“My dear girl, why ask me?” He spoke gently and for a second rested his hand on Felicity’s. “I am sure you would only do what you felt to be right. Guy managed quite well this morning, at least with Mackerley’s help—still I am rather concerned as to what will happen after the plaster is removed, I understand that the original operation was fairly extensive and that dressings may be required at first,” he admitted with a note of doubt.
“I don’t think any definite time has yet been decided for the removal of the plaster—Mr. Brenton was X-rayed yesterday morning before we left, I wasn’t on duty, I didn’t hear the result, but I don’t imagine there will be any question of removal for another week or so.”
“My son tells me that the X-ray result was excellent. Bones uniting well—I don’t know if that is the medical jargon—but didn’t he tell you? Mr. MacFarlayne is coming down tomorrow afternoon to remove the plaster. That was arranged before Guy left yesterday.”
“No, I didn’t know,” Felicity admitted shortly. Guy Brenton had not told her, he had hardly spoken to her since living hospital and not even troubled to volunteer that important information, although she was entitled to know of such a decisive step. “He will certainly require a nurse here to assist Mr. MacFarlayne. As he made no demur when I suggested leaving, I imagine he is making other arrangements.” No longer able to hide her deep resentment, she rose to her feet. “Please excuse me, I ought to—”
Colonel Brenton laid a restraining hand on Felicity’s arm. “Come on to the terrace, it’s a lovely morning and far more pleasant out of doors.”
Felicity had no option but to be led through the wide french windows which gave access to the garden. At the back of the house the ground sloped away and stone steps, bordered with trim box hedges, led down to a circular rose garden where the closely pruned trees already showed a profusion of buds.
“Nurse, do an old man a favour and let me show you round the grounds. I expect Guy has told you that flowers are my hobby.”
Felicity felt that it would be ungracious to refuse and for the next half-hour she gave herself up to the full enjoyment engendered by their stroll through the gardens and orchard. Colonel Brenton took pleasure in extolling the flavour of the velvet skinned peaches in the hothouse and with justifiable pride pointed out the size of the magnificent grape-vines, and it was only as they retraced their steps that his words recalled her to the present. “There are things I should like to discuss with you, will you be warm enough on the terrace?” As Felicity nodded assent, he continued. “You see, I know my son very well, I realize how difficult he can be, won’t you try to bear with his trying ways?” he asked, with a quizzical lift of his shaggy brows.
“I’ve good reason to know how difficult he can be, I worked for him long before I nursed him,” she explained with a wry smile. “Besides, I came here with every intention of staying on for a few days if necessary.” Conscious of her companion’s sympathetic understanding, Felicity could no longer deny herself the relief of pouring out her troubles. “He seemed to change yesterday ... from the moment we left hospital, he allowed Miss Jason to have her way about everything and entirely ignored any remonstrance I might make. I wasn’t fussing either,” she interposed quickly, fearful that Colonel Brenton might put the wrong interpretation on her story. “And when I told him last night I was going back, he didn’t even protest.” Although now she came to consider the matter, she wasn’t sure she had given him any chance to demur.
“Probably Miss Jason’s unexpected presence upset him?” Colonel Brenton suggested quietly. “You see, no man likes to appear at a disadvantage before a woman. It was different of course in hospital, but now he is up, I’ve no doubt he would have preferred her to delay her visit until he had completely returned to normal. Just think things over and see if you can change your mind.” He lowered his voice at the sound of approaching footsteps on the flagged terrace and rose to his feet as Guy appeared at the top of the steps. “Here he is ... he mustn’t think we’ve been discussing him!” Colonel Brenton raised his voice again and called to his son. “Come and sit down. Apparently you gave Nurse the slip this morning, she was thinking in terms of breakfast trays when you were already dressed and out!”
With a natural impulse, Felicity also stood and waited while Guy approached them. After a formal exchange of greeting and some desultory conversation, Colonel Brenton turned towards the door leading into the house. “You two stay out there for a bit, the sun’s got a lot of warmth in it this morning, do you good, my boy! I’ve got some seed catalogues I must go through and I want to get the order off today.”
