Vintage Love

by Clarissa Ross

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “My name is John Hastings. I fear the girl’s time may be short.”

  “I’m glad she has you to look after her,” Joy found herself saying.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You may be certain I’ll do my best.”

  She left the old mansion, and braved the wind and cold again. Walking swiftly, she wondered if Sir George paid the young doctor as he should. It would not surprise her to learn he avoided paying the poor, young doctor’s fees. Obviously, Dr. John Hastings was not wealthy.

  The next morning, Joy spoke to her brother. “George is neglecting his ill sister. I think you should lecture him about it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” James said, refusing to promise too much. “George is not easy to reason with. And he’s especially difficult when he’s been drinking!”

  Joy said, “Have him come by. I want to talk to him.”

  James sighed. “I’ll tell him. But I’d rather you didn’t see him too often.”

  Sir George called several nights later. He remained for dinner, and was his usual, charming, dapper self. She waited until dinner was finished, and took him aside for a talk.

  “I saw Rachel,” she said in a low voice. “I’m shocked at your neglect of her.”

  “I deny that I have done any such thing!”

  “You have! You are lax in paying your bills, and the coal merchant cut off fuel. The doctor was angry that there was no fire in the fireplace in her room.”

  His eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know! I can’t depend on Aunt Sada. I think she is a little mad as a result of the stroke. I told her there must always be a fire in the grate.”

  “Will you promise to look after this?”

  “I promise,” he said. “Rachel was so pleased with your gift. She was delighted by your call.”

  “I’m going to visit her again and that room had better be comfortable,” she warned.

  “Don’t worry about it,” George said, a sincere look on his weakly handsome face.

  “What about the newspaper position you’ve been offered?”

  “Why should I work there as a flunkey? The paper should be mine!”

  “That is poor thinking. Take the job and show these people your ability.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “All right. I will if you keep your bargain with me.”

  “I made no bargain with you,” she protested.

  “You agreed to be my betrothed.”

  She said, “That is not so. But I might consider it if you showed me you meant to change your way of life. That could make a great difference with me.”

  “All right,” he said quietly. “I’ll go to the newspaper tomorrow.”

  “I shall be interested to hear what happens,” she said with a smile.

  Then she moved back to join the others. Her mother was playing the pianoforte. Hilda stood near her. She saw that the dark-haired girl was concerned by this private talk with Sir George. Like James, her companion feared she was becoming too friendly with the reckless, young man.

  Joy continued to visit the ailing Rachel. She realized the world was full of suffering people, and not many were interested in their plight. There were some good results of her visits. Coals were always glowing in the grate of the sick girl’s room. And Sir George had been accepted by the newspaper owners, and began work in his new post.

  On one of her visits Rachel told her, “Your coming has made all the difference. You have helped George and you have helped me. We need you so!”

  Dr. John Hastings came by several times while Joy was with Rachel. The young Scotsman showed pleasure at her being there. He mentioned that conditions in the house had improved.

  He told Rachel, “You’ll not slip away from us if the room is properly warm and you take your medicine.”

  Rachel smiled, “I really want to live now!”

  “And so you shall,” he promised.

  One day, as Joy was seeing the doctor out, she paused in the hall to ask him in a low voice, “May I visit you at your office, Dr. Hastings?”

  He stared at her. “If you like. I’m there in the afternoons.”

  “I’ll come by tomorrow,” she said.

  “Very well, Lady Canby, I’ll be expecting you,” the stern, young man said, and went down the stairs — his brown derby in one hand, and his bag in the other.

  She watched him vanish, and told herself she was going to see him only on Rachel’s behalf. Yet in the depth of her heart she knew better. She also wanted to learn more about him.

  CHAPTER 3

  Joy found John Hastings’s office on a narrow street, in a working class district. The sign on his door was plain, black lettering on a white board. She entered, and found herself in the small waiting room. Three patients also waited for the doctor. There was a stout woman with a bandage around her head; an old man obviously suffering from palsy; and a thin, young woman with a bruised, cut face. They glanced at her curiously, no doubt because of her fine clothes, as she sat down in an empty chair.

  It was almost an hour before the young doctor admitted her to his inner office. The Scotsman looked less dour in his own office. He wore a gray, woolen suit, which was ill-fitting, and his office was shabby. In one corner a skeleton dangled on a frame. His diploma was on the wall above his desk, and a number of medical books were on the opposite wall. He sat at the rolltop desk, and regarded her with interest.

  “What is the reason for your visit, Lady Canby?”

  She was embarrassed, but she said, “I’d like to know Rachel’s chances of life?”

  “She has little chance. I don’t know what keeps her alive. An indomitable spirit, perhaps. But you have done her good with your visits.”

  “I’m glad. I’ve worried that I might not be helping her.”

  “Rest assured that you are.”

  Gaining confidence, she said, “May I ask you something which is none of my business?”

  The doctor showed surprise. “You may. I won’t promise to answer.”

  “Is Sir George paying you for your calls?”

  John Hastings stared at her. “A strange question, Lady Canby. He was behind. But since he’s been employed at the newspaper, he has paid me, at least part of the amount.”

