Nurse Hilary

by Peggy Gaddis

  “Why that’s horrible!” she gasped.

  “He didn’t want me to get hurt by trusting somebody who—wasn’t worthy,” said Mrs. Keenan stiffly. “I was always very plain, awkward and gawky and terribly shy.”

  “Well, I should think you would be shy, with that sort of training. I’m sure your father meant well, of course—” Hilary could not keep back the words.

  Mrs. Keenan didn’t seem to hear them. Her eyes were still fixed on space, and her thoughts were still spilling into speech.

  “I was so lost after Father died,” she admitted huskily. “I guess it was easy for Edward Keenan to marry me. He was older, and I suppose I sort of—well, I had adored my father and young men terrified me. And so I married Edward. And all he wanted was—the money.”

  “Oh, surely not,” protested Hilary.

  “What else would he have wanted? He was handsome, dashing, charming, and he was thirty-five. I was eighteen.”

  For a moment she lay silent, tasting the bitter memories. Then she seemed to become aware of Hilary again and she looked up at her, her brows drawn together in a bewildered frown.

  “Why am I telling you all this?” she demanded out of her startled amazement. “I’ve never talked like this to anyone before.”

  “You’re telling me, Mrs. Keenan, because you know that I want to be friends, and because I like you and because it wouldn’t make a particle of difference to me if you didn’t have two cents to rub together in your pocket,” said Hilary firmly.

  Mrs. Keenan stared at her.

  “You—like me?” she stammered incredulously.

  “If you’ll let me.”

  “After all the mean, nasty, vicious things I’ve done and said, you’d like me?” Mrs. Keenan repeated, as though she found that impossible to believe.

  “A great many people would, if only you could break away from the things your father tried to teach you,” Hilary told her gently and rushed on as she saw the protest gathering in Mrs. Keenan’s face. “Oh, I know he was trying to protect you; perhaps he had been hurt, too, and was bitter. I can’t believe he could possibly have tried to teach you such—horrible things, otherwise.”

  “He tried to teach me to protect myself from men like Edward, but you see his teaching didn’t—help.”

  “But, of course, he couldn’t know that,” Hilary soothed her gently. “And you must try to realize that it isn’t true, that you can be the sort of woman people care for, for yourself. Mrs. Barton, for instance. She has very little, she told me herself that it’s difficult for her children to find the money to keep her here; and yet everybody loves her, especially Mr. Hodding,” and Hilary smiled impishly at that.

  She’s such an inane, nondescript little thing.” Mrs. Keenan protested.

  “She’s a very lovable little person, with a lively, warm interest in people, and when you like other people, and are interested in them, they reward you by liking you and being interested in you,” Hilary pointed out.

  “I can’t—endure her,” said Mrs. Keenan sharply and her jaws shut with a click.

  “Well, she’ll be leaving soon and you needn’t like her if you don’t want to,” Hilary reminded her pleasantly.

  Mrs. Keenan looked up at her, and once again that look of terror was in her eyes, as she asked, “And you’ll be leaving, too, and that means I’ll have to go, to keep you from leaving—and I don’t want to go!”

  “But, surely, Mrs. Keenan, my going doesn’t mean you have to ...” Hilary was growing a little weary of the argument.

  “Oh, yes, I will,” mourned Mrs. Keenan. “Because if I don’t go, the others will.”

  Hilary decided Mrs. Keenan’s emotions had had a sufficient work-out, and there was no point in exercising them any more.

  “Now, you listen to me,” she said firmly, every inch the nurse. “You’ve had no breakfast and I know you’re hungry; so suppose you get up and have your bath—”

  “I couldn’t face the others in the dining room.”

  “Who said you had to?” Hilary comforted her. “I’ll get you a tray while you’re having your bath, and we’ll set it on this table here where you can look out into the garden.”

  As Mrs. Keenan began getting out of bed, Hilary smiled at her and departed kitchenward, her thoughts filled with a completely new idea about the woman they called the Duchess. After all, with the sort of upbringing Mrs. Keenan had had, and her marriage, who could wonder if she had become embittered?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  She was coming back along the corridor with Mrs. Keenan’s breakfast tray when she saw Mrs. Barton hurrying toward her, looking terrified, and calling to her anxiously.

