by Betty Neels
‘Mother, dear, let me put your mind at rest. I never have had, nor will I ever have, a wish to marry Deirdre.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it, Adam. I’m sure you’ll find the right girl, only don’t leave it too long.’
He got up and walked over to the window; it was a cloudless day and the sea was deceptively smooth and blue. ‘I’ve found her already.’ He turned to look at his mother. ‘She hasn’t found me yet; I’m someone she calls “Mr Ross-Pitt”...’
‘Tell me about her.’
So he did, standing there, half-turned away; only when he had finished did he turn and look at his mother.
‘She sounds exactly right for you, dear. I look forward to welcoming her.’
Adam smiled. ‘You’ll love her. I must first rid her of several bees in her bonnet; she has this idée fixe, fuelled by kitchen gossip at the manor, that I’m going to marry Deirdre, and it is perhaps unfortunate that each time she has needed help I have happened to be there.’
‘A good thing you were. But, of course, she feels beholden to you.’
‘The last thing she said to me was, “I do hope it hasn’t upset your love life,” as well as assuring me that she would keep out of my way!’
‘Adam, has it crossed your mind that she might be in love with you too?’
‘In love with me? Certainly not. Why should you think that?’ He laughed. ‘Why, she avoids me on every possible occasion.’
His mother didn’t say anything to that, and a moment later there was a great bustling in the hall and her daughter and grandchildren came running in.
* * *
THAT NIGHT, getting ready for bed, she told Adam’s father. ‘I think she will suit him very well and he’s so in love. High time too. He needs a wife and a family—look at him with Billy and Sue; he’s splendid with children.’
‘She might not have him—’
‘Not have him? Good heavens, William, he’s a famous man in his profession, he’s handsome and he’s very well off.’
Sir William chuckled. ‘From what you have told me, my dear, she doesn’t care for any of these things.’
‘Exactly; that’s why she will suit him so well.’
Sir William shook his head. ‘Women—they’re so illogical,’ he said, and went away to clean his teeth.
* * *
ADAM DROVE BACK to his home two days later. It was late evening by the time he let himself indoors, but Mrs Patch was still in the kitchen.
‘There you are, sir. I’ve coffee or soup, or perhaps something stronger?’
‘Coffee, please.’ He took his bag to his study and leafed through his post, strolling through to the kitchen as he did so. ‘I’ll have it here, while you have a cup with me and bring me up to date with the local gossip.’
Mrs Patch set the coffee before him with a plate of sandwiches. ‘Well, now, nothing much has happened. Been busy up at the manor—more visitors than ever before. I met Henrietta on Saturday morning—looked tired and no wonder, on the go all day and every day. I got her to come in and have a cup of coffee with me; she didn’t want to at first but I said as how I was lonely. She wanted to know when you’d be back. Oh, and Miss Stone telephoned, said she’d be coming this way one day this week and hoped to find you in.’
Mrs Patch pursed her lips and looked disapproving. ‘I said I’d no idea where you’d be this week. She said something about going up to Northumbria.’
It was impossible to tell what Mr Ross-Pitt thought about this piece of news. He said merely, ‘I’ve a very busy week or so ahead of me. It’s likely that I’ll have to stay in town overnight. I’ll let you know if and when.’
‘You had a nice time with your ma and pa?’
‘Delightful; Mrs Masham and the children are staying there for a few days. They all send their love. As soon as she can arrange it Mother will be coming down to see you and Matty.’
It was late when he got to bed, and in the morning he left very early; he was operating later that day, but first he had ward rounds, and private patients to see. He thought that he would stay in town for the greater part of the week so that he could be free on Saturday—Henrietta’s day off.
He shut her out of his mind then, and concentrated on his work—removing a large tumour from a young man’s brain, repairing a shattered skull, performing a craniotomy to excise an abscess wall...
It was late afternoon before he saw his private patients, and when he returned to hospital to do a ward round, late though it was, it was to be told that there was an urgent admission—a child with an intercranial haemorrhage.
