Startled, Nicholas’s first thought was of Helena, but on listening to the clipped voice of Oliver Faraday, felt relieved to learn that the patient was a Miss Standish and also thankful that the Faradays were in London rather than Hertfordshire.
‘You haven’t got to go out again, doctor?’
‘I’m afraid so, Mrs Miles.’ He was already moving away. ‘But at least I shall be travelling in comfort, because Mr Faraday is sending his motor car.’
‘Noisy dratted things. They ain’t natural, that’s what I say. I’m just thankful you’ve managed to eat your supper.’
‘And an excellent pie it was, Mrs Miles, thank you.’ He smiled at her before going to check his medical bag. Faraday had mentioned the possibility of a stroke and Nicholas could only hope that he was mistaken; in his opinion, strokes were one of the worst afflictions anyone should have to bear. Once satisfied that he had everything he might need, he went upstairs to his room to freshen and to change his linen. He told himself that he would have done so anyway on visiting such a prestigious client, but deep down Nicholas knew the true reason. If her aunt was at the London house, then Helena might also be there. He fumbled first to remove a stiff collar and then to fasten a stud in a new one, all the time feeling both anger at his weakness and a rush of adrenalin at even the thought of seeing her again.
When her father returned to the bedroom Helena rose with impatience from her chair beside the bed and went to meet him. ‘Is he coming?’
Jacob nodded. ‘Yes, the motor car has been sent. But unfortunately Dr Haverstock is away in Scotland, so it will be his colleague, Dr Carstairs.’
Helena’s breath caught in her throat. Nicholas? With a struggle, she managed to keep her features composed, her voice even. ‘I have met him, Papa, and thought he seemed most capable.’
‘I certainly hope so. How is she?’
‘About the same, but at least she isn’t any worse.’
Jacob glanced over to the bed where a pale-faced Beatrice was lying with her eyes closed. ‘Perhaps you will let her know what is happening while I go and await his arrival.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Helena knew her colour had heightened, and saw the maid give her a curious glance. Hurriedly she said, ‘You must be in need of a rest and some refreshment, Hewson. Would you like to go downstairs for a while? I promise to ring down once the doctor has been.’
‘Thank you, Madam. Would you like me to arrange for a tray to be sent up?’
Helena shook her head. ‘Not yet. I will ring down later.’
In the now silent room Helena tried to remain calm, aware that she should be thinking only of her aunt, but finding it impossible to suppress her rising sense of excitement. She put a hand to her hair, glad that she was wearing one of her most becoming gowns in a soft coral trimmed with cream. And then guilt at her vain and selfish thoughts made her return to the bed.
Beatrice opened her eyes. ‘Did I hear Jacob’s voice?’
Helena gave her the message. ‘Is the headache as bad?’
‘It’s lessening slightly, and although still severe, is no different than usual,’ her voice wavered, ‘but what worries me is that I still can’t …’
Hating to see her aunt so ill and frightened, Helena held her hand. ‘The doctor won’t be long now.’
It seemed an eternity until at last, there came a tap at the door and Helena’s heart missed a beat as Jacob ushered in the tall, clean-shaven doctor and brought him over to the bed, murmuring, ‘I think you have already met my daughter, Mrs Faraday.’
Nicholas said quietly, ‘Yes. Good evening, Mrs Faraday.’
‘Good evening.’
Jacob said, ‘I shall leave you in the doctor’s capable hands, Beatrice.’
‘Would you like me to leave too, Dr Carstairs?’
Beatrice’s feeble voice came, ‘No, please stay, Helena.’
After Jacob quietly closed the door, Helena hovered at a discreet distance, watching as Nicholas bent over the bed, seeing his expression soften as he looked down at his patient. ‘Miss Standish, you are suffering, aren’t you? Tell me, have you had these headaches for very long?’
‘About ten years.’
‘And how often do they occur?’
‘Two or three times a month.’
‘But this one is the worst?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you have never had this numbness before?’
‘No.’ Her voice wavered, ‘I can’t feel my left side at all.’
‘Have you noticed any difficulty with your speech?’
‘Only that my brain feels a little slow.’
With Beatrice’s permission, Nicholas examined her, while all the time Helena watched his deft hands, his gentle professional manner, hardly able to believe his presence, that he was only a few feet away.
At last, he straightened up and removed his stethoscope. Helena went to help adjust her aunt’s clothes and to make her comfortable then drew back.
Nicholas smiled. ‘Miss Standish, I can assure you that you have not suffered a stroke. What you have is an attack of hemiplegic migraine, a condition very similar to a mild stroke and it can be rather frightening the first time. I promise that you will make a complete recovery. Now I want you to take the sleeping draught I will leave, and hopefully when I come and see you tomorrow morning, you will be much improved.’ Seconds later, closing the clasp of his leather bag, he added with a reassuring smile, ‘Of course if you become worse or concerned in any way, please don’t hesitate to send for me.’