  “Now, just a minute, Mrs. Barton,” Hilary begged humorously. “Let me get Mrs. Keenan started on her breakfast and then we’ll discuss your problems.”

  “Well, hurry, Hilary—oh, I’m so scared!” bleated Mrs. Barton.

  Mrs. Keenan, in an elegant if old-fashioned dressing gown was waiting when Hilary opened the door and put the tray on the table, and through the open door Mrs. Keenan caught a glimpse of Mrs. Barton and her face stiffened.

  And then, to Hilary’s amazement, she called, almost pleasantly, “Won’t you come in for a cup of coffee, Mrs. Barton. I’d like to apologize for last night.”

  Startled, Hilary stared down at her, and Mrs. Barton, astounded, crept into the room, momentarily forgetting whatever it had been that she had needed so desperately to tell Hilary.

  “A-a-apologize?” she stammered faintly.

  “I behaved disgracefully,” said Mrs. Keenan, and Hilary stared at her in amazement, thinking that if one must eat crow, as Mrs. Keenan was doing, one could scarcely do it with more grace than Mrs. Keenan was exhibiting.

  ‘‘That’s—that’s all right—” stammered Mrs. Barton helplessly.

  “It was a shocking exhibition I made of myself, and if you like,” Mrs. Keenan hesitated and looked a bit wry but managed to finish the sentence, “since I insulted you and Mr. Hodding publicly, I’ll apologize publicly.”

  “Oh, goodness gracious me, no!” cried Mrs. Barton in a panic at the thought.

  “Then you must let me give a tea or a reception to celebrate your engagement—” began Mrs. Keenan with a graciousness of which Hilary had not dreamed her capable.

  Mrs. Barton’s face crumpled with a sudden return of the panic that Mrs. Keenan’s so-unexpected graciousness had banished.

  “Oh, I’m afraid there isn’t really an engagement,” she wailed. “It was in the morning paper, an announcement of it, and the children are terribly angry. Jill called me and said Juddy and Elliott and his wife were all just furious with me and so shocked to find I’d make such a fool of myself—and that I’d held the whole family up to ridicule—and they’re driving up to take me home!”

  “Why, that’s outrageous!” protested Mrs. Keenan sharply. “Mr. Hodding is a very nice man, .and I think it’s a wonderful match. I never heard anything so absurd as their objections!”

  Mrs. Barton looked at her fearfully.

  “Jill thinks it’s disgusting for us to want to get married at our age,” she said faintly. “She’s—well, she says that when she gets her hands on me, she’s going to paddle me good!”

  Hilary chuckled, and Mrs. Barton gave her a smile that was very faint and distinctly damp.

  “Going to paddle you, hmm?” repeated Mrs. Keenan and there was a twinkle in her eyes. “That doesn’t sound as if they think you’re too old to get married; it sounds as if they think you’re too young!”

  “Well, she was awfully mad! She says I’ve behaved in a very undignified manner—” began Mrs. Barton, tears threatening.

  “That’s nonsense,” pronounced Mrs. Keenan flatly. “You’ve been most dignified. I haven’t liked you too much for it, but I have to admit it. You and Mr. Hodding are of age; sound in mind and body; perfectly capable of making such a decision. Know what I’d do in your place?”

  “No, what?” asked Mrs. Barton fearfully.


  “I’d tell ‘em to go fly a kite,” said Mrs. Keenan firmly, and when both Mrs. Barton and Hilary looked at her, startled, she grinned. “It’s one of Reid’s favorite expressions—somehow, I always liked it.”

  There was an odd expression on Mrs. Barton’s face, and her head went up, the tears vanishing. In her neat gray morning dress, with its sprinkling of tiny pink rosebuds, the neat lace collar and cuffs, her hair faintly “blued” and waved, she suddenly became a great lady; no longer a small, frightened, harried, mouse-like creature.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Keenan,” she announced firmly. “That’s exactly what I shall do! Thank you very much, Mrs. Keenan!”

  Mrs. Keenan lifted a hand elegantly, brushing aside the thanks.

  “It was my pleasure, Lily-Mae,” she said handsomely and the two old women grinned warmly at each other, as Mrs. Barton marched out of the room, her head held high. It seemed to Hilary, watching her, that somewhere there was the sound, very faint and far away, but quite audible, of trumpets.

