“I still don’t see where I...” Kit began.
“I’m coming to that,” Victor assured her. “The old man showed so much improvement that it was decided he could come home if there was a nurse on hand. It shook Ruth. Not that she admitted it in so many words, but she started that overanxious business—it must be the right sort of nurse—one who would understand how important it was to keep Mr. Baylis from worrying about returning to work too soon.”
Kit stood up abruptly.
“I suppose you can’t forgive me, can you, Kit?” he asked.
Kit looked at him dully. What he had told her had answered many of the questions that had puzzled her, but none of it seemed really important. That Jason had believed these things of her, had not even thought it worthwhile giving her a chance of defending herself—that was what mattered, and nothing Victor had done had really influenced that.
“For paying me what was really a tremendous compliment?” She smiled faintly. “Yes, I forgive you, Victor.”
And she left him.
It had become an obsession with Ruth Baylis that until she had everybody out of the house who was likely to undermine her influence, she would never have her husband completely under her thumb or, as she put it to herself, “I shall never be sure that Ralph isn’t being advised against his best interests.”
Well, Nurse Cavendish had gone; that was something. But not enough. Admittedly Sue was more subdued than she had been, but even so there was something—one had the feeling that she was no longer afraid of life. And that might be dangerous. Yes, useful though she was, Sue had to go ... soon.
Typically, Ruth began her campaign obliquely. One evening, two or three days after Kit had left, they entertained two friends to dinner. Ruth wore a pair of diamond earrings, and the woman guest commented on their beauty.
“I really shouldn’t wear them until one has been repaired,” Ruth confessed. “There’s something wrong with the spring. But I’m so, fond of them, and anyhow, it’s safe enough wearing them in the house.”
Several times during the evening her hand went to her ear, but it was not until their guests had left that she suddenly exclaimed that one of the earrings was missing. Instantly a search under sofa and chair cushions was instigated, but with no result. Ruth frowned, her finger pressed against her cheek.
“Of course, I did go upstairs with Marie just as they were leaving,” she recalled. “So it might be there or in the hall...” But the extended Search brought no better result.
“Leave it until the morning,” Mr. Baylis advised, yawning. “It can’t have gone far, and at the worst it’s fully insured.”
“Yes, I know, but...” Ruth began, then shrugged. “All right, we’ll leave it for the time being. I can’t help feeling unhappy about it, though.”
And the following morning, when a protracted search was just as unsuccessful, she appeared deeply perturbed.
“This is what I was afraid of,” she told Sue. “I mean, since it can’t be found, then somebody must have picked it up already. Probably last night. Oh dear, this is going to be difficult!”
“But there was only us—and the staff—in the house,” Sue said anxiously. “Surely you don’t think they...”
“What else can I think?” Ruth asked gravely. “But if I suggest searching their rooms...” She shrugged expressively.
“But you can’t do that!” Sue exclaimed in horror.
“I’m not looking forward to it,” Mrs. Baylis sighed. “But it’s that or the police.” She frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “Sue, I have an idea. If you’ll let me search your room first, and tell the others you suggested it—”
“Oh!” Sue flushed. In one of her drawers was a packet of little notes that Noel had written to her. If Aunt Ruth saw them and recognized the handwriting...
“Of course, if you’d rather not...” Mrs. Baylis said softly.
Sue squared her shoulders. Sooner or later everyone would have to know about Noel and her. Perhaps she had been cowardly to put it off.
“Very well.” She accepted the challenge and led the way to her room.
Methodically, while Sue watched in silence, Ruth searched the drawers of the dressing table and of a small chest, without seeming to notice the letters. She opened Sue’s two shabby suitcases, and felt in their pockets. Then she turned to the closet. She paused momentarily as she handled Sue’s cocktail dress. Then from the pocket of Sue’s old coat, she drew out the diamond clip. With it lying on the flat of her palm she turned to Sue. “Sue, you!” she gasped. Then, collapsing into a chair, she covered her eyes with her hand. “Oh, I’d rather have lost it for good than have this happen!”
Sue, dry-mouthed, stared at her aunt in incredulous horror. “But ... but you can’t think I stole it?” she stammered. “You can’t believe that, Aunt Ruth!”
“Then what am I to believe?” she asked helplessly. “That someone else put it there? One of the maids?”
“No,” Sue said firmly, refusing to get out of the scrape she was in by putting the blame where she did not believe it belonged.
“Then who?” Ruth asked gravely.
In her heart, Sue was sure she knew the answer to that—knew, too, the futility of accusing her aunt.
“That I can’t say, Aunt Ruth,” she said steadily. “All I can do is give you my word of honor that I had absolutely nothing to do—”
“Oh, Sue, don’t!” Ruth wailed. “Don’t you see that only makes matters worse? Oh, what am I to do? What am I to do? You, my own niece—a thief!”
Sue said nothing. Sick at heart, less on account of her own predicament than at this deliberate treachery, her only desire was to end this interview and never set eyes on her aunt again.
