Peter Lord said, smiling, "It suits me fine."
"Isn't it a bit irksome for a young man like you? Don't you want to specialize? Don't you find a country G.P. practice rather boring?"
Lord shook his sandy head.
"No, I like my job. I like people, you know, and I like ordinary everyday diseases. I don't really want to pin down the rare bacillus of an obscure disease. I like measles and chicken pox and all the rest of it. I like seeing how different bodies react to them. I like seeing if I can't improve on recognized treatment. The trouble with me is I've got absolutely no ambition. I shall stay here till I grow side-whiskers and people begin saying, 'Of course, we've always had Dr. Lord, and he's a nice old man; but he's very old-fashioned in his methods and perhaps we'd better call in young so-and-so, who's very up to date.'"
"H'm," said Mrs. Welman. "You seem to have got it all taped out!"
Peter Lord got up. "Well," he said, "I must be off,"
Mrs. Welman said, "My niece will want to speak to you, I expect. By the way, what do you think of her? You haven't seen her before."
Dr. Lord went suddenly scarlet. His very eyebrows blushed.
He said, "I – oh! she's very good-looking, isn't she? And – er – clever and all that, I should think."
Mrs. Welman was diverted. She thought to herself, How very young he is, really. Aloud she said, "You ought to get married."
III
Roddy had wandered into the garden. He had crossed the broad sweep of lawn and gone along a paved walk and had then entered the walled kitchen-garden. It was well-kept and well-stocked. He wondered if he and Elinor would live at Hunterbury one day. He supposed that they would. He himself would like that. He preferred country life. He was a little doubtful about Elinor. Perhaps she'd like living in London better.
A little difficult to know where you were with Elinor. She didn't reveal much of what she thought and felt about things. He liked that about her. He hated people who reeled off their thoughts and feelings to you, who took it for granted that you wanted to know all their inner mechanism. Reserve was always more interesting.
Elinor, he thought judicially, was really quite perfect. Nothing about her ever jarred or offended. She was delightful to look at, witty to talk to – altogether the most charming of companions, He thought complacently to himself, I'm damned lucky to have got her. Can't think what she sees in a chap like me. For Roderick Welman, in spite of his fastidiousness, was not conceited. It did honestly strike him as strange that Elinor should have consented to marry him.
Life stretched ahead of him pleasantly enough. One knew pretty well where one was; that was always a blessing. He supposed that Elinor and he would be married quite soon – that is, if Elinor wanted to; perhaps she'd rather put it off for a bit. He mustn't rush her. They'd be a bit hard-up at first.
Nothing to worry about, though. He hoped sincerely that Aunt Laura wouldn't die for a long time to come. She was a dear and had always been nice to him, having him there for holidays, always interested in what he was doing.
His mind shied away from the thought of her actual death (his mind usually did shy away from any concrete unpleasantness).
He didn't like to visualize anything unpleasant too clearly. But – er – afterward – well, it would be very pleasant to live here, especially as there would be plenty of money to keep it up. He wondered exactly how his aunt had left it. Not that it really mattered. With some women it would matter a good deal whether husband or wife had the money. But not with Elinor. She had plenty of tact and she didn't care enough about money to make too much of it.
He thought, No, there's nothing to worry about – whatever happens!
He went out of the walled garden by the gate at the far end. From there he wandered into the little wood where the daffodils were in spring. They were over now, of course. But the green light was very lovely where the sunlight came filtering through the trees.
Just for a moment an odd restlessness came to him – a rippling of his previous placidity. He felt, There's something – something I haven't got – something I want – I want – I want… The golden green light, the softness in the air – with them came a quickened pulse, a stirring of the blood, a sudden impatience.
A girl came through the trees toward him – a girl with pale, gleaming hair and a rose-flushed skin.
He thought, How beautiful – how unutterably beautiful. Something gripped him; he stood quite still, as though frozen into immobility. The world, he felt, was spinning, was topsy-turvy, was suddenly and impossibly and gloriously crazy!
The girl stopped suddenly, then she came on. She came up to him where he stood, dumb and absurdly fish-like, his mouth open.
