Roberta Leigh - In Name Only

by Roberta Leigh

  Even though her parents had made it clear they did not agree with her decision, they had not argued with her, though Jane knew the subject had only been left in abeyance.

  A knock at the door brought her back to the present and she waited nervously as the door opened wider, only relaxing when she saw it was Aunt Agatha, resplendent in pearls and velvet.

  "Naughty girl," she greeted Jane. "The moment I turn my back on London you get knocked down!"

  For the next quarter of an hour she plied Jane with questions, learning all that had transpired since they return from Paris.

  "I don't believe Nicholas was lying when he said he loved you," was Agatha Carew's comment when Jane had finished speaking. "After all, he didn't know about the baby until afterwards, so what reason could he have had for pretending?"

  "I don't know," Jane said wearily.

  "Then why not see him and let him explain for himself?"

  "Because I wouldn't believe him. If you'd seen him and

  Carole… the way they were kissing——-" She turned her head away and stared unseeingly at the patch of grey sky beyond the window.

  "I still think you should give Nicholas an opportunity of talking to you."

  "You didn't see them the way I did," Jane reiterated obstinately.

  "Nicholas can explain that," the old lady said just as obstinately.

  "I'm sure he can explain anything away - especially now - when he feels so guilty about the baby."

  "But he said he loved you before he knew about the baby. Can't you get that into your head? The only reason you found Carole in his arms was because she put herself there -not because he wanted her!"

  "He didn't need to bring her to the house."

  "He didn't want to be seen out with her, and the house seemed the most private place. Nicholas loves you. If you'd let him see you - let him talk to you - you'd know that for yourself."

  The conviction in Aunt Agatha's voice made it difficult for Jane to argue, and though she was only hearing what her parents had already said to her, the words had more force coming from someone who knew Nicholas so well.

  As though sensing Jane's indecision, Mrs. Carew pressed the point. "Let me tell Nicholas you'll see him. You've nothing to lose and everything to gain."

  "Very well," Jane sighed. "I'll do as you want."

  "I'd like to think it's what you want," Mrs. Carew said with the snort she always gave when emotion was threatening to get the better of her. "I won't keep you talking any more. You're looking tired and I want you to be feeling your best when Nicholas comes in."

  "Is he here now ? " Jane said quickly.

  "No. He's at the office, waiting for me to call him."

  Jane reached out and caught the old lady close. "You must be my good fairy," she said huskily.

  Before Aunt Agatha could answer, the door opened and a nurse bustled in. "I'd just like to take your temperature before dinner," she said.

  Aunt Agatha pulled a face at the nurse's back and with a final "Don't forget to put on some lipstick," she went out, leaving Jane to the starchy cheerfulness of her nurse.

  With impatience Jane submitted to having her temperature taken and to being served with a supper which, because of her excitement, she was unable to eat. Indeed she was glad when the tray had been finally taken away and she could lie back on the pillows and try to compose herself for Nicholas's arrival. Even now she was torn by indecision, one moment wondering if she were doing the right tiling in seeing him and the next acknowledging that everything Aunt Agatha had said made sense: Nicholas had not had any reason to say he loved her, so he must have meant it. All around her she could hear hospital noises - the clattering of dishes, the occasional patter of footsteps and the murmur of voices as one or another of the nurses met along the dimly-lit corridor outside her room. She felt a complete isolation from everyday life and experienced the strange remoteness that so often accompanies a stay in hospital, where everything within the antiseptic walls seems real and everything outside of them non-existent.

  The door opened and she sat up with a start, her heart pounding furiously as she saw the figure outlined against the lighted corridor. "You! "she gasped.

  "Yes, me." Carole closed the door and came further into the room. "I didn't send up my name because I knew you wouldn't see me, but I had to come. I couldn't rest until I knew how you were."

  "I'm quite well, thank you," Jane said icily, "so now you can leave."

  "Well, you're as blunt as ever." Carole sat down in a chair near the bed. "I know you don't like me, but there's no reason why we can't be civilized about what's happened. I gather from Nicholas that you won't see him."

