A Case of Heart Trouble (16 page)

“Of course not,” Dallas heard herself reply, very quietly and composedly, although in the whole course of their association she had never actually believed that he would ever single her out so crudely to be referred to as an “employee”. “I understand perfectly.”

He glanced at her, and for one moment she thought that the expression of his eyes was odd . . . as if he disliked the use of such an expression himself, and was a little ashamed of it.

“Well, that’s all right, then . . . Only we might not be back until tea -time, and I wouldn’t like you to think we’d disappeared into the blue.” His lips twisted curiously. “Naturally, you can spend the day in any way you please. Only I'd prefer it if you didn’t wander far from the house.” Dallas’s green eyes were so surprised as she gazed up at him that once more the frown appeared and knit his dark brows together.

“It’s a fine morning, so I’d go for a walk if I were you . . . only don’t make it too long a walk. The sort of walk you used to take when you first came here !”

“I won’t,” she reassured him. “In fact,” looking at the carpet, “I don’t suppose I’ll go for a walk at all. There are a lot of things I can do for myself, since you’ve just said that my time is to be my own, and they’ll occupy me until you get back.”

She could feel him staring at her hard, but this time it was she who declined to meet his eyes. Instead she studied the tips of her fingernails as if they absorbed her.

“You really are feeling better?” he asked suddenly, abruptly. “You look better.”

“Thank you, there’s nothing in the least wrong with me.” She

put back her head, and she swallowed something that felt like a lump in her throat. “If you decide that Stephanie is fit to return to school, Doctor, I can go-back to Ardrath House whenever you say. As you know. Matron merely lent me to you, as it—as it were. My real job is waiting for me in London. Thanks to you, the annoying cough I had when I first came here has quite gone, and I haven’t felt so fit for a long time. I'm very grateful to you for that.”

“How long have you been here?” he asked, as if in his busy life it was impossible for him to keep track of the length of time that had elapsed since he saw her last.

“A month. Doctor . . . exactly a month. The same length of time that I was here before.”

“And would you like to stay on for another month?”

“If you feel that I’m of any value to you.”

He walked to the window, and stood staring out at the daffodils now blooming in profusion under the trees that bordered the drive.

“The arrangement we made when I left here three weeks ago still stands so far as I’m concerned,” he remarked curtly. “I said I’d like you to remain and take charge of Stephanie for the summer, and I would still like you to remain for the summer. Naturally, however, if the country bores you . . .”

“Bores me?”

He turned round and looked into her astonished eyes.

“Does it?”

“You know very well I adore the country; I hate towns.”

“Yet you’re very fond of Oldthorpe, and you like popping in there whenever you can be spared from your duties. And I understand you don’t forget old friends in the neighborhood. You like to keep up an association once begun.”

All at once a faint light broke over Dallas, and she began to feel less bewildered. His extraordinary change of attitude — was no longer utterly inexplicable (even allowing for the fact that Joanna Loring had become part of the household). Last night he and Joanna had sat alone in the drawing-room, and almost-certainly the subject of Dallas had cropped up between them. No doubt Joanna herself had introduced it as a topic of conversation. And if, in addition to Dallas, she had also mentioned Brent Rutherford . . . !

There was no need to wonder why he was suddenly hostile. But there was every reason to wonder why, if he believed her capable of carrying on an affair with a man he disliked extremely, he didn’t accuse her openly of doing so. Unless it no longer mattered to him

what she did . . . apart from the irritation of knowing that she was deliberately ignoring his wishes.

She stood up suddenly, and the dull anger she felt against both him and Joanna made it difficult for her to speak normally, or even to look calm and dispassionate. She strove hard to control the slight tremble in her voice as she said:

“I don’t know where you get your information from concerning my spare time recreations, but whoever supplied you with that information was not entirely accurate. However, since it is my spare time you’re concerned about and not any failure in my manner of carrying out my duties I don’t think you need concern yourself with it any more. I’ll stay here as long as you want me to stay, and leave the instant you ask me to do so! And whether or not I’m bored in the country is quite beside the point. And now I think I’d better go and make certain that Stephanie is ready to leave with you.”