She said, with a little hesitation, "Don't you remember me, Mr. Roderick? It's a long time, of course. I'm Mary Gerrard, from the lodge."
Roddy said, "Oh – oh – you're Mary Gerrard?" She said. "Yes."
Then she went on rather shyly: "I've changed, of course, since you saw me."
He said, "Yes, you've changed. I – I wouldn't have recognized you."
He stood staring at her. He did not hear footsteps behind him. Mary did and turned.
Elinor stood motionless a minute. Then she said, "Hallo, Mary."
Mary said, "How do you do, Miss Elinor? It's nice to see you. Mrs. Welman has been looking forward to you coming down."
Elinor said, "Yes – it's a long time. I – Nurse O'Brien sent me to look for you. She wants to lift Mrs. Welman up, and she says you usually do it with her."
Mary said, "I'll go at once."
She moved off, breaking into a run. Elinor stood looking after her. Mary ran well, grace in every movement.
Roddy said softly, "Atalanta."
Elinor did not answer. She stood quite still for a minute or two. Then she said, "It's nearly lunch-time. We'd better go back."
They walked side by side toward the house.
IV
"Oh! Come on, Mary. It's a grand film – all about Paris. And a story by a tiptop author. There was an opera of it once."
"It's frightfully nice of you, Ted, but I really won't."
Ted Bigland said angrily, "I can't make you out nowadays, Mary. You're different – altogether different."
"No, I'm not, Ted."
"You are! I suppose because you've been away to that grand school and to Germany. You're too good for us now."
"It's not true, Ted. I'm not like that." She spoke vehemently.
The young man, a fine, sturdy specimen, looked at her appraisingly in spite of his anger. "Yes, you are. You're almost a lady, Mary."
Mary said with sudden bitterness, "Almost isn't much good, is it?"
He said with sudden understanding, "No, I reckon it isn't."
Mary said quickly, "Anyway, who cares about that sort of thing nowadays? Ladies and gentlemen, and all that!"
"It doesn't matter like it did – no," Ted assented, but thoughtfully. "All the same, there's a feeling. Lord, Mary, you look like a countess or something."
Mary said, "That's not saying much. I've seen countesses looking like old-clothes women!"
"Well, you know what I mean."
A stately figure of ample proportions, handsomely dressed in black bore down upon them. Her eyes gave them a sharp glance.
Ted moved aside a step or two. He said, "Afternoon, Mrs. Bishop."
Mrs. Bishop inclined her head graciously. "Good afternoon, Ted Bigland. Good afternoon, Mary." She passed on, a ship in full sail.
Ted looked respectfully after her.
Mary murmured, "Now, she really is like a duchess!"
"Yes – she's got a manner. Always makes me feel hot inside my collar."
Mary said slowly, "She doesn't like me."
"Nonsense, my girl."
"It's true. She doesn't. She's always saying sharp things to me."
"Jealous," said Ted, nodding his head sapiently. "That's all it is."
Mary said doubtfully, "I suppose it might be that."
"That's it, depend upon it. She's been housekeeper at Hunterbury for years, ruling the roost and ordering everyone about, and now old Mrs. Welman takes a fancy to you, and it puts her out! That's all it is."
Mary said, a shade of trouble on her forehead, "It's silly of me, but I can't bear it when anyone doesn't like me. I want people to like me."
"Sure to be women who don't like you, Mary! Jealous cats who think you're too good-looking!"
Mary said, "I think jealousy's horrible."
Ted said slowly, "Maybe – but it exists all right. Say, I saw a lovely film over at Alledore last week. Clark Gable. All about one of these millionaire blokes who neglected his wife, and then she pretended she'd done the dirty on him. And there was another fellow -"
Mary moved away. She said, "Sorry, Ted, I must go. I'm late."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to have tea with Nurse Hopkins."
Ted made a face. "Funny taste. That woman's the biggest gossip in the village! Pokes that long nose of hers into everything."
Mary said, "She's been very kind to me always."
"Oh, I'm not saying there's any harm in her. But she talks."
