Roberta Leigh - It All Depends on Love

by Roberta Leigh

  A soft knock on the door brought her out of her reverie, and she frowned. If there was an emergency with one of her patients, she would be bleeped, so it was probably one of the housemen anxious to further his knowledge by picking her brains.

  Slipping into her shoes, she called for him to come in.

  The tall, slender woman who did brought Tessa jumping to her feet.

  'Miss Mortensen!' She didn't know what else to say, and stared at Ingrid dumbly. Then common sense took over, and she spoke again. 'I'm glad you've fully recovered. Mr Morgan, your surgeon, kept me informed about your progress.'

  'Yes, he told me. He also said you did a brilliant job on my chest and leg.'

  Tessa made a disclaiming gesture. The warm smile on Ingrid's face, in place of the familiar enmity, was proof the girl was no longer jealous of her, which meant she must be completely sure of Patrick. The desolation that swamped Tessa at this was proof positive she had nowhere near stopped loving him. So much for her belief that she had!

  'I'm sorry I didn't telephone before coming,' Ingrid was saying, 'but I wasn't sure if you'd agree to see me.'

  Tessa made herself laugh. 'You were a tough lady to work for, but I don't blame you for it. I guess I was quite a trial to you!'

  Ingrid laughed too, and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing her skirt. She was as beautiful as ever, her hair—worn in a softer, curlier style—made her look younger than the twenty-six she was, and her skin gleamed with the lustre of a pearl.

  I can't hold a candle to her, Tessa granted morosely, and wished she knew exactly what had melted the Swedish girl's coldness.

  'I was amazed when Patrick told me your true identity,' Ingrid said into the silence. 'You must have thoroughly enjoyed making fools of us.'

  'It was rather amusing.' Tessa wished there were some folders in front of her, enabling her to plead pressure of work and end this meeting. But she was stuck, and had to make the best of it. 'Would you care for a coffee?'

  'No, thanks, I'm awash with it. I was .waiting in Reception for two hours. It didn't enter my head you'd be working this late.' -. .

  'I frequently work far later.'

  'I see.' The pale eyes flickered. 'I was hoping to come and talk to you weeks ago, to thank you for saving my life, but I was up to my eyes with work.'

  "There's no need to apologise. You wrote and thanked me, which was quite enough.'

  'Nothing's enough for what you did. You saved my life, and I wanted to thank you face to face.'

  'I was only doing my job.'

  There's no "only" about it. Fate must have brought you to work at the Hall. If you hadn't been there I'd have bled to death!'

  'I doubt it,' Tessa demurred.

  'I don't. You saved my life.'

  'I hope you didn't come to London especially to say this?' Tessa said jocularly.

  'I did. Otherwise I would have gone directly to Heathrow Airport.'

  'You're going abroad?' The question slipped out and Tessa was mortified with herself, though Ingrid didn't appear to notice.

  'I'm going to Sweden to say goodbye to my family. I'm off to Australia for the next three years.'

  Tessa's heart thumped painfully, 'Is Patrick moving there, then?'

  'No.' Ingrid's pale eyes studied the floor. 'You've got k wrong. You see, I'm leaving him.'

  'Leaving? But why? I——-'Tessa caught herself up.

  'Forgive me, it's none of my business.'

  'Actually, it is.'

  Tessa was startled, bat managed to hide it, afraid of giving vent to curiosity in case she gave away her feelings.

  'It's you he cares for,' Ingrid said flatly.

  'I beg your pardon?'

  'Patrick. He loves you.'

  'I can't believe that.'

  'I don't blame you, after the way I behaved.'

  Careful to mask her expression, Tessa met Ingrid's eyes. ‘I’m afraid I don't follow you.'

  'You will when you've heard me out. You see, you misjudged that scene you saw through the window of Patrick's sitting-room.'

  Tessa swallowed hard. Should she play ignorant and deny witnessing it? She was debating the point when Ingrid spoke again.

  'I'd gone to talk to Patrick that night and saw you coming across the lawn. I was pretty certain you'd pass the window, and I shammed a fault and collapsed on the settee. Patrick bent over me and I pulled him into my arms. Short of hurting me, he couldn't break free, and by the tune he did you'd gone.'