Helena saw her aunt’s eyes glisten and bent to touch her hand. ‘Isn’t that wonderful news, Aunt Beatrice? I will just take Dr Carstairs down to Papa, I won’t be long.’
He followed her out of the room and it was not until they stood on the wide landing together that at last they were alone. Her words were merely, ‘Thank you,’ but she found the silent message she was searching for in those now familiar brown eyes. Intense, but heartbreakingly brief as a sound in the hall below forced her to look away, and then Nicholas stood aside so that she could precede him down the curved staircase and into the hall.
Helena’s voice was now cool, brisk as she saw a footman. ‘Perkins, please would you take the doctor to the drawing room to Mr Faraday and my father. I shall see you tomorrow, Dr Carstairs.’
Congratulating herself that not even the actress Sarah Bernhardt could have put on a better performance, Helena began to go back upstairs, hugging to herself the fact that tomorrow was only hours away.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The following morning, expressing their regret that Beatrice and Helena were unable to join them, Oliver and Jacob departed for Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Club.
Meanwhile Beatrice was fretting at having to remain in bed. ‘Exactly what time do you think Dr Carstairs will come? I so dislike inactivity.’
‘He didn’t say.’ Deciding to leave her to be querulous with Hewson, Helena went downstairs to wander restlessly around, conscious of every sonorous chime of the grandfather clock in the hall. Again and again, she went over to the casement window in the drawing room to gaze out over St James’s Park, and then at last she saw him, walking along the pavement in the summer sunshine. The scene so reminded her of her debutante days in Cadogan Square – how young and innocent she had been. So much had happened since then: her engagement, her marriage, Graylings, the birth of Rosalind. And yet, the feelings that rose within her at the sight of him, the breathlessness, the anticipation, hadn’t changed at all. As he grew nearer she could see once more that same intelligent, sensitive face, and remembered the rush of shock and joy she had felt last night on seeing him enter the bedroom at the side of her father. How skilled he was, how compassionate his bedside manner. She felt so much respect for the useful life he led. Helena willed him to glance up at the window, not caring that it was unseemly for
her to feel like this, to act like this. She needed that reassurance, needed to know that he too remembered.
Nicholas had not slept well. When he had arrived home the previous evening, he had felt not only weary after the long day but seeing Helena’s poise, her confident role as the mistress of a fine London house, had only served to emphasise the wide social gap between them. And this morning, having followed his usual policy of asking the cab driver to stop some distance before his destination – the chance of exercise was far too rare – the scene before him was a poignant reminder. The houses, tall and with casement windows, were of a similar architecture to those in Cadogan Square and as he drew nearer to the Faraday house, illogical though it was, he glanced up. And there she was, just as before, outlined against the glass. Was it vanity to think that she might have been waiting for him? Nicholas made a movement with his hand and she returned the gesture, then with a smile, she turned away.
Yet Helena’s expression as the butler ushered him into the room was a mask of politeness. ‘Good morning, Dr Carstairs.’
‘Good morning, Mrs Faraday.’
‘Thank you so much for coming and I am pleased to say that my aunt is much improved. I will take you up to her.’
And so the following fifteen minutes passed with Nicholas examining his patient with his usual professional calm, after which he agreed that she might get up, but only if she took care over the rest of the day.
‘Yes I do feel tired,’ she admitted, ‘but so relieved that I no longer feel numb.’
He smiled down at her and glanced at a bottle by the side of the bed. ‘I see you take ergot. Do you find it helps?’
‘Yes I do, at least to some extent. Thank you, Dr Carstairs.’
‘You are extremely welcome, Miss Standish.’
Out on the landing, Helena said, ‘Are you sure there is no need for further concern?’
Nicholas shook his head. ‘No, I can reassure you of that. I just wish we could find a way of preventing these attacks. They can be so debilitating.’
A few seconds later Nicholas followed Helena down the staircase, his gaze lingering on the softness of her honey-gold hair, wondering how it would look free and loose around her shoulders. But that was a pleasure he would never know. As they reached the hall where a footman was waiting to usher him out, Helena turned, saying, ‘May I offer you some refreshment, Dr Carstairs? Do you have time to join me for coffee?’
He didn’t hesitate. ‘That would be most welcome, Mrs Faraday.’
‘We will take it in the morning room please, Perkins.’
His pulse quickening, Nicholas followed her into a spacious room, the antique furniture gleaming with the patina that only age can give. He wondered what it must be like to be accustomed from birth to such graceful and civilised surroundings. His background could never be described as deprived, in fact the reverse when compared with many, but wealth such as this could only ever be inherited.
As he sat opposite her on a velvet button-backed armchair, they embarked on a dance of restrained and trivial conversation. She told him that her husband and father were at Wimbledon, they commented on the weather, talked of London; Nicholas told her that Dr Haverstock took an annual vacation in Scotland as he had been born in Edinburgh, and all the time between them was a raw emotional tension. It was a relief when there came a tap at the door and a young parlourmaid carried in a laden tray.