As his tall figure disappeared into the house, Felicity deliberately seated herself by Guy Brenton’s side and brought up the subject which was uppermost in her mind.
“I understand that Mr. MacFarlayne is coming down to remove your plaster tomorrow—the information came from your father. I feel it might have been better if it had come from you.”
“Didn’t I tell you?” The question was casual and if Felicity had expected to embarrass him with her direct statement, she was disappointed, he was entirely unperturbed. “Anyway, the information is quite correct.”
“It would have been more courteous to tell me yourself,” Felicity insisted, grateful for the air of detachment she had managed to instil into her voice, for despite his uncompromising attitude, she still longed for the easy-going friendship and understanding which had grown up between them while she had nursed him in hospital. Despite her annoyance at the casual way in which he had treated her, she wanted to sink her own feelings, to swallow her pride and disregarding all that had occurred, to; remain by his side.
Wholly unaware of his companion’s emotions, Guy Brenton glanced casually at his watch. “Alaine not down yet?’ We said we’d ride at eleven, didn’t we?”
“Half past,” Felicity replied curtly, then determined not to be so readily turned from her grievance, she went on, “Since you only thought you told me of Mr. MacFarlayne’s decision”—she laid emphasis on the verb—“perhaps you’d be good enough to tell me your plans now. You haven’t forgotten that I am returning to St Edwin’s today?”
“Oh, of course, you did say something about that last night, didn’t you?” His lips curved into a smile, one of those rare smiles which had gradually become a part of that new-found understanding and intimacy of the last weeks. It was certainly the first time he had relaxed in her presence since their arrival and refusing to allow herself to be too easily cajoled, Felicity deliberately ignored his more genial manner.
“You know perfectly well that I did!” she retorted with an angry flutter of her eyelashes which served to emphasize the deep blue colour of her eyes. “I am asking you what you propose to do about it—Mr. MacFarlayne will need assistance tomorrow—and you may need some too—anyway for the first day or two.” She made no effort to conceal the satisfaction the reminder afforded her, then unable to resist a final thrust, added, “I doubt if Miss Jason will be very helpful when it comes to sterile dressings.”
“I doubt if she’ll be very helpful at any form of nursing,” he agreed imperturbably, in fact a smile still played around his firm lips as he went on, “I hope you hadn’t got too set on the idea of leaving today. After all, you’ve admitted yourself it won’t be possible. I regret keeping you here against your will, but I’m afraid you’ll have to postpone your departure—” He broke off at Felicity’s stifled exclamation, then continued with an almost exaggerated air of apology, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I won’t detain you a moment longer than necessary.”
“I see.” Felicity bit her lips to stem the torrent of angry words which threatened to escape. “I suppose that is an order—very well, I’ll stay, since I have no option.” She gripped her fingers tightly together to still their trembling and, forcing herself to turn to face him, tilted her chin arrogantly as she added, “If I am still in charge, then I insist that you allow me to refix that sling. If you intend riding this morning you’ll need far
more support for your arm than that, you’d better come up to your room and have it done properly.”
Although she rose and moved towards the doors leading into the lounge, she knew he was following her and as she turned to mount the stairs, she had a fleeting glimpse of his amused expression. Hastening her steps, she threw open the door to his room; if he thought her a child to be coaxed and placated he’d find he was mistaken. He’d force her by his position of authority to remain, then she too, in her capacity of nurse, would have her way.
Felicity could certainly find no fault with Guy Brenton’s attitude as he allowed her to refix his arm and button the riding jacket tightly across his chest as an additional support. “It’s firmly held now but I still don’t think too much cantering is advisable,” she remarked as she gave a final adjustment to the sling.