  “May I pay the balance due?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  The thin Scotsman said, “There is no need. I will not desert a patient. And Sir George will probably pay me. Many of my patients owe me for a long while or don’t pay at all. Mine is mostly a practice among working people. But I’m a single man. My needs are small. I manage very well.”

  “You are a good man!” she said emotionally.

  “No more so than many,” he said, studying her with his keen, gray eyes. “I feel you have a personal problem. May I venture to ask what it is?”

  She hesitated and looked down at her folded hands. “I’m faced with a decision. The choice of how I will spend my life. I find it difficult to face.”

  John Hastings said, “I’m a poor person to help you. I can’t decide my own life. If I followed my conscience, I would return to the small town in the North of Scotland where I grew up. The people need me. I chose to come here with the hopes I might pick up a fashionable and well paying practice.”

  “Is that still your ambition?”

  “No. Like you, I realize I have many choices for my life. This practice, though mostly for the poor, does not satisfy me. And at any time I might be picked up by some wealthy clients and become a successful fad! That would be the end of me!”

  “I never dreamt that you might be unhappy in your work.”

  “It is hard to judge until you know someone well,” he said.

  She said, “I fear I must seem young to you. But I’m in my seventeenth year. I’m old enough to marry.”

  “You have more wisdom than many girls your age. I have an idea you will be able to cope with your problem.”

  “You think so?”

  “Do not ever act h
astily,” he said. “And do continue to see Rachel Nason.”

  “I will,” she said. “What is your fee?”

  He stood up with a smile. “Your promise to return.”

  She blushed. “I will surely think of you as a friend,” she said, as he showed her out.

  Less than a week later Sir George approached Joy’s father about marrying her. Sir Richard was not enthusiastic. Sir George pointed out he had already won an advancement at the newspaper, and his future prospects were excellent. Sir Richard at last told him to take his marriage offer directly to Joy. If she accepted him, the marriage could take place.

  Sir George lost no time in telling Joy. He said, “Your father has agreed to our marriage if it is your wish. What do you say?”

  She faced him solemnly. “You have done well lately,” she said. “My answer is yes.”

  Sir George jubilantly lifted her up and swung her about. Later, with the celebration of his good fortune as an excuse, he drank too much, and had to be carried to his carriage and driven home.

  The reaction of the others at Berkeley Square was varied. James took Joy aside and warned her, “You’ve made a dangerous decision!”

  Her father took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly. “I agree to this match with reluctance,” he told her. “Though Sir George does seem to have reformed.”

  Lady Susan worried, “Of course, the great expense of the wedding will be ours! He is giving you his late mother’s wedding and engagement rings, so he will have no expense there! And he contends because of his duties at the paper he cannot take time for a honeymoon. I should say he is getting married on the cheap!”

  Perhaps Hilda was the most worried. “You are like my sister,” she told Joy. “I cannot believe that Sir George has truly changed all that much.”

  “I must give him a chance to prove himself,” Joy said, undaunted.

  A week later, she encountered Dr. John Hastings. She was visiting Rachel. The news of her approaching marriage to Sir George had cheered the invalid up. She and Rachel were having tea in the sickroom when John Hastings arrived.

  He bowed to Joy, “We meet again, Lady Canby.”

  Rachel smiled from her pillow. “You’ve heard about her going to marry my brother?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly, then turned to Joy, “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” she said blushing.

  He studied her keenly. “I’m sure you’ve not rushed into this. Marriage is a serious step.”

  “I gave it much thought,” Joy told him.

  “I see,” he said. “Sir George is a lucky man.”

  Rachel spoke up, “He has changed, doctor. I’m sure of that.”

  “And now we must work hard to get you well,” John Hastings said.

  The invalid girl nodded. “I do so want to put on a pretty dress and attend the wedding. If only I can be there, I’ll go straight back to bed afterwards.”

  “We’ll see!” he said with good humor, and took out his stethoscope to examine her. After he’d given her a thorough going over, his verdict was, “There is surely some improvement. I’m pleased.”

  Joy was also pleased. This seemed to indicate that she had made the right choice in deciding to marry Sir George; her decision showed in his sister’s health. But Dr. John Hastings did not seem enthusiastic about the match, and this worried her some.

  She was in for a surprise that same day. She returned home to find Hilda with some startling news for her. She said, “I am going to be married.”

  “You, too?” Joy said, delighted.

  “Yes. Since you’ve decided to marry I felt the time had also come for me.”

  “Who are you marrying?”

  Hilda smiled shyly. “Someone whom I’ve long been in love with. Your brother, James.”

  “James!” Joy exclaimed. She ran to her friend and hugged her. “I’m so delighted!”

  Hilda kissed her. “I prayed you would approve.”

  “The family will be so happy,” Joy said. “They were troubled by the thought of your leaving us.”

  “I shall try to be a proper daughter-in-law,” Hilda promised.

  Joy sat on a divan, facing her friend and companion. “What are your plans?”

  “We’re to be married a week after your marriage to George. A quiet affair. After all, I am a widow. I cannot wear a white wedding gown. But I’m sure James and I shall be happy. He plans to buy a fine house not far from here.”

