Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) (12 page)

“
Of course.
”

She followed him down the dark corridor to the library, hugging her parcels in her arms, and when they reached the big room with its book-lined walls, the sight of the bright fire leaping up on the wide hearth lent it, somehow, a cosy look. Sir John closed the door carefully behind her and then walked to the fireplace. He stood staring down into the fire, his black brows drawn together, his expression very thoughtful.

“
I thought you
’
d like to read this telegram, nurse.
”
He passed it to her without looking at her, and it did not escape her that he had reverted to his old mode of address, and for a time, at least, the
“
miss
”
was dropped again. She was back on her professional footing.

This did not surprise her when she had read the telegram. It had been handed in in Vienna, and it stated that Dr. Rupprecht Wern was on his way to London by air, and that he proposed to be at Ketterings the following day to make an examination of Miss Miranda Ash. It was more or less assumed that the arrangement would be convenient, and that the necessary preparations for his visit would be set in motion.

Lucy read the telegram through twice, and then put it down on the table. She said in a very quiet voice,
“
This is good news!
”

“
Is it?
”
Miranda
’
s father turned very abruptly and looked at her. There was nothing revealing in his face, but at the same time it was not masklike. There was something searching in his eyes.
“
You really think so, nurse?
”

Lucy rearranged the parcels in her arms and stared at them as she did so.

“
It
’
s what we
’
ve been waiting for, isn
’
t it?
”
she answered.
“
An expert opinion on
Miranda—the best opinion! And at least it
’
s better than—than just letting her go on as she is, neither making improvement nor—well, going on as she is,
”
she said rather feebly.

“
You are not afraid of what Dr. Wern might have to say about her?
”

The voice was almost sharp, and Lucy sent another quick look at his face, but it was still unrevealing. She looked away from him at the red Turkish carpet.

“
No—no, I don
’
t think I
’
m really afraid. I
’
m much more inclined to be hopeful.
”

There was silence in the room for several seconds while the logs stirred on the hearth, and Muffin, who had stretched himself out in his favorite position on the rug, started to give vent to little snores as he dropped into a doze. And then Sir John most unexpectedly allowed a sigh to escape him.

“
Well, I
’
m glad you can say that, Nurse Nolan!
”
There was another pause, and then,
“
It
’
s a pity
Wern
’
s chosen this weekend, because I imagine he
’
ll be staying a night, at least,
and the atmosphere of a kind of house party
....”
His eyes
met those of the girl who looked so slim and young in her neat tailored suit, but who he knew could be quite extraordinarily efficient and resourceful, and he saw that he had no need to emphasize his meaning. The visit of the Austrian specialist would have been better timed if it had been arranged for one of those weekends when Ketterings was empty of visitors, but at its most dignified, and there was no Mrs. Harling, with her unmistakable Cockney accent, knitting heliotrope sweaters in the drawing room, and no Francis Burke lounging on the terrace and betraying the fact that he was very far from happy—to say nothing of a temperamental ballerina who might, or might not, decide to make herself agreeable.

But, on the other hand, if Sir John proposed to marry the ballerina...!

Lucy confessed to herself that she was a little bewildered.

“
But I
’
ve no doubt at all that you will prove as helpful as you know how if Dr. Wern requires your assistance, nurse, and—
”
with a sudden smile
“
—for that reason I
’
m very glad that you decided to stay on with Miranda!
”

“
I
’
m glad that I shall be here
with Miranda,
”
Lucy replied quietly.

Sir John seemed to become preoccupied all at once, and after a short while she left him—receiving a faintly surprised

permission to do so when she inquired whether there was anything more he wanted her for—and as she mounted the stairs to her own wing of the house she caught sight of Mrs. Harling, in a highly unsuitable housecoat of purple velvet, making her way to her daughter
’
s room. Ahead of her went Eva, the little underhousemaid, with a tray supporting a decanter filled with pale, straw-colored liquid that was probably sherry, and two glasses.

Mrs. Harling looked at Lucy a little sheepishly.

“
At this hour of the day Lynette always seems to feel a little exhausted,
”
she explained,
“
particularly after an outing. She used herself up so much, you know, when she
’
s dancing—and this afternoon, apparently, she was very badly upset.
”

“
You mean about the accident to her suit?
”
Lucy inquired, in obvious surprise.

“
Well, yes.
”
Mrs. Harling admitted,
“
that and other things!
”

What, Lucy wondered, were the other things? And she felt suddenly strongly inclined to echo Sir John
’
s expressed opinion that this was a highly unfortunate weekend for Dr. Rupprecht Wern to choose to visit Ketterings for the first time.

But when Dr. Wern
arrived was so unlike anything Lucy had allowed herself to imagine that afterward she felt sure neither she nor Sir John need have worried about the fact that the latter was entertaining guests. A psychologist would probably have accepted them, and been interested by them. Dr. Wern aroused interest among the guests, and allowed everyone to feel that in some peculiar way they were of absorbing interest to him.

He had a voice that was even quieter than Sir John
’
s, very white teeth and brown eyes that smiled reassuringly. He was not particularly young, but he had the figure of an athlete— probably a mountain climber, since his home was among mountains—very beautiful hands that were strong and flexible at the same time, and there was something soothing about him that seemed to be a part of his personality. Even Miranda, who had been working herself up into almost a low fever at the thought of his visit and all that it might mean for her, relaxed very nearly on the instant that he crossed the threshold of her room. And when he sat down beside her on the edge of her bed and smiled at her, picking up the absurd black-and-white velvet penguin that she kept always near to her, and examined it with interest, Lucy could almost feel the tension going out of her limbs.