‘Thank you, I will pour myself.’ She was, he thought, the epitome of the perfect hostess. He watched Helena busy herself with the silver coffee pot, china, cream and biscuits, all the time aware of the slimness of her hands and wrists, the curve of her shoulder, the softness of her throat.
Helena’s heart was pounding, her mouth dry. Surely, they should be safe now, away from curious eyes and ears. Had Nicholas realised why she had been so distant, so cool? As she passed over his coffee, she said quietly, ‘It is unlikely now that we will be disturbed.’
He glanced sharply up and across at her, and with relief she saw understanding dawn.
‘Nicholas, I am sorry if I have appeared …’
He gazed across at her, his eyes searching, questioning, and in her own he must have seen the answer he sought. ‘Are you as bewildered as I am?’
She nodded.
His voice was intense. ‘I have been haunted by you from the very first moment.’
‘It has been like that for me too.’
Nicholas was slowly shaking his head. ‘I can’t explain it.’
‘I have thought of you so many times,’ she said, ‘wondered whether you were perhaps engaged or …’
She couldn’t stop looking at him, at tiny lines at the corner of his eyes, an endearing imperfection in one of his eyebrows. To be alone with him, how often had she dreamed of it?
‘I was there, you know, among the crowd outside St Margaret’s Church.’
She was startled. ‘You mean you actually came to see me married?’
He nodded. ‘I had the vain hope that the bride wouldn’t be you, that it would be a different Helena.’
‘Oh Nicholas, I’m so sorry.’ Her voice was a whisper.
He wondered if it were true that some were born soul mates. She was so lovely – his gaze lingered on her throat, the slight swell of her breasts, her soft lips, how he longed to take her in his arms – but this was another man’s wife and he was in that man’s house. He also knew that a butler had the right to enter any room except bedrooms without knocking. Sadly, he sipped his coffee. The silence was poignant, disturbed by the sound of the clock softly chiming the hour, a reminder of time passing. With dismay, Nicholas knew that it would be inappropriate for him to remain very much longer. He leaned forward and asked gently, ‘Are you happy, Helena?’
Her hesitation tore at his heart before she said in a low voice, ‘Let us say that in many ways I am fortunate. Nicholas,’ she raised her eyes to his, ‘I can’t help wondering whether we will ever see each other again.’
His eyes must have revealed the truth because she said in a small voice, ‘You think it best not to, don’t you?’
He tried not to make his tone harsh. ‘Helena, what would be the point? I think we are both too honourable to indulge in an illicit affair.’
Helena gazed at him, wondering if he knew how for her those words brought with them such a delicious image.
Feeling the colour rise in her cheeks, she said quietly, ‘You are of course right. I feel guilty even talking to you like this. But I’m still glad to have had the chance to …’
‘And so am I. I shall never forget today, Helena, never. I’m afraid I really must leave, but …’ he took out his wallet and extracted a card. ‘Please promise to keep this, just in case you ever have need of me – and I don’t mean as a doctor. Heaven forbid that you should ever be one of my patients.’
As they both stood up, Helena said, ‘I would have liked you to see Rosalind, but Nanny’s strict routine includes a morning airing in the park.’ She attempted a smile. ‘Poor child, she is taken out rain or shine.’
‘It will do her no harm. And Helena, Dr Haverstock told me about her hands. I am truly sorry, but believe me, it should not be a hindrance to her. I’m told that she is a beautiful baby.’
‘That is kind of you.’ Slowly Helena walked across to the fireplace, only to turn before she reached for the silken bell pull. Nicholas knew that was how he would always remember her, gazing at him with pain and sadness, both of them aware that it could be for the last time.
Chapter Thirty-Six
When Oliver and Jacob returned from Wimbledon relieved to find Beatrice almost completely recovered, they were full of the news that the winner of the men’s final had been Norman Brookes from Australia.
‘It’s the first time an international player has won the tournament,’ Jacob said. ‘You both missed an excellent match.’
Helena was too distracted to join in the conversation. Her thoughts were full of Nicholas and their time together in the morning room. She did sense Oliver’s brooding gaze rest on her a few times, and later during dinner she gradually became aware of a heightened tension when their eyes met. Instinctively she knew that her husband had more on his mind than praising the quality of the seven-course meal. Helena’s stomach twisted in knots. After all these weeks, was Oliver going to choose tonight, when her mind and heart were full of her feelings for Nicholas? Later as Jacob and Beatrice drifted out on to the terrace to enjoy the warm evening air, she wanted to flee the room as she saw Oliver stroll across to sit beside her on the deeply cushioned sofa.
‘If I may say so, my sweet,’ his voice was low, his smile full of charm, ‘you look especially enchanting tonight, emerald-green suits you. Perhaps I should buy you a pendant to compliment that dress.’
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