Kit Cavendish-Private Nurse

by Margaret Malcolm

  “But, Mrs. Baylis, I’m sure you’re being too pessimistic,” Kit told her emphatically. “Both Dr. Heathfield and Dr. Grainger are well satisfied with your husband’s progress—neither of them has ever suggested, in my hearing, that he will never be able to work again.”

  “No? Well, medical men are apt to be cautious in making such statements since it might depress the patient.”

  Ignoring the implied slur to her discretion, Kit asked quietly, “Am I to understand, then, that you have other information?”

  “Certainly.” Mrs. Baylis hesitated. “I’m rather reluctant to divulge it since I feel that it would be better for realization of his condition to come slowly to my husband. I feel he would be able to accept it more easily that way. But in the circumstances, perhaps you’d better know. I wrote to Dr. Heathfield a few days ago, and insisted that he tell me the truth. In his reply he made it perfectly clear that although there is no reason why my husband should not live for a good many years yet, that is only conditional. And the condition is that he should never work again.”

  “What!” Kit exclaimed incredulously.

  Mrs. Baylis looked at her thoughtfully.

  “I can see that you are genuinely surprised, Nurse, but I assure you that that is so. Oh, I admit, even after my letter, Dr. Heathfield attempted to soften the truth a little, but none the less, he stated in so many words that in no circumstances must my husband be subjected to any form of mental irritation or distress.”

  “But that isn’t really saying he mustn’t work, is it?” Kit concluded.

  “Isn’t it?” Mrs. Baylis asked dryly. “If you had as much experience as I have in business, you would know that it most certainly is! I assure you that scarcely a day passes but some complication, some troublesome problem has to be dealt with. Oh, nothing that can’t be dealt with by a person in good health, but then, unfortunately, one cannot say that is my husband’s condition, can one, Nurse?”

  Kit stood up. Mrs. Baylis was a very clever woman, but not quite clever enough to hide her elation. For Noel had been right. Power was the god Ruth Baylis worshipped, and whatever love she might have for her husband was of little importance in comparison.

  Perhaps she was so blind to anything but her own ambitions that she had genuinely misunderstood the true significance of Jason’s warning. Or perhaps, understanding clearly enough, she had deliberately twisted what he had said to suit herself. It hardly seemed to matter, for the result would be the same in either case. Never, if it was humanly possible, would this woman relinquish the power she had gained. And there was nothing anyone could do about it. Yet Kit had to try.

  “Mrs. Baylis, I do most sincerely hope that you’ve drawn the wrong conclusion from Dr. Heathfield’s letter,” she said quietly. “In fact, I believe you have.”

  “Yes?” Mrs. Baylis said coolly. “And why do you believe that?”

  She wants to find out how much I know or guess, Kit thought. And she’s deliberately encouraging me to talk in the hope that I’ll say too much. I must be very careful...

  “For two reasons,” she said steadily. “First because, as I said, neither Dr. Heathfield nor Dr. Grainger has ever said or implied to me that there was no hope of Mr. Baylis ever being able to work again.”

  “And your other reason?” Mrs. Baylis asked as she paused. “Is the letter from Dr. Heathfield, the one that Mr. Baylis gave me to read recently.”

  “What letter?” Mrs. Baylis snapped. “I didn’t know—” She stopped short, her lips caught between her teeth.

  “I expect Mr. Baylis forgot to show it to you,” Kit said as diplomatically as possible. “But I think you should see it. I’m sure it would reassure you. It was most helpful and encouraging.” Mrs. Baylis did not reply. Kit waited a moment and then said quietly, “Is there anything else, Mrs. Baylis?”

  Rigidly still at the desk, Ruth Baylis did not appear to have heard her, so Kit repeated the question.

  “You can go,” Mrs. Baylis said curtly.

  “Thank you,” Kit said, ignoring her brusque manner, and went quickly out of the room.

  But not before she had seen unmistakable menace in those hard, glittering eyes. Temporarily, at least, Ruth Baylis had met with defeat, and she would never forgive the person responsible for it.