Mary said, "Good-bye, Ted."
She hurried off, leaving him standing gazing resentfully after her.
V
Nurse Hopkins occupied a small cottage at the end of the village. She herself had just come in and was untying her bonnet strings when Mary entered.
"Ah, there you are. I'm a bit late. Old Mrs. Caldecott was bad again. Made me late with my round of dressings. I saw you with Ted Bigland at the end of the street."
Mary said rather dispiritedly, "Yes."
Nurse Hopkins looked up alertly from where she was stooping to light the gas-ring under the kettle.
Her long nose twitched. "Was he saying something particular to you, my dear?"
"No. He just asked me to go to the movies."
"I see," said Nurse Hopkins promptly. "Well, of course, he's a nice young fellow and doesn't do too badly at the garage, and his father does rather better than most of the farmers round here. All the same, my dear, you don't seem to me cut out for Ted Bigland's wife. Not with your education and all. As I was saying, if I was you I'd go in for massage when the time comes. You get about a bit and see people that way, and your time's more or less your own."
Mary said, "I'll think it over. Mrs. Welman spoke to me the other day. She was very sweet about it. It was just exactly as you said it was. She doesn't want me to go away just now. She'd miss me, she said. But she told me not to worry about the future, that she meant to help me."
Nurse Hopkins said dubiously, "Let's hope she's put that down in black and white! Sick people are odd."
Mary asked, "Do you think Mrs. Bishop really dislikes me – or is it only my fancy?"
Nurse Hopkins considered a minute.
"She puts on a sour face, I must say. She's one of those who don't like seeing young people having a good time or anything done for them. Thinks, perhaps, Mrs. Welman is a bit too fond of you, and resents it."
She laughed cheerfully.
"I shouldn't worry if I was you, Mary, my dear. Just open that paper bag, will you? There's a couple of doughnuts in it."
Chapter 3
I
Your Aunt had second stroke last night. No cause immediate anxiety but suggest you should come down if possible. Dr. Lord.
Immediately on receipt of the telegram Elinor had rung up Roddy, and now they were in the train together bound for Hunterbury.
Elinor had not seen much of Roddy in the week that had elapsed since their visit. On the two brief occasions when they had met, there had been an odd kind of constraint between them. Roddy had sent her flowers – a great sheaf of long-stemmed roses. It was unusual on his part.
At a dinner they had had together he had seemed more attentive than usual, consulting her preferences in food and drink, being unusually assiduous in helping her on and off with her coat. A little, Elinor thought, as though he were playing a part in a play – the part of the devoted fiance. Then she had said to herself, Don't be an idiot. Nothing's wrong. You imagine things! It's that beastly, brooding, possessive mind of yours.
Her manner to him had been perhaps a shade more detached, more aloof than usual. Now, in this sudden emergency, the constraint passed, they talked together naturally enough.
Roddy said, "Poor old dear, and she was so well when we saw her the other day."
Elinor said, "I do mind so terribly for her. I know how she hated being ill, anyway, and now I suppose she'll be more helpless still, and she'll simply loathe that! One does feel, Roddy, that people ought to be set free – if they themselves really want it."
Roddy said, "I agree. It's the only civilized thing to do. You put animals out of their pain. I suppose you don't do it with human beings simply because, human nature being what it is, people would get shoved off for their money by their fond relations – perhaps when they weren't really bad at all."
Elinor said thoughtfully, "It would be in the doctors' hands, of course."
"A doctor might be a crook."
"You could trust a man like Dr. Lord."
Roddy said carelessly, "Yes, he seems straightforward enough. Nice fellow."
II
Dr. Lord was leaning over the bed. Nurse O'Brien hovered behind him. He was trying, his forehead puckered, to understand the slurred sounds coming from his patient's mouth.
He said, "Yes, yes… Now, don't get excited. Take plenty of time. Just raise this right hand a little when you mean yes. There's something you're worried about?"
He received the affirmatory sign.
"Something urgent? Yes. Something you want done? Someone sent for? Miss Carlisle? And Mr. Welman? They're on their way."