  Joy said, “Let us pray that this time your marriage will be blessed by little ones. James will want children to carry on the line.”

  “I’m sure I can give them to him,” Hilda said with a smile.

  That evening at dinner, Joy saw James for the first time since Hilda’s announcement. She congratulated him at once. “I’m so happy you’re marrying Hilda.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I wish I could be as happy about your betrothal. Truthfully, I can’t.”

  “I’m accepting the risk.”

  “George is older than you. He is debauched. He has spent nearly all his money. He could be marrying you merely for your inheritance.”

  “I’m willing to gamble on him.”

  James looked worried. Awkwardly, he said, “I have concealed some things from you. I know George has seen other women since your engagement. And he’s still gambling, though not so wildly.”

  “Let us give him time to change,” she sternly said.

  Her brother sighed. “As you wish.”

  On the wedding day it rained torrents! Whether or not this was a bad omen, the cathedral was crowded. Rachel managed to attend with a maid on either side to give her support. No one could guess to look at her that the happy, pink cheeked girl was desperately ill. She wore a hat, and a dress especially cut to conceal her thinness. Her taffeta gown of pink had been made by the identical seamstress who had created Joy’s gown.

  Sir Richard looked every inch the proud father in his formal attire, and Lady Susan dabbed a hankie to her eyes at proper intervals. James was there with Hilda at his side. Nancy Gray, who had just returned from Scotland, was likewise there. She had lost her childhood freckles, and was a beauty. She looked radiant as she attended Joy.

  George and Joy made a handsome pair. Sir Richard stood ready to give the bride away as the Bishop, in his crimson cassock, read the text of their wedding ceremony. In this moment of elation, none of them guessed the tragedies that lay ahead. Only the face of Dr. John Hastings, who sat far back in the cathedral, was plainly lined with concern.

  The wedding party provided by Lord Richard at Berkeley Square was one of the most elaborate in memory. Or at least that was the opinion of many of those present. There was music, food, dancing, and flowing champagne. The groom was, perhaps, the heartiest celebrant of all, and early in the evening he showed evidence of having too much to drink.

  Rachel had been so weak that any thought of attending the party was out of the question. Dr. John Hastings had kindly offered to see the invalid safely home. He apologized for not attending the party, but Joy had the feeling he was happy to be able to avoid it. He had not looked in the best of spirits.

  Nancy came to her and said, “This has been a wonderful day. It is so good to be back in London and to see you.”

  Joy smiled at her. “What are your plans?”

  “There is a young man,” her friend said shyly. “He has asked me to marry him. I haven’t decided yet. I’ll see you one day and tell you about it.”

  “Promise to do that,” she urged her friend. “We mustn’t ever lose each other again.”

  “I agree,” Nancy said sincerely. “I must go now. My father is waiting for me.”

  James and Hilda came to Joy as Nancy left. It was clear from the expressions on their faces that they were worried.

  James said, “We have a problem. George is drunk and he refuses to leave.”

  “And it’s time you should both be on your way,” Hilda worried.

  Joy said, “I’ll talk to him.”

&
nbsp; “You’d better,” James said. “Mother and father are terribly upset.”

  She sought George out. He was in the middle of telling a long and complicated story to some equally drunk male friends. She literally dragged him away. The butler helped them with their coats, and prepared against the cold night they bade their friends goodbye. Then they went to the carriage provided by her father.

  Soon as he sat in the carriage George fell into a drunken sleep. She sat, and stared at him in dismay. It was not the happiest way to begin their wedding night!

  As they rode, she considered their future. Her father had given them a large cash gift before their marriage. George had spent a good part of it fixing up the family mansion, which had fallen into a sad state of disrepair. He had also hired new servants, and a full time nurse for Rachel, at Joy’s insistence. His aunt had elected to lodge with a distant cousin, and thus she was no longer a problem in the house.

  One of the upstairs rooms had been transformed into a private parlor for them. George had suggested that they each have their own bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. In this way he could leave for his morning work without bothering her. He didn’t point out that it also gave him the opportunity of returning home late in any condition without her knowledge.

  She was roused from her reverie as the carriage arrived at the Nason mansion. George roused from his drunken sleep and put on a good show. He gave the driver a tip and joked with him. The housekeeper was there to greet them.

  She undressed in her own bedroom and put on a flowing chiffon gown. She was standing by the mirror brushing her long, blonde hair when her husband entered the room in his robe and came to her.

  He smiled at her, but he was unsteady as he bent to kiss her on the neck. “I love you dearly,” he said, his voice husky. Then he led her to the bed.

  Their lovemaking proved an anticlimax. It was a tepid exchange. When he had completed his husbandly duties he murmured, “Sorry. I drank too much!” And he lurched to his feet, threw his robe over his arm, and unsteadily made his way to the bathroom. Soon she heard him retching! She drew the bedclothes over her naked body. So this was her wedding night!

  When she awoke the next morning, George had left for the newspaper office. She had breakfast in bed, then dressed, and went to Rachel’s room to see how the sick girl was. She was shocked to find her so weak she could not sit up in bed.