Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) (11 page)

“
It doesn
’
t matter,
”
she answered. She could have told him that it would be even more correct to address her as
“
sister,
”
but since he had never done so, and she had never bothered to assert her position with him, she remained silent now.

For an instant the smile returned.

“
Miranda calls you Lucy!
”

“
Yes.
”
With her dark curls blowing in the breeze, and her blue eyes deep and dark like violets, the name, for all its simplicity, seemed somehow just right for her—or that was what he thought at that precise moment.
“
Sometimes
‘
Noly,
’
“
she told him, with a smile of her own.

“
I
think I prefer Lucy,
”
Sir John admitted, and then he turned from her and started to disinter with the end of his hunting crop a fragment of stone from the crumbling balustrade of the steps on which they were standing.
“
By the way, Miss Nolan, what
I
was about to say just now is simply this: I don
’
t wish you to feel shut away here or cut off from every sort of facility, or means of amusement. If you wish to go shopping in Barnchester, or to a cinema, you mustn
’
t hesitate to ask Jennings to drive you, when he is here. When he is not here Battersby drives the Land Rover, and that would be better than country bus services.
”

“
It would,
”
Lucy agreed, and added her thanks.

Sir John appeared about to walk away from her with one of his cool little nods, when obviously a new idea entered his head.

“
This afternoon I shall be driving to Barnchester myself, so if you would like to take advantage of a lift there and back, the opportunity is yours.
”
He did not look at her, but examined the end of his hunting crop.
“
Does that appeal to you?
”

“
Why, I—why, yes
....”
Lucy was definitely surprised, but

she endeavored to keep some of the surprise out of her voice. And there were several reasons why a trip into Barn
c
hester was something she could feel really grateful for just then.
“
Yes,
thank you. Sir John, it does certainly appeal to me, if you don
’
t mind giving me a lift.
As
a matter of fact. I
’
ve been wondering how
I
could match some knitting wool.
”

“
Well, you can do so this afternoon,
”
he replied.
“
Fiske will take over in your absence. At two-thirty? Can you be ready by then?
”

“
Oh, yes, I can be ready,
”
she assured him, and as he walked away and left her she stared after him with a somewhat unbelieving look in her eyes, and then went tripping down the steps to the shrubberies with a curious feeling that the morning was even brighter than she had imagined. It was quite a superlatively fine morning!

At two-thirty t
hat afternoon she was ready and waiting at the foot of the terrace steps. Jennings brought the car around from the garage and sat imperturbably behind the wheel after he had held open the rear door for her, and she found Muffin already disposed on the backseat, lying comfortably on a plaid rug. He lifted his head and placed it condescendingly on her knee when she sat down, which surprised her a little, for he was indisputably Sir John
’
s dog and was very sparing with his favors in any other direction.

When Sir John emerged from the main doorway of the house he was dressed very suitably in well-cut country tweeds, and he was accompanied by Lynette Harling. Lucy was surprised by the sight of Miss Harling, and a good deal of her pleasure in the prospect of a reasonably long drive vanished on the instant. Lynette was looking sulky, as if something had upset her, and she did not even glance at Lucy as she climbed into the car. Sir John ordered Jennings to vacate the seat behind the wheel, and explained that this was one of the occasions when he preferred to drive himself.

He got in beside Lynette, and she stared at the front of the house with an inscrutable expression on her beautifully made-up face.

The drive into Ba
rn
chester would have been most unpleasant if Lucy had not been aware of a certain tension in the car, and she could not but admire the expert method in which Sir John handled the impressive Bentley. If anything, he was a better driver than Jennings, and Jennings had survived a period of twenty years or more in the service of the first, and then the second Sir John Ash.

Sir John dropped Lucy in the market square when they reached it, and he gave her a very friendly smile before he drove off, after promising to pick her up in the same spot in a couple of hours
’
time. Lynette accorded her the briefest of unsmiling nods.

