, but she knew that her life would never be quite the same again.

  All after meeting one man for just one minute?

  He obviously wasn't English but he spoke the language perfectly, his voice low, almost husky. But there was a touch of something different about it. Lucy suspected that he was French. It was an attractive voice; it had a caressing feel to it, as if the speaker wanted you to be his friend—or even lover. She felt she wanted to sit by this man and just listen. Or just listen and look, because he was the most astounding man she had ever... She caught herself, tried to drag herself back into the real world. He was just a very attractive man with a deep voice. She would probably have to work with him. They'd get to know each other and—

  'I'm afraid I am a gatecrasher to the party,' Marc said. 'I am not due to start work for another week but I came to introduce myself. And Mr Bennet told me that this was a small celebration, that I should meet many of the people I would be working with. Please, what ar
e we celebrating?'

  A direct question. Now she'd have to talk. Somehow Lucy collected her whirling thoughts and forced herself to speak.

  It was a long story to tell. Lucy thought she'd have to cut it short. 'It was so romantic, I cried because I was so happy. That man over there, Mike Donovan, it's a year since he married my friend Jenny. She's the woman who is holding his hand. She got married in a wheelchair the morning before having an operation on her spine, which would decide whether she'd ever walk again. She said that she didn't want to think about getting married until they both knew the result of the operation. Mike wanted to get married before the operation—to show he didn't care what the result was. So we arranged a surprise ceremony. Mike just turned up, told her she was getting married and she had to go along with it. That was exactly a year ago. And now she couldn't be happier. Isn't that wonderful?'

  'A truly romantic story. And, I see, a romantic story with a happy ending. That is not always the case. Now, I see you have finished your drink. May I fetch you another and then perhaps we can talk about romance a little more?'

  He smiled at her, showing that this was a joke—but Lucy still felt dizzy.

  'No, you're the guest here... Marc. I'll go to get us both something.'

  He shook his head. 'We have met for the first time. I will buy your wine, that is proper. I will be only a moment.'

  He took her assent for granted she noticed, but she didn't feel as angry as she had when Simon had tried to make decisions for her earlier. Somehow, with Marc, it was different.

  She watched him stride through the cheerful crowds of her friends, rather glad of the respite. She needed a minute to pull herself together, to work out what was happening to her. This was ridiculous!

  She was twenty-five, a mature, trained, experienced midwife. Without being arrogant, she knew that she was attractive—well, enough men had told her so. She liked the company of men, had had men friends before and she felt at home in their company. One or two men she had seriously thought she might in time come to love.

  But never had she felt the sudden rush of electric attraction that she had felt for Marc Duvallier. She felt a moment of panic. How was she going to cope with this entirely new emotion? It wasn't just that he was the most attractive man she had ever met. When for that first moment they had gazed into each other's eyes she had felt an instant kinship. It sounded foolish but it was as if they had been made for each other, that they had been waiting for this moment all their lives. Or was that just what she felt? How could she be sure that he felt the same way? Lucy moaned quietly to herself. She didn't know. He could even be married!

  This was madness!

  He was walking back towards her now, followed by a waiter carrying a tray with a silver bucket and two glasses. He did not go unnoticed, Lucy saw several admiring glances and guessed that when he came back to talk to her it would not be long before they were interrupted. Well, that was both a good thing and a bad thing. She needed to get her breath, to make sense of what was happening. And she couldn't do it in his presence.

  Perhaps thirty seconds before he greeted her again. She took a great breath, expelled it slowly. She would be calm. Friendly but calm. Even if it killed her.

  She watched him approach and tried to be detached. She looked at him and tried to weigh him up as though he were just another colleague. He was dressed formally in a dark suit and white shirt, with some kind of club or medical tie. Entirely proper dress to meet his new colleagues. He hadn't known he'd be coming to a party. Lucy didn't know too much about men's clothes but these clothes looked expensive.

  But that wasn't it. Clothes didn't make the man. She knew a couple of consultants who dressed equally expensively—and they made no impression on her at all. This man dressed well, as if it was his right. She thought to herself that he would look good even if he was dressed in scrubs.

  His hair was dark, and fairly long. In an essentially masculine way, he was good-looking. He had a lean face, high cheekbones, a mouth, she suspected, that could turn instantly from its present amiable sensuality to thin-lipped anger. His eyes were the darkest grey, and when she looked into them she felt that he could know at once what she was thinking.

  These days it was not in her nature to be overwhelmed by a man. It was not in her nature to be overwhelmed by anyone or anything. But she had to admit—Marc Duvallier was overwhelming. She wasn't sure if she liked that.

  He arrived at their table, smiled at her and she decided that, yes, she did like him being overwhelming.

  She watched as the waiter took a bottle of white wine from the silver bucket, expertly uncorked it then poured a little into one of the glasses. Marc sipped the wine and nodded to the waiter. 'That is fine, thank you.' The waiter half filled the two glasses, then left.

