The Silent Valley

by Jean S. MacLeod

  Jane squared her shoulders.

  'Private nursing, I suppose. I've no doubt that Matron will give me a suitable reference.'

  Hazel was disturbed. She showed it during the meal and afterwards when she insisted on putting Linda to bed right away so that Jane could talk matters over with Tom.

  There didn't seem to be a great deal to talk about, however. Jane carried the dishes into the kitchen and ran the water and Tom stood watching her gloomily.

  'You could, of course, marry me,' he suggested tentatively. 'Does this make a difference, Jane?'

  'I'd be a strange sort of person if it did, marrying you on the rebound from a disappointment over my career,' she said.

  'I suppose that's reserved for love—the rebound, I mean?' He came over to stand beside her. 'Change your mind, Janey, there's a good girl! I can't give you the earth—I may never be able to do that—but at least we could get along together.'

  For an instant she wondered if that might be the solution to all her problems, and then she shook her head.

  'It wouldn't work, Tom. You're only at the beginning of your career.'

  He laughed roughly, turning her to face him.

  'That sounded just like Matron! "A doctor has to look to the future. He has to think carefully about his career!" You don't really believe that, Janey?' he protested. 'You know that love counts.'

  'Yes,' she whispered. 'I wasn't trying to deny that.'

  The front door bell rang as she went back into the dining-room, but Hazel was coming downstairs with Linda's empty beaker in her hand, so Jane let her answer it, deciding that it must be Eric.

  A second or two later Hazel put a rather flushed face round the dining-room door to say:

  'There's someone to see you, Jane. I think it's Doctor Hemmingway.'

  The colour rushed to Jane's cheeks and every pulse in her body seemed to be throbbing convulsively. Tom said coldly:

  'I'd better make myself scarce, I suppose. It's not every day one is honoured by a visit from a famous surgeon. Be careful of that armoured heart of yours, Janey! These brilliant men are generally the ruthless type when it comes to getting what they want.'

  A slightly bewildered Hazel saw him to the door. Perhaps I've done the wrong thing, she thought, but I think Jane knew Doctor Hemmingway years ago. Yes, I'm sure she did, and I think she liked him! Hazel wasn't very sure whether her sister liked Doctor Sark or not.

  Jane found Stuart standing on the sitting-room hearthrug, much as Tom had stood only a few minutes before in the room across the hall—the more homely room! There was nothing unconventional about Stuart's attitude, nothing of easy familiarity. He looked restrained and very much as if he had come on business.

  'I'm sorry to butt in like this,' he said. 'I saw young Sark's car at your gate, but I'd like to have your answer to a proposal I have to make right away. I may not have time to come back again.'

  The sound of Tom's car pulling away from the gate filled the silence.

  'Doctor Sark is on duty at seven,' Jane said almost stiffly. 'He does the last round with Matron.'

  Strange, she thought, that she had no connection with Conyers now. After tomorrow,, she was a free agent, the future her own to do with as she pleased. The irony of the thought made her smile.

  'I've heard that you are leaving Conyers,' Stuart said briefly. 'Are you going anywhere else?'

  He was watching her closely and she lowered her eyes as she answered him.

  'Not at the moment. My sister is being married shortly. I shall settle up here before taking another job.'

  'Jane,' he said unexpectedly, 'would any other job be quite the same?'

  The question hit below the belt and a lump rose into her throat, but she managed to crush emotion down as she faced him determinedly.

  'I shall have to earn my living,' she told him. 'Apparently I'm not cut out for theatre work.'

  Once again she was conscious of that brief, searching look.

  'But you are a nurse,' he said. 'Which takes me back to the object of my visit. In the course of the next few weeks a—patient of mine is going to Switzerland.'

  'Della!' Jane thought, her eyes flying straight to his.

  'I'm particularly interested in this case,' he said deliberately. 'Nothing must stand in the way of a complete recovery. I can't pretend that it will be an easy task superintending Della's daily life. She's wilful and she has always had her own way. There is, too, the complication that you are practically of an age, but I feel that it would simplify matters all round if you would agree to go.'