  'It struck me as a very passionate embrace,' Tessa remarked.

  'On my side only. If you saw me clinging hard, it's because he was trying equally hard to throw me off!'

  'Why did you do it?'

  'Do you honestly need to ask?' Ingrid said drily. 'I was determined to make sure you didn't get him. It was obvious he was attracted to you, and, though I knew he thought you too young and irresponsible, I was still worried he'd fall for you. I've loved him for years, and he was beginning to see me as a woman, not merely his assistant, when you turned up. I was desperate to get you out of the way, and I didn't care how I did it. It wasn't until after my accident, when I realised I owed my life to you…' Ingrid leaned forward, her expression earnest. 'But I still couldn't being myself to tell you the truth because I hadn't given up hope.'

  "Then why are you here now?'

  'I finally accepted he wasn't interested in me as a woman.'

  Tessa was uncertain what to say. Her earlier dislike of Ingrid, though tempered today, none the less made it difficult for her to disclose her feelings. Yet she had to say something, and chose the least innocuous comment.

  'So Patrick was attracted to me,' she shrugged. 'That doesn't mean much.'

  'More than attraction. I've just told you. I saw how he looked at you when you weren't aware of it. I don't expect you to confide in me, Tessa, but if you do care for him; tell him.'

  'Does he know you were coming here?'

  'No.'

  Tessa stared down at her hands. 'The—er—the feelings you say he has for me, did he—has he discussed them with you?'

  'Patrick isn't the type to talk to one woman about another. But I know him well enough to be sure how he feels.'

  'Do you?' Tessa asked drily. 'Until a few weeks ago you believed you had a chance with him.'

  'I was fooling myself. Then one morning I faced the truth and knew it was time for me to make a fresh start.' Ingrid rose. 'I've said my piece. What you do with it is your affair. But if you do have any feelings for Patrick, don't let pride stand in your way.'

  Without another word, she walked out, and Tessa leaned back in her chair and sighed. If it were only her pride that was involved, she would go to him this very minute and open her heart. But there was her work— which meant a great deal to her—and there was Patrick's deeply rooted objection to a wife with a career. It was a barrier she could see no way around.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Knowing Patrick hadn't been making love to Ingrid that night certainly lessened Tessa's anger towards him, but she remained reluctant to do anything about it.

  If he loved her, as Ingrid said, confessing she loved him wasn't going to dissolve the basic problem between them: his adamant abhorrence of having a working wife.

  Yet even this was jumping the gun, for last time they had spoken intimately he had made it clear he valued his freedom too much to tie himself down in the foreseeable future.

  Regardless of how often she reminded herself of this, Tessa found it impossible to dismiss what Ingrid had said. She pictured him alone at the Hall and ached to be with him, to have him hold her, touch her.

  Who cared if he insisted on remaining single? She wanted him so badly that she was prepared to settle for living with him. Except living with him as his girlfriend was likely to present as many difficulties as living with him as his wife, for she would insist on continuing her career, and he would fret and fume if she wasn't available whenever he wanted her. Damn his obstinacy!

  For the next week Te
ssa wrestled with herself, one moment on the verge of dropping everything and haring off to see Patrick, the next dismissing the issues that divided them as unresolvable.

  'You're looking frazzled again,' Sir Denis commented on the Thursday, studying her pale face and too-slender frame. 'Haven't you learned your lesson not to overwork?'

  ‘I’m not doing more than you,' she protested.

  'Maybe. But you're doing it with unnecessary intensity.' His eyes narrowed with curiosity. 'You haven't fallen in love, have you?'

  Momentarily she hesitated, then nodded. 'I regret to say I have, and it's killing me!'

  'Why? Is he married?'

  'Oh, no.'

  Sir Denis waited, not pressing her, and Tessa, aware that his interest was well meant, debated whether to confide in him. Disclosing her innermost feelings to him didn't come easily to her, for she always kept her emotional life apart from her professional one. Yet with her godfather away—he was her greatest mentor and confidant—she needed to confide in someone she trusted, and whose opinion she valued.