Any response he may have made was interrupted by Alaine’s sudden entry. “Oh ... hallo, Guy! Morning, Nurse! I’m sorry, Guy darling, I’m not ready.” She stretched her arms languidly above her head, revealing the moulded lines of her figure beneath the clinging silk material of her dressing-gown. “I woke so late, I feel incredibly lazy, I suppose it’s reaction, I’ve been working madly hard. Let’s put off our ride until tomorrow!” She dropped her arms to her side and emitted a deep sigh. “I do hope you don’t mind ... I see you’re all ready ... still, we can go tomorrow instead, can’t we?”
“Having struggled into breeches and jacket—and having submitted to have my arm trussed like a chicken—I think I’ll go on my own. No, it doesn’t matter one bit,” he interrupted as Alaine began to reiterate her regrets.
“You can’t go alone!” Felicity rapped out the words. “It’s absurd, I refuse to allow it. If Miss Jason can’t accompany you, then I shall!”
A ripple of incredulous laughter greeted Felicity’s assertion. “What you go with him ... you surely don’t mean that you can ride?” Alaine queried in unfeigned astonishment. “It seems so odd for a nurse ... I can’t see how you have the opportunity for that sort of thing.”
“I haven’t,” Felicity admitted quietly, but the thought of her riding-habit lying at the bottom of her suit-case gave her considerable satisfaction. How she and Diana had laughed and argued about packing it at all; it had been pushed to the back of her cupboard for so long that she had almost forgotten its existence until Diana had unearthed it. When she had first left Somerset she had been reluctant to discard it, almost unworn, a product of a Savile Row tailor; perhaps after all, that long ago weakness was now to be justified, she wondered as she waited for what seemed an interminable time for Guy Brenton to speak.
“Accompany me by all means if you’d care to.” His tone was indifferent but even in his expression Felicity was sure that he too showed a look of surprise. “It’s rough going, are you sure you are up to it?” he added, and this time there was no mistaking the note of mistrust in his voice.
“If you can manage with one arm then I’m pretty sure I can with two.” There was an air of suppressed animation in Felicity’s whole poise as she turned towards the door. The circumstances of the promised ride, the tenseness of the atmosphere, none of those things seemed to count, only the joy of anticipation, the prospect that she could indulge once again in a sport she had always loved. At the door she paused to add, “I’ll be down in ten minutes, I’ll have to change. Diana ... that is Nurse Weste ... made me bring riding-kit—I didn’t want to, but I’m very glad now.”
She could well imagine Alaine’s outburst once she was alone with Guy, she had overheard the long drawn “We ... I ... I” which had escaped her lips before the door had closed behind her, but while she discarded her print uniform dress for the perfectly cut breeches and jacket she was too happy to worry about anything but the coming ride. A swift glance in the cheval mirror did nothing to dampen her spirits. She couldn’t have changed at all in the intervening years, it still fitted to perfection and she knew, without undue conceit, that her outfit left nothing to be desired.
Alaine, apparently undeterred by the fact that she was still clad in her dressing-gown, waited by Guy’s side on the terrace. No doubt she had felt that the start off might be too good to miss, and Felicity felt sure that she still imagined her standard of riding rather in the category of a pony ride at Margate. For a moment Alaine contemplated Felicity in silence, then with her customary frankness exclaimed, “What a lovely suit, you look as though you’d been poured into it! Having always seen you in uniform, I never imagined you’d have such good taste in dress.”
“Well—how about this ride?” There was a note of impatience in Guy Brenton’s voice, he showed clearly that he had no intention of listening to a discourse on clothes. He need not have worried, since apart from acknowledging Alaine’s words with a smile, Felicity made no response and was already walking slowly down the steps towards the horses which the groom held in readiness. Felicity sprang lightly into the saddle, then reined her horse while the groom adjusted the stirrups. Despite the handicap of his arm Guy mounted without difficulty, and after a brief wave to Alaine, he was walking his horse slowly down the gravelled drive at Felicity’s side.
