The words of his benediction helped her to relax. Fear had gone and so had all emotion, leaving her numb. She could think of Lance dispassionately, think of his future with another woman and of her own future, or perhaps no future at all. But no matter what she thought, no emotion penetrated from her brain to her heart, and she closed her eyes and fell asleep.
It was well after mid-day when Lance awoke. The pills had done their work well and he yawned and stretched, lying back on the pillows until his strength returned with full vigor. Hurriedly he sat up, pushed aside the bedclothes and strode into the bathroom whistling under his breath as he shaved and bathed and made his way downstairs.
"Rose!" he called as he reached the hall. "Rose, where are you?"
There were only two things in his mind. To tell Rose that his flirtation with Susan was a pretence and, more important of all, that he had realized all she herself meant to him.
"Rose," he called again. "Where are you?"
Alan came out of the library and Susan out of the drawing room.
Lance looked from one to the other. ''Where's Rose?" he asked.
"I don't know," Susan said. "She isn't in her room and Alan and I thought perhaps you might know."
"How on earth should I know? Where's Louise?" He strode into the drawing room and rang the bell, asking the maid who appeared to tell Louise, Rose's personal maid, to come to him at once.
When the woman arrived she could shed no light on Rose's absence either.
"When I went to her room this morning she was not there and the bed was not slept in. I thought maybe she had not come home last night."
"Of course she came home last night," Lance said abruptly. "I went into her bedroom and—" he stopped. "Well, never mind, we're not concerned with last night. I want to know where she is now!" He looked at Alan. "Have you spoken to the chauffeur? Maybe she's gone down to town?"
Alan shook his head. "She hasn't done that. I checked."
Lance looked at Louise again. "Go up to Mrs. Hammond's room and see if anything's missing."
The woman went out and Lance lit a cigarette and chainsmoked the minutes away until Louise appeared again.
"I've checked in Madame's wardrobe," she said, "and all her clothes are there."
"Well, she can't have gone away," Susan said with a sigh of relief.
"But one or two odd things are missing," Louise went on, her guttural voice expressionless.
"What sort of things?" Lance asked sharply. "Come on, woman, for heaven's sake out with it."
But Louise was not to be hurried and at Lance's impatience her voice became even slower. "Her travelling coat has gone and so have her toilet articles. But she hasn't taken any evening clothes or any furs or jewels."
"In that case she can't have intended to go away for long. I wonder if she went to London?" He rubbed the side of his face. "But if she did that, why didn't she ask the chauffeur to take her to the airport?" He picked up the telephone. "What's the number of the local taxi service?"
Alan gave it to him and within a moment Lance was speaking to the proprietor. When he put the phone down again he looked puzzled and worried.
"Rose apparently rang them early this morning and ordered a taxi to take her to the airport. I can't understand why she didn't use the car."
"Maybe she wanted to keep her destination secret," Susan said. "If the taxi driver took her he'd just leave her at the airport, but the chauffeur would be much more likely to know where she was going."
"So would the taxi driver," Lane retorted. "They're an inquisitive lot when it comes to celebrities."
He dialled the taxi service again and when he put down the receiver this time he looked glum. "We'll have to wait until tonight. The chap who took Rose to the airport went straight on to another job in Le Lavandou. He'll be staying overnight and won't get back until tomorrow."
Alan went over to the sideboard and poured a tot of whisky. He added soda and brought the glass over to Lance. "Drink this and don't look so worried. Maybe Rose has gone to see her father. I'll go into the library and phone him."
But Alan also drew a blank. Desmond Tiverton had received no word from Rose, although he promised to phone the villa if he heard anything.
Lunch was a gloomy affair, all of them preoccupied with their own fears. There was no doubt in Susan's mind that Rose had left the villa because she loved Lance and she decided to tell Lance what she thought immediately she was alone with him.
"I wish I could be as sure of that as you are," he said soberly. "She could also have left the villa because she hated me."
"Rubbish!" Susan said scornfully. "Rose is head over heels in love with you. If I hadn't been so preoccupied with my own affairs I'd have seen it from the word go. After all, why should she have married you?"
"Because I asked her soon after her accident when she was feeling depressed. And because she knew I needed her… that I felt guilty…"
"That makes me even more certain." Susan was triumphant. "If Rose hadn't loved you she wouldn't have cared how guilty you felt. Honestly, Lance, you really are a fool!"
Lance stared into the fire, seeing in the flames pictures of the past. Susan was right. What a fool he had been falling in love with brainless women and not seeing the worth of the one by his side. And yet was that strictly true? Rose had impinged on him from the moment he had met her — even when he had been engaged to Enid he had been aware of the charm of the "little florist from the flower shop." In the end, when his romance with Enid had shattered, it was to Rose he had turned. At the time he had believed his offer to marry her had been prompted by guilt, yet now, analyzing his emotions he knew that it had not been guilt at all but a desire to be with her, a belief that only with her could he find some semblance of peace. His blindness had not been that he had lacked love — merely that he had failed to recognize it.
"Where the hell can she have got to?" he asked abruptly and stopped as the telephone rang. Before he could reach it Alan picked it up in the other room and Lance hurried to the door.