  Marc turned to Lucy and said, 'I hope you don't mind but I bought a bottle of wine,' he said. 'It's a Sancerre, I'm very fond of it. The wine from behind the bar was... all right, but I thought that perhaps since this is a special day it ought to be marked by a special wine.'

  'Why is this a special day?' Lucy croaked. What if he said, 'Because I've met you'?

  But he didn't say that—well, not exactly. Instead he said, 'I am meeting the people who I will work with for the next year or so. Colleagues and perhaps, in time, friends. For me it will be a time of discovery and perhaps adventure. May I offer you a glass of wine?'

  She took the glass and tasted the wine. It was easy to tell that this was different from the cheerful plonk that she usually drank. 'To your future here,' she said, touching her glass to his.

  'To our future here,' he corrected. For a moment they were both silent. Lucy wondered if he was thinking the same as she was. That it would be more than nice if they had a future.

  It struck her that she was as silent as a tongue-tied schoolgirl and that wasn't like her at all. She had to say something. 'You're not English, are you?' she asked. 'Though you speak it perfectly.'

  'I come from the south-east of France,' he said. 'But I spent much of my schooldays in England. My mother sent me here. And then eventually I decided to study medicine here.'

  That voice! What it could do to her! It was like being stroked by the softest of fur.

  'So you'll finish up working in England?'

  He frowned. 'No, I am needed at home, in France. I'm looking forward to going back.'

  Lucy wondered when he said that. He didn't seem to say it with much conviction.

  'Aren't you a bit old for an SHO?' She knew that this was rather personal but she needed to know about him.

  He didn't seem to mind the question. 'I am indeed. But in the middle of my course I had to drop out to work with my family for three years. I like to think that the experience of real life has made me a better doctor.'

  'You see enough real life in hospital. Soon you'll—'

  'A bottle of wine? I see you're doing a good job of looking after Marc,' a cheerful voice said, 'but I'm afraid I've got to steal him now. He has other people to meet.'

  Startled, Lucy looked up. There was John Bennet, and with him were Mike and Jenny. What did they want?

  'I'm afraid that I've been monopolising Lucy here,' Marc said as he stood. 'But I look forward to meeting the rest of my new colleagues. Lucy, we will meet again quite soon.'

  'I hope so,' she said. 'Marc, your wine...'

  'Please, drink what you wish yourself, share the rest with your friends,' he said. 'Perhaps I'll see you before you go. I do hope so.'

  Then, urged by John, he was gone, Mike by his side. Jenny came to sit next to Lucy.

  'Since it's been offered, I'll taste that wine,' Jenny said, producing her own glass. 'What do you think of our new SHO? Easy to tell that he's French, isn't it?'

  'Very easy,' Lucy said. And then, as casually as she could make it, she asked, 'What do you know about him? Is he married or anything?'

  Jenny shrugged. 'I don't know but I don't think so. He's getting one of those hospital doctor's flats, and they're only supposed
to be for one person. You could always ask him.'

  'I couldn't! He might think that I... that I wanted to know because I was interested and...' She stopped, unable to continue.

  'But you are interested,' Jenny pointed out. 'With looks like that, a girl would have to be mad not to be interested. Besides, I know you, Lucy. I can tell what you're feeling.'

  'Perhaps I am a bit interested,' Lucy mumbled. 'But I've only just met the man. He just seems pleasant and I like his voice and... Nice wine, isn't it?'

  'It's wonderful wine,' Jenny agreed, 'and, yes, if you want we can change the subject.'

  Lucy tried to rally her confused thoughts. 'I'm not sure what I'm thinking,' she said. 'But tell me what's it feels like to be an old married woman. I can't believe it's a year.'

  Jenny stretched out her arms and smiled. 'Being married is better than I could have dreamed,' she said. 'It's wonderful. Find the right man and you'll be happier than you thought possible.'

  'So it's just a question of finding the right man? Hmm. I'll remember that. Is finding the right man easy?'

  'You'll know it when it happens.'

  Jenny looked up across the lawn at the happily mingling crowd of her friends and then said, 'Finding the right man. Is this one a possibility? I've seen you together.'

  Lucy looked up and sighed. Walking towards them, glass in hand and with a determined expression on his face, was Simon Day.

  'Simon is not the right man,' she said. 'I'll just have to convince him of it. You won't see us together again.'

  And then Simon was in front of them. 'Jenny, congratulations on a year's marriage,' he said. 'It's good to see you so happy.'

  'Thank you, Simon. I'm happy because I'm with my friends.'

  Simon obviously felt he had now done all that was necessary to be courteous. He said, 'This is a bit important, Jenny. I wonder if you'd mind leaving Lucy and me alone for a minute.'

  Expressionless, Jenny looked at Lucy. Lucy nodded slightly. 'I'll go, then,' Jenny said, 'Lucy, we still have more talking to do.'

  'This won't take long,' Lucy said, and watched as her friend walked away.