by Betty Neels
The car, an elderly Daimler which Sir William had sworn that he would never part with despite the drain on his income, was at the entrance; Leonora bundled her mother into the front seat and got into the back, where she whiled away the brief journey thinking up suitable topics of conversation to get her through dinner. She would know everyone there, of course, but it was as well to be prepared….
The Willoughbys welcomed them warmly for they had known each other for a long time. Leonora glanced round her as they went into the drawing room, seeing familiar faces, smiling and exchanging greetings; there was the vicar and his wife, old Colonel Howes and his daughter, the Merediths from the next village whose land adjoined her father’s, Dr Fleming, looking ill, and his wife and, standing with them, the man in the car who had witnessed her undignified tumble.
‘You haven’t met our new doctor, have you, dear?’ asked Mrs Willoughby, and saved Leonora the necessity of answering by adding, ‘James Galbraith.’ Mrs Willoughby smiled at him. ‘This is Leonora Crosby—she lives at the Big House—you must come and meet her parents.’
Leonora offered a hand. Her ‘How do you do?’ was uttered with just the right amount of pleasant interest, but it had chilly undertones.
His hand was large and cool and firm and she felt compelled to look at him. Very handsome, she conceded—rather sleepy blue eyes and very fair hair, a splendid nose and a rather thin mouth. He was tall too, which was nice, she reflected; so often she found herself looking down on people from her five feet ten inches. Now she had to look up, quite a long way too!
‘Six foot four?’ she wondered out loud.
The Flemings had turned away to speak to someone else. Dr Galbraith’s mouth quivered faintly. ‘Five, actually. Are you feeling sore?’
She said austerely, ‘I hardly think that is a question I need to answer, Dr Galbraith.’
She had gone rather pink and glanced around her, on the point of making an excuse to go and talk to the vicar. She was stopped by his saying, ‘I speak in my professional capacity, Miss Crosby; presumably you will be one of my patients.’
‘I am never ill,’ said Leonora, unknowingly tempting fate.
Mrs Willoughby had joined them again. ‘Getting to know each other?’ she wanted to know. ‘That’s nice—take Leonora in to dinner, will you, James?’ She tapped his sleeve. ‘You don’t mind if I call you James? Though if ever I need your skill I’ll be sure to call you Doctor.’
Leonora had been sipping her sherry; now she put the glass down. ‘I really must circulate, and Nora Howes is dying to come and talk to you.’
He looked amused. ‘Oh? How do you know that?’
‘Woman’s intuition.’ She gave him a brief smile and crossed the room and he watched her go, thinking that a splendid creature such as she deserved a better dress.
She had been right about Nora Howes, who laid a hand on his sleeve, threw her head back and gave him an arch look. Older than Leonora, he supposed, as thin as a washboard and wearing a rather too elaborate dress for a dinner party in the country. But he could be charming when he liked and Nora relinquished him reluctantly as they went in to dinner, and he turned with relief to Leonora as the soup was served. Not a girl he could get interested in, he reflected—far too matter-of-fact and outspoken—but at least she didn’t simper.
It was a round table so conversation, after a time, became more or less general. He had Mrs Fleming on his other side, a quiet middle-aged woman, a good deal younger than her husband and anxious about him.
‘I didn’t want him to come,’ she confided quietly, ‘but he insisted. ‘He’s not well; he’s going into hospital tomorrow.’
He said gently, ‘You mustn’t worry too much, Mrs Fleming. If he leads a quiet life for the next few months and keeps to his treatment he’ll get a great deal better.’
She smiled at him. ‘If anyone else had said that I should have supposed them to be pulling the wool over my eyes, but because it’s you I believe what you’ve told me.’
‘Thank you. I wish all patients were as trusting. Don’t hesitate to call me if you’re worried.’
‘I won’t. It’s so nice that you’re going to live at Buntings—such a lovely old house and it’s been empty far too long.’
She turned to speak to her neighbour and presently everyone went back to the drawing room to drink coffee and gossip. It might be a small village but there was always something happening.