“
Well, well!
”
he exclaimed, as he made the penguin bob its head until it looked like a drowsy businessman recovering after a heavy lunch,
“
is this a friend of yours?
”

Miranda smiled back at him.

“
It
’
s Joey,
”
she said.
“
Lucy gave it to me.
”

“
Lucy?
”

“
Nurse Nolan,
”
she told him.

He glanced up at the slim, straight figure, once more in uniform, who stood close to the head of the bed, and one of his dark eyebrows lifted a little, after which his lips curved in a smile.

“
Ah, yes!
”
he exclaimed.
“
I see!
”

After a time he drew Lucy aside and spoke to her in a subdued voice,
“
I
wonder whether you would leave me with the child for perhaps ten minutes?
”
he said.
“
After that you can rejoin us.
”

Lucy went out at once into the corridor, and she stood looking out of a deep-set window, partly filled with armorial bearings, at the shaven lawn over which she had watched Sir John and Lynette Harling strolling arm in arm a few nights before. This afternoon Lynette was resting in her room, and Sir John was downstairs in his library probably occupied in pacing the library floor.

Lucy realized that in her early estimate of Sir John she had excluded something that she knew now ought not to have been excluded. There
was
something—some very real attunement
b
etween the father and daughter, or, at any rate, there was a real acknowledgment of his responsibility for her welfare deeply ingrained in Sir John, and a determination that her welfare should come before a good many other things. That strange, cold air of reserve in which he cloaked himself and his feelings no longer completely deceived Lucy. A man capable of ardor he probably was not, but she was sure that at the present time, at least, concern for Miranda was deeply alive in his breast.

She heard footsteps away at the end of the corridor, and she looked up. Sir John was approaching quietly over the thick carpet. He struck Lucy as having little color in his face, and his hair by contrast looked very thick and black.

“
Don
’
t tell me. Nurse Nolan—
”
he smiled rather bleakly
“
—that you
’
ve been turned out?
”

Lucy reassured him with an answering smile.

“
As a matter of fact, Dr. Wern has carried out his examination of Miranda, and
I
think he now wants to talk to her.
”

“
I see.
”

He stood staring out of the window, and she wondered whether he, too, had any thoughts of the other night, when he and Miss Harling had escaped from everyone else and found themselves alone in the starry magic of the night.

The door behind them opened and Dr. Wern emerged. He shut the door carefully before he looked at Sir John and nodded.

“
Ah, Sir John,
I
would like to speak to you,
”
he said.
“
Where can we talk?
”

He looked through the open doorway into Lucy
’
s comfortable little sitting room, where all the equipment for tea making was set out on a low table near the fire.

“
This looks very nice,
”
he said.
“
May we go in here?
”

But Sir John hesitated.

“
This is Nurse Nolan
’
s sitting room,
”
he said.

Lucy, however, interposed at once.

“
Oh, that doesn
’
t matter at all! As a matter of fact
I
was going to offer Dr. Wern a cup of tea—and you, too, Sir John, if you were up here—and
I
thought that perhaps you might like to talk in this room, as it is rather cut off from the rest of the house, and still near enough to Miranda.
”

“
Oh, well, in that case,
”
Sir John murmured,
“
I quite agree that it
’
s a good idea,
”
and he stepped into the middle of the room and stood looking about it as if he had never seen it at such close quarters before and it now provided him with a certain amount of interest.

Dr. Wern smiled in his charming manner at Lucy when she supplied him with a cup of tea, and then he, too, lay back and surveyed the room. Lucy was glad that she had meticulously thrust away out of sight all her very personal possessions, and that everything was very spick-and-span; but even so, the room had a cosy, lived-in quality, and it seemed to captivate the prominent specialist from Vienna. He lay back comfortably in his deep, tapestry-covered chair, and, as if he was quite unaware that there was any consuming anxiety on the part of the other two to learn the verdict he had reached as a result of his examination of Miranda, talked lightly on subjects that were quite unrelated to his visit while he consumed several of the sweet biscuits and macaroons Lucy had extracted from Mrs. Abbott. And then, when he had declined a third cup of tea, he went around the room examining the watercolors on the walls, and finally he halted before the bookcase that contained Lucy
’
s own books.

“
I
see you are devoted to Jane Austen.
”
He gave her the smile that seemed to light up his brown eyes.
“
The perfect sedative!
”
he added.

Sir John did not miss the way those brown eyes seemed to rest upon the girl in the little starched cap that sat at absolutely the right angle on her dark curls, as if he found something to admire openly about her—just as he had openly admired the watercolors. And with a golden ray of late sunlight finding its way between the curtains and touching very gently the oval outline of her cheek, with its perfect peach
-
like skin, and her downcast, very white eyelids, as she bent above the tea tray on the little oval table, there was certainly quite a lot about her that anyone who felt disposed to do so could admire. Sir John
’
s own eyes flickered away from her face very quickly as she looked up, and she thought that he frowned suddenly and rather noticeably.