by Betty Neels
‘Well,’ began Araminta, ‘there’s really no need for me to go home. Mother and father have gone to Italy—the Celts, you know—and my cousin has had to go to an aunt who is ill. There’s only Cherub…’
He perceived that Cherub was the only close tie she had with her home. He said nothing, but his silence was comforting, so that she went on, pot-valiant, ‘I shall have no trouble in getting another job. I’m well qualified…’
A gross exaggeration, this, in a world of diploma holders and possessors of degrees, but she wouldn’t admit that, not even to herself, and certainly not to him.
The doctor remained silent, watching her from under his lids while she drank her tea.
‘Well, I must be going.’ She had never been so unhappy in her life, but she must get away before she burst into tears. ‘I cannot think why I have wasted my time here. I suppose you were just curious?’
‘Yes.’ He had spent a good deal of time and trouble looking for her, but he found himself smiling. He said in his quiet voice, ‘Will you marry me, Mintie?’ and watched the colour creep into her pale face as she stared at him across the table. ‘I fell in love with you the moment I set eyes on you, although I wasn’t aware of that at the time. Now I love you so deeply I find that I cannot live without you, my darling.’
Araminta took a minute to understand this. ‘Me? You love me? But I thought you didn’t like me—only you always seemed to be there when I had got into a mess. You—you ignored me.’
‘I did not know what else to do. I am years older than you; you might have met a younger man.’ He smiled suddenly and she felt a warm tide of love sweep over her. ‘Besides, you were always Miss Pomfrey, holding me at arm’s length, so I have waited patiently, hoping that you might learn to love me. But now I can wait no longer.’ He added, ‘If you want me to go away, I will, Mintie.’
Her voice came out in a terrified squeak. ‘Go away? Don’t go—oh, please, don’t go. I couldn’t bear it, and I want to marry you more than anything else in the world.’
The doctor glanced around him, for those sitting near their table were showing signs of interest. He laid money on the table, got into his overcoat, buttoned her jacket and said, ‘Let us leave…’
‘Why?’ asked Araminta, awash with happiness.
‘I want to kiss you.’
They went outside into the dark afternoon, into their own private heaven. The narrow street was almost empty—there were only two women laden with shopping bags, an old man with his dog, and a posse of carolsingers about to start up. Neither the doctor nor Araminta noticed them. He wrapped his great arms round her and held her close, and as the first rousing verse of ‘Good King Wenceslas’ rang out, he kissed her.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3919-7
NANNY BY CHANCE
First North American Publication 2003.
Copyright © 1998 by Betty Neels.
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