Love for the Matron (3 page)

She prompted him tactfully. “You said there was something you wanted to ask me, Doctor Gregory, about tonight.”

He brought his gaze back to her. “Yes, Miss Graham, there was. It occurred to me after I
’
d left you this morning that probably you knew few people here and I wondered if you would care to join us for dinner tonight at Castleford. There
’
ll only be ourselves, and of course Miss Evans and the children. I could ask our neighbor over
...
he
’
s from London as you are and no doubt you would have common interests.” He chuckled suddenly and glanced at her from under his heavy brows. “He
’
s a bachelor as well.”

Elizabeth flushed a little under his scrutiny. “Is that supposed to be an asset?” she queried.

“Some women consider it so—or so I
’
m told. I think in this case that it
’
s probably just as well. It would take a very strong-minded woman to tie down Stuart Nichols!” He laughed again as if amused by the very thought.

But Elizabeth wasn
’
t laughing or even amused and somehow she managed to keep her voice above a whisper and to hold it steady.

“What
d
id you say was the name of this elusive bachelor?”

“Stuart Nichols. They say he
’
s a bit of a playboy, and has enough money
of his own not to have to work unless he fancies it. I find him quite amusing and the children seem to like him. We
’
ll expect you about seven, then. I can
’
t offer to call for you because I might be held up, but you can
’
t miss the house if you follow the path that runs below the castle wall ... it leads you to our front door.” He got to his feet and stared around the room thoughtfully. “I hope you
’
ll find this a happy house, Miss Graham. Miss Brown did, and she was sorry to leave it. Well, I won
’
t keep you. I
’
m sure you
’
ll have unpacking to do. Don
’
t bother to come down. I know
my way out.”

He was gone before Elizabeth could summon strength to get to her feet, and when the door had finally closed behind him she gazed around the room as if reluctant to accept that these very walls had heard the name she hoped never to hear mentioned again. She knew Stuart Nichols had left London, but had taken it for granted that he had gone off on one of his roving tours. Now to find that he was living here in Shenston probably only a stone
’
s throw away, as William Gregory had called him a neighbor
...
He would be a guest tonight, and she hadn
’
t the strength to say she couldn
’
t come ... that she had to unpack
...
that she was busy
...
that
she was ill
...

CHAPTER
TWO

It was p
robably only five minutes after William Gregory had left the Matron
’
s house that Elizabeth stood up and got ready to go over to the hospital to pick up the dropped threads of her new job. She was calmer now. It wasn
’
t as if she had ever been seriously in love with Stuart Nichols, she reminded herself. He had been the one to force the pace and had been inclined to resent her refusal to give his courtship the attention he felt it deserved. Perhaps it had been his lack of tenderness and his man-about-town attitude that had jarred against her unsophisticated
heart, or his careless unconcern when it came to hurting people
’
s feelings. Or it could be the fact that she had never quite recovered from that long-ago day when she and Irving had been sweethearts and had planned to marry; but he had flown
away with his squadron, and his had been one of the planes that had plunged earthwards from that summer sky. Ever since, she had put all her thoughts and energies into her nursing and had strictly rationed her dreams.

P
erhaps this very self-control had given Stuart the impression that she was as bright and brittle and carefree as himself and
...
tonight, if he did come to dinner at the Gregorys, she would have to play the same role again—but this time she wouldn
’
t be acting.

Elizabeth took a final survey of her office. She could hear her secretary in the other little room making the soft sounds of departure. Her first day as Matron
w
as drawing to a close and it was hard to believe that she hadn
’
t been here much longer. Already the threads that made up the pattern that was St. Genevieve
’
s were being interwoven with her own. It had been an odd sort of day, a day of collecting impressions rather than hard facts. Through it all ran the bright color of Miss Brown
’
s personality ... a woman she had never met, a woman who had been nearly crippled by her infirmity, often unable to fulfil her official duties and yet whose courage had knitted her staff together into a loyalty that resented a stranger
’
s touch. Patients spoke of her as if she had been a saint and at the same time weak enough and human enough to understand their own failings; even the visitors who came in from the town mentioned her in tones of muted reverence, as if Miriam Brown had died instead of merely retiring, and her body as well as her memory were enshrined within the precincts of the castle walls.