The reality was quite as good as the anticipation and Felicity was filled with an exhilaration she had not known for years. Quickly reassured that her companion was far too experienced a horseman to be unduly handicapped by his bandaged arm, Felicity followed his lead and as they reached a wide stretch of open country the horses broke into a gallop. The reverberation of their hooves was like music in her ears and as the wind blew round her face and lifted the soft tendrils of her hair, she experienced a sense of unexpected happiness. Gradually they slowed down and Felicity drank in the vista of blue sky with white dappled clouds above their heads, and around them the undulating heath stretching far to the horizon. For a brief moment she was conscious of a feeling of isolation as if she and her companion stood alone at the very edge of the world.
“That was good!” Guy Brenton’s words broke the spell and as he leaned forward to pat his horse’s neck, Felicity found herself watching him from beneath the rim of her velvet cap; had he shared her exhilaration? She dismissed the idea impatiently. Why should he? To him it had been just an enjoyable ride as once it might have been to her, only this particular ride had been different.
“Shall we dismount for a while—have a cigarette and let the horses browse a bit?” he added.
“Yes, I’d like to.”
As Felicity freed her foot from the stirrup and slip down, she felt Guy’s hand beneath her arm. The contact moved her strangely, she had as yet scarcely shaken free from the world of fantasy in which she had been indulging and it was not until her feet touched solid ground and she lifted her face to thank him that the dream faded and with a sense of shock she saw the sombre expression in his dark eyes and the unrelenting line of jaw and lips.
The silence remained unbroken while they settled themselves against a grassy mound. Felicity had refused his offer of a cigarette but she had watched him while he’d placed one between his lips, watched a playful breeze persistently blow out each match he struck. “Let me help you.” She leaned forward and cupped her hands round his. “That’s something you do need two hands for!” She forced a laugh while she kept her hands in place until the cigarette glowed.
“Thanks.” For a few moments he smoked in silence, then apparently forgetting the trouble he had had lighting it, he stubbed out the half-finished, .cigarette. Felicity was conscious of the tenseness in his whole bearing and although he lay back against the banked grass there was nothing relaxed about him, and now he was no longer smoking, his fingers pulled irritably at the stubble of grass. “You ride extremely well.”
The remark was so unexpected that Felicity could not repress a smile. “Thanks—you know you needn’t try to make conversation, I’m quite happy sitting here—the sky—the country—that’s quite enough for me.”
“But there is something I must say—even if it does disturb your nature study.” He twisted over to face her, their
eyes were level and his gaze held hers. “I owe you an apology—I want to tell you I’m sorry.”
Nothing he could have said would have startled Felicity more; for a moment she remained speechless, her eyes returning his gaze while she could feel the sudden thump of her heart beneath the thin silk of her shirt. Almost as if she would conceal its rapid rise and fall she instinctively drew her jacket close, aware of surprise at the unsteadiness of her fingers in performing that simple act. She was agonizingly conscious that he was waiting for her to speak, his eyes still held hers and their expression was troubled—almost questioning, as if he expected some answer to his statement. Unable to bear the silence, Felicity found herself speaking, she had tried to instil a note of levity into her voice and even in her own ears it sounded unnatural and strained. “Sorry?—for what?—surely you aren’t apologizing for your manner since yesterday. I’m pretty used to that, all we nurses are, your apology is far more startling than your behaviour.” Her effort at a joke and the forced laugh which accompanied it seemed only to increase the tenseness of the atmosphere.
“Oh—that? You’ve already made it pretty clear what the staff think of me.” He dismissed her statement then added, “My behaviour towards you personally since we left hospital has been outrageous, you were perfectly justified in deciding to leave.”
“Anyway, I’ve decided to stay—at least you decided for me—so don’t you think we’d better forget it?” Felicity now spoke more easily and there was genuine warmth in the smile which dimpled her lips. Instinctively she extended her hand and for a moment her fingers rested lightly against the rough tweed of his jacket. “Please don’t look so worried, you can’t sit here frowning, not with all this beauty surrounding you—listen!—did you hear the cuckoo?—and look!—straight ahead, beside that clump of trees, I am sure that patch of yellow must be primroses. Oh, isn’t it all just lovely?”
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