As she reached the door he called her back.

“Dallas! ”

But she declined to so much as turn her head. Once and for all, she thought, as a furious gust of indignation shook her, he had to be made to understand that he couldn’t treat her like a formal employer one minute and a slightly too friendly benefactor the next. And if he couldn’t trust her, then she most certainly couldn’t trust him!

To her relief, as she swept out of the door, Joanna came hastening in from the corridor, and she was pulling on an immaculate pair of soft suede gloves ready to leave. Without even glancing at her Dallas received an impression of supreme countrified elegance — three-quarter-length suede coat, slim tweed skirt, unsuitable high-heeled shoes—and a beauty that was shattering in the bright clear light of day. And as she vanished along the corridor she heard Joanna say gaily:

“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, darling, but I knew you wanted to talk to Nurse Drew, and I thought I’d better give you time to get the lecture over! ’

Dallas swallowed, and she felt as if her cheeks were on fire when she ran into Mrs. Baxter in an upstairs corridor. Impulsively she stopped and addressed the housekeeper urgently.

“Mrs. Baxter, would it be any trouble if I had my meals upstairs in the schoolroom while Dr. Loring is here? I’m sure he and Mrs. Loring would prefer it if I wasn’t always there. And Stephanie always gets a bit restless in the dining room. Or if her father wants her to have meals with them, perhaps I could have mine with you?”

Mrs. Baxter looked at her for rather a long moment in silence, and then she answered as if she understood perfectly:

“Of course, Nurse. I'll see to it that the table is laid in the schoolroom. I believe the doctor is remaining for a few days, so we’ll keep to that arrangement so long as he's here.''

“Thank you, Mrs. Baxter,” Dallas returned gratefully, and went on her way to her bedroom, where she spent the better part of the morning wishing she was an ordinary employee who could pack her bags and depart, and not one who would have to give an account to a discerning matron at Ardrath House if she left before it was convenient for Dr. Loring to have her leave.

It was growing dusk when the others returned, but apparently they hadn’t had any tea, and a tray was sent to the drawing-room. Stephanie explained delightedly, when Dallas went to collect her, that the car had broken down, and her father had had to walk back two miles to a garage while she and Joanna sat in the middle of the moor. Stephanie had quite obviously enjoyed the thrill of being temporarily marooned, but Joanna had just as obviously done nothing of the kind.

“It’s turned beastly cold,” she said, “and I was half frozen sitting in the car.” She warmed her hands in front of the brightly leaping fire in the drawing room. “The next time I go to Oldthorpe for the day— in your car, anyway, Martin!—I’ll wear a fur coat and muffler.”

“You can think yourself lucky you didn’t have to walk back two miles to find a mechanic,” Martin replied, a trifle brusquely. He was mixing himself a whisky and soda at a side table, and declined to be regaled with afternoon tea. He glanced over his shoulder at Dallas.

“Have a good day, Nurse?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you, a very good day,” Dallas returned. She helped Stephanie off with her coat and woolly cap. “Wouldn’t you like to come upstairs now and have your supper? It's going to be rather late when you get to bed if you don’t.”

Stephanie seemed to seize upon the suggestion with eagerness, having apparently had an enjoyable

time but quite as much of the combined society of her father and her aunt as she could appreciate for the time being. It was obvious they were not entirely in harmony at the moment, and no doubt the cold wait in the car—and the colder walk back to the garage for Martin—had put their tempers on edge. At any rate Dallas was glad she was leaving them alone as she hurried to the door with Stephanie, and the two of them enjoyed a relaxed, nursery-type meal in the shabby but comfortable upstairs room that had been the schoolroom for young members of the Loring family for generations.

Afterwards they played Snap for a while, and then Dallas supervised Stephanie's bathing arrangements and saw her into bed, with Joe curled up as usual on the foot of it. Possibly because he was still very small, and his basket was rather large, he had a marked disinclination for passing the night where it was intended—and hoped—he would ultimately pass it when he was slightly more mature, and his mistress was away at school.