  Two days later, by appointment, Kit met Jason in Minsterbury’s Botanical Gardens.

  “I hope you won’t feel cold,” Jason said apologetically as he greeted her. “But I gathered from the way you spoke on the telephone that you would prefer our conversation was not overheard. Otherwise I would have suggested that we have tea together somewhere.”

  “I’m glad you thought of it,” Kit said quickly. “Because you’re quite right.”

  Jason put a hand under her elbow and led her to a seat in the old gatehouse, once part of the abbey that had stood here.

  “Now then,” he said quietly.

  For a moment Kit hesitated. As soon as she had decided that she must see Jason she realized that it would not be an easy conversation to begin. Now she felt completely tongue-tied, and as a result, blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “When can I leave Moneyhill?”

  Jason looked at her searchingly.

  “As bad as that?” he asked gravely. “You’d better tell me the whole story, Kit.”

  By the time she had finished, Jason’s face was grim.

  “This is intolerable, Kit,” he said angrily. “Most certainly I received no letter from Mrs. Baylis. She invented that, of course, because it enabled her to explain my letter to her without it casting any reflections on herself. Of course it was a garbled version she gave you ... and a carefully selected one. That’s the most outrageous aspect of it all. There is a risk of Mr. Baylis having another attack. There always is in such cases, but as I told him—and her, for that matter—a sensible way of life reduces that risk, though it cannot eliminate it. And I also took care to point out to her that frustration could be a major factor in producing future trouble. She must have known perfectly well what I meant by that. Oh, confound the woman!”

  “Then you don’t blame me for wanting to leave?” Kit asked anxiously.

  “No, I don’t,” Jason, told her. “But you can’t do it, Kit. And we both know why—Mr. Baylis.”

  “You think, even if we say nothing, he’s bound to find out...?” Kit asked anxiously.

  “Bound to,” Jason insisted. “Look, Kit, he’s feeling fitter than he has for a good time, I’d say. The time will come when, with suitable warnings, Grainger and I will tell him that he can start work again. Then what? Is his wife going to step down graciously? Or is she going to tell him the truth, which put bluntly is that his happiness is of less importance to her than doing what she wants to? And there’s another thing. Sooner or later, the lies she has told will come home to roost—they always do—and Baylis is no fool. He wouldn’t be where he is if he was. And he’ll start asking questions.”

  “Yes, I see what you mean,” Kit agreed. “But, you know, he has practically no visitors—none from the factory, I know. So how is he going to find anything out for sure? Just guesswork wouldn’t be enough for him to ... to...”

  “To take a strong line with his wife?” Jason finished grimly. “No, it wouldn’t be, of course. But, whether he realizes it or not, he has some evidence already, and I think he’ll get more. Young Noel, for instance, is quite likely to hear a lot of talk at Fleming’s. Or there’s Fleming himself. You can bet he knows all there is to know. Besides, though it’s no doubt been easy to convince other people that he has been too ill to have visitors, she can’t keep him permanently isolated.”

  “I wonder what the whole truth is?” Kit said.

  “I’ve a suspicion,” Jason said grimly. “We’ve had one or two chaps in the hospital who work there and they’ve talked quite a lot. Some of it has reached my ears, and there’s no doubt about it. There’s very real dissatisfaction at the works, for which Mrs. Baylis is blamed. For one thing, there has been a lot of firing sin
ce she took charge. I would say that she has fallen a victim to this modern craze for slick efficiency that completely ignores the human factor. And I’m beginning to wonder if Baylis himself doesn’t suspect it.”

  “Because he spoke to me of the importance of the human factor? You think he might have been dwelling on it, getting it clear in his own mind in case it came to challenging her?” Kit asked doubtfully. “But he has always said how much he trusts her, how wonderful she is.”

  “Lately?” Jason asked shrewdly.

  “No,” Kit admitted. “Not lately.”

