by Susan Barrie
“Yet you’re very fond of Oldthorpe, and you like popping in there whenever you can be spared from your duties. And I understand you don’t forget old friends in the neighborhood. You like to keep up an association once begun.”
All at once a faint light broke over Dallas, and she began to feel less bewildered. His extraordinary change of attitude — was no longer utterly inexplicable (even allowing for the fact that Joanna Loring had become part of the household). Last night he and Joanna had sat alone in the drawing-room, and almost-certainly the subject of Dallas had cropped up between them. No doubt Joanna herself had introduced it as a topic of conversation. And if, in addition to Dallas, she had also mentioned Brent Rutherford . . . !
There was no need to wonder why he was suddenly hostile. But there was every reason to wonder why, if he believed her capable of carrying on an affair with a man he disliked extremely, he didn’t accuse her openly of doing so. Unless it no longer mattered to him
what she did . . . apart from the irritation of knowing that she was deliberately ignoring his wishes.
She stood up suddenly, and the dull anger she felt against both him and Joanna made it difficult for her to speak normally, or even to look calm and dispassionate. She strove hard to control the slight tremble in her voice as she said:
“I don’t know where you get your information from concerning my spare time recreations, but whoever supplied you with that information was not entirely accurate. However, since it is my spare time you’re concerned about and not any failure in my manner of carrying out my duties I don’t think you need concern yourself with it any more. I’ll stay here as long as you want me to stay, and leave the instant you ask me to do so! And whether or not I’m bored in the country is quite beside the point. And now I think I’d better go and make certain that Stephanie is ready to leave with you.”
As she reached the door he called her back.
“Dallas! ”
But she declined to so much as turn her head. Once and for all, she thought, as a furious gust of indignation shook her, he had to be made to understand that he couldn’t treat her like a formal employer one minute and a slightly too friendly benefactor the next. And if he couldn’t trust her, then she most certainly couldn’t trust him!
To her relief, as she swept out of the door, Joanna came hastening in from the corridor, and she was pulling on an immaculate pair of soft suede gloves ready to leave. Without even glancing at her Dallas received an impression of supreme countrified elegance — three-quarter-length suede coat, slim tweed skirt, unsuitable high-heeled shoes—and a beauty that was shattering in the bright clear light of day. And as she vanished along the corridor she heard Joanna say gaily:
“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, darling, but I knew you wanted to talk to Nurse Drew, and I thought I’d better give you time to get the lecture over! ’
Dallas swallowed, and she felt as if her cheeks were on fire when she ran into Mrs. Baxter in an upstairs corridor. Impulsively she stopped and addressed the housekeeper urgently.
“Mrs. Baxter, would it be any trouble if I had my meals upstairs in the schoolroom while Dr. Loring is here? I’m sure he and Mrs. Loring would prefer it if I wasn’t always there. And Stephanie always gets a bit restless in the dining room. Or if her father wants her to have meals with them, perhaps I could have mine with you?”
Mrs. Baxter looked at her for rather a long moment in silence, and then she answered as if she understood perfectly:
“Of course, Nurse. I'll see to it that the table is laid in the schoolroom. I believe the doctor is remaining for a few days, so we’ll keep to that arrangement so long as he's here.''
“Thank you, Mrs. Baxter,” Dallas returned gratefully, and went on her way to her bedroom, where she spent the better part of the morning wishing she was an ordinary employee who could pack her bags and depart, and not one who would have to give an account to a discerning matron at Ardrath House if she left before it was convenient for Dr. Loring to have her leave.
It was growing dusk when the others returned, but apparently they hadn’t had any tea, and a tray was sent to the drawing-room. Stephanie explained delightedly, when Dallas went to collect her, that the car had broken down, and her father had had to walk back two miles to a garage while she and Joanna sat in the middle of the moor. Stephanie had quite obviously enjoyed the thrill of being temporarily marooned, but Joanna had just as obviously done nothing of the kind.