  She drew a deep breath.

  'You're offering me a job,' she said. 'Have you heard why I'm leaving Conyers?'

  His mouth tightened perceptibly and she saw a glint like anger in his grey eyes.

  'That doesn't come into the question,' he said. 'I'm offering you another kind of job.'

  'Because you're sorry for me, Stuart!' she flashed. 'You needn't be, you know.'

  She could have bitten out her tongue immediately she had uttered the foolish challenge because it had pulled their relationship down to the personal, which she felt he had been trying to avoid.

  'On the contrary,' he said slowly, 'this was Della's idea. It had absolutely nothing to do with me.'

  Absolutely nothing! She should have know that. Pity hadn't touched him. Nothing could touch him. His answer had shut a door in her face. Humiliated, she tried to laugh.

  'It's too fantastic,' she said unsteadily. 'Besides, I have no training for that kind of work.'

  'Specialised training wouldn't be necessary.' She felt even then the determination behind his words which would eventually carry the day. 'Your ordinary experience would be all you need. Della would be under expert supervision from the clinic.' He produced a long silver cigarette case inlaid with gold which slid open on the pressure of his thumb. 'I've been trying to persuade her to go to Zurich for some time,' he continued, 'and she has agreed on condition that I will not force her into a sanatorium and let her take a nurse-companion of her own choosing.'

  He passed the silver case, but Jane shook her head, grappling with the full significance of what he was offering. As he lit his own cigarette she said slowly:

  'How long would we be away?'

  He shrugged.

  'Six months—a year, perhaps. It would depend upon Della's progress. The point is that she must go now, before the winter sets in here in earnest. She mustn't be allowed to face a succession of damp November days.'

  He stood quite still, waiting for her answer, and quite suddenly she knew that he was willing her to accept this strange proposition. He had made it quite plain, of course, that it was Della Cortonwell's offer, that he had no part in it, but she wondered forlornly if he preferred it this way, if there had been some measure of strain for him, too, working under the same roof at Conyers.

  Yet, Conyers lay behind her. Twenty times a day she had to remind herself of the fact. Assuredly Stuart wanted to forget the past, so might this not be the easiest way, to put the best part of a continent between them?

  'I've mentioned you to Sir Gervaise Cortonwell, and so has Della. She left Conyers this afternoon, by the way.' His tone held disapproval and anxiety, Jane thought painfully. 'Quite frankly, the nursing home environment irked her.'

  'I guessed that,' Jane said. 'She's sensitive about her present condition, though she tries to hide it. It's quite easy to understand when she has always been such an active person. There's bound to be some revolt, especially when she sees—the things she cares about passing beyond her grasp.'

  He looked up, meeting her eyes, and she saw that his own were intent and steely with purpose.

  'They mustn't elude her,' he said briefly. 'She must come to lead a full and happy life again. It can be done, and I mean to spare nothing to achieve that end.'

  The hint of ruthlessness in his voice brought back Tom Sark's cynical warning, and she found herself wondering just how much he would be prepared to sacrifice for Della's future happiness.


  'What about your family?' he asked, taking it for granted that she would accept. 'I always thought you had a keen sense of family, Jane. You don't mind leaving England?'

  'No,' she said, 'that wouldn't matter now.'

  He said musingly:

  'It mattered at one time, but that was years ago.' Every coldly detached syllable cut deep, as they were meant to do. 'Do I take it that you have made up your mind, or are there still—considerations that will keep you in England?'

  She met his cynical smile with a sudden proud lift of her head.

  'Why shouldn't I take this job?' she said, her forced indifference as effective as his had been. 'Matron will give me a reference, I dare say, and Sir Gervaise will pay me well. I've never been abroad before. It will be a wonderful experience.'

  He looked at her keenly.

  'And you have no regrets?'

  'None whatever!'

  He stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette and stood up to face her.

  'It looks like a clean sweep, Jane,' he said. 'I confess that I think you've done the right thing.'