  "Another hour and you'd be wrong."

  "I know."

  Jane was startled. "How ? "

  "Because I was with Nicholas when his aunt telephoned and asked him to come here tonight." Carole leaned forward in her chair, making it difficult for Jane to avoid the slanting green eyes. "Nicky's refused to see me since your accident, and it wasn't until this afternoon when I barged into his office that I knew he hadn't seen you." "Why are you telling me this ?"

  "Because I've as much right to fight for my happiness as you have. It was a clever trick to have his child, Jane, but you're not pregnant now and you can't use it to keep him."

  "I never used it!" Anger set Jane's heart thudding. "If I'd wanted to use his guilt do you think I'd have kept him away from me until now ?"

  "That's what I can't understand," Carole replied. "Why have you changed your mind ?"

  "Because he loves me," Jane said, the words bursting from her. "He loves me and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

  "How do you know he loves you?" Carole's voice was so low that it was a husky whisper. "You can't hold him to what he said when he thought you were pregnant."

  "I'm not holding him to anything." Shaking and beyond pride, Jane sat up in bed. "Nicholas has tried to see me every day. He's begged to come in. Begged, do you hear ? "

  "Because of guilt," Carole retorted. "Not because he loves you. He felt guilty because you were having his child and he felt guilty because you lost it! That's the only reason he's still pretending he loves you."

  "You're lying!" Jane pounded the coverlet. "He said he loved me before he knew about the baby."

  "Did he?" Carole spat out the question. "Are you so sure of that?"

  "Of course I'm sure."

  "Think carefully, Jane." Carole was standing beside the bed again, her face devoid of anger and filled with unexpected and surprising compassion. "Nicholas was in the middle of telling me what happened that night when his aunt phoned to say you'd agreed to see him. That's why I came here - to try and stop you making another mistake." The husky voice deepened. "Nicky did know about the child. That's why he pretended he loved you."

  "That isn't true. He said it before I told him."

  "No. Try to remember… try." Carole bent closer. "When you were arguing with him you fainted. It was then - as you fell - that you said you were-expecting a baby."

  For a long moment there was silence.

  "I didn't," Jane whispered. "I couldn't have."

  "You did."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Ask Nicholas. Ask him and watch his face when he gives you the answer."

  "No!" Jane cried. "I won't! I won't!" Tears poured down her cheeks and the room blurred and wavered. "I don't want a man to love me out of pity. I want to be loved for myself…"

  "Then find another man." Carole's voice seemed to come from a long way off. "Nicholas loves we."

  "Go away," Jane sobbed. "Go away!"

  She was not conscious of Carole leaving, aware only of a desolation so deep that she was drowning in it, unable to see, or feel, or breathe. Drowning——-

  Coming into the room to tell Jane that her husband was waiting outside to see her, the nurse stopped in horror. Jane was lying half out of the bed, her head thrown back, her hair touching the floor. With an exclamation the nurse ran over and lifted he
r up, one hand picking up the limp wrist and feeling the pulse. Instantly she pressed the buzzer on the bedside table and as another nurse hurried in, ordered her to call the house doctor.

  "I'll start the oxygen myself." Within moments the routine for an emergency was in operation and the fight began to force Jane to hold on to a life she no longer wanted.

  But for Jane it was an unconscious rejection of living rather tüan a conscious one, for reality had given way to illusion and the bitter and painful present was superseded by dreams of her happy childhood, dreams from which she could not be awakened.

  "This isn't a case for me," the gynaecologist admitted later that night as he spoke to Nicholas. "I've asked Dr. Major to see her."

  "But he's a mental specialist." Nicholas could not keep the horror out of his voice. "Jane's never been mentally ill in her life."

  "She is now," came the answer. "You'd better face up to it."

  "When is Dr. Major seeing her?"

  "In the morning, but don't rush him for a decision. The sort of diagnoses he has to give take time."

