The Little Doctor (18 page)

CHAPTER
EIGHT

When th
e young guide had rested for an hour they began the slow descent from the hut.

Max, in spite of his vigorous protest, was strapped to the sleigh. He had lost a great deal of blood and the final decision was Hans’ as well as Jane’s. Hans was as knowledgeable as any doctor, in these matters, and he knew his mountains.

There was a flutter of interest when they reached the hotel. The news had got about and they had been missed from the festivities of the evening before.

For the first time Jane realized that it was Christmas Day.

Herr Adler put Max in Valerie’s room.

Jane stretched out on the bed in the room she had occupied for over a week. Valerie had not returned.

The village doctor had been summoned to check up on Max’s injuries and she left them talking. Max was quite confident about the result of this second professional examination, he told her with a brief smile. He didn’t think she had made a mistake.

Standing just inside the door of her room, she could still hear the murmur of the two deep voices through the dividing wall. Max’s voice sounded tired and dispirited, but she knew that there was anger in his hurt, too, when he thought of Edward Jakes.

Would Jakes and Valerie return together, she wondered, and did Valerie know that Max was here?

Suddenly and overwhelmingly exhausted, she sat down on the edge of her bed, but somehow she knew that sleep would not come easily. The chambermaid had closed her shutters, but the suggestion of lights trapped out there on the little wooden balcony overlooking the mountains filled the entire room. The hotel was full of life, yet she and Max were shut away from it.

Where was Valerie, and why didn’t she return?

Hanging on the outside of her wardrobe door was the costume she had meant to wear for the fancy-dress ball the evening before. The obvious
choice for her, Valerie had said. A milkmaid! Did she seem as simple as that?

Valerie herself had chosen the golden sandals and classical golden-corded gown of a Sun Goddess, with a brilliant sunburst of semi-precious stones as a headdress. That, too, had remained unworn. Jane had seen it hanging in the adjacent room, a grim reminder to Max that Valerie had chosen to spend Christmas Eve elsewhere.

Had she planned with Edward Jakes beforehand to make that wild dash across the pass and so on down to Chur and St. Moritz? It was impossible for Jane not to remember the references that had been made to the more sophisticated resort and her own refusal to go there. At least, if she had gone Valerie would not have resorted to subterfuge to get there. But she had given Max her promise to take care of Valerie...

Her thoughts flew round in wild circles until finally she sank into oblivion of sheer physical and mental exhaustion.

When, she woke, the chambermaid was opening her shutters. The sun had worked its way across the Silvrettahorn, leaving the eastern slopes veiled in shadow. Soon they would be creeping down toward the hotel.

“Time for tea!” the Swiss girl announced, smiling. “And then you have a gentleman to see you!”

Max!

“Do you mean Doctor Kilsyth?” Jane asked.

“No—” The maid considered. “I do not think that is his name. Doctor, yes, but not Doctor Kilsyth.”

Jane was puzzled.

“Perhaps there has been some mistake,” she suggested as she took the tray to her knees. “Oh—could it be the local doctor?” Her heart began to pound. Had the little man found something seriously wrong with Max? “Doctor Cheisel, isn’t it?”

The girl shook her head.

“Oh, no, not Doctor Cheisel. I know him well. This is an English doctor. But how foolish of me.” She blushed. “How stupid not to remember his name!”

“It isn’t—it couldn’t be Nicholas!” Jane heard herself say. “Doctor Pell?”

The maid’s face was instantly wreathed in smiles.

“That is it! Now it is I remember—Doctor Pell!”

Nicholas! Jane could scarcely believe it. What had brought Nicholas to Switzerland? I promised to give him my answer by Christmas, she thought. Had he come for that answer now?

In a desperate sort of confusion she tried to review the weeks that had passed since she had last seen Nicholas, but he seemed to have been in America for years. She had not made him an
y
definite promise, but she knew that he had come with hope and perhaps assurance in his heart.

“You have not drink your tea,” the girl said, hovering about the room to prepare her bath for her. “Soon it will get cold.
”

“Is Doctor Pell waiting downstairs?” Jane asked.

“No, he has gone to his hotel. He will return again here before dinner.”

“And—Doctor Kilsyth? Have you heard how he is?”

“Oh—he is well! He is up and going about with a bandage on his head, but that is all. He, also, asks how you were after your long ski.”

“Thank you.”

Jane did not know what to think. She got up and took her bath, drying herself on the big white towel that had been laid on the heated rail for her, feeling its warmth against her suddenly racing heart. Max was all right. That was what really mattered most. But also there was Nicholas—and Valerie. Had Valerie returned by now?