  Probably he meant about Conyers, and she wondered what Matron had told him, but she knew that he would not discuss her dismissal now. He had offered her this job and she had accepted it, and there the matter would end. When she set out for Switzerland with Della Cortonwell she would never see him again, or, at least, not for a very long time, and perhaps that was what he wanted.

  His closed, set face told her nothing.

  'I shall make all the necessary arrangements for your journey,' he said, as if Della was already his own dear responsibility. 'You won't, of course, be going to the clinic. We hope that the privacy of my friend's chalet in the mountains will prove more congenial. Doktor Frey will make you welcome, and I hope you will be happy.'

  'You went to Zurich four years ago,' she mentioned, thinking of his career and not remembering until the words had been uttered why he had gone, but if the memory held its own particular sting there was nothing in his expression to show it.

  'Yes,' he agreed coolly. 'I've never regretted that step. It was the beginning of my real work, what, for want of a better word, I might call my mission in life. I studied under Doktor Frey and he taught me all I know.'

  She knew little of Della Cortonwell's case, only what had been discussed at Conyers, but she had gathered that the trouble was in no way hereditary. It had been brought on by •a severe chill while Della had been in Iceland on a skiing holiday and continuing disregard of what Della had termed her 'smoker's cough'. Under the circumstances, there would almost certainly be a complete cure.

  'On no account must we let her see that we feel sorry for her.' It was as if Stuart had read her thoughts and disapproved of them. 'There's no need for pity at this stage. When she recovers she will have everything in the world she wants.'

  Including your love! Jane turned away from his searching gaze, biting her lip to stem the cry of protest that rose from her heart. She must refuse this job, she thought wildly. She couldn't go on with it! To be always with the woman he had come to love in her stead would be unending torture. Why should I do it? something cried in her. Why should I grind my heart out for Della's sake?

  'I'm relying on you to see this through, Jane,' he said, and she remembered that once, long ago, he had relied upon her, in vain.

  'I relied on you in this!' he had cried from the depths of his dawning bitterness. 'I relied on you and you are jailing me—now when I need you most!'

  Yes, she had appeared to fail him then, but now it did not matter so much. He was no longer the ardent boy who cherished her love above all else, but a man grown cynical about such things to whom disillusionment is to be taken in life's stride and thrust into the shadows, making one harder, perhaps, but wiser.

  'What's the matter?' he asked. 'You're not regretting your bargain already, surely?'

  'I—feel that it might be better if you employed someone else,' Jane said in a stifled whisper.

  'That's out of the question,' he answered decisively. 'If it's any help, you can remember that you are Della's choice, not mine.'

  She straightened, angrily ashamed that she had forced him to repeat his indifference.

  'Very well,' she said, 'I'll go. Will you let me know when Sir Gervaise would like to see me?'

  'He'll want to meet you almost immediately, I should think.' He began to fasten his coat, pulling on his gloves as she moved with him to the door. 'You'd like to be here, I suppose, for your sister's wedding?'

  'Yes. I should like that.'

  She watched him drive away, still slightly stunned by the impact of their meeting, still not quite able to believe that it had changed her whole future in less than half an hour.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Eric Bridgewater felt that the whole idea was a godsend. It was his attitude of ill-concealed relief which kept Jane to her promise more than anything else during the week which followed Stuart's visit when everyone was so busy with their own affairs that she was left with plenty of time to think. Eric considered her an obstacle; there was no doubt about that. He was fully aware of Hazel's concern about her sister, the odd little feeling of guilt which was the only cloud on Hazel's bright new horizon, and Jane at several hundred miles distance as the crow flies seemed to be the answer as far as Eric could see.

  If his vision was limited Jane did not blame him for it. She continued to help with the wedding preparations and at the end of the second week of her enforced unemployment she went to meet Sir Gervaise Cortonwell.

  Stuart had telephoned early that morning and it was Stuart who came to pick her up and take her out to Friar's Cour, the rambling grey stone mansion on the edge of the town with its splendid views northwards to the spur of the Malvern Hills and eastwards towards the Cotswolds.