He was halfway across the hall when Alan came out of the library, his face white.
"That was the taxi proprietor," he said. "He managed to get on to his chap at Le Lavandou. Apparently Rose took the plane to Zurich."
"Zurich? Why on earth would she want to go there?"
The two men stared at one another and slowly realization dawned on them.
"Isn't there a professor in Zurich who… ?"
Alan nodded.
"I remember her telling me he specialized in spinal operations."
"Good lord, I've got to stop her! It's one of the most tricky operations there is." Lance strode into the library, calling to Alan over his shoulder. "Get me the doctor who looked after Rose, will you? I must speak to him immediately and find out the professor's address."
Twenty minutes later Lance replaced the telephone with a shaking hand. There was a three-hour delay to Zurich, three hours which might mean the difference between life and death for Rose, the woman he loved. Backwards and forwards he walked across the room, regardless of Alan and Susan watching him with compassion.
It was seven o'clock that evening before Lance was able to speak to the Professor's clinic, but even here he met with no success, for no one by name of Rose Hammond was booked in as a patient. Lance, wondering whether she had used another name, asked if he could speak to the Professor himself, for he knew that once he explained Rose's case the man would know immediately whether she were there. But here again he drew blank, for the Professor, having finished a difficult operation, had left the Clinic and could not be reached by telephone.
"But I must be able to get him," Lance shouted down the receiver. "Give me his private number."
"I'm afraid we cannot do that," said the voice at the other end. "The Herr Professor is very tired and is not to be disturbed on any account."
"But what about the patient he's operated on?" Lance stormed. "Say something goes wrong there, won't you call him?"
"Th
e Professor will naturally be called if his patient needs him," the voice said with finality, "but he must not be called for anyone else. He has a big operation in the morning and needs to rest."
Cursing under his breath, Lance put down the telephone. "These officious people in hospitals… There's only one thing for it. I'll have to fly to Zurich. I feel in my bones Rose is there. Damn it all, why else would she want to go?"
He left the room and Alan heard him run up the stairs.
"Do you think I should go with him?" Susan asked.
"Don't you think you might be in the way? After all, it was because of you that Rose left here."
Susan reddened. "I suppose you mean because of my flirtation with Lance?"
"What else? You know damn well Rose was in love with him. If you and Lance decided you were meant for each other you should at least have had the guts to go and tell her and not humiliate her the way you did."
"I — we — when we started we didn't realize it would upset her." She looked at him pleadingly. "Lance told me Rose wasn't in love with him."
"And you believed him? Haven't you eyes? Surely you can tell when one person's in love with another?" Even as Alan posed the question he knew he was not being fair. Damn it, Susan had no idea how he felt towards her!
She was staring at him now with such hurt on her face that he longed to take her in his arms.
"I'm sorry," he said huskily. "I've no right to blame you — or Lance either. Rose was good at keeping her emotions a secret."
"It still doesn't excuse our behavior," Susan said quickly. "We were rather cheap in the way we acted. I didn't want to agree to the flirtation but at the time it didn't seem such a bad idea."
Alan did not notice her strange use of the word 'agreed' and Susan, watching his face and desperately hoping he would ask her what she meant, was forced to the belief that he cared so little about her that he did not take any notice of what she said.
"If anything's happened to Rose," he said unexpectedly, "I'll never forgive you or Lance."
Susan trembled. Never had she heard Alan so vehement nor seen him display such emotion. Could Rose be the woman he loved? She knew he had asked to leave Lance's employ and the reason for it now became clear. He could not bear to be in a job that would bring him in constant contact with Rose. Suddenly she was swept by defeat. How childish she had been to think that by making Alan see her as a woman she could also make him fall in love with her. If love did not come of its own accord it was not worth having.
She sank on to the settee and brushed her hand across her eyes.
"For heaven's sake don't start crying," Alan said jerkily. "That'll be the last straw!"
"Leave me alone! Do you think I'm so heartless that I haven't any feeling?"
"Being sorry won't bring her back."
"Neither will your shouting at me!"
He stopped short. "Forgive me. You're quite right. I've no business talking to you this way. It's just that…"
"You needn't explain," Susan said lifelessly. "When you love someone you lose your sense of proportion."
"You certainly do."
She gripped her hands together. "Did Rose know?"
"Know what?"
"That you loved her?"
Alan blinked. "Loved her? Why should she? I was never in love with her."
Susan sat motionless, not sure she had heard aright. "I'm sorry," she said at last. "The way you've been acting the last few hours I got the impression Rose was the woman you loved."
"Why are you so interested in my love life?"
Susan looked away from him, despising herself for the tears that rushed into her eyes. Normally she was able to control her feelings but today, after all the suspense and worry, she was no longer mistress of herself. Pride seemed a small thing to worry about compared with the sacrifice Rose was prepared to make for the man she loved.
"Well?" Alan said again. "Why are you so interested in my love life?"
Susan took her courage in both hands. "Because I happen to be in love with you myself."
Alan looked at her as if he were not sure he had heard correctly. "What did you say?"