Sitting before her dressing-table mirror, she realized that she was almost reluctant to go down and find out for herself. But that was ridiculous, she decided in the next instant. Max was sure to have phoned St. Moritz by now.

When she went down in the lift she saw him immediately. The lounge was almost deserted, save for the odd waiter clearing away a tea tray. It was the half-hour before the first of the hotel residents spilled from the upstairs rooms in search of the ubiquitous cocktail, but Max had chosen to wait down here instead of going to his room.

He was obviously still waiting for Valerie.

Jane hesitated. What could she say to him? Before he could turn and recognize her, however, the big main doors were pushed open and Valerie came in. She ran straight to Max, flinging her arms about his neck.

“Darling!” she cried. “How wonderful to see you! Why didn’t you
tell
me you were coming?”

Very slowly and deliberately Max reached up, his strong fingers gripping his wife’s slim wrists to unclasp her hands from their clinging embrace.

“If you’d been here, Val, you would have got my cable yesterday,” he said.

There was no censure in his voice, no suggestion of a deep and humiliating hurt. Jane turned abruptly away.

“But, Max darling,” she heard Valerie say, “how could I know? We had gone out, and we met some people Eddie knew and they persuaded us to go over to St. Moritz for the fun. They had their car at Chur and it wasn’t really very far.” Jane could imagine the pouting lips. “You’re not mad at me, darling, are you?”

Before she could hear Max’s answer, Jane had closed the lift door between them. Max, Valerie had once said, could forgive her anything.

She went back to her own room, staying there until she was quite sure that most of her fellow guests would be in the lounge. There had been movements in the adjoining room but no sound of voices. If Valerie had come up to change, Max had not accompanied her, and she evidently did not feel that she should come in to apologize to Jane.

Herr Adler met her in the hall.

“You have a visitor, Doctor,
”
he beamed. “From England.”

Jane had forgotten about Nicholas. When she turned he was coming toward her from the direction of the lounge. Tall and distinguished-looking, he was a visitor to be proud of, she thought with a small, rueful smile curving her lips, yet all she could do was to send him away.

“I’ve been talking to Kilsyth in there,” he said, nodding towards the cocktail bar. “He tells me he came out just ahead of me.”

He was surveying her intently, aware, no doubt of some subtle change in her, and Jane motioned to a table just outside the double glass doors of the lounge.

“Can I order you a drink?” she asked. “I hardly expected to see you, Nicholas.”

He waited till she was seated before he pressed the push button above her head to summon a waiter.

“Instead of saying you hardly expected me,” he observed ruefully, “I thought you might be glad to see me.”

“Of course I’m glad! Meeting any friend is always a delightful surprise.”

“
How conventional can we get?” He was frowning. “You know I haven’t come here as a friend, Jane. Not entirely. I expect you to marry me.”

“Nicholas—”

“Well?”

“I want to talk to you about that—but can we have our meal first? I want to hear all about America.”

“In other words, you’re stalling. You’re hoping not to give me an answer yet because you’re too kind and considerate to want to hurt me by saving ‘No.
’
We can’t go on like this forever,” he said deliberately. “You said you would give me your answer by Christmas. Well, here I am for it, and I’m hoping it’s going to be ‘Yes.’ As a matter of fact,” he added slowly,
“
I
was optimistic enough to tell Kilsyth that we were quite definitely going to be married when I met him in Allingham a week ago.”

“You met Max?” she said.

“He came to see me.”

Her eyes sought his.

“Professionally?”

“In a way.” The waiter was hovering and Nicholas gave his order. “He
h
ad heard that there had been some investigation into his wife’s disease on the other side of the Atlantic and he wondered if any definite progress had been made.”

“I see.”

“I couldn’t help him.” The waiter came back, setting the tray with their drinks on the table between them. “It’s still a killer, I’m afraid. A slow, sure killer.”

Jane fumbled with her glass. At least Max had taken Nicholas into his confidence.

“It’s a complete tragedy,” Nicholas said. “Life’s only beginning for her, and by the look of things she’ll take her sentence very hard.”

“It’s terrible, Nick!” Jane clasped her hands hard on her lap. “Terrible for Valerie and for Max. I have no reason for saying this, but—I feel she already senses that there’s something wrong. She’s living right up to the hilt, if I can put it that way.”

“She’s the type who would do that anyway,” he mused. “It’s chronic, of course.”

“Sometimes I wonder which is worse.”

He looked at her over the rim of his glass.

“Let’s talk about us,” he suggested. “When will you marry me, Jane?”

She gazed down at her tightly-clasped hands.

“I can’t, Nick,” she whispered. “I
’
ve thought and thought, and I just can’t.”

“Because of Kilsyth?” His voice was controlled, but there was an angry flush on his cheeks.