So he went back to Theatre again and bent once more to his painstaking surgery. It was the early hours of the morning by the time he got to his flat, and Watson, that patient animal, needed to have a walk.
It was a quiet night and the traffic, such as there was, was still frequent on the main roads, but the streets round the flat were quiet enough. Adam strolled along, glad of the exercise, and presently went to bed to sleep soundly. But not before allowing his thoughts to stray to Henrietta. She would be asleep, he thought as he closed his own eyes.
* * *
HENRIETTA KNEW THAT he was back home from his parents’; the kitchen staff had known it almost as soon as he’d put his key in the door, and discussed it over breakfast. And the odd-job man, drinking his mug of tea before he started work, told them that he had met the milkman, who had it from Mrs Patch that Mr Ross-Pitt would probably spend the week in London.
‘Keep ’im on the go, don’t they?’ he observed.
Feathers said with his usual dignity, ‘He is an exceedingly skilled surgeon and the village is proud of him.’
Henrietta glowed with pride when she heard that. Never mind that she had nothing to do with his life, that he must regard her as a nuisance, forever popping up at awkward moments. Though not any more, she thought; she had promised herself that she would keep out of his way, but there was nothing to stop her loving him and being glad that he was liked and respected.
It was two days later at their midday dinner that someone mentioned that he would be coming home for the weekend.
‘For the dinner party, no doubt,’ said Cook. ‘Lady Hensen said twelve guests, and he’s bound to be one of them. She wants lobster vol-au-vents, roast crown of lamb, and charlotte russe and savarin trifle to follow.’
Feathers spoke. ‘The house and grounds will be closed on Saturday afternoon. There’ll be plenty of work for everyone; the guests will be coming early for drinks. You may have your day off as usual, Henrietta, and take over at dinner on Sunday.’
She heaved a sigh of relief; she would go away and only return in time to have her dinner and get ready for the tourists on Sunday.
Matty had written to her some days ago and asked when she was to see her again. She would phone her as soon as she could and ask if she might spend the night... There was an early-morning bus to Braintree; she might have to wait for the next one, but that didn’t matter as long as she was away from the village.
* * *
MATTY WAS DELIGHTED, and early on Saturday morning Henrietta caught the bus to Braintree. She had to wait there for a bus to Maldon as she had thought, and, since it was still early there was no café open. She sat on the station platform patiently, content that she had achieved her purpose.
By the time she got back on Sunday morning the chance of seeing Adam would be slight, for as soon as she had had her dinner she would be kept busy until the early evening with tourists. She wondered what he was doing, and if Miss Stone had come for the weekend too. Surely if they were to be engaged she would have been included in the dinner party?
The bus came at last and she finished that part of her journey, caught the bus to Tollesbury and was given a warm welcome by Matty.
Over coffee and some of her Madeira cake Matty asked,
‘Isn’t Mr Adam home? I half expected that he’d drive you over—such an awkward journey.’
‘Well, yes, he’s home for the weekend, I believe. There’s a dinner party at the manor this evening.’
‘He’ll be going, no doubt. Now tell me what you’ve been doing, dearie—busy I dare say, with the visitors. Still quite happy, are you?’
The morning passed pleasantly, and after a splendid dinner of meat pie and one of Matty’s steamed puddings Henrietta washed the dishes, tidied up, saw her hostess to her bed for her afternoon nap and took herself off for a walk. It was no use going to the boat yard since it was a Saturday afternoon; she took the lane to the marshes and wandered around happily until it was time to return for tea.
Matty was still resting, so Henrietta set the tea-tray, cut the cake and buttered scones and had the kettle boiling by the time the old lady came downstairs.
‘Well, now,’ said Matty. ‘What a treat not to have to get my own tea. You must come more often, Henrietta.’
They played cards after tea—racing demon and sevens and snap—until dusk crept into the little room and Henrietta got up to lay the table for their supper—cold ham and a salad and crusty bread from the baker at Heybridge.