“I don’t know what your uncle will say,” Ruth went on, clearly determined to play the part she had chosen to the very end. “It will upset him so ...” She stood up. “I ought to tell him, and you ought to be punished, you wicked, ungrateful girl. But your uncle’s health is more important than anything else. So I’ve little choice but to compound a felony. I’ll pretend I’ve found it somewhere else.” She paused. “But only on one condition. That you leave the house—at once, and for good!”
“But, Aunt Ruth,” Sue protested desperately, “I didn’t take it ... it isn’t fair...”
“I’m sorry, Sue, but that’s my last word,” Ruth said inexorably.
Her eyes blazing with contempt, Sue looked her aunt straight in the eyes.
“I’ll go,” she said briefly.
Ruth smiled faintly.
“I think that’s wise,” she said softly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As the Baylis family sat down to lunch, Mr. Baylis looked around the table and noticed that only three places were laid.
“Sue not having lunch today?” he commented.
“No,” Ruth said briefly.
“Oh? Nothing wrong, I hope? Not feeling ill or anything?”
Ruth hesitated.
“She seemed all right last night,” Noel remarked, his eyes narrowing as he regarded his stepmother.
Ruth shrugged. For some malicious reason of his own Noel was evidently determined to find out all about Sue here and now, and to hesitate further would only create the impression that she had something to hide, which was, of course, absurd! She turned to her husband.
“I’m afraid, Ralph, that this may come as rather a shock to you,” she said reluctantly. “But the fact is, Sue has left us for good.”
“Left us?” Mr. Baylis repeated in astonishment. “But why, my dear? What has happened?”
“It’s nothing to do with your diamond earring being lost, is it?” Noel asked softly.
“Certainly not,” Ruth snapped. “I told you, I found that this morning—under my dressing table. It must have dropped off there and then have got kicked to have been so far under as it was.”
“Odd,” Noel reflected. “Because, last night, that was one of the places I looked myself—with the aid of a flashlight. And I certainly
didn’t see it.”
“You couldn’t have looked properly,” Ruth shrugged.
“Well, never mind that now,” Mr. Baylis urged. “Tell me about Sue, my dear.”
“She came to me this morning and told me that for some time she has been finding life dull here at Moneyhill,” Ruth explained glibly. “And so she has been trying to find a job somewhere else. This morning she received a letter offering her a job if she could come at once. So she decided to go. That’s all there is to it.”
“You mean to say that after all you’ve done for her, she just walked out without giving you any warning?” Mr. Baylis asked indignantly. “Well, I wouldn’t have believed it of her!”
“Nor would I,” Ruth agreed sadly. “But you mustn’t blame her too much, dear. One has to accept it that young people do rather take for granted anything one does for them. And I suppose Moneyhill has been rather dull for her.”
Noel cleared his throat as if he was going to speak, and then appeared to change his mind.
“Yes, Ruth, but even so, she ought not to have left you in the lurch like this. It’s most inconsiderate,” Mr. Baylis insisted.
“Oh, I can manage,” Ruth said resignedly. “That isn’t worrying me. What I’m so troubled about is Sue herself. What will happen to her? True, she has found a job easily enough—almost anyone can do that nowadays, particularly domestic work. But will she be able to keep it? After all, here she hasn’t really had any responsibility. I’ve run the house, she has only had to do what she was told. And she’s been quite content to have it that way because she isn’t the type to show any initiative. But now, left to herself and in complete charge...” Ruth shook her head and sighed.
“Well, my dear, I don’t see that in the circumstances you should—” Mr. Baylis began, but Noel interrupted him.
“You needn’t worry about that, Ruth,” he told her cheerfully. “Sue will be all right. She’s quite capable of doing the job, and it will be a permanent one. I can guarantee that!”
Ruth turned on him fiercely, her poise completely gone. “What do you mean?” she demanded. “Did you know what she was up to? Because, if so, I think it was very disloyal. Besides, how can you possibly know that she will keep the job?”
“Because I know just what it is,” Noel explained coolly. “You see, she’s going to be my wife. We’re getting married tomorrow.” He turned to his father. “I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, Father, but we both felt that in the circumstances it would be better not to have all the fuss of a big wedding. All the same, we very much hope that you—and Ruth, of course—will come to the church. But not if you don’t feel up to it.”
Ruth was silent, but Mr. Baylis, though his face was grave, did not hesitate.
“I shall most certainly come,” he announced. “And I wish you and Sue every happiness.”
“Thanks, Father.” Noel stood up and momentarily laid his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Well, I must be off now,” he continued cheerfully. “With the prospect of a wife to support, I must keep my nose to the grindstone. Can’t risk getting the sack!”
He gave his father’s shoulder an affectionate pat, sketched a salute to Ruth and went briskly out of the room.
For a moment there was silence. Both tenderness and compassion were written in Mr. Baylis’s face as he laid his hand on his wife’s. But she snatched hers away and turned to him with blazing eyes.
“You have to stop it, Ralph,” she insisted. “It’s outrageous. I won’t have it!”
“And what do you suggest doing to stop it, my dear?” Mr. Baylis asked quietly. “They’re both of age, you know.”
