The Secret Woman

by Victoria Holt

  “Oh Nurse,” she said, “do come quickly. It’s Mrs. Stretton.”

  I hurried to the west turret to find Valerie Stretton lying on her bed and distorted with pain. I thought I knew what was wrong and that it was what I had suspected. I turned to Jane and said: “I want Dr. Elgin at once.”

  Jane ran off. There was nothing I could do. I believed it was an attack of angina and had thought “Heart” as soon as I set eyes on her.

  I bent over her. “It’ll soon pass. It’s passing now, I believe.”

  She did not speak but I think she was comforted to have me there. What startled me was the manner in which she was dressed. She wore high boots; the mud on them had stained the counterpane and her hat had half-fallen from her head. What I noticed particularly was the heavy veil which would have concealed her face. She had been out. I would not have believed that possible if I had not seen her boots and the hat. Why had she gone out dressed like that at that time of the evening?

  The pain was passing. Such an attack would last about half an hour, and I knew that this was not a major attack.

  But it was a warning.

  Without disturbing her I removed her boots; they were very muddy. I took her hat off, but I did not take her coat from her as I did not wish to move her until the doctor had been.

  When he came the attack was over. He examined her and I gently undressed her. She was too exhausted to tell him much but I described what I had seen and he looked grave.

  She was to rest, he said; he wanted her to sleep.

  He came into my sitting room afterward.

  “Very grave, is it, Doctor?”

  He nodded.

  “Angina pectoris undoubtedly. I’m glad you’re here, Nurse. That’s if you’re prepared to take on another patient.”

  “I certainly am.”

  “I just want you to watch her very carefully. There must be the minimum of exertion; fatigue and anxiety must be avoided, excitement too. And of course her diet must be watched. She must eat sparingly. You’ve probably nursed this sort of case before.”

  “Yes, the one before Miss Brett was a heart.”

  “Good. Now, there may not be another attack for weeks, months…or even longer. On the other hand she could have another within the hour. Give her a little brandy if there is any sign of another attack. I’ll send up some nitrite of amyl. You know how to use it?”

  “Five drops on a handkerchief inhaled?”

  He nodded. “Was she alone when this happened?”

  “No. Jane Goodwin was with her. She had just come in, though.”

  “Ah, she had walked too far. She must be careful in future. She should always have close at hand a piece of cotton wool soaked with nitrite of amyl. There’s a special bottle I can give you; it has a particularly tight stopper. Put the five drops on the cotton wool and the wool into the bottle; then if she feels an attack coming on and is alone she can have it all ready for use. I want her to rest for a while—and either you or Jane Goodwin will be at hand. Jane seems a sensible young woman.”

  I said I was sure she was.

  “All right, I’ll go and see Lady Crediton and tell her the state of affairs. She should be grateful that you’re installed in the house, Nurse.”

  Lady Crediton, if not exactly grateful, because she would never be that to someone she paid, at least found it most convenient (her word) that I should be there.

  “Dr. Elgin tells me that you will keep an eye on Mrs. Stretton, Senior,” she said, making it seem the lightest of duties. “I understand that she has a bad heart.” Her nose was lifted with disapproval, as though she was saying: “How typical of such a woman to have a bad heart at such a time!”

  I thought she was as hard as the nails which were driven into the Company’s “ladies” (if they do drive nails in. My knowledge of shipbuilding is nonexistent). I could see her fierce and implacable; and I wondered afresh how such a woman could ever have tolerated that situation which Sir Edward had put her into. It only went to show what a man of iron he must have been. And then suddenly it occurred to me that it was the Shipping Line she loved. It was Big Business, the acquisition of money. Sir Edward and she had been partners not only in marriage but in business; and if the marriage failed her, she was determined that the business never would.

  ***

  May 24th. There is that feeling in the air which suggests that we are moving toward some climax. I believe it is the house party which will begin on the first of June. Such activities there are throughout the Castle! Baines importantly struts (there’s no other word for it) around, investigating the wine cellar, instructing the maids and informing the footmen what will be expected of them. This visit of the Derringhams is going to be important. I fancy that Rex is a little uneasy. Perhaps he doesn’t relish the fair Helena Derringham. Ironical that she should be called Helena. Though Helen would have been more apt. I said something to him about the face that launched a thousand ships and he smiled a little perfunctorily, as though it were too serious a matter (or perhaps too melancholy a one) over which to joke. I gather that the matchmaking is Lady Crediton’s doing. She will expect Rex to marry where she wishes. Poor Rex! I feel this will be something of a test for him. He has met Helena at dances when she came out two years ago, and I gather he was not exactly stunned by her charms. But of course her ladyship has a controlling interest in the business. This slipped out, too. Sir Edward left everything in her hands. He must have had a great respect for her business acumen—and I’m sure he was not a man to be mistaken. I understood that it could be very uncomfortable for Rex if he did not fall in with his Mamma’s wishes. She could leave her share away from Rex if he displeased her. To the Captain? I wondered. No, that was something she would never do, I am sure. She bitterly resents Red having any shares at all; but he has a small holding; Sir Edward had left that to him and of course he would always be one of the Company’s Captains. I was surprised that Rex should confide in me. But we had a rather special friendship—rather like the one I had with young Edward, perhaps. They found me different from the people they usually met. Besides, the people at the Castle do behave rather unconventionally.

