“I do hope you will give the matter your consideration,” Miss Hanny urged. “I should be most happy to have you here.”
“It’s awfully kind of you,” Patricia reiterated, unable to express her true sentiments, for she more than appreciated the advantages of the offer; a wonderful home, probably a minimum of work and, considering it was a live-in job, ridiculously high pay. Patricia knitted her brows. It was going to be hard to refuse. Maimie couldn’t be home for two years—and, by Maimie, she actually meant Seymour. She wouldn’t have minded meeting Maimie again; in her heart Patricia reserved a very warm spot for Maimie. But now Maimie and Seymour were married, and, without Seymour, Maimie could never come into her life again.
Patricia rose to her feet. Far better terminate this interview, which was getting beyond her depth. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll be able to accept, but I’m grateful for the offer, and I promise to think it over.” This offer meant the end of a bedsitting room existence, the constant fight for buses, and monotonous office routine, but balanced against those important factors was the linking of her life inextricably with all she had hoped to forget. “I’ll think it over.” It was a noncommittal promise, and the only possible answer she could give.
“I hope you decide to accept.” Miss Hanny rested her cool fingers for a moment in Patricia’s, then, turning away, rang the bell. “I’ve rung for the maid; she will show you out. I hope you’ll let me have your answer soon, as I’m anxious to get someone.” A faint smile curved her lips and momentarily softened the somewhat austere lines of her features. “I do a considerable amount of Church work, which involves me with more correspondence than I can manage. My house, too, requires more attention than I find myself able to give it—just personal touches: flowers and things like that,” she added in explanation.
“I understand, and I promise I’ll give your proposition very serious thought.” Patricia bade her companion goodbye and, with mixed feelings, followed the waiting maid to the door.
Patricia alighted from the bus at Baker Street Station and walked quickly toward the block of flats where Ian was staying. As Patricia rang the bell of the flat, Ian quickly appeared, welcomed her with enthusiasm, and led her into his sitting room. “You’re nice and early. I’m awfully glad you turned up. I was afraid you’d change your mind, and I was longing to hear the result of your visit.
Patricia sat back in the armchair and lit a cigarette before telling the details. She repeated the conversation to the best of her ability, and then waited expectantly to hear Ian’s opinion.
“Well, I’m dammed!” Ian exclaimed. “So she wants you to go and live there!”
“I was rather surprised myself. As you may have gathered, she’s a very strait-laced sort of person—quite the last woman in the world that I should have thought would seek young companionship,” Patricia added.
I expect she misses having no one to criticize and lecture now Maimie’s gone! Maimie was always saying what a trial her aunt was.”
“I don’t quite agree with that,” Patricia interposed. “I think Maimie was rather unfair. You know she hasn’t any patience with criticism from anyone, and I should imagine she lea her aunt an awful dance one way and another.”
“She certainly led you a dance!” Ian admitted grimly. “Of all the inconsiderate, selfish people I’ve ever met, Maimie was the worst. I was quite fond of her; don’t mistake me,” he added hastily, as Patricia made to protest, “but not blind to her faults,” he amended.
“She couldn’t have been so bad,” Patricia countered, “or Miss Hanny wouldn’t be so anxious to risk modern youth in her home again.”
“That’s true enough, but from what you and Maimie have told me about the old lady, I should think she is astute enough to realize that in you she has found qualities of which Maimie could never boast.”
“Don’t be silly. She doesn’t know anything about me,” Patricia expostulated, “Except that I am a clergyman’s daughter, and in her eyes that makes me beyond reproach.”
“The question is, are you accepting the offer?”
“How can I?” Patricia stubbed out the end of her cigarette in the ashtray. “I can’t risk linking myself up with anyone even remotely connected with Seymour.”
“Is that the only reason that you aren’t considering it?” Ian queried.
“I believe it is ... I’m not quite sure. “I suppose if such an offer had come from a complete stranger I’d have accepted,” Patricia admitted.