Again Mrs. Welman tried incoherently to speak. Dr. Lord listened attentively.
"You wanted them to come, but it's not that? Someone else? A relation? No? Some business matter? I see. Something to do with money? Lawyer? That's right, isn't it? You want to see your lawyer? Want to give him instructions about some – thing?"
"Now, now – that's all right. Keep calm. Plenty of time. What's that you're saying – Elinor?" He caught the garbled name. "She knows what lawyer? And she will arrange with him? Good. She'll be here in about half an hour. I'll tell her what you want and I'll come up with her and we'll get it all straight. Now, don't worry any more. Leave it all to me. I'll see that things are arranged the way you want them to be."
He stood a moment watching her relax, then he moved quietly away and went out on the landing. Nurse O'Brien followed him. Nurse Hopkins was just coming up the stairs. He nodded to her.
She said breathlessly, "Good evening, Doctor."
"Good evening, Nurse."
He went with the two of them into Nurse O'Brien's room next door and gave them their instructions. Nurse Hopkins would remain on overnight and take charge with Nurse O'Brien.
"Tomorrow I'll have to get hold of a second resident nurse. Awkward, this diphtheria epidemic over at Stamford. The nursing homes there are working short handed as it is."
Then, having given his orders, which were listened to with reverent attention (which sometimes tickled him), Dr. Lord went downstairs, ready to receive the niece and nephew who, his watch told him, were due to arrive any minute now.
In the hall he encountered Mary Gerrard. Her face was pale and anxious. She asked, "Is she better?"
Dr. Lord said, "I can ensure her a peaceful night – that's about all that can be done."
Mary said brokenly, "It seems so cruel – so unfair"
He nodded sympathetically enough. "Yes, it does seem like that sometimes. I believe -"
He broke off. "That's the car."
He went out into the hall. Mary ran upstairs.
Elinor exclaimed as she came into the drawing-room, "Is she very bad?"
Roddy was looking pale and apprehensive.
The doctor said gravely, "I'm afraid it will be rather a shock to y
ou. She's badly paralyzed. Her speech is almost unrecognizable. By the way, she's definitely worried about something. It's to do with sending for her lawyer. You know who he is, Miss Carlisle?"
Elinor said quickly, "Mr. Seddon – of Bloomsbury Square. But he wouldn't be there at this time of the evening, and I don't know his home address."
Dr. Lord said reassuringly, "Tomorrow will be in plenty of time. I'm anxious to set Mrs. Welman's mind at rest as soon as possible. If you will come up with me now, Miss Carlisle, I think together we shall be able to reassure her."
"Of course. I will come up at once."
Roddy said hopefully, "You don't want me?"
He felt faintly ashamed of himself, but he had a nervous dread of going up to the sickroom, of seeing Aunt Laura lying there inarticulate and helpless.
Dr. Lord reassured him promptly. "Not the least need, Mr. Welman. Better not to have too many people in the room."
Roddy's relief showed plainly.
Dr. Lord and Elinor went upstairs. Nurse O'Brien was with the patient. Laura Welman, breathing deeply and stertorously, lay as though in a stupor. Elinor stood looking down on her, shocked by the drawn, twisted face.
Suddenly Mrs. Welman's right eyelid quivered and opened. A faint change came over her face as she recognized Elinor. She tried to speak.
"Elinor…" The word would have been meaningless to anyone who had not guessed at what she wanted to say.
Elinor said quickly, "I'm here, Aunt Laura. You're worried about something? You want me to send for Mr. Seddon?"
Another of those hoarse, raucous sounds. Elinor guessed at the meaning. She said, "Mary Gerrard?"
Slowly the right hand moved shakily in assent. A long burble of sound came from the sick woman's lips. Dr. Lord and Elinor frowned helplessly. Again and again it came. Then Elinor got a word.
"Provision – You want to make provision for her in your will? You want her to have some money? I see, dear Aunt Laura. That will be quite simple. Mr. Seddon will come down tomorrow and everything shall be arranged exactly as you wish."
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