It wasn
’
t that they made Elizabeth unwelcome,
but as if they were reminding her that she was here on sufferance, a person well qualified in her own right and yet unfit to stoop and tie the shoe
-
laces of her predecessor—and while they hoped she would be happy at St. Genevieve
’
s it was certain that she would never be completely part of it
...
not as Miriam Brown had been. She recalled a small incident that had happened late in the afternoon. She had been walking down a rather dark corridor when a very junior nurse had
suddenly scurried past her and Elizabeth had called her back.

“Where
’
s the fire, Nurse, or is someone haemorrhaging?” She had smiled as she had uttered the training school classic remark.

The girl had clutched the covered dish she was carrying more tightly. “It
’
s the dinner for the Matron
’
s cat. I
’
d forgotten to get it, ma
’
am.”

“And where is the Matron
’
s cat?” Elizabeth sensed that the girl, who was scarcely more than a child, could have no idea of her identity.

“On the Children
’
s Ward, of course!” Her voice was full of astonishment that someone didn
’
t know that simple fact.

“Why does the cat stay there if it belongs to the Matron?” Elizabeth queried gently.

“Because Miss Brown always came to the Children
’
s Ward whenever the pain got bad. She would play with the children and the cat would sit at her feet while she told them stories about when she was young. She said once that it helped her to forget her aches
...
”
The girl became suddenly shy as if conscious that she had said too much to a stranger. “May I go now, ma
’
am? Sister will be waiting.” Scarcely waiting for permission, she hurried away, but this time she didn
’
t run.

Elizabeth sighed and collected the folder of papers she would take off with her for further study. She understood perhaps a little better the reason for William Gregory
’
s warning ... he hadn
’
t been warning her altogether against haste in physical things...

Her secretary put her head around the
corner
of the door. “Is it all right if I go now, Miss Graham? I
’
ve got the letters for the post.”

Elizabeth smiled at her, and then on a sudden impulse asked: “How long were you with Miss Brown
?
”

“Nearly two years, and she taught me most of what I know.” The girl
’
s face glowed like a lamp
switched on, and then the light faded from it again. “Is there anything else, Miss Graham?”

Elizabeth hesitated, as much from the surprise at the question she was going to put as anything else. “You haven
’
t told me your name yet,” she asked gently.

The girl stared at her for a moment and then said reluctantly, “It
’
s Margaret Smithy Miss Graham.”

“Thank you, and good night, Miss Smith.” The door closed softly behind Margaret Smith and her letters for the post. Margaret Smith
...
Edith Selby ... Marion Winsley ... the frightened little junior nurse whose name she didn
’
t know as yet
...
and countless others. Behind the scenes of their lives had been a crippled woman whose fingers moved stiffly to tug at the strings of affection that brought her loving puppets to do her bidding over and above the call of duty. Of a sudden Elizabeth felt strangely humble at being allowed to sit in the chair vacated by such a woman. Her brave new plans seemed as fragile as the brief blossoms of early spring. Would she be allowed to stay long enough at St. Genevieve
’
s to leave even a small mark that might be remarked upon in future years?

Elizabeth picked up her folder, left her office and went out of the side door. Her feet made darker stains on the green of the grass and overhead the glowing lights along the castle wall etched the trees blackly against the deepening blue of the sky;
a
single star glittered and tossed its reflection into the flowing river, below.

Her hand reached into her pocket for the great key that would unlock the front door of the Matron
’
s house. Would the time come when people pointing out the little dwelling under the castle wall would mean that Miss Graham, the Matron, lived there? She had lived for so long in other people
’
s rooms and had seldom wondered about the nurses who must have slept there, but now
she felt differently. It was as if the house were haunted, but it was such a gentle haunting that it brought no fear but left her standing on tiptoe, as if waiting for a prompt from the wings of a ghostly stage.

The cold iron of the key reminded her that she was still standing on her own front doorstep and the chill of a March evening was biting through the thin wool of her uniform. Her fingers trembled as she slipped the key into the lock, remembering to turn it slightly left before turning it right to open. The door creaked a little as it swung inwards to her touch and her hand went out to find the light switch; the hallway sprang into brightness and the shadows went away. There was a feeling of sanctuary here, of homecoming and welcome, and she went up the short flight of stairs into the little sitting room. Someone had made up the fire and the flames made a pleasing pattern in the polished surface of the tiled hearth. A tea-tray waited on the low coffee table and an electric kettle stood ready to be plugged in. Annie must have just left because there was no sound or sign of anyone else in the little house
.