Having said goodnight to Stephanie Dallas made her way to her own room. It was a little early yet to go to bed, so she decided to slip downstairs to the library and borrow a book which she could read when she was in bed. Normally, after dinner, the master of the house sat in the drawing-room, where coffee was always served, and not the library, but tonight for some reason she found him standing alone in front of the dying fire and gazing contemplatively into the ashes.

She hadn't bothered to knock, being certain that the room was empty, and her face betrayed her surprise when her employer wheeled round and confronted her. His face was so dark and disapproving that she thought he was going to reprove her for entering a room that was in actual fact his private domain when she imagined he wasn’t there to either grant or refuse permission to delve amongst his bookshelves.

“Oh, so there you are, Nurse Drew,” he exclaimed in a sharper tone than he had ever used to her before.

“And may I enquire what happened to you at dinner? Mrs. Baxter said something about your having dinner upstairs, and as I know that isn’t your normal practice it occurred to me that you had either skipped it to go out or you had been suddenly taken ill. In which case I should have thought I would be informed.”

Dallas’s face registered nothing but a faint surprise, followed by cool apology.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I did ask Mrs. Baxter to let you know that I was sharing Stephanie’s supper upstairs. The child had been out all day, it’s Edith’s night off, and I couldn’t leave her to have it alone. As you know, the only meal she has downstairs when you are here is breakfast, and while Mrs. Loring is a guest we would like to make it a rule to have all our meals upstairs.”

“Oh, you would, would you?” Loring returned on an even sharper note. “And why is that, I wonder? Because you personally dislike Mrs. Loring, or because you find it a bore having meals with me?”

Dallas flushed.

“Of course I don’t dislike Mrs. Loring,” she protested. “And as for having meals with you . . . well, I know I did when I was here before, and on the last occasion when you stayed here; but now I think it’s rather different. Mrs. Loring is a guest, and I’m here in the capacity of a kind of nurse-companion to Stephanie. Therefore it's only right that I should spend all my time with Stephanie. And I’m sure Mrs. Loring prefers it,” she added, and then wished that she hadn’t when she saw him smile.

“So it all revolves around Mrs. Loring? Mrs. Loring is a guest, and you are not. Mrs. Loring is my late wife’s sister, and very, very beautiful, and you, of course, can’t compare with her when it comes to looks! And a man likes a beautiful woman to share his table with him. .

. . Well, there’s something in that, and you mustn’t think I’m unaware of the charms of Mrs. Loring. Quite the contrary, in fact. But having grown used to seeing you at meal times when I'm staying here I object when you conceal yourself upstairs.”

Dallas's face took on a slightly deeper flush, but she felt as if something inside herself hardened and stiffened, and it gave her the courage to say what she had to say.

“I realize that I ought to have made it clear to you that I intended to remain upstairs tonight, but in future I'd be grateful if you’d consent to my having my meals upstairs. For one thing it's a more practical arrangement when Stephanie and I are here alone . . . and, for another, I'd prefer it.” She drew a deep breath, and looked him full in the-face. “I'm an employee, Doctor, and there have been occasions when you've forgotten it. I know that, three weeks ago, it was probably dull here for you with your aunt away, but now that you have Mrs. Loring to take the place of your aunt—and, as you've just admitted, she has a great deal of charm! —I should feel much happier if I could begin to slip into the position of an employee and nothing else. In fact, in future I shall have to insist on it if I'm to remain here.”

“Oh, yes?” he said softly, and he appeared to be watching her through narrowed eyes.

“I know, to you, I'm just an ordinary young woman—a very ordinary young woman! —and perhaps because of that very ordinariness you thought it safe on two occasions to bestow a certain amount of attention on me,” with a very noticeable dryness. “When you were more than ordinarily bored! The last occasion, I remember, was after the visit of Mrs. Loring, which for some reason I know nothing about very possibly upset you. But although that's all right from your point of view, it isn't so good from mine . . . and I object to being selected for such marks of favor, and I object just as strongly to being criticized for my conduct outside the house. I don't know where you got the idea that I've been leading a somewhat dissipated existence in your absence, but if you want the truth you can ask Mrs. Baxter how many times I've received telephone calls in this