  Dr. Major used the same words himself when he finally met Nicholas and Jane's parents in one of the private waiting rooms at the hospital.

  "All we can do is to keep her sedated and wait."

  "For how long?" Nicholas asked.

  "A fortnight, perhaps longer. She'll give some sign herself of wanting to -" he hesitated, "of wanting to come back to the present. When she does, we'll be ready."

  "But what caused it?" Nicholas demanded. "My aunt was the last person to see her and she said Jane was much better. In fact it was the first time my wife had agreed to see me."

  "You hadn't seen her before?" The specialist did not hide his surprise.

  "No." Nicholas's voice was stiff with embarrassment, and aware of it, the specialist held up his hand.

  "Come and see me in Harley Street, Mr. Hamilton. I'd like to know' as much about your wife's condition as possible."

  Grateful for the reprieve, Nicholas nodded. "I'll call your secretary and arrange an appointment."

  "Is there anything we can do ?" Mr. Roberts intervened.

  "I'll be in touch with you if there is. For the moment try not to worry."

  At the end of the week Nicholas saw Dr. Major and told him in detail of the events that had led up to his marriage and the present situation.

  "It's quite obvious your wife doesn't want to come back to reality," the specialist said reflectively.

  "But why?" Nicholas asked for the hundredth time.

  "That's a question that's puzzled me from the moment I was called into the case. Though it wasn't until this morning when I was talking to one of the nurses that I learned the answer. At least I think it's the answer. It seems your aunt wasn't the last person to see your wife. She had another visitor - a woman. Small and blonde - very pretty, I gather."

  "Carole," Nicholas, said. "But why would she have gone to see Jane?"

  "When we know that we'll probably find the cause of your wife's breakdown."

  "I'll phone you back in an hour," Nicholas muttered, and strode out.

  Like a man demented, he drove to the flat where Carole lived with her parents. What a fool he had been not to have guessed she would be involved in it somewhere. Why, she had even been in his office when his aunt had telephoned to say Jane had agreed to see him. Could that have been the reason Carole had decided to wreak what final havoc she could? Questions raced through his mind, but none of his anger showed as the maid took him into the small lounge and asked him to wait.

  "Miss Sheridan is having a bath, Mr. Hamilton, but I'll tell her you're here."

  "Say it's urgent."

  The girl scurried out and he paced the room, only stopping as Carole came in, a white terry towelling housecoat draped negligently around her.

  "What a lovely surprise," she said. "But why didn't you telephone first?"

  He ignored the question. "Why did you go and see Jane in the hospital?"

  "Why did I-"

  "You heard me," he interrupted, and strode over to her. "You were the last person to see Jane before she collapsed and I want to know what you said to her."

  "Why shouldn't I have gone to see her? I mean, we're civilized people. I knew you didn't love me any more - but I didn't see why we couldn't be friends. That's why I came to your office and that's why I went to see Jane."

  "You're lying! You came to my office to try and get me back. You wouldn't believe I'd stopped loving you."

  "Of course I believed it."

  "You didn't! You said I was turning you away because I felt guilty about Jane. Those were your exact words." His grip tightened, his fingers digging through the thick towelling of her robe. "That's why you went to see Jane -to try and make mischief."

  "I said nothing that wasn't true." Carole looked him fully in the face. "You love me, Nicholas. If you'd stop feeling guilty about that stupid fool, you'd admit it."

  "I don't love you," he grated, "and when you talk to me like this, I even hate you!"

  Her eyes dilated and filled with tears but he remained unmoved, his grip not loosening, his expression not softening, and realising it her composure vanished, taking with it all reason for pretence.

  "Very well," she burst out, "so I did see Jane."

  "What did you tell her?"

  "The truth! That you still loved me and but were pretending to love her because you felt guilty. Was that such a terrible thing to say, Nicky? Was it the monstrous thing you're trying to make out?"

  "It was heartless," he said slowly. "Apart from being a lie, it was heartless."