‘In one way—yes.”

“There’s only one way, Jane. You’re trying to tell me you’re still in love with him.”

“I’ve no right to be.” Her voice was no more than a stifled whisper.

“Right isn’t exactly the word. We don’t love by ‘right’ or ‘wrong,’ but when it’s hopeless, Jane, absolutely hopeless, isn’t it time for second thoughts?

She looked at him then, meeting his eyes with absolute candor in her own.

“Nick—oh, my dear, I have thought! I’ve thought and thought all round this wretched business,” she confessed. “I’ve
wanted
to love you. I do but not in the way you mean—in the way you deserve.”

She could feel the hot tears stinging at the back of her eyes and Nicholas put a firm hand over hers.

“Take time, Jane. Take all the time you need,” he offered. “I’m willing to wait, if you say I must.”

“That’s just it,
”
she said in a crushed undertone. “I know you mustn’t, Nick. I don’t want you to spoil your life.”

“Yet you’re willing to spoil your own, waiting for Kilsyth!” He was angry now. “You’ll go on, year after year, grinding out the months with hope in your
h
eart, wearing your life away for no good purpose!”

“I know that I shall never marry Max,” she said quietly. “I’ve accepted it, Nick.”

“But you’ll wait—you’ll wait, just in case!”

The hurt went deeper than he thought, but she could excuse him the anger born of his own frustration and disappointment.

“No,” she said, “but I just couldn’t marry anyone else.”

“I’m going to stick around,” he informed her doggedly as he drained his glass. “I’m not going to let you mess up all our lives like this over—over a damned stupid idea.”

She smiled a little at that. Nicholas was confusing this with heroics, but there was nothing heroic about what she was feeling now. Deep down within her she felt dead.

He sat back glumly, scowling into his glass.

“How long are you going to stay in Switzerland?” she asked when the silence between them became heavy. “I didn’t know you had a holiday to take.”

“I’m not actually on holiday,” he roused himself to say. “I had a conference to attend in Geneva, where I told them something of my American visit.”

Nicholas had both feet firmly planted on the golden ladder of success. They could have gone a long way together, Jane thought, but Max, too, had had the mark of brilliance on him. Valerie had cheated about that, making it impossible for him to remain in Harley Street with her countless affairs, and she was still cheating. Eddie Jakes had decided not to return to the hote
l
with her, apparently, but Ma
x
knew all about Eddie. He was by no means t
h
e first of Valerie’s passions.

Jane knew now why Max could forgive his wife so much. It wasn’t just because he was so madly in love with her. It was because he was sorry, because life had dealt her a terrible blow. Soon Valerie would
h
ave to know all about it, too, and all he was doing was offering her everything she could possibly want while there was still time.

“Would you mind if I travelled home with you, Nick?” she asked as Max came across the lounge toward them. “I think I ought to go. I only came because Max couldn’t get away and Valerie was going to be so bitterly disappointed.”

“I’m going the day after tomorrow,
”
he said. “I suppose you can be ready by then?”

“Whenever you say,” she agreed.

The Christmas festivities in the hotel were lavish and Valerie entered into the spirit of the evening with characteristic abandonment. She was the liveliest person there, never lacking a partner for a dance or a game, and Max watched her with a quiet smile on his lips. As her father might have done, Jane mused.

But Max was more to Valerie than her father had ever been. In spite of the strange kink in her character where men were concerned, Jane believed that Max really came first. Valerie was in love with Max in her own odd way. And somehow Jane was aware that Max knew that, too.

If it gave him some sort of satisfaction, she was glad.

“W
’
re saying
au
r
evoir
tomorrow,” Nicholas informed him as they sat roun
d
their gaily-decorated supper table. “Jane has decided to come back with me.”

“Oh, Jane!” Valerie cried, quite genuinely disappointed. “There’s New Year. You really ought to stay for all the
f
un! It’s much more fun at New Year than Christmas. Besides, you didn’t get the chance to wear your fancy dress. Thanks to me, really,” she added with a mischievous grin that
was quite maddening. “You were so keen about it, too!”

“I’ll leave it for you,” Jane offered, trying not to look at Max, who was frowning. “You’re bound to go to more than one dance before you come home.”

“Need you go?” Max spoke in the small, uneasy silence that had followed her suggestion. “
Y
ou still have another week.”

He was being polite, of course, not really wanting her to stay. “Only four days, actually. I didn’t apply officially for the extra week when I came out.” She forced a smile. “I half expected you to come, you see, and I would like to travel back with Nick, if you don’t mind.”

“Why should I?” The bitterness of his tone surprised her. “You have every right to please yourself.”