“It’s turned beastly cold,” she said, “and I was half frozen sitting in the car.” She warmed her hands in front of the brightly leaping fire in the drawing room. “The next time I go to Oldthorpe for the day— in your car, anyway, Martin!—I’ll wear a fur coat and muffler.”
“You can think yourself lucky you didn’t have to walk back two miles to find a mechanic,” Martin replied, a trifle brusquely. He was mixing himself a whisky and soda at a side table, and declined to be regaled with afternoon tea. He glanced over his shoulder at Dallas.
“Have a good day, Nurse?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you, a very good day,” Dallas returned. She helped Stephanie off with her coat and woolly cap. “Wouldn’t you like to come upstairs now and have your supper? It's going to be rather late when you get to bed if you don’t.”
Stephanie seemed to seize upon the suggestion with eagerness, having apparently had an enjoyable
time but quite as much of the combined society of her father and her aunt as she could appreciate for the time being. It was obvious they were not entirely in harmony at the moment, and no doubt the cold wait in the car—and the colder walk back to the garage for Martin—had put their tempers on edge. At any rate Dallas was glad she was leaving them alone as she hurried to the door with Stephanie, and the two of them enjoyed a relaxed, nursery-type meal in the shabby but comfortable upstairs room that had been the schoolroom for young members of the Loring family for generations.
Afterwards they played Snap for a while, and then Dallas supervised Stephanie's bathing arrangements and saw her into bed, with Joe curled up as usual on the foot of it. Possibly because he was still very small, and his basket was rather large, he had a marked disinclination for passing the night where it was intended—and hoped—he would ultimately pass it when he was slightly more mature, and his mistress was away at school.
Having said goodnight to Stephanie Dallas made her way to her own room. It was a little early yet to go to bed, so she decided to slip downstairs to the library and borrow a book which she could read when she was in bed. Normally, after dinner, the master of the house sat in the drawing-room, where coffee was always served, and not the library, but tonight for some reason she found him standing alone in front of the dying fire and gazing contemplatively into the ashes.
She hadn't bothered to knock, being certain that the room was empty, and her face betrayed her surprise when her employer wheeled round and confronted her. His face was so dark and disapproving that she thought he was going to reprove her for entering a room that was in actual fact his private domain when she imagined he wasn’t there to either grant or refuse permission to delve amongst his bookshelves.
“Oh, so there you are, Nurse Drew,” he exclaimed in a sharper tone than he had ever used to her before.
“And may I enquire what happened to you at dinner? Mrs. Baxter said something about your having dinner upstairs, and as I know that isn’t your normal practice it occurred to me that you had either skipped it to go out or you had been suddenly taken ill. In which case I should have thought I would be informed.”
Dallas’s face registered nothing but a faint surprise, followed by cool apology.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I did ask Mrs. Baxter to let you know that I was sharing Stephanie’s supper upstairs. The child had been out all day, it’s Edith’s night off, and I couldn’t leave her to have it alone. As you know, the only meal she has downstairs when you are here is breakfast, and while Mrs. Loring is a guest we would like to make it a rule to have all our meals
upstairs.”
“Oh, you would, would you?” Loring returned on an even sharper note. “And why is that, I wonder? Because you personally dislike Mrs. Loring, or because you find it a bore having meals with me?”
Dallas flushed.
“Of course I don’t dislike Mrs. Loring,” she protested. “And as for having meals with you . . . well, I know I did when I was here before, and on the last occasion when you stayed here; but now I think it’s rather different. Mrs. Loring is a guest, and I’m here in the capacity of a kind of nurse-companion to Stephanie. Therefore it's only right that I should spend all my time with Stephanie. And I’m sure Mrs. Loring prefers it,” she added, and then wished that she hadn’t when she saw him smile.
“So it all revolves around Mrs. Loring? Mrs. Loring is a guest, and you are not. Mrs. Loring is my late wife’s sister, and very, very beautiful, and you, of course, can’t compare with her when it comes to looks! And a man likes a beautiful woman to share his table with him. .