“Then why don’t you accept?” Ian shot the question at his companion, and with his eyes fixed on her, he waited for her answer.
For a moment Patricia was too astonished to speak; a startled expression crossed her face, and she stared at Ian in amazement. “You think I ought to ... you think I could possibly do such a thing after what happened in Singapore? She doesn’t know ... she has no idea that Seymour was the cause of my hurried departure.”
“Had Seymour’s anger against you been justified, if you had really been entertaining Claud at night, then I think that you would be wrong in accepting Miss Hanny’s offer. That certainly would be false pretences, but as things are ... well, she thinks you are a clergyman’s daughter with a blameless past!” Ian’s lips curved into a smile. “You couldn’t have taken advantage of her ignorance but, in the circumstances, I think if the idea appeals to you, I’d say ‘yes’ without hesitation.”
“That’s a foolish argument,” Patricia retorted. “Even if I have a blameless past, as you so sweetly put it. What will happen when Maimie and Seymour return?”
“They won’t be home for two years; plenty might happen in that time. I wouldn’t trouble about that contingency yet.”
Patricia said thoughtfully, “Perhaps you’re right. I’ve always enjoyed a new experience. I’ll do it. I suppose it’s a risky thing to do, but you’re certainly partly to blame for my foolishness,” she ended laughingly.
“A risky thing it may be, but”, Ian’s eyes crinkled into a smile, “not nearly so risky as other chances I have known you to take!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Patricia cut another rose and dropped it into the basket she held on her arm. The blooms lay side by side in the shallow holder; their varied colors blending with a perfection that only nature can achieve. The sunshine filtered through the overhanging trees, bathing her bare neck and arms with a comforting warmth. Miss Hanny’s garden was charmingly laid out—unusually so for London—and yet Patricia always felt that in some subtle way it represented the personality of her employer.
A few minutes later she mounted the iron steps leading to the house. Humming softly to herself, she carefully arranged the flowers in their vases.
“I suppose the post hasn’t been yet?” said Miss Hanny as she entered the room. “I’m expecting a letter from Maimie.”
Patricia looked up. “No, I haven’t heard the knock.”
“The postman should be here any minute now.” Miss Hanny frowned. “I hope to hear that Maimie and her husband are thinking of settling down. I think their honeymoon has lasted quite long enough. All this gadding about the world will be very unsettling for Maimie.”
“But very wonderful.”
“I get so fidgety for fear she won’t write.” Miss Hanny smiled. “Hush! Wasn’t that the postman’s knock?”
Patricia gazed thoughtfully after her. It would be awful if Miss Hanny were disappointed, but somehow Patricia had little fear of that. Maimie, whatever her faults, had certainly never quite forgotten her strict upbringing, and faithfully, week after week, the expected letter arrived. Apparently this mail was no exception, and a moment later Miss Hanny re-entered the room, letter in hand.
“It’s come!” Miss Hanny seated herself in her chair and, as if reluctant to hurry her pleasure, twisted the letter idly in her hand. “It’s by air mail, Colombo postmark. I do hope that means they’re on their way back to Singapore.”
“I expect it does. The last was from Calcutta, wasn’t it?”
; “Yes. Get me a paper-knife, dear.”
Patricia obediently crossed to the desk and fetched the ivory paper-knife her employer habitually used. It was one of Miss Hanny’s pet theories that letters should be neatly and properly dealt with.
Adjusting her glasses, Miss Hanny slit open the thin covering, and unfolded the closely written pages. From her adjoining chair Patricia could see that the letter was of several sheets well covered with writing, and in her heart she blessed Maimie for the joy she was giving. Patricia concentrated upon her knitting, intent yet half afraid to listen to the details she knew she would be compelled to hear.
“Apparently they’ve been flying.” After a moment’s silence, Miss Hanny again addressed her companion. “Listen to this, my dear; it will interest you. “I often think of Patricia. I do wish I knew her address. I’d love to write her!” Miss Hanny laughed. “Won’t she be surprised when I am able to write and tell her you’re here?”