“Oh, that!” Ruth dismissed the argument impatiently.
“Then what?”
“Oh, surely, it would be quite easy,” Ruth said eagerly. “What Noel is earning won’t provide them with anything like the comfort they’re used to. If you were to tell Noel that you would stop his allowance if he marries Sue, or even threaten not to take him into the firm...”
“And estrange myself from my son?” Mr. Baylis said sadly, yet with no hint of reproach. “For that’s what it would mean, you know.”
Ruth’s eyes fell. In all the years they had known each other, neither as his secretary nor as his wife had he spoken to her in just that way. And always, though she had been careful to hide the belief, she had felt that she was the stronger personality of the two. Now, suddenly, she knew that was not so. And she was afraid.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t want to do that,” she admitted, her voice dragging.
“Of course not, my dear,” Mr. Baylis said cheerfully. “And you wouldn’t want me to! So we’ll put a good face on it and go to the wedding—you and I.”
“Very well,” Ruth agreed.
“Good!” There was unmistakable relief in Mr. Baylis’s voice. “I’m sure we’ll be doing the right thing in going.”
Ruth stirred like a person coming out of a dream.
“I’d better get back to the office,” she said dully.
“In a moment, dear,” Mr. Baylis said with a gentle authority she was powerless to oppose. “There’s something else I want to tell you about, and this seems as good a time as any.”
Ruth’s hands lay limply before her on the table. What he was going to say she had no idea, but that made no difference. Beyond doubt her husband, semi-invalid though he still was, was master of the situation, of any situation that might affect the two of them. And because she had no choice but to acknowledge that, she knew that no amount of lying or scheming would ever be of use again.
“This will, I expect, come as a—” he paused as if selecting his words with great care “—a great surprise to you. But I want you to believe that I have not come to the decision without deep thought as to what is the best for everybody. Everybody,” he repeated with greater emphasis. He drew a deep breath. “I’ve sold out—lock, stock and barrel—to Tom Fleming.”
As Kit had told Jason on the day they had picnicked together on Flack Hill, her experience with the Baylis family had even then almost persuaded her to give up private nursing and return to the security of hospital life. What had happened since had only served to strengthen that decision. It was true, of course, that one could reasonably regard the Baylises as unusual, and in future she would naturally take care never to return to Suffolk and the possibility of meeting Jason again. But even so, with private nursing one was bound to make a closer contact both with patients and their relatives than was the case in hospital, and even on one’s time off, one never seemed able to get away from them.
“Perhaps I just don’t have the right temperament for it,” Kit thought wistfully. “Matron did warn me that I might find I didn’t like it.”
But in her heart, she knew that it was meeting Jason again that had been the trouble. At the back of her mind was the humiliating fear that he might have thought she had taken the job at Moneyhill because she knew that he was the consultant for the case and so she was bound to meet him.
But what did it really matter? Jason didn’t want her, and at least she had sufficient pride not to ask him why. If only she had never gone back to Ravenslea!
Within an hour of reaching her little apartment, she called home and her mother insisted that she come to Dorset. Well, why not? She needed a rest. So Kit told her mother she would travel down the following day.
Mrs. Cavendish took one look at her daughter’s face ... and was careful not to look again lest her anxiety should be too apparent. But that night, when Kit was safely in bed, Mrs. Cavendish turned to her husband in despair.
“Tom, what is the matter with the child?”
Mr. Cavendish laid down his evening paper and took off his glasses.
“I don’t know, my dear, and we can’t ask,” he said warningly.
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Mrs. Cavendish asked with a sigh. “She would have told us already if it was something she wanted us to know. As she hasn’t there’s nothing we can do.”
So, to Kit’s
eternal gratitude, no questions were asked, and because she wanted it to stay that way, she did her best to put a good face on it. She ate the tasty, attractive meals her mother prepared, spent most of her time out of doors, either going for long walks by herself or with one or other of her family, and made herself take an interest in their affairs instead of her own. And if that did not help her forget Jason, at least she could feel that she was taking the first step toward learning to live without him—as she had had to learn before.
And then, out of the blue, a letter bearing the Minsterbury postmark arrived for her. She did not recognize the writing, but she decided she wouldn’t read it until she was alone.
Her father and her brother John, went into Lyme Regis together soon after breakfast, and her mother had a busy morning ahead, so it was quite easy to say casually, without causing comment, that she thought she’d walk along the Charmouth road to the point where one got a glimpse of the sea.
But when she reached the spot, she did not immediately take the letter out of her pocket. It was extraordinarily peaceful here. She was looking along the valley of the little river Char. Every now and again there was a glimpse of it sparkling among the trees, and then one’s eyes came at last to the sea, blue and sparkling and, to Kit, encouraging. At other times, she knew, it might be dull and gray and depressing, but now it gave her the courage to take out her letter and slit it open.
Yet when she turned to the end of it and saw Noel’s name, she hesitated. Was there anything he might say that she really wanted to know? Then she shrugged. One might as well go through with it!
Kit Cavendish-Private Nurse Page 13
