by Janet Woods
Chad jumped at the chance to go out with the major and swiftly donned his balaclava, scarf and gloves. He wove back and forth down the drive, showing off for the major who marched in an upright soldierly manner after him.
The doorbell rang later in the afternoon.
A smile touched Livia’s mouth when she saw Denton Elliot standing there.
‘You haven’t changed a bit,’ she said.
‘Neither have you.’ It was obvious he’d forgotten her name because he put a finger over her lips and smiled. ‘Hello, Miss Pheasant Feather.’
She raised an eyebrow and laughed, feeling instantly at home with him. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I knew you’d forget my name.’
‘I have not. If it isn’t that then you must be Miss Olivia Carr, mostly called Livia, though being instructed to call you Miss Carr, in a rather spinsterish manner.’ He placed his hands against his heart. ‘I’d forgotten what a beauty you are, though, Miss Carr.’
‘Your memory is outstanding if you can remember the exact wording of a conversation all that time ago.’
‘It is, if the subject matter is worth remembering. Are you going to make me wait on the doorstep in the cold?’
She opened the door wider. ‘I’m sorry, do come in,’ and she closed the door behind him when he did. ‘You’re exactly like your father. I think the pair of you have Irish blood and have kissed the blarney stone. I was expecting him to call in on Captain Sangster today, and wondered if he’d look at my sister while he was here.’
‘I can manage that. What’s wrong with her?’
‘She has a cough, though it’s not much of one, so it’s not urgent. I expect the captain will enjoy seeing you. He doesn’t often get visitors of his own age. Follow me.’
‘How has he been?’ he asked, following her up the stairs.
‘Pleased to be home, I think. He rarely complains, and is very kind, sweet and thoughtful.’
‘He seems to have made a good impression on you,’ he said rather drily. ‘I was talking about his health.’
‘I’m hardly an expert on his health, Doctor Elliot. Oh, dear, I do hope I don’t get you and your father mixed up.’
‘On the train I distinctly remember asking you to call me Denton, and you did. What’s changed?’
She blushed. ‘On the train it was different. You were a stranger and I didn’t expect to see you again. And what’s more, I didn’t know you were a doctor.’
‘What difference would that have made, when I’m also a man?’
‘I don’t know . . . doctors know more about people than they know about themselves. You don’t expect to be kissed by an anonymous one on a train.’
‘So . . . you intended to kiss and run.’
‘You know very well it was the other way round. You did all the kissing and running. Behave yourself. You’re here professionally, and I’m the housekeeper . . . Doctor Elliot.’
He grinned. ‘You can call me Doctor Anonymous then, though it sounds a bit on the racy side.’
‘I can see you’re going to give me trouble. Don’t you dare say another word,’ she warned him, and knocked at the door.
Richard was sitting in the chair, dozing. He was shaved and fully dressed, Beamish had seen to that before he left for London, where he had business to conduct with a mutual friend. He’d be back on the evening train.
‘I must say you look better than the last time I saw you, Richard. Are you up to having a visitor.’
Richard’s eyes snapped open and an unbelieving smile sped across his face. ‘You came at just the right time. I was bored, and about to ring for Livia to come and annoy me.’
‘Oh . . . and how does the young lady do that?’
‘She argues with me a lot. But you haven’t met Miss Carr before, have you?’
‘I most certainly have . . . on a train. I nearly flattened her with my kit bag.’
Richard’s gaze sharpened in on her and he gave a faint grin when she laughed. ‘You didn’t tell me the soldier you met on the train was Denton Elliot.’
‘You didn’t ask for a name, and it was none of your business.’
Denton laughed. ‘I didn’t have her to myself for long . . . the train was crammed full of soldiers and sailors.’ He opened his bag and took out a stethoscope. ‘I’m here in place of my father, and I’ll be interested to see how my stitching held up. The very fact that you’re still alive tells me the crack in your skull healed, though it was touch and go for a while.’
‘So, the ghoul who poked and prodded me in the field hospital was you, Dents?’