  ***

  May 25th. My original patient is much better. She blossoms. It is the thought of the husband’s return rather than my nursing, I’m sure. But it’s always so with that type of patient. I have difficulty though in making her rest and keep to her diet. Oddly enough when she’s excited she wants to eat more; she goes through her wardrobe and tries on her dresses—all in gay colors. She favors a flowered robe, loose and shapeless and split almost up to the knee. She looks as Edith said disapprovingly, “foreign.” Yesterday afternoon she flew into a temper because she couldn’t find the sash she wanted. I thought she was going to have an attack—but we avoided that. My other patient is much more sick and I have been spending a great deal of time with her. Jane welcomes me because I think she feels I know how to treat her mistress. I asked Valerie Stretton yesterday if she had walked very far on the day she had had the attack.

  “Yes, quite far,” she said cautiously.

  “Farther than usual?”

  “Yes, much farther.”

  “You usually walk in the grounds, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do, but…”

  She was plucking at the bed coverlet and I thought I had better change the subject because this was exciting her too much. But was it merely fatigue, I asked myself, which had brought on the attack or was it due to some anxiety?

  I discovered that she had had vague warnings before in the form of slight pains in the arms and chest. They had passed within a few minutes though and she had thought of them vaguely as some sort of rheumatism.

  I said: “The thing is to avoid too much exercise. You must never overtire yourself. But I think anxiety would probably be more dangerous than anything else.”

  Again that look of fear.

 
When I left her it was with the certainty that she had something on her mind. I wondered what, and being myself I knew I should not be happy until I found out.

  ***

  June 6th. I have not had time to write in my journal for nearly a fortnight, and that is not surprising. Such excitement we have had in the Castle and it is due of course to the Derringhams’ visit. They arrived on the 1st—a lovely summer’s day and the roses were looking quite magnificent. The gardeners had been in a fever of excitement and the lawns and the flower beds were certainly at their best. The scent of pinks filled the air and the fountain-lawn marques had been set up for the garden party which was to be the first what Edith would call “to-do.” I was longing for a glimpse of the fair Helena and when I saw her I knew why Rex was melancholy. I am sure she was a young woman who was full of virtues, but she was not exactly an attractive one. She was awkward, with large hands and feet, and walked like a woman who spends a great deal of time in the saddle—which I’m sure she did. In fact her face was rather the shape of a horse’s; her laughter had an equine quality too; she neighed, one might say. She talked in a loud and piercing voice; she was a character. I wondered whether Lady Crediton had looked rather like her in her youth and then it occurred to me that Sir Edward might have felt the same reluctance as I was sure Rex was feeling now. But Sir Edward would do his duty. And there was no doubt that Lady Crediton heartily approved of Miss Derringham. How could she help it when she considered the Derringham million or so—and Sir Henry had no son. Moreover he doted on his daughter. I was glad that some people admired her for I had a notion that Rex was not being the attentive squire his mother and Helena’s father expected him to be.

  I was at the window watching the guests on the lawn. It was a perfect day. Even the weather had to toe the line for Lady Crediton, it seemed. The grass was even more soft and velvety than usual, and the colored dresses, the big shady hats and parasols made an enchanting picture accentuated by the dark clothes of the men. I longed to be down there among them. I pictured the dress I should wear—green as the grass and my hair should be piled high. Perhaps I would have a froth of flowers and veiling on it but nothing more, and a parasol that was a mass of green and white frills like the one I most admired down there. If I had the clothes I would go down and mingle with the guests and I would be as beautiful and amusing as any of them—and no one would know that I was merely the nurse.

  “Stop it, Cinderella Loman,” I said to myself. “It’s no use your looking round for a fairy godmother with a magic wand and pumpkin. You ought to have learned by now that you have to be your own fairy godmother.”

  Monique had gone to the party. She insisted. She looked strange among those elegantly dressed women. Monique would never be elegant, only colorful. I imagined that Lady Crediton would not wish her to be there. How tiresome of her, she would think, to be well enough to attend the garden party when on almost all other occasions she was so ill that Dr. Elgin had suggested they employ a nurse!

  Rex was being attentive to her, which was kind of him. He was quite fond of Redvers so I supposed he thought he should be kind to his wife.

  I went along to see my other patient and I found her sitting at her turret window looking down on the scene.

  “How are you today?” I asked, sitting beside her.

  “I’m very well, thank you, Nurse.”

  It wasn’t true, of course.

  “It’s colorful,” I said. “Some of the ladies’ dresses are really beautiful.”

  “I see Miss Derringham…in blue there.”

  I had a good look at her. It was the wrong shade of blue—too light; it made her fresh color look crude.

  “There are hopes, I believe, that an announcement will be made during the visit,” I said, because I could never curb my curiosity enough to resist bringing up the subjects I wanted to talk about.

  “It’s almost a certainty,” she said.