  Haltingly, she told him of her charade, alive to the amusement on his face as she did, though his smile disappeared as her story continued.

  'So you see,' she concluded, 'it's hopeless. If Patrick and I just lived together, he'd still expect me to devote myself to him. He recently bought into a company in the States, and will probably be spending a fair amount of time there, which means he'd expect me to go with him.'

  'Has he said so?'

  'No, but——-'

  'Then why anticipate it?'

  'Because I know how he thinks. He said it often enough.'

  'Was he in love with you when he expounded his opinions?'

  'I'm not certain. He was always attracted to me, but I don't honestly know when it became love. Because he thought I was a teenager, he was fighting it.'

  'You don't say!' Sir Denis chuckled. 'Pity I didn't see you in your miniskirt or baggy pants! I bet you were very fetching.'

  'Not fetching enough to bring him to the boil,' came Tessa's dry comment.

  'Don't be too sure," her chief argued. 'By all accounts he was bubbling along nicely! If you hadn't misunderstood the scene you witnessed through the window, you might well have brought him to boiling-point. It was unfortunate that the moment the poor man discovered your true identity you upped and left without giving him a chance to reassess his feelings for you.'

  'I only left because I was fooled by the stunt Ingrid pulled. But, regardless of that, Patrick has had months to think things over, and if he cared for me in the slightest he wouldn't have given up on me. He's a fighter,' she added by way of explanation.

  'Perhaps he is also a realist. You can be very persuasive when you set yourself to it, Tessa, and you probably convinced him you don't care for him in the slightest.'

  'If he loved me enough he'd at least make an effort to win me.'

  'If you loved him enough, you'd make an effort too.'

  'It's not the same thing.'

  'Indeed?' Sir Denis raised an eyebrow. 'From where I stand, you and this Patrick of yours have similar problems to overcome. He doesn't believe you love him, and you don't believe Ingrid when she says he does!’

  Tessa shook her head, her soft, red-gold curls in disarray. 'You're muddling me!"

  'You are muddling yourself. Be logical, my dear. You tell me that if he loved you he'd fight for you. Ergo, if you love him, you will do the same!'

  'It's more than a question of love,' Tessa sighed. 'My profession is the stumbling block. He won't accept it.'

  Sir Denis put a hand on her shoulder. 'What a man says when he fancies a girl is often quite different from what he says when he faces the fact that he loves her. In my salad days I set my heart on marrying a blonde, like my mother. I refused to take out a girl unless she was at least mousy! Yet whom did I marry?'

  Tessa gave a wry smile; Lady Derail hailed from Rio, and her hair was black as night!

  'Think over what I've said,' he concluded. 'And remember, faint heart never won obstinate tycoon!'

  That evening, Tessa mulled over her conversation with Sir Denis. Frequently her hand hovered over the telephone, but she couldn't quite find the courage to call Patrick. She switched on the news, and was trying to concentrate on it when Mrs Benson called to say Henry was well enough to leave the hospital, and she was collecting him the following day.

  'Unless, of course, you plan on coming here for the weekend and will bring him with you,' the woman said wistfully. 'It's lonely here without Mr Anderson.'

  Guilt prodded Tessa's conscience, and on the spur of the moment she agreed to collect the dog and bring him down.

  'I'm operating till five,' she finished, 'so don't expect us till eight at the earliest.'

  The instant a happy Mrs Benson rang off, Tessa bitterly regretted her offer. Until she definitely decided what to do about Patrick, it was crazy to go to Greentrees. But it was too late to back out of it now.

  First thing next morning she asked her secretary to inform the veterinary hospital she would collect Henry later that evening. Unfortunately an emergency delayed her, and it was nearly ten before she returned to her apartment with him—too late to drive to the country.

  Excitedly Henry pushed past her into the hallway, tail wagging as he bounded over the weekend case Mrs Harris, her housekeeper, had packed ready for her.

  Holding his collar tightly, Tessa tried to pull him away from the sitting-room door, which he was avidly sniffing. But he was big and she was tired, and it wasn't until she remembered to utter the magic word 'dinner' that he allowed himself to be led into the kitchen.

  Leaving him happily munching through a bowl of mince and cereal, Tessa called Mrs Benson to say she wasn't leaving till next morning, then made herself an omelette.

