Nurse Ann Wood

by Valerie K. Nelson

  “We shan’t be very long, so please wait,” Ann told the chauffeur, coolly ignoring his appreciative grin. As she went up the steps to the front door, her heart was beating rather fast, and she didn’t feel nearly so calm as she looked.

  She rang the bell and the door was opened almost immediately by a maid in uniform.

  “I’ve come to collect my niece and nephew,” Ann said pleasantly. “I think they’re here. I’m Miss Wood.”

  “Yes, they are here,” the girl said in a heartfelt voice.

  “I’ve been trying—”

  She seemed to recollect herself. “Will you come in, please? What name did you say?”

  “Miss Wood,” Ann remarked, and thought: It really is that. However else I’m a fraud, I’m not as regards that name. I didn’t even have to think when I said it. It came quite naturally.

  “Oh, yes, miss, I’ve heard of you. You’re the nurse, aren’t you?” The girl’s look was openly curious as she asked them to wait.

  “If it’s left to her, she’ll hand them over with complete thankfulness,” Averil whispered. “She’d had enough of them last time. She told me so and said she’d half a mind to hand in her notice.”

  Ann made no comment. She was looking around, noting the shining floor, and well polished furniture, the flowers and the hanging plants. Everything here had the appearance of being well cared for and loved — quite a different atmosphere from that of Fountains.

  For a moment, her resolution wavered. Perhaps Iain Sherrarde was right in believing that the children would be cared for better here than in their mother’s home.

  She remembered the frail, exotic girl of two hours ago, laughing one moment, sobbing with hysteria the next, and finally collapsing into a shivering bundle of humanity whom only the skill of the two doctors who happened to be on hand had saved from a far more serious collapse. Ann’s face was very grave. How could that girl in her present state of health take any responsibility for her young family? She had her mother, of course, but Ann found no particular reassurance in that thought. Mrs. Woods wasn’t the type of woman to put herself out for anybody, or take much interest in two young children.

  “Will you please come this way, Miss Woods? Mrs. Trederrick will see you now. No, not you, miss.” The maid shook her head when Averil Pollard would have followed Ann.

  Averil looked enquiringly at her companion. Ann’s firm little chin jutted slightly. “I’d like Miss Pollard to come in with me,” she said pleasantly. “She knows exactly what happened this afternoon. Or perhaps Mrs. Trederrick would allow us just to collect the children. That’s all we’ve come for.”

  “Well, really, Miss Woods, I’m sure I don’t know...”

  The maid looked startled and obviously not sure what line to take. Ann decided to help her. “Is Mrs. Trederrick in here? Come along, Miss Pollard. We won’t hinder her more than a minute.”

  Decisively, she opened the door out of which the servant had just come and walked into the room. It was large, and very pleasant, with high windows across which beautiful brocaded curtains had been drawn, and with a thick, deep blue Chinese carpet and comfortable chairs.

  An elderly lady was sitting on the velvet settee. A young woman, very smart, with her auburn hair immaculately arranged, was sitting in the chair at the opposite side of the marble fireplace, and standing beside her was Iain Sherrarde. They were all looking in the direction of the door and they waited in silence when Ann came in.

  She made no attempt to advance very far into the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you in this fashion, Mrs. Trederrick,” Ann said quietly, fixing her eyes on the old woman, “but I’ve come for Emma and Guy. It’s already past their bedtime.”

  Mrs. Trederrick looked at her haughtily and then she turned to the man by the fireplace. “Iain, who is this young woman?”

  Iain Sherrarde seemed to come out of the trance into which Ann’s entry into the room had apparently sent him. “I’m sorry, Aunt Mary. I should have introduced Miss Woods immediately. She is ... er ... the children’s aunt, a qualified nurse, and a very skilful one, as I have good reason to know. Miss Woods, this is my aunt, Mrs. Trederrick.”

  The lady raised her eyebrows. “Oh, so you are Miss Woods. Good evening. My nephew has just been telling us about your sister’s unfortunate collapse. Quite dreadful!”