  She dared not look at him as they drove along of she might find herself wishing that they could drive like this for ever, yet what use was 'for ever' when love had died? The lean, angular profile she could see reflected in the windscreen might have been carved from stone for all the help' he gave her, and at last she felt impelled to say:

  'They may not like me. Sir Gervaise may have different views about my age, for instance.'

  'If that's all the trouble,' he answered, 'you can rest assured. My recommendation added to Della's was all that Sir Gervaise needed. For a moment,' he added, 'I thought that the wrench with Norchester and romance was proving too great.'

  Angry, painful colour flew to her cheeks.

  'Wrenches have to be made, and you said yourself that it might not be for long,' she reminded him.

  'A year, perhaps. You don't think it's too long to wait for young Sark to make his mark in the world?'

  Her colour faded at the implication in his studied remark, but it did not seem to need an answer. He had put his foot down hard on the accelerator and they wee speeding recklessly through the countryside in the one desire to reach Friar's Cour and Della Cortonwell in the shortest possible time. Jane saw it all so plainly, and the fact that she might or might not be in love with Tom Sark did not seem to concern him now.

  They reached the impressive iron gates of the Cour and turned into the tree-shaded avenue leading to the house. Stuart drove with the easy confidence of familiarity, bringing the car up expertly within a few feet of the main doorway.

  'Well,' he said, 'this is about the last phase. From now on, you will be in Sir Gervaise's expert hands.'

  She read relief into the remark and hated him for it. She was doing as he wished, falling in with his desire to put distance between them. What more did he want of her?

  The anger passed and she followed him up the circular steps to the open door, where Sir Gervaise was waiting.

  He was a tall man in his late fifties, with a rather autocratic bearing, a fine head and long, sensitive hands, and he studied Jane for a full second before he spoke.

  'I'm glad you've been able to come, Miss Calvert,' he said. 'I feel that this little ceremony was necessary before you and th
at headstrong daughter of mine went off into the blue, even on Stuart's recommendation!'

  He gave Stuart an appraising glance, calculated to reduce any sting which might inadvertently have been conveyed by his words, but Jane followed him across the hall with the impression of a subtle ruthlessness forming in her mind. If she did not appear suitable, she would be dismissed on the spot, Stuart or no Stuart. She was quite sure of that. Why, then, was Stuart so sure that she would succeed?

  He looked at her and smiled, cynically, perhaps, because he knew what she was thinking?

  'There's no need to panic,' he said beneath his breath. 'The job's already yours. If it isn't, there will always be Doctor Sark!'

  These barbed references to Tom were unforgivable. Surely if he knew the truth about the blood transfusion he would not go on coupling her name with Tom's!

  Sir Gervaise ushered them into a long, high-ceilinged room where Della was waiting. She had been lying on a chaise-longue near the fire, reading, but she stood facing them now, the book in her hand, her strange eyes going directly to Stuart's face as he led Jane forward.

  'Stuart! Jane! I'm so glad you've come! It means, of course, that you have finally made up your mind to go to Switzerland?'

  'I think that will depend upon your father's verdict,' Jane said shyly. 'After all, his must be the final decision.'

  'Oh, Pop's resigned to anything so long as I obey Stuart and give Zurich a trial!' Behind the pale eyes, Della's expression was suddenly blank, as if a wall had been erected to hide her deeper emotions. Switzerland, Jane guessed, was the last place in the world to which Della Cortonwell wanted to go, but Stuart had overruled all her objections. 'Stuart is one of these people who must be obeyed to the letter; otherwise, he'll wash his hands of you!'

  'And we can't have that happening,' Sir Gervaise said briskly. He came across the room to where Jane stood, offering her his arm. 'Miss Calvert, shall we lead the way in to lunch?'

  Jane took his arm. It was all rather formal, she thought, but no doubt Sir Gervaise liked it that. way. He was courteous and kind during the meal, pulling up just short of friendship, which was the correct thing to do when interviewing a nurse-companion for his daughter, she supposed. He left Jane in no doubt about their relationship, and she did not think that he knew anything about her former friendship with Stuart.