They went to bed soon after. ‘Such a pity you can’t stay until the evening,’ said Matty. ‘You don’t have to go too early tomorrow?’
‘No, I’m lucky. There’s the bus from Maldon to Chelmsford at half past ten, and I can get the train from there to Braintree. There’s a bus to the village from there; I’ll be back in good time for dinner at the manor.’
‘It sounds complicated,’ said Matty doubtfully.
Henrietta said that it was all very simple in a reassuring voice, although secretly she wasn’t so sure. If she missed the bus she might have to take a taxi—anything as long as she got back in time to be at her post when the first of the tourists arrived...
* * *
THEY WERE HAVING their breakfast when the doorknocker was thumped and David opened the door. ‘May I come in? I’ve been to church and heard that you were here, Henrietta. Are you staying for a few days?’
‘I’m going back in an hour or so. I only came yesterday, just for the night.’
He had sat down with them at the table and Matty had poured him a cup of coffee. ‘More’s the pity,’ she observed. ‘All that way just for a few hours—not but what it hasn’t been the best weekend I’ve had for some time.’
‘May I drive you back, Henrietta?’ David asked. ‘We won’t need to leave until eleven o’clock—do you have to be back by one o’clock?’
‘Half-past-twelve dinner. It’s awfully kind of you, David, but I can get the bus and train; they all connect up. It’ll spoil your day—’
‘There you are mistaken. I shall enjoy the trip.’ He finished his coffee and got up. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Matty; I will be here just before eleven.’
‘Well, now, that’s very civil of him,’ said Matty, peeping at Henrietta. ‘Smitten, is he?’
Henrietta looked surprised and then laughed. ‘I don’t think so, Matty; he’s nice, isn’t he? And it’s very kind of him to offer me a lift.’
She had been gone for an hour or more, sitting beside David in his shabby little car, when Matty answered the phone.
* * *
MR ROSS-Pitt, having got home very late on Friday evening, rose early in the morning and went out with Watson, hoping to see Henrietta. There was no sign of her and presently he went back home for the breakfast that Mrs Patch would have waiting for him.
There was a handful of people waiting for the mid-morning bus but she wasn’t among them, nor, when he strolled through the village when the late morning bus was due, was she on that. He went back home and into the garden where he did some rather ferocious gardening. After lunch he would walk up to the lodge and see if she was there...
He was cutting into a splendid Double Gloucester cheese after an excellent lunch when the doorbell jangled. He listened with half an ear as Mrs Patch went to the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, but it was probably a message from the manor, or the gardener come for his wages. It was neither—it was Deirdre, elegantly dressed for the country, not a hair out of place, smiling charmingly.
‘Adam—aren’t I awful?’ She gave a little shrill of laughter. ‘But Mother has gone to my brother for the weekend and I was lonely. I got into the car and somehow I find myself here. Do say you don’t mind. If I might stay for a few hours? Actually, I threw a few things into an overnight bag, thinking I might beg a bed from Lady Hensen...’
Mr Ross-Pitt masked his cold rage with good manners. ‘Come and sit down,’ he invited. ‘I am afraid you must be disappointed about the Hensens—they’re giving a dinner party this evening. Will you have coffee and a sandwich, perhaps?’
‘Oh, please.’ Girlishness didn’t suit her. ‘I’m famished but anything will do—an omelette, perhaps, and a salad?’
Mrs Patch, standing by the door, went away, shutting the door behind her so that no one could hear her give vent to her outraged feelings. ‘The sauce of her,’ she told Watson, who had followed her out of the room. He had never liked Deirdre.
Mr Ross-Pitt, left without support of any kind, made shift to play the good host, listening to Deirdre’s mindless chatter while he wondered how soon he could go to the lodge to see Henrietta, for that was his purpose in coming home for the whole weekend. He might get a chance to telephone; besides, Deirdre would have to go after tea, since he was going up to the manor that evening.