Lucy found that two hours was not a great deal of time in which to execute several errands for Mrs. Abbott and do her own shopping, and then have a cup of tea before allowing herself to be picked up by the big Bentley again. And Ba
rn
chester was a delightful old-world town, full of carefully preserved half-timbered buildings, including a really ancient inn, some enticing antique shops and some alluring little places where tea was dispensed in an atmosphere of mellow oak and gleaming brassware. Lucy was trying to make up her mind whether the Copper Kettle was really more attractive than Priscilla
’
s Parlor, and was just about to enter the Copper Kettle, when Sir John went past at cruising speed, and instantly slowed the car.

“
If you
’
re thinking about tea, Miss Nolan, you
’
d better come along with us,
”
he suggested, putting his head out of the window on his side.
“
We
’
re going to the George, where they serve tea as well as lunches.
”
He put a hand behind him to open the rear door for her.
“
Hop in! This isn
’
t a parking place, so we mustn
’
t ignore the regulations.
”

“
Oh, thank you!
”
Lucy exclaimed, as she subsided a little breathlessly on the backseat of the car. With Miss Harling
’
s superb features very noticeably averted from her, and the feeling that Sir John had issued his invitation purely as a result of excessive politeness, she was not at all sure whether she wouldn
’
t have much more enjoyed tea by herself at the Copper Kettle.

Lucy never forgot that tea or the embarrassing conditions that prevailed at it. To begin with it was not a good tea, although the service was excellent, and Lynette quite flatly declined to pour, delegating that duty to Lucy. Lucy felt Sir John
’
s eyes were on her as she manipulated the teapot, and made inquiries about milk and sugar—Lynette insisted on a slice of lemon being produced by the waiter, and looked almost with abhorrence at the jug of cream—and her hands were inclined to fumble a little. But Sir John kept up a steady flow of conversation, and beneath her seat Lucy felt Muffin occasionally touch her leg with a silken paw, plainly asking for a tidbit.

Lucy looked across at the dog
’
s owner, asking permission to answer the silent pleas with a fragment of hot buttered scone or a piece of cake, and he nodded, a glimmer of an understanding smile in his eyes.

“
Oh, yes,
”
he said,
“
you can let him have a few scraps. I
’
m afraid Muffin has a sweet tooth, and is in any case badly spoiled.
”

Lucy was surprised, for she had not imagined it was in him to spoil even an animal—only perhaps the sulky-eyed beauty in her flagrantly expensive suit, who sat between them at the table—and she bent down to offer Muffin a corner of cake. Muffin dispatched it quickly and then made his way around to her other side, hoping for more. But when he did not receive it immediately he turned his attention to Miss Harling, and by some unfortunate miscalculation on his part—or as the result of a failure of his canine instincts—he mistook the moment when she was lifting her cup to her lips for a moment when she was likely to provide him with something, and put his paws up on her lap.

Lynette Harling had no great love for animals, and she recoiled instinctively from most dogs. On this occasion she thought instantly of her suit, and the damage those wide paws might do to the fine wool cloth, and in attempting to thrust Muffin away she allowed her teacup to overbalance into her saucer, and all at once her lap was full of tea.

“
Oh!
”
She sprang up, and the tears stood in her eyes as she viewed the damage to her skirt. Her delicate cheeks flamed with a mixture of anger and helplessness, and she stuttered helplessly,
“
B-b-beastly dog! Oh, what am
I
going to
do
...?”
Her voice was a wail.
“
My skirt is absolutely ruined!
”

Lucy, who had snatched a handkerchief out of her bag and was doing her best to mop up the worst of the damage with its somewhat ineffectual assistance, strove hard to soothe her.

“
Oh, no,
I
don
’
t think so for one moment. Miss Harling! This is only very weak tea, and by the time we
’
ve got it dried I don
’
t think there
’
ll even be a stain. And you can always send it to the cleaners—
”

“
Cleaners! Why should I?
”
Lynette caught her up, glaring at her with quite unconcealed dislike, while Muffin
’
s owner grabbed him by the collar and administered a lecture.
“
This is a new suit—a
new
suit!
”

She felt that the thing that would relieve her feelings most of all would be if she could allow herself to burst into tears, for not only was the suit a new one, but it was as yet unpaid for. It was a model, like most of her clothes, and its price was more than she could even bear to think about at the present time, with a host of other debts hanging like a number of
millstones around her slender neck. Oh, why had she been so unwise as to wear it today?