  And now the young woman in the chair by the fireplace spoke in a high-pitched, rather affected voice. “I’m sure — er — Nurse Woods must be very tired after her arduous experiences earlier in the evening. Wouldn’t it be best to make it clear to her right away that Emma and Guy are in bed here and asleep?”

  The falseness, of that remark was evidenced by the sound of the children’s laughter and wild running footsteps as they went chasing and then sliding across the polished oak floor of the hall.

  “Ah, there they are, Miss Pollard,” Ann said serenely. “Just see to putting their outdoor things on, will you?”

  “But Miss — er — Nurse Woods,” Mrs. Trederrick rose in some majesty, “we are keeping the children here. Doctor Lyntrope and Mr. Sherrarde and I are very anxious about them. Their mother is ill again, and in no fit state to be worried, and frankly we don’t think that that young woman,” she nodded in the direction of the door through which Averil had now disappeared, “is a competent person to be in charge of them.”

  “Why not?” Ann’s voice was deceptively gentle.

  Doctor Lyntrope stared at her patronizingly. “You may well ask why not. Simply because she has no control over them. This afternoon—”

  “But who would have control of them here?” interrupted Ann. “Listen...”

  There were shrieks of laughter from the children as they chased up the stairs, and the maid’s voice could be heard raised in exasperation.

  “They’re completely out of anybody’s control,” Doctor Lyntrope stormed. “They’ve become absolutely spoilt, with no regular hours for meals and bedtime, and no discipline. They’re running wild.”

  Ann looked at her with eyes that were wide and bright between her thick black lashes. “They are likely to be wild and unsettled, Doctor Lyntrope, when they are subject to such treatment as they have had today. And I understand that it’s not the first time.”

  “Subject to what treatment, may I ask?” the other queried in an icy voice.

  Ann continued to look at her steadily. “I’m sorry if I appear blunt, Doctor Lyntrope, but it’s most unsettling for the children to be snatched away from their governess and be bundled, very unwillingly, I understand, into your car, despite Miss Pollard’s protests.”

  Iain Sherrarde seemed reluctant to remove his glance from the girl’s face, as he turned to the woman doctor. “Maureen,” he questioned, “surely I understood you to say that you found the children wandering alone on the main road?”

  “So I did,” returned the young woman, with heightened color. Ann said nothing and Iain Sherrarde turned back to her. His voice was curiously gentle. “You do see, Anne, that Maureen couldn’t leave the children on the main road. She had to take them in her car.”

  “But they weren’t alone. They ran away from Miss Pollard.” Ann did not know how she was able to speak so coherently, for her heart was beating fast. “Anne,” he had said, with a strange deep tenderness in his voice.

  “They ran away,” she repeated, “but Miss Pollard chased after them and came up with them almost as soon as Doctor Lyntrope. She protested very strongly when Doctor Lyntrope insisted on taking them out of her charge.”

  “Charge!” snapped the other young woman. “What sort of charge or control had she over them, letting them run away as she did!”

  Ann answered steadily, “I don’t think this is the time or place for a discussion about that.” She turned her lovely, appealing eyes on Iain Sherrarde.

  “Mr. Sherrarde, I’m making myself responsible for the children.”

  He said frowningly, “You’ve had enough responsibility for tonight. I told you before I left Fountains to get a meal, and t
hen go to bed immediately. You’re supposed to be convalescing yourself, remember.”

  She made a little gesture. “I had to come. It’s wrong for the children to be so unsettled.”

  “I agree about that,” he returned. “Maureen, I didn’t realize that the girl — Miss Pollard — was with the children. I thought you had found them completely unattended.”

  Doctor Lyntrope tossed her auburn head. “That is the second time you’ve questioned my account of what happened, Iain.” Her blue eyes surveyed Ann in a very hostile manner. “I refuse to discuss the matter further. You know my opinion and I think Aunt Mary agrees with me.”

  “Indeed I do, darling,” the older woman said, and looked at Ann as if she were some disturbing stranger.

  “All the same,” Iain Sherrarde came across to Ann, who was standing quite close to the door, “I think Anne is right. Until some final arrangements are made, the children should go back. After all, there is no one here who can care for them properly.”