  He turned and was at the door when she ran over and stood herself in front of him. "You can't leave Eke this! Where are you going?"

  "To tell Dr. Major what you said to Jane."

  "What good will it do?"

  "It may help him to get her back to normal. If it doesn't___" His expression was uglier than Carole had ever seen it. "If it doesn't, I'll be back to see you. And may Heaven help you!"

  At midday Nicholas was with the specialist again, repeating his conversation with Carole.

  "At least we now know what caused the collapse," the doctor said.

  "Would it help if I saw Jane?" Nicholas asked. "I know she isn't talking, but if I told her myself - if I kept repeating it-"

  "She wouldn't hear you. She's in a trance." The man came around the side of his desk and put his hand on Nicholas's shoulder. "I know it's hard for you, but it would be best if you kept completely away from her. I'll let you know immediately there's any change in her condition. But meantime keep busy - I don't want another patient on my hands."

  CHAPTER XI

  Obeying Dr. Major's advice, Nicholas made no attempt to see Jane in the ensuing weeks. Once - during a sleepless night - he had gone to the clinic as dawn was breaking and glanced through the glass-panelled door to the bed on which she lay. Was this painfully thin, grey-faced girl the Jane he loved? The glossy black hair seemed faded and colourless, pulled back from her face by a piece of narrow white ribbon to show gaunt cheekbones and the dark shadows around her eyes.

  Aghast, he had turned away and stumbled back to his car. "Jane," he said the word over and over to himself. "What has happened to my darling Jane?"

  His torment was the more difficult because there was no one with whom he could completely share it, and though he saw Aunt Agatha and Jane's parents frequently, he could not bring himself to discuss the depth of his feelings with them. Yet they knew what he was suffering and did their best to help assuring him that once Jane was better he would have no difficulty in making her believe that Carole had been lying. But the comfort was an empty one, for the weeks dragged on and Jane's condition did not improve, making Nicholas believe that she was beyond all help.

  But one evening in October as he sat at his library desk reading some documents, Dr. Major telephoned to say Jane had recovered consciousness.

  "But you can't see her," the specialist said quickly. "I won't answer for the re
sult if you do."

  "How much better is she?"

  "She appears normal - except as far as you're concerned."

  "What does that mean?" Nicholas asked abruptly.

  "That we don't mention your name," came the blunt reply.

  Knowing Jane was at last conscious released some of the control Nicholas had kept on himself, and at the specialist's answer, his temper rose. "Jane's my wife, Dr. Major. I've got a right to see her."

  "I realise that. But you've waited so long, surely you can wait a bit longer?"

  "Your idea of time may be different from mine," Nicholas said bleakly. "How much longer ?"

  "I'm not sure. She'll be in the clinic for another month at least. After that I suggest she goes home."

  "Will you want me to move to my club?"

  "I meant Mrs. Hamilton should go to her parents' home," came the answer. "Then before the winter sets in -if her progress continues - she should go away for a long holiday. Don't be too despondent about it, Mr. Hamilton. It's the first step forward. Look at it like that."

  If Nicholas had found the waiting time difficult during Jane's illness, it was almost unbearable during the period of her convalescence. Knowing she was better but that she still would not see him was a constant torment, forcing him to work to the limits of his physical endurance which, ironically, brought his Company increasing success. However it was a success that filled him with bitterness, making him realise how empty triumph was if it could not be shared with the person one loved.

  "You can't go on like this, Nicholas," Jane's mother said to him one afternoon when she was having lunch with him.

  It was six weeks since Jane had left the clinic to live with her parents, and as this meant Nicholas could no longer spend the occasional weekend with them, Mr. and Mrs. Roberts made a point of seeing him in London as frequently as they could without arousing Jane's suspicions.

  "It's the waiting that's unbearable," he answered. "It was less difficult when she was still ill, but knowing she's better — that she's talking and doing things but still won't see me——-"

  "She mentioned your name today."

  Nicholas dropped his fork with a clatter. "What did she say ? How did it happen? Will she let me come to see her ? "