“She will,” Patricia agreed, then waited for her companion to continue speaking. “Listen to this. ‘I just adore travelling; the idea of settling down isn’t nearly so attractive.’ ” Miss Hanny read with indignation. “Didn’t I tell you? She’ll get completely spoiled with all this holiday-making.”
“She’ll settle again all right when the time comes,” Patricia replied reassuringly. “I’m sure she will.” But Miss Hanny, engrossed again with her letter, was scarcely aware of Patricia’s words.
“Oh ... my dear ... just listen ... it can’t be true—no, it can’t be!” Harriet Hanny’s usually low voice was pitched high with excitement.
“They’re coming home ... not Singapore ... home, here! Do you realize what I’m saying? They’re coming back to England!” Miss Hanny repeated excitedly, as if her companion could not at once grasp the importance of the words.
Patricia was certainly not disappointing in her reception of the news. She sat staring at Miss Hanny as if she could not have heard right. A vein throbbed in her temple to the rhythm of the words she longed to utter: “It can’t be true! It can’t be true!” With an effort she regained her control; it would never do to let Miss Hanny realize the horror her news had evoked.
“No wonder you’re startled!” Harriet Hanny continued eagerly. “It’s too wonderful to be true, and I thought I’d have to wait two years ... Dear me, I can scarcely believe it.” She wiped her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. “I feel quite overcome,” she admitted smilingly. “And, my dear. I haven’t told you everything yet ... She is going to have a baby ... that’s why she’s coming home.”
“I’m very glad.” Patricia was aware that her words were both trite and inadequate, but for the life of her she could find no other way to express herself. “And Seymour ... is he coming too?” The question was out. Scarcely daring to breathe, she awaited the answer.
“Of course. He could scarcely allow her to travel alone, in that delicate condition too.” The older woman’s voice held a note of disapproval. “I’m surprised you needed to ask.”
Patricia gathered together her knitting into an untidy bundle and rose to her feet. “I’ll leave you for awhile to digest all that wonderful news.” She forced a smile. “How long will it be before they arrive?”
She doesn’t say exactly ... except that they’ll cable when they’ve definitely booked.” Miss Hanny again scanned the letter. “No, she gives no actual date, but suggests that she’ll he here by next month.”
“I see.” Patricia edged her way toward the door while she prayed that her employer would make no effort to detain her. She longed for solitude, to escape to the seclusion of her room, where she might have an opportunity to sort out her chaotic thoughts. Escape. Yes, that was the word. But her own room would only be a temporary refuge; she must look farther than that. Kay was coming back; to this very house, and it was up to her to depart tactfully and unobtrusively before fate could thrust him for the third time across her path.
“But, Ian, it’s preposterous ... I mean, that fate should behave so disgustingly,” Patricia went on grimly. “Naturally I’m awfully glad that Maimie is going to have a baby. For her aunt’s sake, I’m glad she’s coming home, but being thrust into the cold again, just when I was getting accustomed to my position, is more than I can bear. Now I must find an excuse to leave.”
“It all seems so ridiculous,” Ian grumbled. “I really don’t see why you have to make any excuse at all. If you want to leave, why shouldn’t you? Still, if an adequate reason must be found, why not use the excellent one you used before—that your father has wired for you?”
“It certainly worked marvellously when I wanted to get away from Singapore.” Patricia’s tone was doubtful. “But the cable actually came that time, you know. It really was like a gift from heaven,” she ended fervently.
“Why shouldn’t one come this time? I’ll send it.”
Patricia looked at her companion with admiration. “That’s a splendid idea. Would you do it?”
“Of course I would! I realize the importance of your getting away, and as I’ve said before, I’ll do anything to help,” Ian retorted promptly.
“It seems an unfair thing to do,” Patricia protested thoughtfully. “Not quite playing the game, somehow...’
“Well, try fair means first ... tell Miss Hanny you want to leave, and see how she takes it. If there is any trouble, then foul means it must be! Let me know, and the following morning, an urgent message to return home will most surely appear!”