  “But I’ve told you, Iain, that I can get a really well-trained children’s nurse.”

  “But that isn’t tonight,” he interrupted her with a smile. “Come along, Anne. Those children ought to be in bed by now.”

  Ann turned to say goodnight to the two women, but Mrs. Trederrick merely gave her a cool nod, and Maureen Lyntrope very rudely turned her head away. But their coldness could raise no chill in Ann’s heart. In radiant gladness she went out of the room with Iain, and wanted nothing more. He had changed. He was once again tender and understanding ... the man who had rescued her and told her in the darkness of her bewilderment to “hold on to him.”

  Averil Pollard had the two children in the hall, Guy lolling against her, half asleep, as she pushed his arms into his coat.

  Emma was demure. “We’re coming home because you’ve come for us, Nurse Ann,” she announced graciously.

  “Nurse Auntie Ann,” Guy interposed in sleepy stubbornness.

  “Nurse Ann,” Emma insisted blandly.

  “Uncle Iain, she is Nurse Ann, isn’t she?” And she turned beautiful enquiring eyes upon Mr. Sherrarde.

  “Doctor Iain,” stated Guy triumphantly. “Doctor Iain and Auntie Ann.”

  “Uncle Iain and Nurse Ann,” Emma shouted at the top of her voice.

  Iain looked resigned. “Now we’re in for a shouting match. Do they ever get tired?”

  Ann nodded, smiling, and whipped Guy up into her arms. “Come along, darling. The car is outside.”

  “Here, I say, he’s much too heavy for you, Anne.”

  Iain was bending over her to take the boy, his dark face oddly tender. Emma immediately forgot about the shouting match. “Carry me, Uncle Iain. Please carry me,” she demanded.

  He settled the boy over his shoulder and then bent down to take the girl on his other arm.

  “They’re too heavy.” Ann’s heart was in her eyes, though she was completely unaware of it.

  Iain Sherrarde turned away; the perspiration which broke on his tanned brow had nothing to do with the weight of the two children. Averil Pollard watched them with a slightly cynical air. She’s crazy about him, she reflected. Doesn’t she realize that that Lyntrope woman has got her claws into him? Besides, he’d never marry her, considering who she is. All the tribe of Sherrardes and Derharts would unite in preventing him making the same blunder that his cousin made.

  At the foot of the terrace outside, Iain deposited the children in the back of the car, while Ann got in beside them, and he tucked rugs round all of them.

  Half asleep, Guy snuggled up to the girl. “Auntie Ann and Uncle Iain,” he murmured. “It’s just as if we were ordinary children with a proper mummy and daddy.”

  Iain looked quickly at the girl, who had drawn the little form beneath the rug even closer. As her eyes met his, he saw the glitter of a tear on her thick black lashes...

  The memory of that tear, and of Guy’s words, were with him when he went back into the house to meet the disapproving storm from his aunt and Maureen.

  Mrs. Woods sought Ann out in her room on the following morning. She was still in her dressing-gown, but her face was made up and her hair beautifully dressed.

  Ann’s eyes went guiltily to her little travelling clock. Through sheer excitement she had not been able to sleep for a long time after she had come to bed, but in the end she had fallen into a deep, untroubled slumber which had lasted till now.

  “Oh,. I didn’t realize it was so late,” she said apologetically. “I — how is the patient?”

  “Still sleeping and apparently a good deal better,” Mrs. Woods said, lighting a cigarette, without either offering Ann one or enquiring whether she objected to smoking in this rather small room.

  “Iain Sherrarde rang up quite early. He is being very sticky about your nursing Beverley. I gather he thinks you’re scarcely capable.”

  Ann sat up, the startled color creeping into her pale cheeks. “Capable!” she echoed.

  “Oh, I mean because of your having lost your memory. He says you are really an invalid and you should be more in the position of a patient than a nurse.”

  “But I’m all right physically,” Ann insisted, rather anxiously.