Mrs Patch came in with a tray of sandwiches and fresh coffee, having conveniently forgotten about the omelette, and Deirdre, picking her way daintily between egg and cress and cold ham, said laughingly, ‘I dare say your housekeeper feels that she has enough to do without bothering about poor little me.’
Mr Ross-Pitt considered several answers to this but uttered none of them. Presently Deirdre went away to tidy herself in the hall cloakroom, and he went into the garden once more, with Watson at his heels.
She joined him ten minutes or so later. ‘I had such a good idea,’ she told him. ‘I have phoned Lady Hensen—I knew you wouldn’t mind—and I asked if she could squeeze me into the dinner party. I quite see that it’s a bit awkward at the last minute, but she said she would find another man. So kind of her.’
He turned to look at her. ‘Awkward and, I imagine, extremely inconvenient.’
‘Oh, Adam, not really; besides, she knows how close we are.’
He looked outraged. ‘Just what do you mean by that?’
She saw that she had gone too far. ‘Just that we have known each other for a long time, and our mothers being long-standing friends... I said I’d go up to the manor about six o’clock; luckily I’ve a frock with me.’ She saw his lifted eyebrows. ‘One never knows,’ she added. ‘I mean, anything might happen.’
She gave him one of her charming smiles. ‘Let’s sit here in the garden; I’m longing to hear what you’ve been doing.’
Even if he had intended to tell her, he wouldn’t have had the chance. She embarked on a résumé of her social life. After a while he didn’t listen, merely making appropriate noises at intervals while he thought about Henrietta.
It was a relief when Mrs Patch came out with the tea and he could get up to arrange the table for her.
‘You spoil that woman,’ said Deirdre. ‘You pay her to do the work.’
‘Mrs Patch is a trusted member of the household and a friend of my family.’
Deirdre poured the tea and handed him a cup. She said softly, ‘You need a wife, Adam—we could get on famously together... I would fit into your life.’
He looked at her with such disbelief that she put her teacup down in its saucer and leaned back in her chair. It was absurd, but he actually looked as though he was going to shake her.
He said in a v
oice so coldly violent that she flinched, ‘Let me make myself plain. I would never, under any circumstances, want you for my wife.’ He added, ‘Nor have I given you any reason to suppose that I would.’
Deirdre got up, shaking with rage. ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth,’ she spat at him. ‘I hope when you do marry that your wife gives you a rotten time of it. I’m going. You can let Lady Hensen know that I’ve changed my mind. I never want to see you again.’
Good manners, instilled from early childhood, ensured that he saw her to her car and bade her goodbye.
Meeting him in the hall, his housekeeper said, ‘Good riddance to bad rubbish, if you’ll pardon the expression, Mr Adam.’
He could hear the relief in Lady Hensen’s voice when he phoned. ‘Thank heaven, Adam; what a tiresome woman she is. Come early, will you? Peter wants to show you his plans for the new barn.’
The lodge was in darkness as he went through the gates. Henrietta must be away. His face cleared; of course, she would be with Matty. He drove on up to the manor and spent a pleasant evening. Indeed, those present at dinner told each other afterwards that they hadn’t seen him so light-hearted for a long time. ‘He must be in love,’ someone said. ‘I do hope so; he’s such a dear.’
Tomorrow morning, Mr Ross-Pitt promised himself, he would go to the lodge and see Henrietta. Only, when he got there soon after breakfast there was no one there, just Dickens and Ollie staring at him through the sitting-room window. She must have stayed the night at Matty’s; he would phone.
When he did no one answered; Henrietta was sitting in David’s car and Matty had gone into the lane to wish her goodbye. When he tried again later it was Matty who answered.
CHAPTER NINE
‘HENRIETTA? SHE’S BEEN gone about an hour, Mr Adam. She’s been here—came yesterday. Such an awkward journey too, left ever so early to get here.’ Matty gave a chuckle. ‘Had a bit of luck, though, this morning. David’s given her a lift back to the manor. Cut it a bit fine, though.’