The party broke up shortly before eleven o’clock and since it was cold outside no one lingered to talk once they’d left the house. Sir William unlocked his car door and glanced at the Rolls-Royce parked beside him.
Who’s the lucky owner? he wondered, and saw Dr Fleming getting in.
‘Good Lord, Bill, have you come into a fortune?’ he called.
‘No, no, James owns it. Rather nice, isn’t it?’ He disappeared inside and Sir William got behind his wheel and backed the car. ‘Lucky young devil,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘Come up on the pools, has he?’
Leonora made some vague reply. She was thinking about Tony. She hadn’t seen him for a week or so; perhaps he would come at the weekend. She hoped so; she felt strangely unsettled and just seeing him would reassure her—she wasn’t sure why she wanted to be reassured, but that didn’t matter; Tony would set her world to rights again.
He did come, driving up on Saturday afternoon in his Porsche, and if his kiss and hug were lacking the fervour of a man in love she didn’t notice because she was glad to see him.
He went indoors with her to meet her parents and make himself agreeable and then they went for a walk. He took her arm and talked and she listened happily to his plans. They would marry—he was a bit vague as to exactly when—and he would set about restoring her father’s house. ‘There’s a chap I know who knows exactly what needs to be done. It’ll be a showplace by the time it’s finished. We can have friends down for the weekend…’
Leonora raised a puzzled face. ‘But Tony, we shan’t be living here; Mother and Father wouldn’t much like a great many people coming to stay—even for a weekend.’
He said rather too quickly, ‘Oh, I’m thinking of special occasions—Christmas and birthdays and so on; it’s usual for families to get together at such times.’ He smiled at her. ‘Tell me, what’s been happening since I was last here?’
‘Nothing much. The Willoughbys’ dinner party, and—I almost forgot—the new doctor to take over from Dr Fleming—he had a heart attack—not a severe one but he’s got to retire.’
‘Someone decent, I hope. Local chap?’
‘Well, no, I don’t think so. I don’t know where he comes from. He’s bought Buntings—that nice old house at the other end of the village.’
‘Has he, indeed? Must have cost him a pretty penny. Married?’
‘I’ve no idea. Very likely, I should think. Most GPs are, aren’t they?’
Tony began to talk about himself then—the wheeling and dealing he had done, the money he had made, the important men of the business world he had met. Leonora listened and thought how lucky she was to be going to marry such a clever man.
They went to church the following morning and she stood beside Tony in the family pew, guiltily aware that she was glad the new doctor was there too and could see her handsome fiancé.
Dr Galbraith was handsome too, and his height and size added to that, but he was… She pondered for a moment. Perhaps it was the way he dressed, in elegant, beautifully tailored clothes, sober ties and, she had no doubt, handmade shoes—whereas Tony was very much the young man about town with his waistcoats and brightly coloured ties and striped shirts. She took a peep across the aisle and encountered the doctor’s eyes, and blushed as though she had spoken her thoughts out loud and he had heard her.
She looked away hastily and listened to the Colonel reading the lesson, with a look of rapt attention, not hearing a word, and she took care not to look at the doctor again.
It was impossible to avoid him at the end of the service; he w
as standing in the church porch with the Flemings, talking to the vicar, and there was no help for it but to introduce Tony to him.
‘The new GP,’ observed Tony. ‘I don’t suppose there’s much work for you around here. Wouldn’t mind your job—peace and quiet in the country and all that. You fellows don’t know when you’re lucky. I’m in the City myself…’
The doctor said drily, ‘Indeed? One of the unlucky ones? You must be glad to spend the weekend in this peaceful spot.’
Tony laughed. ‘Not even a weekend—I must go back after lunch, try and catch up with the work, you know.’
‘Ah, well, it’s a pleasant run up to town. I dare say we shall meet again when next you’re here.’ The doctor smiled pleasantly and turned away to talk to the vicar’s wife, who had joined them, and presently when he and the Flemings left the little group he did no more than nod affably at Leonora, who gave him a decidedly chilly smile.
‘A bit of a stiff neck, isn’t he?’ asked Tony as they walked back to the house. He gave his rather loud laugh. ‘I don’t need to have qualms about the two of you!’