  “You think Miss Derringham will accept?”

  “But of course.” She looked surprised that I could suggest anyone could possibly refuse Rex. I remembered that she had been his nurse and would have loved him as a small boy.

  “It will be an excellent thing to link the two companies which is what will happen naturally. It will certainly be one of the biggest companies in the Kingdom then.”

  “Very good,” I said.

  “She’ll be lucky. Rex was always a good boy. He deserves his good fortune. He’s worked hard. Sir Edward would be proud of him.”

  “So you are hoping this marriage will take place.”

  She seemed surprised that I should imply there was an element of doubt.

  “Yes, it will make up for Red’s marriage. That is a disaster.”

  “Well, perhaps not entirely so. Young Edward is a charming child.”

  She smiled indulgently. “He’s going to be just like his father.”

  It was very pleasant talking to her but I got the impression that she would give little away. There was a definite air of wariness about her. I suppose it was natural considering her past. I remember my sister Selina’s calling me the Inquisitor because she said I was completely ruthless when I was trying to prize information out of people who didn’t want to give it. I must curb my inquisitiveness. But, I assured myself, it was necessary for me to know what was in my patient’s mind; I had to save her from exerting herself, worrying about anything—and how could I do that unless I knew what she was troubled about.

  Then Jane came in with a letter for her mistress.

  Valerie took the letter and as her eyes fell on the envelope I saw her face turn a grayish color. I went on talking to her, pretending not to notice, but I was fully aware that she was paying little attention to what I was saying.

  She was a woman under strain. Something was bothering her. I wished I knew what.

  She quite clearly wanted to be alone and I could not ignore the hint she gave me; so I left her.

  Ten minutes later, Jane was calling me. I went back to Valerie and gave her the nitrite of amyl. It worked like a miracle and we staved off the attack while it was merely an iron vise on her arms and was over before it reached the chest and the complete agony.

  I said there was no need to call Dr. Elgin; he would be looking in the next day. And I thought to myself: It was something in that letter that upset her.

  The next day a most unpleasant incident occurred. I disliked the Beddoes woman right from the start, and it seems she felt similarly about me. Valerie was feeling so much better that she was taking a short walk in the garden with Jane, and I was in her room making her bed with the special bed rest Dr. Elgin had suggested to prop her up when her breathing was difficult.

  The drawer of her table was half-open and I saw a photograph album in it. I couldn’t resist taking it out and looking at it.

  There were several photographs in it—mostly of the boys. Underneath each was lovingly inscribed: Redvers aged two; Rex two and a half. There was a picture of them together and again with her. She was very, very pretty in those days, but she looked a little harassed. She was obviously trying to make Redvers look where the photographers wanted him to. Rex stood leaning against her knee. It was rather charming. I was sure she loved them both dearly; I could tell by the way she spoke of them and I imagined her trying not to show favoritism to her own son; they were both Sir Edward’s children anyway.

  I put the album back and as I did so I saw an envelope. I immediately thought of what had upset her and wondered if this was the letter; I couldn’t be sure because it was an ordinary white envelope like so many. I picked it up. I was holding it in my hand when I was aware that someone was in the room watching me.

  That sly rather whining voice said: “I’m looking for Edward. Is he here?”

  I swung round holding the letter and I was furious with myself because I knew I looked guilty. The fact was I hadn’t looked inside the envelope. I
had only picked it up and I could see by her expression that she thought she had caught me red-handed.

  I put the envelope back on the table as nonchalantly as I could and I said calmly that I thought Edward was in the garden. He was probably walking with his grandmother and Jane.

  I felt furious with her.

  I shall never forget the night of the fancy dress ball. I was very daring, but then I always had been. It was Monique oddly enough who goaded me to it. I fancied she was becoming rather fond of me; perhaps she recognized in me something of a rebel like herself. I encouraged her to confide in me because my policy was that the more I knew about my patients the better. She had started to talk to me about the house where she had lived with her mother on the Island of Coralle. It sounded like a queer, shabby old mansion near the sugar plantation which her father had owned. He was dead and they had sold it now but her mother still lived in the house. As she talked she gave me an impression of lazy steamy heat. She told me how as a child she used to go down to watch the big ships come in and how the natives used to dance and sing to welcome them and to say good-bye. The great days were when the ships arrived and the stalls were set up on the waterfront with the beads and images, grass skirts and slippers, and baskets which they had made in readiness to sell to the visitors to the island. Her eyes sparkled as she talked and I said: “You miss it all.” She admitted she did. And talking she began to cough; I thought then: She would be better back there.

  She was childish in lots of ways and her moods changed so rapidly that one could never be sure in one moment of abandoned laughter whether she would be on the edge of melancholy in the next. There was no contact whatever between her and Lady Crediton; she was much happier with Valerie, but then Valerie was a much more comfortable person.

  She would have liked to go to the fancy dress ball but she had had an asthmatic attack that morning and even she knew it would be folly.

  “How would you dress?” I asked her. She said she thought she would go as what she was, a Coralle islander. She had some lovely coral beads and she would wear flowers in her hair which would be loose about her shoulders.