  While she ate, she came to the conclusion that destiny was taking her to Greentrees, and it was foolish not to take advantage of it and at least pop in on Patrick. Any further move was dependent on his reaction to her. If he appeared pleased by her visit, she would be frank with him about her feelings; if he acted cool, she would be cooler.

  Leaving Henry snoozing on an old blanket, she cleared away the dishes, then decided to go into the sitting-room to watch the late night news.

  Opening the door, she stopped dead.

  Patrick lay fast asleep on the sofa! From the empty coffee-cup on the floor beside him, she guessed her daily housekeeper had let him in before she left, and he had literally got tired of waiting for her!

  She moved over to waken him, then drew back and stared into his face. He was paler and thinner than she remembered, and his grey tweed trousers and light grey sweater suggested he had not come to London for a business meeting, but was here only to see her.

  Bending lower, she feasted her eyes on him, then felt guilty for studying him while he slept. But it was an opportunity not to be missed, and her eyes lingered lovingly on the lock of chestnut hair fallen on his forehead, the long lashes splayed fanlike on the hollow cheeks, the straight, classic nose, the upturned, humorous mouth. It was his smile that always affected her more than anything else. And those blue eyes. She longed for him to open them, but not yet. She was going to savour this moment as long as possible.

  Quietly she sat in the armchair opposite him. But not as quietly as she thought, for he shifted, gave a grunt and sat up, instantly wide awake.

  'Tessa!' Impatiently he raked back the hair from his forehead. 'Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.'

  'Not to worry.' She was carefully casual, wary at finding him in her apartment. She longed to ask why he was here, but resolutely refused to do so.

  'I must be more tired than I thought,' he went on, sounding irritated with himself. 'But when your housekeeper informed me you were going away for the weekend, I was scared of missing you and waited.'

  'Care for a sandwich or another coffee?'

  'I've already had both.'

  'I'm not counting!'

  'The hell with food! That isn't why I'
m here.'

  He jumped to his feet and paced the floor with nervous movements. He was so obviously ill at ease and unlike the sophisticated man she knew that she waited on tenterhooks.

  'You're looking great,' he said abruptly. 'Blooming, in fact.'

  So much for his perception! However, she nodded her thanks at the compliment.

  'You're looking fine too,' she replied, playing him at his own game.

  'I don't feel it. I can't sleep, I can't concentrate, I can't do any damn thing except——-' He stopped, then said at a tangent, 'I was hoping you'd come to your godfather's house one weekend.'

  'It's rather pointless when he isn't there. I only went before because I was convalescing.'

  'Instead of which you worked your butt off at the Hall!'

  'Hardly work, Patrick. A vacation compared with what I do at St Andrews!'

  'Ah, I was forgetting the hospital.' He cleared his throat on the word, frowning fiercely. 'It's very important to you, isn't it?'

  'Yes.' She was finding it increasingly difficult to hide her feelings for him, and, visualising this conversation going nowhere for the next hour, took the plunge. 'Why have you come here, Patrick? What are you trying to tell me?'

  "That I love you and can't live without you.'

  There was dead silence. Their eyes met, but neither of them moved. He because he was waiting for her reaction; she because she was waiting for him to elaborate.

  'I'm aware the—er—the whole thing was a charade for you,' he went on jerkily, his hand pulling at his shut-collar as though it were choking him. 'But for me it was… What I mean is, I didn't realise what was happening to me until I—er——‘ He cleared his throat and began again. 'I made myself fight my feelings for you because I believed you were only eighteen, but I wasn't too successful, as you know.' He paused, as if waiting for her to speak, and when she didn't, exploded, 'Dammit, Tessa! Don't you know what I'm trying to tell you? Didn't my kisses make it plain?'

  She almost flung herself into his arms, only restrained by the fear that he still expected her to fall in with his image of an ideal wife.

  'You once warned me not to read too much into your kisses,' she reminded him.

  'I was lying! A desperate attempt to fool you—and myself as well.' He took a step towards her. 'How can you sit there so calmly? At least show surprise, if nothing else! Or did you already guess how I feel?'