‘If that’s a joke,’ said Leonora, ‘I don’t think it’s funny. And why do you have to go back after lunch?’
‘Darling—’ he was at his most cajoling ‘—I simply must. There’s no let-up, you know, not in my world—the business world. Keeping one step ahead is vital…’
‘Vital for what?’
‘Making money, of course. Don’t bother your pretty head; just leave it to me.’
‘Will it always be like this? I mean, after we’re married? Will you be dashing off at all hours of the day, and do we need a lot of money? Don’t you earn enough for us to get married soon?’
He gave her a quick kiss. ‘What a little worrier you are. I am that old-fashioned thing—comfortably off. We could marry tomorrow and live pleasantly, but I don’t want to be just comfortably off; I want to be rich, darling—a flat in town, decently furnished, money to go abroad when we want to, all the clothes you want to buy, dinner parties, the theatre. I want you to have the best of everything.’
‘Tony, I don’t mind about any of that. I’m not a town girl; at least, I don’t think I am. I like living in the country and I don’t care if we haven’t much money. After all, I’m used to that.’ She added thoughtfully, ‘Perhaps you’ve fallen in love with the wrong girl…’
He flung an arm around her. ‘Darling, what nonsense. The moment I set eyes on you when we met at the Willoughbys I knew you were what I was looking for.’
Which was quite true—she was a very pretty girl, had been ready to fall in love, and was an only child, with no large family to complicate matters. She lived in a lovely old house with plenty of land, which would be worth a fortune once he could get his hands on it.
He would have to go slowly, of course, and naturally he couldn’t do anything to make Leonora unhappy. Her parents would be just as happy in a smaller house, somewhere close by, and he and Leonora could live in the big house. It would be a splendid focal point for meeting influential men and their wives—men who would give him a helping hand up the financial ladder.
Decently dressed, Leonora would prove an asset; she had lovely manners and a delightful voice. A bit outspoken at times and a good deal more intelligent than he had expected, but he was sure that he could persuade her to his way of thinking.
It was a couple of days later when Leonora met the doctor again. The icy weather had become quite mild and it rained from a dull sky. Sir William had caught cold and sat morosely by the fire, while his wife fussed around him and Nanny offered hot drinks and aspirin, which left Leonora looking after the household and doing the shopping, for, much as she loved her father, she could see that two females hovering over him was just about as much as he could stand. So she made the beds and hoovered and did most of the cooking and now they were running out of groceries.
In a mackintosh even older than the tweed coat, a hat, shapeless with age, rammed down onto her head, she picked up her basket, announced that she was going to the village and, accompanied by Wilkins, set out.
‘At least we won’t skid on ice,’ she observed to Wilkins, who was plodding along beside her. ‘Though we are going to get very wet.’
Mrs Pike’s shop was empty, which was a good thing for she allowed Wilkins to come in out of the rain, offering a sheet of newspaper which he was to sit on while Leonora took out her list.
A visit to Mrs Pike’s was a leisurely affair unless she had a great many customers; she chatted while she collected bacon, cheese, the loaf the baker left each day, the marmalade Sir William preferred, tea and coffee, sugar and flour. Not that there was much to gossip about: Mrs Hick’s new baby, the Kemp’s youngest boy with a broken arm—‘What do you expect from boys, anyway?’ asked Mrs Pike—and Farmer Jenkins making a bit of trouble about his milk quota. ‘Whatever that is, Miss Leonora; I’m sure I don’t know what the world’s coming to!’
This was one of Mrs Pike’s frequent observations and the preliminary to a lengthy monologue of a gloomy nature, so it was a relief when two more customers came in together and Leonora was able to gather up her shopping and start for home.
It was still raining. Dr Galbraith, driving out of the village, saw Leonora’s bedraggled figure ahead of him, marching along briskly, Wilkins beside her. He passed them and then pulled in to the side of the road, opened the door and said, ‘Get in—I’m going past your place. Your dog can sit at the back.’
‘Good morning, Doctor,’ said Leonora pointedly. ‘Please don’t bother. We are both very wet; we shall spoil your car.’