. . Well, there’s something in that, and you mustn’t think I’m unaware of the charms of Mrs. Loring. Quite the contrary, in fact. But having grown used to seeing you at meal times when I'm staying here I object when you conceal yourself upstairs.”
Dallas's face took on a slightly deeper flush, but she felt as if something inside herself hardened and stiffened, and it gave her the courage to say what she had to say.
“I realize that I ought to have made it clear to you that I intended to remain upstairs tonight, but in future I'd be grateful if you’d consent to my having my meals upstairs. For one thing it's a more practical arrangement when Stephanie and I are here alone . . . and, for another, I'd prefer it.” She drew a deep breath, and looked him full in the-face. “I'm an employee, Doctor, and there have been occasions when you've forgotten it. I know that, three weeks ago, it was probably dull here for you with your aunt away, but now that you have Mrs. Loring to take the place of your aunt—and, as you've just admitted, she has a great deal of charm! —I should feel much happier if I could begin to slip into the position of an employee and nothing else. In fact, in future I shall have to insist on it if I'm to remain here.”
“Oh, yes?” he said softly, and he appeared to be watching her through narrowed eyes.
“I know, to you, I'm just an ordinary young woman—a very ordinary young woman! —and perhaps because of that very ordinariness you thought it safe on two occasions to bestow a certain amount of attention on me,” with a very noticeable dryness. “When you were more than ordinarily bored! The last occasion, I remember, was after the visit of Mrs. Loring, which for some reason I know nothing about very possibly upset you. But although that's all right from your point of view, it isn't so good from mine . . . and I object to being selected for such marks of favor, and I object just as strongly to being criticized for my conduct outside the house. I don't know where you got the idea that I've been leading a somewhat dissipated existence in your absence, but if you want the truth you can ask Mrs. Baxter how many times I've received telephone calls in this
house, and how many times I've left it to go to Oldthorpe unaccompanied by Stephanie. I think she will bear me out that I’ve never once received a telephone call, and I've never once left the house for longer than a few minutes without Stephanie!”
She saw his mouth drop open slightly as if she had astonished him; and then his eyes narrowed still more as he regarded her.
“Is that the truth?” he asked. “The absolute truth?”
She turned disdainfully away.
“I’ve already suggested that you question Mrs. Baxter if you imagine I'm incapable of telling the truth. At least, having employed her for quite a long time, you should believe her. And now, if you’ll forgive me, I'd like to go to bed. I came down to borrow a book, but I've plenty of magazines I can read, so I won’t disturb you any longer. . . .”
But he got between her and the door.
“Dallas, I apologize if I’ve misjudged you. But Mrs. Loring was quite certain—”
“Mrs. Loring!” she exclaimed, and then bit her lip. “Dr. Loring, I’m tired, and I’d like to go to bed—”
“And I want to get to the bottom of this,” he exclaimed, frowning so that his dark brows met in the middle. “If you're as innocent as you pretend, why did my cousin Brent telephone you here yesterday afternoon—shortly before I arrived back home?”
“Shortly before you—arrived home?” She gaped at him foolishly.
He stood very close to her, and his face was darker than ever. It was almost forbidding.
“If you’re not a little liar, and you’re telling me the truth, how do you explain that one away, little Nurse Drew?”
Suddenly she heard herself laughing, a high, hysterical sound.
“I can’t,” she managed, at last, when she had stopped laughing. “Or rather, I could, but it might involve awkwardness all round! And since it would not serve any very useful purpose I wouldn’t question Mrs. Baxter . . . not about me! Just accept it, Doctor, that your cousin Brent is quite irresistible to me! I simply live for the moments when he remembers we're on the telephone here, and of course I spend all my free time with him! ”
As he had moved away from the door she took advantage of the fact that she could now escape, and did so. Without waiting to hear him say anything further, or even to look properly at his face, she fled from the room, and upstairs to her own bedroom. Where she took the unnecessary precaution of locking her door!