  “What a very nice little woman,” mused Mrs. Keenan admiringly, and Hilary had the absurd feeling that perhaps Mrs. Keenan, too, had heard that faint sound of trumpets, as Mrs. Barton marched forth to do battle for a right to live her own life.

  “And so are you, Mrs. Keenan,” said Hilary, smiling.

  Mrs. Keenan stared at her, wide-eyed.

  “A nice little woman? My dear Hilary!”

  “Well, you are!” Hilary insisted. “It was very kind of you to give her the encouragement she needed. I’m afraid her children have been thoughtless and inconsiderate; they tucked her away into a mold marked ‘Mother’ and now they are outraged that she wants to get out of that mold and be ‘Wife’ instead of ‘Mother.’ ”

  “Um-m-m yes, as you say, Hilary, something must be done about that,” said Mrs. Keenan firmly, and got out of bed. “You run along and attend to your chores. I’ll get dressed and stand by her when the children get here. She’ll need moral support.”

  “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” Hilary agreed, a twinkle in her eyes. “Though Mr. Hodding impresses me as a man who will protect her even from her children.”

  Mrs. Keenan, drawing on her stockings, did not even look up.

  “But it will be comforting for her, I’m sure, to have a woman of her own age—well, maybe a little beyond her own age,” she admitted to her seniority reluctantly, “to convince the children she’s not doing something disgraceful in making a new life for herself. Run along, Hilary; you must have lots of work to do.”

  Halfway down the corridor, Dr. Marsden was just closing a door behind him. He looked up, saw her and smiled eagerly as he came to meet her. He glanced at the door behind her, and his brows went up.

  “Mrs. Keenan is not feeling well this morning?” he asked. Hilary laughed softly.

  “Mrs. Keenan is feeling just fine, thank you!” she told him. “She is at present girding herself for battle.”

  “Not with you, I hope?”

  “Oh, no, she’s decided she likes me,” Hilary answered cheerfully. “She’s getting ready to defend Mrs. Barton’s marriage to Mr. Hodding. It seems Mrs. Barton’s children are not happy about the plans and are en route here to carry their mother away from his nefarious attentions.”

  Her laughter vanished and she looked up at him, frowning. “Stuart, what makes young people so silly and selfish?”

  “I wish I knew,” admitted Dr. Marsden frankly. “Right now, I’m too concerned with what makes old people tick to give the problem my full attention. But one of these days I may do some research into the matter.”

  “Please do,” Hilary urged. “I think the two might be combined very nicely, don’t you? One seems to stem from the other—though I’m not sure which problem comes first.”

  Dr. Marsden smiled warmly down at her.

  “Well, I’ve got to get started on the clinic hours,” he told her. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

  He walked away and for a moment Hilary stood looking after him.

  Anything he could do, she repeated to herself with quite illogical wrath! Well there was a heck of a lot he could do. He could take her into his arms, kiss her and tell her he loved her and that he didn’t want her to leave. But apparently the thought had not entered his mind. And she was a fool to let it hold so much of her mind, she reminded herself grimly, as she turned towards the solarium, to check up on the patients who were there and to be sure they were all right.

  The Flemings and the Bartons arrived just after lunch. Hilary, summoned by the switchboard operator, went out to meet them, and was not surprised that Mrs. Keenan was following her.

  “Good afternoon.” Hilary began pleasantly.

  Jill Fleming demanded sharply, “Miss Westbrook, where is my mother?”

  “In her room—” Hilary began but Jud interrupted.

  “The switchboard operator says she left about a couple of hours ago, with that—that Hodding man.”

  Mrs. Keenan said haughtily, “I presume you are Mrs. Barton’s son. I’m Mrs. Franklin Keenan. And Mr. Hodding is a charming and delightful man.”

  “You keep out of this!” snapped Jud, and turned accusingly to Hilary. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on my mother. For the rates we pay here, I feel we are entitled to better care for her than she’s been getting.”

  “Mr. Barton, I haven’t the slightest idea where your mother is,” said Hilary curtly. “She is a guest here, not a prisoner. She is perfectly free to come and go as she likes.”