  “He is insisting that Miss Pollard stays on to look after the children,” Mrs. Woods continued. Ann wondered whether she was imagining the warning in the other’s voice. Was she going to say now that Ann must leave Fountains and go back to hospital? Panic seized her by the throat.

  Mrs. Woods’ next remark wasn’t to that effect, but it was almost as unwelcome. “You’ll be a fool if you misinterpret his interest,” she said crudely. “I’ve been talking to the Pollard girl, asking her to stay on, and she confirms my own opinion that Doctor Lyntrope’s sudden interest in the children is her way of attracting Mr. Sherrardes’ attention.”

  “Then you know what happened to the children yesterday?” Ann seized on the opportunity of turning the subject of the conversation from herself. “You approve of our fetching them back from Dainty’s End?”

  “I admire your nerve, and I gather that you got considerable support from Mr. Sherrarde.”

  Ann hesitated. “I don’t think he would have allowed the children to come back if...”

  “If you hadn’t gone for them,” Mrs. Woods prompted. “Well, that’s because you’re a nurse. Don’t get any other ideas, for goodness’ sake.”

  She moved over to the door, taking one further, considering look at Ann. “When you’re ready, come to my room. We’ll go together to Beverley’s apartment.”

  A short time later, they were crossing the hall and going along the passage which led to Beverley’s lovely suite. As they entered the small hall, a door opened, and Mrs. Marchdale came out.

  She stared at them in a hostile manner. “She can’t see you, either of you,” she declared loudly.

  Mrs. Woods’ face was furious. “March, I told you not to come in here this morning. Do you want to kill Beverley? She was so much better first thing.”

  “There’s better and better,” the old woman declared. “I’ve been giving her a drop of something to help her get well.”

  “Oh, no!” protested Mrs. Woods. “Really, March, you’re the end!”

  Ann saw her opportunity. The old woman had moved away from the door and Ann went behind her and slipped inside. Beverley was sitting up in bed, a lovely frilled wrap pulled around her, her big blue eyes sparkling with excitement. There was a bottle on the table beside her, and a glass in her hand.

  Ann did not hesitate. She went forward, took the glass, and at the same time removed the bottle from the table. “This is very silly of you,” she remarked, as she put them both out of reach and turned to deal with the scene that she was sure going to ensue.

  But, rather to her surprise, Beverley lay back among her pillows and said nothing. Just stared with wide blue eyes that were no longer sparkling with excitement, but dull with despair.

  Ann said now, “Do you want to do yourself harm? Surely you realize that you
r collapse yesterday wasn’t just the result of excitement. The alcohol you drank also contributed to it.”

  The girl in the bed said drearily, “What does it matter? I might just as well drink myself to death. That would be far better than lying here — a useless log.”

  Ann’s voice was practical. Facile sympathy was going to be no good here. “Let me shake up your pillows and straighten the sheet. Now that’s better.”

  “You really are a nurse,” Beverley observed languidly. “A far better one, too, I should say, than my sister ... my real sister. What brought you from London in the first place?”

  Ann shook her dark head as she went on straightening the bed. “I don’t know. Your mother told you that I had lost my memory?”

  “Yes, she told me, but I didn’t believe her, and I’m not sure I believe you, either.”

  Beverley’s blue eyes, rather calculating now, studied Ann. “From what I can hear you are on rather intimate terms with Iain Sherrarde. Did you come down here to be with him?”

  Ann stood staring at her, her lavender-grey eyes very wide. “Of course not,” she gasped. “I’d never seen him before that night of the railway accident.”

  “How do you know, if you can’t remember?” demanded Beverley shrewdly.

  For a moment Ann stared down at the lovely satin eiderdown which covered the bed. She couldn’t explain to Beverley that the wonderful thing which had happened to her since she came to Sunbury was completely new. It had happened the first moment she met Iain Sherrarde ... and that moment had been in a country lane, on a rather misty evening...

  Seeing that the invalid was waiting for her reply, she made a slightly impatient gesture. “Even though I’ve lost my memory, there are some things I know by instinct,” she said. “For instance, I’m sure that I have trained as a nurse. I know all the routine of my profession, but I can’t remember anything of the people or the surroundings where I was trained.”