‘Yes . . .’ He ran his fingers along the scar and made a non-committal but doctorly humming noise. ‘Not that you recognized me at the time.’
‘No wonder, when you have a face that would shatter glass.’ His voice thickened as he choked out, ‘Dents, old boy, it’s been a long time. How the devil are you?’
‘I’m only just holding up under the schedule of surgical training, but generally I’m hotsy-totsy. Open your shirt.’
‘My hands shake when I concentrate.’
‘I need to see how badly.’
‘If you were a dog with fleas you’d beg me to give you a pat.’
Denton laughed at that. ‘You still have a way with words, I see, but it’s hardly a description for the official report. I thought I asked you to open your shirt, so get on with it.’
‘He’s shy,’ Livia said. ‘I’ll go and make some tea . . . will half-an-hour be long enough?’
When Denton glanced up at her, his darkly greenish gaze brimming with amusement, her heart gave a serious flutter. ‘Fifteen minutes will do,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to put you to any bother.’
‘It’s my job, and no bother at all. There’s some walnut cake to go with it. Besides, I’m sure your patient will want some, he always does, and the staff spoil him.’
Denton came down later, listened to Esmé’s chest, then transferred his stethoscope to the girl’s ears so she could listen to her own heart. A smile spread across her face. ‘I can hear myself go boompity-boomp.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with your hearing then.’
He took his time examining her before asking, almost casually, ‘How long was she in the orphanage?’
‘Seven years.’
‘And her appetite?’
‘Not very good at the moment . . . and she tires easily and perspires at night. Chad told me she’d had the cough for about two months before they came to me.’
She was alarmed when Denton said, ‘I’d like my father to take a look at her, but I think we might need some tests done before we can make a proper diagnosis.’
‘What do you think it is?’
His eyes engaged hers. ‘It would be better to wait until the tests are complete.’
‘You must suspect it’s something serious else you wouldn’t want tests doing. I thought it was just an ordinary cough that had persisted.’
‘There’s no such thing as an ordinary persistent cough, Livia. And I have to take into account that your sister spent several years in a crowded orphanage.’
‘Tell me, please, Denton. I don’t want to live in suspense.’
‘All right, but I doubt if you’ll thank me. I hope I’m wrong, my dear, but there’s a possibility she’s suffering from tuberculosis. If she is, you’ll all have to be tested, and if the tests are positive, arrangements must be made.’
‘What sort of arrangements?’
He shrugged. ‘Isolation, warmth, a routine of rest, good nourishing food, fresh air and gentle exercise.’
Eyes wide and her heart full of dread, Livia stared at him and whispered, ‘You’re talking about an institution, aren’t you? That’s not fair . . . Esmé’s only just settled with me.’
‘It hasn’t got to be an institution. It could be the cottage. In fact, it would be ideal, and much better for her to have people she loves around her. See, I knew you’d start building this up in your mind.’
Livia felt stretched in all directi
ons as worries darted through her mind. Would she still be able to live in the cottage . . . be able to work? What about Chad? He might have the disease too. She said out loud, ‘Who will look after the captain?’
‘He’ll manage with Beamish, and they can hire someone else to take your place for six months, if need be. Now, stop imagining the worst and let’s get past the first hurdle. Get your coat. I’ll take your sister to see my father now.’ He fished in his bag and came up with a muslin mask, handing it to Esmé. ‘Here you are, Poppet. You’ve got an infection in your chest, so this will stop the germs from escaping when you cough, and other people catching them.’
‘Am I going to die?’ she said, her bottom lip trembling.
‘Lord no, whatever gave you that daft idea?’ He fished inside his bag and came out with a piece of barley sugar wrapped in cellophane. ‘This is for my second favourite girl.’
Livia sent Florence to keep an eye on Richard. ‘Tell him I’ll be gone for only a short while. And tell the major and Chad if they’re back from their walk before I get home.’
‘This is an awful start to the New Year,’ she said.