"I said that I happened to be in love with you myself and have been ever since I came out of finishing school."
"You must be out of your mind. What have I got to offer you?"
"You!"
He gave a short laugh. "Lance Hammond's secretary. Do you see me as a suitable match for Susan Rogers?"
"Why not? If you love me, that is."
"If I love you? What do you mean IF I love you? Don't you know I've never loved anyone else from the moment I set eyes on you?"
Suddenly words were no longer necessary between them and they were in each other's arms, whispering all the incoherent things that lovers whisper in the first moments of their delight.
It was Susan who came back to reality first and she drew a little away from him and caressed his cheek. "If only you'd told me the way you felt we could have saved ourselves so much heartache."
"It would have saved Rose a lot of heartache too," he said quietly and then, seeing the hurt look on her face, tenderly kissed the tip of her nose. "I've allowed my. emotions to get the better of me," he said huskily. "It's probably the worry over Rose that did it."
Her eyes widened with fear. "What do you mean?"
"Don't look like that, my darling. I'm not trying to tell you I don't love you; merely that I love you too _much to marry you."
"How can you love me too much to marry me?"
"Because I haven't anything to offer you and I'm not the sort of man who'd be content to live on his wife's money. What do you think people would say if you married me, Susan? That I was marrying you because you're rich."
"Do you think I care what people say? Oh Alan, credit me with more sense than that!" She twined her arms around his neck. "If I'd realized you were stupid enough to let a thing like money come between us I'd have proposed to you long ago! But you covered up your feelings so well I was positive you hated the sight of me."
He groaned. "What a thing to say! I can't even think straight when I'm near you. Go away from me, Susan."
"Not until you ask me to marry you. Then if you go back on your word I'll sue you for breach of promise!"
"I can't marry you. It's out of the question."
"It's nothing of the sort. You can keep your job with Lance or you can do anything else you want, but you've got to make me your wife." She pressed her body against his and rained little kisses over his face.
He tried to pull away from her but she would not untwine her arms and, pulling his head down, touched his mouth with her own. It was this final touch that broke the last of his defences and he swept her close again, everything else forgotten.
"You she-devil," he said. "I love you so much I can't face life without you."
They remained together until Lance came in, and seeing them the sadness on his face lifted momentarily.
"Well, one good thing's happened out of all this," he said. "I'm glad you two have finally come to your senses."
Alan, covered in lipstick, tried to look sombre. "Would you like me to go with you to Zurich ?"
"Thanks all the same. But there's no point in it. You stay here in case Desmond rings through. If you've any news you can get me at the Baur au Lac." He glanced at his watch. "I've an hour until the plane leaves. Hell! I wish I had wings to get there on my own."
It was midnight before Lance arrived at Zurich Airport. Storms delayed their touch-down and they had to circle over the aerodrome for nearly an hour. Fuming at the delay, Lance realized it was too late for him to contact the Professor. He would have to do it first thing in the morning.
Tired and dispirited he checked in at the hotel and leaving a message to be called at seven-thirty a.m. went to bed.
He was awake long before the telephone rang and was downstairs ready to leave the hotel by eight o'clock. He had telephoned the Professor's house and learning that the surgeon had already left for the
clinic, decided it would save time if he drove straight there.
Never had a taxi seemed to go more slowly, but eventually they left the busy streets of Zurich behind and slowly crunched their way up into the mountains to the villa that stood in its own grounds high above the city.
A white-coated receptionist was seated at a desk in the entrance hall, and took his name with a smile.
"I'm afraid your wife isn't staying here," she said, "but if you'd like to wait I will talk to the Professor as soon as he has left the operating theatre."
Lance's heart throbbed violently. "Do you mean he's operating on someone already?"
"Yes. It's a very difficult one this morning and he won't be free for another few hours. If you go into the waiting room I'll send you some coffee."
Lance followed another receptionist into a glass-walled room overlooking the garden. It was so quiet it was difficult to believe he was in the heart of a bustling hospital and he wondered which of the rooms was the operating theatre. He walked over to the window and looked out, but there was nothing to be seen except snow and trees whose leafless boughs pointed to the grey skies.
Slowly the hours passed and it was well after noon before the door opened and Professor Salberg came in.
"Mr. Hammond," he said gravely. "I'm sorry you've had so much trouble trying to see me. I knew nothing about it until now."
"That's all right," Lance said, instantly liking the grave- faced man in front of him. "I realize someone in your position has to safeguard their spare time."
"Even so, my nurse last night should have got in touch with me."
Lance's heart sank for the Professor's words seemed to signify that he had been right in assuming Rose was here.
"It's about my wife," he said nervously. "I know there's no one called Hammond staying here—"
"Your wife is here," Professor Salberg said. "But it wasn't until I learned just now that a Mr. Lance Hammond had been trying to contact me urgently that I realized why your wife's face had been so familiar to me. I had seen it many times in the papers but one doesn't connect these things." He paused. "The name she is using is Miss Flowers."
Lance gave an exclamation. "Where is she? I've got to see her at once."
Rachel Lindsay - Heart of a Rose Page 19