“You’re right, Ian. Circumstances demand action, and, by fair means or foul, I must get away.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
In the few days following her outing with Ian, Patricia found herself thinking frequently about his suggestion of a fictitious telegram.
All her well-rehearsed speeches had been useless when confronted in reality with Miss Hanny’s start of incredulity and expression of hurt surprise at Patricia’s desire to leave. Feeling completely baffled, Patricia had suddenly seized upon Ian’s idea which, as he had wisely asserted, would brook no argument. On seeing the wire purporting to come from the Rev. Dare, demanding his daughter’s presence at home, Miss Hanny’s whole demeanor had changed and she had insisted that Patricia’s father was the first person to be considered. Patricia must leave at whatever time was most convenient.
Now as she collected her belongings in preparation for her departure, she was interrupted by a knock on the door.
As she bade her caller come in, the maid, looking flushed and agitated, entered.
“Please, miss, could you come? It’s madam, she’s had a fall. She don’t seem too grand. If you could come along a minute...” The maid seemed breathless and perturbed as she stood anxiously in the doorway.
Patricia struggled to her feet. “What’s happened?” she asked as she followed the maid from the room.
“She tripped over the stair-carpet what the man shifted yesterday. They haven't sent anyone to tack it down yet.”
Patricia tapped on Miss Hanny’s door and, without awaiting a reply, entered. Miss Hanny lay back in her armchair, her foot resting on a stool and her features twisted with pain.
“What’s the matter?” Patricia hurried across the room to Miss Hanny’s side. “The maid said you’d fallen. What have you done? Where have you hurt yourself?” she asked anxiously.
“It’s my ankle ... nothing to worry about; just a twist.” Harriet Hanny forced a smile. “I did exactly the same thing a few years ago. That ankle has never been strong since,” she explained.
Patricia looked down at Miss Hanny’s foot as it rested on the chair and, kneeling down, quickly removed the .shoe with gentle fingers. “It’s swollen already.” She looked up questioningly at her employer. “Would you like it bathed? Perhaps cold water would ease it a little.”
“Jennings has phoned for my doctor. He was in, and said he’d come at once. Thank you, my dear, but I may as well wait until he arrives.” Harriet Hanny shifted her position in her chair, and at the movement her brow puckered with
pain. “It’s a great nuisance, but it isn’t very serious,” she assured Patricia as she became aware of her companion’s worried expression.
Patricia rose to her feet and stood confronting her employer. “It may not be serious, but I’m sure it’s very painful. Can I get you some brandy or anything?” she asked solicitously.
“No, thank you, my dear. A pernicious habit, flying to brandy at the slightest provocation. My smelling salts—now, perhaps they would be useful.”
Patricia hastened to find her employer’s salts, and was handing them to the older woman when the doctor entered. “I’ll wait outside,” Patricia murmured diffidently. “If I can help at all, perhaps you’ll call me,” she added, turning to the doctor, who was already busying himself with his patient.
“Don’t think we’ll need you.” The doctor’s manner was bluff but definitely reassuring. “Just a nasty sprain. No bones broken.” He turned and searched in his bag. “It’ll be more comfortable when I’ve bound it up. Rest is the thing. Miss Hanny mustn’t put her foot to the ground for a week and we’ll soon have it right.”
Patricia left the room and made her way downstairs, where, with the sitting room door ajar in order to hear his footsteps, she awaited the doctor. It was not long before she heard him coming down and, hastening from the room, she intercepted him. “Is she all right now? It seems to have shaken her badly. Is there anything I can do ... any treatment you want carried out?” she inquired with concern.
The doctor picked up his hat and made for the door. With his hand on the latch he paused. “Nothing to do at all. Just leave it alone. Don’t let her use that foot. Make her keep it up, that’s all that matters.” He opened the door. “Forgive me hurrying ... a case. They’re waiting for me now. I just got Miss Hanny’s call as I was leaving.”
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