Denton’s hand covered hers for a moment. His palms were warm, his long, slim fingers a light caress over hers as he gave her a quick smile and reminded her, ‘It’s not the New Year, it’s the end of the old year. Things will get better, I promise. Probably in half-an-hour’s time when my father’s had his say on the matter.’
Eight
Despite Denton’s optimism, things didn’t get better.
Richard had gone to bed early that night.
Esmé was asleep in Livia’s sitting room, her small face hidden behind her mask. Chad was poring over a book.
He had been made aware of the situation, and he took it calmly when she told him, ‘Captain Sangster thinks it might be a good idea to pack you off to boarding school early if Esmé gets the all clear. He thinks he can get you into the same school he and Doctor Denton attended, though you’ll have to sit the exam first. You’d be home for holidays, of course.’
‘What about my Latin lessons? The reverend said I seem to be grasping what he’s teaching me, though it’s hard. I want to be a doctor and Doctor Denton said I will need Latin.’
She smiled. Chad was influenced by the men around him. It was no bad thing, considering the calibre of them. In particular, Richard, Denton and Beamish were the finest of men, and they seemed to be organizing everything between them on her behalf.
‘I had no idea you were aiming so high, Chad.’
‘I don’t see why not. Captain Sangster said I should take advantage of the offer of a scholarship, since not everyone gets the chance to go to a good school like King’s Charter. I’ve been trying to improve my manners and be polite. And Doctor Denton said he’d take me under his wing if I wanted to become a surgeon when the time came. He said by that time he’ll be old, and would have had plenty of experience.’
Denton would age well, like his father, she thought. And Richard? No, she wouldn’t think about that. ‘You’ll be going to prep school first, and they will teach you Latin there. You can always have extra lessons in the holiday, if you need to. I expect you’ll soon catch up. You don’t mind going then?’
‘A bit . . . but I know you’ll look after Esmé until I’m old enough to do so.’
She hugged him then, despite his boyish resistance to anything he considered sissy. ‘Chad, my love, you take your responsibilities too seriously. You and Esmé are my sister and brother. I love you both, and we’re responsible for each other, though being the eldest, I hope you’ll regard me as someone you can confide in as well. If you hate the idea of going to a boarding school, we’ll find some other way.’
‘Captain Sangster said that sometimes a chap has to do what’s right for others, whether he likes it or not. I won’t mind boarding school, honest, and I’ll soon make friends. I miss having Billy as a friend. I just want Esmé to get better.’
She nodded. ‘What are you reading?’
‘The Jungle Book. Rudyard Kipling wrote it. It’s a story called “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi”. He’s a brave mongoose who kills a cobra. Captain Sangster said I can borrow any book I want, but must show it to him first in case it’s not suitable.’
‘I’ll leave you to it then. I’m going to clear the dishes from the dining room now. I shouldn’t be more than half-an-hour.’
He nodded, his eyes already going back to the book.
As soon as she’d finished her work, Beamish would drive them back to the cottage. Richard didn’t like them walking through the cold darkness of winter evenings.
When the phone rang, Livia answered it. It was Rosemary Sangster. ‘Get Henry for me, and quick about it,’ she said.
Major Henry had been drinking fairly heavily, and he raised an eyebrow when she said, ‘The telephone call is for you, Major Sangster. It’s your wife.’
‘Tell her I’m not here.’ He draped a heavy arm over her shoulder, his hand dangling an inch from her breast.
‘Excuse me, Sir, I have to get my work done,’ she said, and she slipped from under him and walked away.
He weaved across the hall, picked up the receiver and said angrily, ‘It’s about time you rang me. Been enjoying yourself without me, have you?
‘What do you mean you’re going to America? You know I can’t leave Richard . . .’ There was a chink of crystal decanter against his glass as he refilled it.
Livia walked across the hall and gently closed the door as the major began to shout. Like most of the rooms in the house, the door to the study was stout, the walls solid and the carpet thick. The room was almost soundproof, and it was best not to allow everyone to overhear Major Henry’s business.