Elizabeth sat down in the chair from which she could see the river and put on the kettle. She found freshly baked scones tucked into a warm napkin at the side of the hearth and a tin of biscuits had been left handy. Tomorrow she must remind Annie that one thin slice of toast was all she allowed herself for tea, but today she would accept all the gods had to offer...

Elizabeth finished her tea, brushed the crumbs tidily from her lap, and picked up the newspaper that she hadn
’
t taken time to read yet. She would read the front page and then go and have a le
i
surely bath and get ready for her dinner at Castleford. She was no longer fighting against or even consciously dreading the possible meeting with Stuart Nichols. Perhaps she was fast absorbing some of the tranquillity that seemed such an essential part of St. Genevieve
’
s, or perhaps now that she was two years older Stuart Nichols no longer had the power to stir her into feeling, or to inflict the pain of his mocking laughter upon her shrinking self.

At ten to seven she was ready, and the robin
’
s egg blue of her woollen f
r
ock seemed to heighten the tan she had collected during her ten day
’
s skiing holiday in the Tyrol. The feeling that she knew she was looking her most attractive would armour her against any critical glances that Stuart Nichols might condescend to throw her way. Would he have been told whom he was meeting at dinner, or would Doctor Gregory merely have invited him to meet St. Genevieve
’
s new Matron? Elizabeth laughed at herself
unwillingly,
and slipped on her coat and found her pe
n
cil torch. She didn
’
t know how dark it might b
e
along the castle wall.

Out of doors it seemed strangely light until she realized that the town fathers had set their st
r
eet lamps along the parapet at the top of the wall and the gravel path she was to follow was more brightly lit than it would have been in the daytime. There was scarcely need for the young slip of a moon that shimmered in the ar
c
h of the sky. Because she was so close to the wall the noises of the town seemed muted and she heard only the sound of the g
r
avel beneath her feet. Had William Gregory said how far? No, she remembered now ... he had only said it was the house at the end of the path. But the name Castleford suggested that it must lie near the river, and she became conscious that as the path followed the curve of the wall it was also sloping gently downwards. Then as she rounded an abrupt turn of the ancient battlement there was the sudden sound of running feet and a girl
’
s voice calling:

“Don
’
t, Robin! Enough
’
s enough. Anyway, she
’
ll be here any minute now.”

Before Elizabeth could move aside or make her presence known a warm breathless body collided with hers and she was almost knocked off her feet. She steadied herself with an effort, but before she could say a word the girl was disentangling herself.

“Oh, I
’
m sorry, Are you Miss Graham? Daddy said to come and meet you as you mightn
’
t be sure of the way, but I didn
’
t mean to send you flying. It
’
s all Robin
’
s
fault ...
he shouldn
’
t have chased me.”

Elizabeth found her breath and her voice. “You must be Susan Gregory. I didn
’
t mean to startle you.”

The girl gave a soft gurgle of laughter. “I don
’
t usually welcome guests this way. Come on and we
’
ll go into the house. Daddy is entertaining Stuart, I expect.”

“Do you usually call guests by their
Christian
names?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

Susan tucked her arm through Elizabeth
’
s. “This bit is rather rough. Robin broke our light with his air rifle and Daddy hasn
’
t got round to fixing it yet. Stuart told us to call him by his first name.” She laughed again. “He said he didn
’
t approve of being called uncle by those who weren
’
t his kin and as far as he knew he hadn
’
t fathered any brats yet.
”

Elizabeth felt a momentary recoil from the fact that Stuart would say things like that to Susan, and then she realized that the girl
’
s very innocence was protection enough against the deeper implications of the words.

“What did you call Miss Brown
?
” she asked, and felt the girl move beside her in the semidarkness.

“
Oh, did you know her too? Wasn
’
t she a wonderful person? I think we called her Matron most of the time
...
if we called her anything.
She wasn
’
t the kind of person you would address as Miriam even if you knew her very well. Oh, I don
’
t mean that she was strict or forbidding or anything like that, because she wasn
’
t. Perhaps it was because she had a sort of dignity that made you feel polite inside even when you weren
’
t very often.” Susan squeezed Elizabeth
’
s arm very gently. “I expect we
’
d better call you Miss Graham until we know you, hadn
’
t we? After all, you are the Matron of St. Genevieve
’
s now, aren
’
t you
?
Funny how we always thought Miss Brown would go on for ever. We knew she wasn
’
t well, of course, but she never let you be aware of it. When the pain got bad she would go sort of quiet and you knew then not to interrupt her and you
’
d wait until she started talking and you felt she was all right.