He didn’t answer but got out of the car and walked round to where she stood. ‘Get in,’ he said pleasantly, and opened the door for Wilkins, who was only too glad to get out of the rain.
‘Oh, well, all right,’ said Leonora ungraciously, and slid into the front of the car. ‘I have warned you that we are both very wet.’
‘Indeed you have, and now I’m wet as well.’ He glanced at her. ‘A waste of time, Leonora…’
‘What’s a waste of time?’
‘Trying to get the better of me.’ He was driving now and turned to smile at her. ‘How are your mother and father?’
‘They’re very well—no, that’s not quite true. Father’s got a very bad cold; he’s a shocking patient when he’s not well and Mother gets worried.’
‘In that case, perhaps it might be as well if I took a look at him. An antibiotic might get him back on his feet—colds can drag on at this time of year.’
‘Yes, but aren’t you on your rounds or something?’
‘No.’ He swept the car through the gates and up the neglected drive to the front door and got out to go round the bonnet and open her door and then free Wilkins.
‘Do come in,’ said Leonora, all at once minding her manners, ‘and take off your coat. I’ll fetch Mother.’ She turned round as Nanny came down the staircase.
‘Oh, good, here’s Nanny. This is Dr Galbraith, our new doctor; he’s kindly come to see Father.’
Nanny eyed the doctor. ‘And that’s a mercy. How do you do, Doctor? And a fine, well-set-up young man you are, to be sure. Give me the coat; I’ll dry it out while Miss Leonora takes you to see the master.’
She turned her attention to Leonora then. ‘And you too, Miss Leonora—off with that coat and that old hat and I’ll give Wilkins a good rub down. There’ll be coffee when you come down.’
Dismissed, the pair of them went upstairs to find her father sitting in a chair by a brisk fire with his wife bending over him. She looked up as they went in and gave a relieved sigh. ‘Dr Galbraith, I was wondering if I should ask you to call. You met Leonora…’
‘Yes, Lady Crosby, and it seemed sensible to take a look at Sir William, since I was passing.’ He went to look at his patient and Leonora discovered that he was no longer a man who persisted in annoying her but an impersonal doctor with his head stuffed full of knowledge, and to be trusted. His quiet voice and his, ‘Well, sir, may I t
ake a look at you?’ was reassuring.
CHAPTER TWO
SIR WILLIAM coughed, blew his nose, coughed again and spoke.
‘Nothing much wrong—just this infernal cold—cough keeps me awake, makes me tired.’
Leonora helped him off with his dressing gown and followed her mother to the door. She paused to ask, ‘Do you need me to stay?’
She was surprised when the doctor said, ‘Please,’ in an absent-minded voice as he bent over his patient.
She stood by the window and glanced out at the rain-sodden landscape, listening to the doctor’s quiet voice and her father’s querulous answers. He wasn’t well; perhaps they should have called the doctor sooner, she thought worriedly.
She loved her parents and got on well with them; indeed, she had been perfectly happy to stay home with them. Before her father had lost his money, there had been plans afoot to send her to friends in Italy, suggestions that she might train for a career, have a flat in town—the world had been her oyster.
She hadn’t regretted the loss of any of these, although she sometimes longed for new clothes, a visit to the theatre, evenings out at some famous restaurant. The longings weren’t deep enough to make her unhappy, and now that she and Tony were to marry it seemed to her that she would have the best of both worlds—living with Tony, sharing his social life, and coming home whenever she wanted to.
Dr Galbraith’s voice disturbed her thoughts. ‘If you would help your father with his dressing gown?’
He didn’t look up as he wrote out a prescription. ‘If you could get this made up? It’s an antibiotic. And a couple of days in bed. Flu can hang around for a long time if it isn’t treated promptly.’
He handed her the prescription and closed his bag. ‘I’ll call again in a day or so, but if you’re bothered about anything don’t hesitate to call me.’
‘Hope I haven’t given it to my wife,’ observed Sir William.
‘As I said, let me know if you are worried about anything.’ He glanced at Leonora. ‘Forewarned is forearmed.’