She had cleared the table and buffet and was sweeping the crumbs from the table when he came in, his face flushed. Swaying on his feet, he said, voice slurring, ‘Any whisky in here? None left in the study.’ He gazed at his glass then moved to where she stood. ‘Well?’
‘Only what’s in the decanter, Major.’
‘Bring it to the study, at least it’s warm there.’ He wandered off, leaving her to follow. Surely he could have carried the whisky decanter by himself.
He closed the door behind them when she went in, and took the decanter from her. Slopping the whisky into his glass he swallowed it down. ‘The damned bitch said she’s leaving me for a film producer . . .’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry . . . why should you be sorry?’ He put an arm round her when she went to walk past him, drew her close. ‘You’re a pretty little thing, Livia. Have a drink.’ He held the tumbler to her mouth and tipped it. She swallowed what went into her mouth and gagged. She pushed the glass away.
‘You wouldn’t deny a man a kiss for New Year luck, would you?’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Rather not? Beggars can’t be choosers, my dear.’ His fleshy mouth covered hers and a wet tongue was inserted into her mouth. When she began to struggle he took her hand and slipped it into the opening of his trousers. ‘Come on, Livia. I’ve been good to you and your family. Just a little bit of hanky-panky to make the old major feel like a man.’
The major had kept himself fit and he kept her hand there while he rotated against it with his pelvis. She panicked when he hardened in her palm and tried to shout for help.
Borne to the floor and kept there by his body, one of his hands went over her mouth while the other fondled under her skirt. Her drawers tightened as his hand bunched round the fabric, and he ripped them.
‘Stop it . . . please stop it!’ she begged, her voice muffled.
‘Too late, old girl. You’ve brought the old man alive and he won’t be vanquished. Relax, my dear. If you’re good I’ll give you a nice bonus in your wage packet . . .’
Relax – when he had thrust himself into her and she felt as though she was being split down the middle. Horror of horrors, he was grunting like a pig as he kept thrusting into her. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to shov
e him away, but she’d lost the strength in her limbs.
It was soon over.
‘Sorry . . . so sorry, m’dear, I didn’t mean to hurt you . . .’ The major relaxed in a shuddering heap on top of her, his breathing harsh.
There was a shout . . . ‘Livia, where are you?’
Chad! He shouldn’t see her like this. Using all her strength Livia managed to heave the major’s body aside and pulled her skirt down. She shuddered in disgust when she noticed he’d passed out. Shakily, she got to her feet and tidied her clothes. Then she burst into tears – she couldn’t help herself.
‘Livia! What were you doing on the floor?’ Chad gazed at the major, bewildered, then his eyes widened. ‘Is he dead . . . have you killed him?’
Just at that moment Livia wished he were dead. ‘He’s had too much to drink. He’s passed out and I can’t wake him.’
‘Why are you crying?’
‘A gust of wind came down the chimney and blew smoke into my eyes.’
‘Esmé is awake. Can we go home now? Bertie will be hungry, and the cook has given me some scraps to take for him.’
The sooner she got out of the house, the better. ‘Yes . . . Go upstairs and tell Mr Beamish while I find our coats and wrap Esmé up warm. I’ll just take the dustpan to the kitchen.’
When she came back out with Esmé in her arms, Beamish was gazing down at the major. He looked up at her, at her dishevelled state, and his eyes narrowed. ‘Are you all right?’
She avoided looking at him. Her ripped underwear was dangling from the elastic waistband, and she was sore, sticky, and bruised where he’d chaffed her between her thighs. She was worried that the remnants of her undergarments might drop to the floor. ‘Of course I am . . . why shouldn’t I be?’
‘No reason, except you’re trembling, and you look as though you’ve been crying. Your breath smells of whisky.’
She’d start crying all over again if he kept this up. ‘I’ll thank you to keep your observations to yourself,’ she snapped, then immediately felt guilty. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just tired. I want to go home, have a wash before I go to bed. I’m looking forward to a good night’s sleep.’