  “Hm. Of course, as a very sick man he was thankful to be able to hand responsibilities over to her. But since that trouble with Wrinch, he’s made an effort, a conscious and very gallant effort, to learn self-control with one end in view—to get back into harness as quickly as possible. Not just because he wants to but because he knows he must. He may have a keener appreciation of his wife’s character than we know. After all, they worked together for a good many years, and he has had more than enough experience to know that a good second in command does not of necessity make a good leader.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Kit sighed. “But it’s all so horrible, Jason. If she was just a paid employee it wouldn’t be so bad. But she’s his wife. They’ve got to go on together, but how can they if she has been disloyal to him and he knows it?”

  “How, indeed?” Jason concurred. “But, thank heaven, that’s not our concern. And at least one can hope that love—if it’s deep enough—can forgive and forget almost anything.”

  Something in his tone made Kit look at him quickly and as quickly look away again. She knew beyond doubt that what he had said was much more than a mere generalization. He had expressed a personal hope—one that concerned not just other people, but themselves. She could sense his tenseness as he waited for her reply.

  “Yes, that’s true,” she said, hardly above a whisper.

  Just for a moment, Jason’s hand covered hers.

  “Whatever the future of this case may be, I can never be thankful enough that it brought you here, Kit,” he told her fervently. “I was a fool—such a fool...”

  “Please, please, Jason,” Kit said breathlessly.

  “I know.” He let her hand go. “It’s too soon for me to say anything more yet. But there is one thing I must say. Never again will I let you go out of my life without making a fight of it!” And then, as if he could not trust himself, he stood up and strode swiftly away, leaving Kit happier than she had been for many years ... and yet completely bewildered.

  He had implied—no, really said—that when she had gone out of his life before he had not made a fight of it. But that was nonsense. It was he who had gone out of her life.

  It did not make sense.

  But one thing at least she was certain about. Since Jason wanted her to stay on at Moneyhill, she would. He was relying on her and that, was enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It had seemed to Kit that trouble, if trouble there was going to be, could not be long delayed. But out of the blue came a respite. Mrs. Baylis came home one evening to announce that she had to go to Holland and Belgium on business and would be away for the next two weeks.

  “And to me at least it’s perfectly clear that my dear stepmother is on the horns of a dilemma,” Noel remarked caustically to Kit. “Tickled pink at the chance of throwing her weight about on the Continent, but not too easy in her mind at the necessity of relaxing her guiding hand here. One could almost feel sorry for her. Almost. Not quite.”

  “Oh, be quiet!” Kit said distastefully. “I told you before, I don’t want to get involved in your family affairs.”

  “I know you did,” Noel admitted. “But then, you see, you already are, my dear. More deeply, perhaps, than you realize.”

  Though she was finable to contradict him, Kit shook her head.

  “If that’s true, then all the more reason I shouldn’t get any deeper,” she told him resolutely. “So if you must say spiteful things, say them to someone else, not me!”

  Noel put his head on one side.

  “You know, with a face like yours, anyone would imagine you had a sweet, sympathetic nature. Always ready to lay a soothing hand on a fevered brow—metaphorically in this case, of course. But how wrong one would be! As hard as nails, that’s what you are, Nurse Cavendish.”

  “No, I’m not,” Kit contradicted. “But in my family, loyalty is a very important thing, and we don’t go behind each other’s backs.”

  Noel’s handsome young face became serious.

  “You’re lucky, you know,” he told her. “But when the mischief is there already? What then?”

  “Well, at least you shouldn’t talk about it to a stranger,” Kit insisted. “It can’t do any good, and I don’t like being made a party to it.”

  Noel’s face softened.

  “I apologize. You aren’t as hard as nails. You’re a thoroughly nice girl—probably that’s why I like talking to you. Restores my faith in humanity.”

  Involuntarily Kit laughed.

  “How old are you? Twenty-four, perhaps? Well, you simply haven’t had time to lose your faith in humanity yet—at least, only in an adolescent way. It won’t last, so don’t worry.”

  “Br-r!” Noel shivered realistically. “As bracing as a north wind! All right, I’ll accept the mature wisdom of an old lady of ... what? Also about twenty-four?”