C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N
THE next day was Sunday, and Dallas saw little or nothing of her employer. She took Stephanie to church in the morning, and in the afternoon the two of them went for a walk on the moor. At tea-time they joined the doctor and his sister-in-law for a brief half-hour in
the drawing-room, but apart from that they took all their meals upstairs in the schoolroom, and were much happier than they would have been downstairs. Or Stephanie appeared perfectly happy, and Dallas had taken a silent vow that never again would she sit at the table in the dining room with Dr. Loring and the beautiful Joanna.
When the doctor’s aunt returned, and if Joanna had departed and she herself was still employed by the doctor, she might resume her old position in the household, but not while Martin and his enchanting sister-in-law were the only two occupants of the house apart from herself and Stephanie and the servants.
But it didn’t look as if Mrs. Letitia Loring would be returning for some while. Dallas received a card from her—very colorful, and bearing the address of a villa just outside Grasse—and she stated that she was enjoying herself thoroughly in glorious spring sunshine, and had no intention of returning to England until her friend grew tired of her. She hoped everything was well at Loring Court, was sure Stephanie was being well looked after by Dallas, and sent her love to them both.
She apparently had no idea that Joanna was now firmly established at Loring Court.
On Monday the weather changed, and it was impossible to take any outdoor exercise. They spent the whole of the day in the schoolroom, while outside great gusts of wind tore at the young green things in the garden, and blustery showers of rain and hail lashed against the windows. Dallas understood that Martin Loring was remaining until the end of the
week, but she never encountered him on the stairs or in the corridors, and as Joanna was working in her studio she concluded that he must be either working or reading in the library .
Later in the day, during a brief lull in the weather, she saw him and Joanna emerge together in raincoats from the house, and set off for a walk across the moor. At tea-time, since he and Joanna were still absent, and no tea-tray was carried to the drawing-room, she and her charge had their tea upstairs.
The following day conditions were much the same —in fact, rather worse—and the day after that the frenzy of wind and rain seemed to arrive at a peak of determination to wreck the garden. Dallas was concerned to see that trees were down, bushes uprooted, and borders beaten flat. The wallflowers that h
ad been doing so splendidly under the south terrace were a shambles when she and Stephanie took a short breather out of doors, when it was not actually raining, to have a look at the damage.
A great tree was lying across the drive and practically blocking it, the waters of the lake were churned to a pitch of fury that all but swamped the little island in the middle of it. On the way back to the house, with a bedraggled Joe tugging at his lead and eager to get back into the warmth and the dryness of well-carpeted rooms, they ran full tilt into Joanna, who had been doing a similar tour of the grounds, but in the opposite direction.
She was wearing glistening yellow oilskins, and she looked enchanting. Her color was the color of a rose, her eyes were like brown velvet that had somehow acquired a sparkle, and as she wore no hat her silken dark hair was bespattered with rain drops, and looked silkier than ever. There was no doubt about it that the Yorkshire air suited her, even in rough weather, and she looked extraordinarily fit and vital.
She glanced disapprovingly at Stephanie, who was rather pale after being confined to the house.
“Good gracious, child, you look as if you’ve been shut up in the house for months!” she exclaimed. “Is Nurse Drew afraid that you’ll both be blown away if you take a little exercise out of doors?” “We are taking a little exercise out of doors now,” Dallas pointed out somewhat unnecessarily.
“Is this the first time you’ve put your noses out of doors for three days?” Joanna’s slim eyebrows went up. “I was saying to the doctor only yesterday that you’re inclined to coddle that child, Nurse Drew . . . and he agreed with me that it’s a pity you aren’t more robust yourself, and less afraid to face the weather. Stephanie needs a constant companion who can encourage her to do things, not hold her back. After all, what’s a little rain and wind? I myself have been for a brisk walk across the moor already today, and I’m going out again this afternoon. Would you like to come with me to the village, poppet?”
Stephanie, who had been alarmed by the sight of the great tree across the drive, and the other signs of havoc, agreed, but without enthusiasm.