She sat down again at the table because she could feel Sir John studying her with a kind of faint amusement in his strange gray eyes, and she knew that she had to be careful. But inwardly she was fuming because some spiteful whim of fate had allowed that absurd dog of Sir John
’
s to accompany them today, and that inefficient and unpleasant attendant to his child to feed it tidbits. Tidbits...! She found it impossible to prevent herself looking all her dislike at Lucy, whose neat and by no means unattractive appearance infuriated her just as a red flag infuriates a bull. Her mother might put forward pleas that she was quite a nice girl, and insist that there was no danger of Sir John
’
s liking her because he could never possibly look at any other woman while Lynette was within his orbit, but there was such a thing as a girl like that entertaining ideas of her own

And, in any case, she was too young to be in charge of Miranda. It would be much better if someone older, and therefore, of course, more experienced, took charge of Miranda, and she really would have to try her best to
convince Sir Joh
n ...
She had already tried once, but he
had not been particularly receptive to her talk of her feminine intuition that she insisted could never be false. And in some ways he was a difficult man to convince of anything—even the extent of his own future happiness once she shared it with him!

He had come into her life when she was dancing in
Swan Lake
in the provinces, and her success had not been quite so outstanding at that time. He had helped her a good deal by taking a tremendous interest in her, and by reason of his affluence, and his various interests unconnected with shipbuilding, had contributed, she knew, in no small measure to
the success she enjoyed nowadays. He was generous, too, and the presents she had received from him had been a very obvious expression of what he felt for her. But he had not, so far, asked her to marry him!

She hoped that omission would be remedied before she left Ketterings and returned to London, where she was to begin rehearsing
Coppelia.
And after that she was booked for a tour of Europe again. It would never do if she set off for Europe without making sure of the man she had quite made up her mind
must
become her husband! She did not pretend to herself that she was in love with him—she was not really very much interested in love. An artist such as she was, who had worked so hard for years, gave all her love to her art—but she liked the look of him, she liked the thought of his bank balance, and she liked Ketterings. But, most of all, she liked the thought of the security he could give her—security for the future when all might not be well with her, and even her art might fail her. She would not be the first who had reached a dizzy pinnacle and then been suddenly bereft of everything. But Lady Ash of Ketterings would find life snug and secure.

So she made a supreme effort and smiled at him, her green eyes softening seductively, and she even bent down and pretended to forgive Muffin, trying to coax him out from under the table. But Muffin resisted her efforts, and firmly declined to desert the moral support of his master
’
s well-shod feet.

Sir John called for the bill, and watching him while he settled it—adding a generous tip for the waiter—Lucy thought his expression now bore a close resemblance to that masklike look he had worn when she first knew him. It was just as if a shutter closed down over his face, and he deliberately declined to let anyone know what he was thinking. But although it had deceived her in the beginning of their
acquaintance, she now felt quite sure that when he looked like that he was in actual fact thinking very hard about something—and it was something that concerned him deeply.

But his voice was cool and even, when he suggested that they should leave, and for the first time that afternoon Lynette exerted herself in Lucy
’
s presence to be pleasant and affable. During the journey home she chatted away in the sweet, cooing voice she adopted sometimes, and Lucy decided that she was regretting the little scene in the George. Sir John lent an attentive ear, as always, to her somewhat unusual flow of talk, but it was possible that even she realized that the fuss she had made had surprised him, to say the least.

When they reached home Purvis was waiting in the hall to draw Sir John
’
s attention to a telegram that had been received during his absence. Sir John picked it up and read it through, and then retired with it toward the library, while Lynette went upstairs to her room. Lucy was about to follow after making sure there were no letters for her that had come in with the afternoon
’
s delivery of mail, but Sir John turned before actually entering the library and returned with firm steps to the hall. He looked toward Lucy.

“
Can you spare a few moments, Nurse Nolan?
”
She saw that the telegram was still in his hand.
“
I
’
d be glad if you could.
”