  “About that,” Kit admitted. “But it could be that I’ve seen a bit more of the seamy side of life than you have. One does in hospital, you know.”

  “You have something there, I expect,” Noel conceded. He was silent for a moment and then went on, “You said something about loyalty just now. Tell me, do I honestly owe any loyalty to Ruth?”

  “That’s something you have to work out for yourself,” Kit told him. “But I can tell you one person to whom you certainly owe loyalty—your father.”

  “I know,” Noel frowned. “That’s the devil of it, because, quite honestly, I don’t know what loyalty entails where he’s concerned.”

  “No!” Kit clapped her hands over her ears. “Don’t start again! Can’t you see how wrong it would be for me to try to give you advice? And that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so,” Noel admitted glumly. “But I can’t see why—”

  “Because in a short time I’ll no doubt be leaving Moneyhill. But you won’t. You’ll be here all your life, I expect. So you’ll have to stand by whatever you do or say—”

  Noel grinned ruefully.

  “A few minutes ago you were telling me I was just a kid. Now you’re saying I’m old enough to stand on my own feet!”

  “And so you are,” Kit declared. “What’s more, you’d be furious if anyone suggested you weren’t!”

  “You win,” Noel acknowledged.

  Suddenly Kit relented. He really was rather nice ... and certainly very worried.

  “Look, I will give you one piece of advice,” she told him. “But only in general terms, mind.”

  “All contributions gratefully received,” Noel assured her.

  “Well, whenever you have a problem, think it out clearly, then put it aside for a while and let it work itself out.”

  “Is that what you do?” Noel asked curiously.

  “Whenever I do, it works,” Kit assured him gravely.

  “Right!” Noel squared his shoulders. “I’ll do that and see what happens. In the meantime, if I’m to shelve things for the moment, I’ll want some distraction. There’s a dinner and dance on in Minsterbury next week. Will you come with me?”

  “Certainly not,” Kit said crisply.

  “Oh, and why not?” Noel asked in a way that suggested he was not used to refusals.

  “Several reasons. I didn’t bring a suitable dress with me. In addition to that, Mrs. Baylis Will be away and I would prefer not to be out of the house till all hours. And finally...” She hesitated.

  “Well?” Noel demanded grimly. “Let’s have it!�
�

  “Quite honestly, I don’t want to,” Kit told him. And before he could ask any other questions, she went on, “Why not ask someone else?”

  “Who?” he asked gloomily. “All the girls around here are either engaged or else they’re the career type.”

  “Sue is neither engaged nor a career girl,” Kit remarked casually.

  “Sue?” he looked genuinely surprised. “But can she dance?”

  “I’ve no idea.” Kit was beginning to feel a little bit impatient with this unenterprising young man. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? I mean it doesn’t have to be a dance. Why not take her out to dinner? It would give you a chance to have a nice long talk. She might be more sympathetic than I am.”

  “She might, at that,” Noel agreed thoughtfully. “I think you’ve got something, young Nurse Cavendish. I’ll put my fortunes to the test and let you know the result!”

  “Do!” Kit laughed, and on Sue’s behalf, surreptitiously crossed her fingers.

  A few days later Mrs. Baylis left for Holland, and immediately the entire atmosphere of the house changed. There was far more light chatter at meals, Sue went about singing, and in the evenings, instead of going out as he so often did, Noel would spend his time with his father, to Mr. Baylis’s obvious delight.

  “It’s as good as a tonic to hear him talk about his work,” he confided to Kit. “It’s quite evident to me that his heart is really in it. I’ve never wanted to force his hand over coming in with me, you know, Nurse. For one thing, I don’t believe in making life too easy for a young man.” Suddenly he chuckled. “Noel tells me he’s taking Sue out for dinner tomorrow. What do you think of that?”

  “Very nice,” Kit said warmly. “It will do Sue good to get out and about a bit.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Baylis agreed. “It’s a quiet life for a girl here.” He looked at her quizzically. “You don’t mind?”

  “That life is quiet here?” Kit asked, privately thinking that until now she had certainly found it nothing of the sort. “No, not a bit.”