  Hilary turned to Ethel, who was listening with avid eyes. “How long ago did they leave, Ethel? Before lunch?” she asked.

  “Oh, yes. Hilary, they’ve been gone since a little after eleven,” answered Ethel. “Mr. Hodding’s car came for them and Mrs. Barton was all dressed up—she looked so pretty, all bright-eyed and eager. And Mr. Hodding was, too—dressed up, I mean, not pretty.”

  Jud turned a shocked face to Jill and Elliott, and their eyes widened beneath the impact of a thought that struck them all at once.

  “You don’t suppose—” Jill began faintly.

  “Of course not, don’t be silly,” Elliott stammered.

  “Not Mother, she couldn’t be that much of a fool,” Jud tried to dismiss the thought.

  Mrs. Keenan, looking from one shocked, pale face to the other, brought the thought out into the open, gleefully, “Did you mean maybe they have eloped?”

  “At their age? Nonsense!” Jud protested savagely.

  Mrs. Keenan looked slowly from one to the other of Mrs. Barton’s family and suddenly she laughed as no one had heard her laugh since she first entered the T. & C.

  “Well, bless their hearts, the darlings!” she laughed. “Of course that’s what they’ve done. Lily-Mae was terrified of facing you, you had been so unpleasant when you saw the story in the newspaper. And I suppose poor Mr. Hodding felt that you’d bully her as you’ve always done—”

  “I resent that, madam!” snapped Jud furiously. “Bully her? Mother? You’re out of your mind!”

  “Of course you have. You—what was that you said this morning, Hilary?” Mrs. Keenan turned to a wide-eyed, startled Hilary, laughter still bubbling in her voice, “something about their having tucked their mother into some sort of mold and being determined to keep her there. Well, Mr. Hodding has broken the mold and taken her out—and I’m just delighted for both of them!”

  “Mrs. Keenan, we simply do not want our mother making a laughing-stock of herself—” began Jud haughtily.

  “What you really mean is that you don’t want your precious family to be ridiculed. Well, what kind of a family name do you have that it could be so seriously damaged, just because two elderly people want a little companionship as they grow older? Mr. Hodding is a very fine man; he and Lily-Mae can spend their remaining years together in great peace and happiness, if only you four will keep your—your grubby paws off of their lives!”

  Jill cried furiously, “This is outrageous!”

  Mrs. Keena
n surveyed her coolly, disparagingly, and nodded. “It is, isn’t it?” she admitted. “Well, I’ll have to run along to the kitchen and make peace with Raoul. I want to give a reception for the happy couple when they get back.”

  She went briskly down the corridor, forgetting to use the stout stick with which she had, heretofore, steadied herself.

  “What a perfectly horrible old woman!” snapped Jill.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” said Jud, who seemed to have elected himself spokesman for the group. “You don’t have any idea where they may be, Miss Westbrook?”

  “I’m sorry, no,” answered Hilary pleasantly. “Did they take any luggage, Ethel?”

  “Oh, no, Hilary,” answered Ethel. “I’d have called you right away if they had.”

  “Then I suppose you’ll just have to wait,” said Hilary pleasantly. “They will be coming back soon, I’m sure. May I get you some coffee? Have you had lunch?”

  “No!” snapped Jill. “We were in too much of a hurry.”

  “Then do come into the dining room, and I’ll have one of the waitresses bring you something. Lunch is over, but I’m sure they can find something.”

  “See here, nurse,” said Elliott and there was a faint touch of contempt in his use of the word “nurse” instead of her name, “it seems to me you’re pretty casual about all this. As if you didn’t feet any responsibility whatever for what’s happened.”

  “Why, I don’t Mr. Fleming,” Hilary answered him, surprised. “Why should I? Our guests are neither children nor imbeciles—”

  “Mother certainly seems to be acting like one,” snapped Elliott.

  Jud turned on him furiously.

  “Don’t you dare talk that way about Mother,” he said sharply. “After all, she’s not your mother.”

  “Well, she’s mine, and I think she’s behaving shamefully,” Jill sided with her husband.

  Hilary managed to get them into the dining room, conferred briefly with a waitress and thankfully escaped to the lobby once more.

  The door of Dr. Marsden’s office opened and he peered out.