Honey

by Mary Burchell

  CHAPTER TWO

  HONEY was used to seeing Dr. Anston in the chill anonymity of a surgeon's mask and overalls, and to feeling the tremendous authority of his presence in the operating room, so there was something indescribably novel about his relaxed, almost indulgent air, as he sat on the platform and looked around. She knew then that he was gomg to be a wonderful success. Not, of course, that one could imagine his being a real failure at anything, but somehow she had thought he might not be able to take the full measure of a setting so different from his usual one. Nothing, however, could have been more suitable to the demands of the occasion than the easy smile with which he greeted the few sprightly remarks delivered by the chairman of Thorgay Institute, or the charmingly attentive way he bent his handsome head to catch some whispered inquiry from Mrs. Milward. "She's asking him his Christian name now," thought Honey, half-horrified, half-intrigued. But when he finally rose to speak. Honey found all at once that her agitated flutterings had ceased to exist. The most extraordinary sensation assailed her. She discovered that the bond of shared work at St. Margaret's was so strong upon her that all she could think of was her immense pride in their surgeon, who looked so easily master of the situation. He might be nasty, cold and inhuman at times, if 24 she really cared to think back, but here Honey's recollections failed her. For, like everyone else in the hall, after the first few sentences, she yielded to the spell of a fascinating story, told in a voice of remarkable charm and flexibility. Why, Honey asked herself bewilderedly, had she never before realized what a beautiful speaking voice he possessed? Or that there was a quite fascinating variety of expression in those unexpectedly light gray eyes and the strong, firm but humorous mouth? "It's seeing him from quite a different angle, of course," she decided. But even this hardly seemed to provide an adequate explanation. He spoke briefly of his early days, paying a,graceful tribute to the Women's Institutes that he remembered. Then he went on to describe something of the drama, pathos and triumph of modern plastic sur'gery. Even Miss Emms forgot to look as though she knew more than the speaker, as he described how, in this most experimental branch of surgery, the hope of today might well become the great discovery of tomorrow. And all the time he spoke with complete and imaginative understanding of the mental anguish that inevitably forms such a large part of the misfortune of disfigurement or deformity. "This is why his patients love him," thought Honey. "What does his sarcastic manner count against such understanding? I'vemisjudged him, arid I almost wish I could tell him so." "You lucky girl," whispered sentimental old Mrs. Harridge, who was sitting beside her. "He's a wonderful man." "Yes, isn't he?" whispered Honey back again. "But 25 I do know I'm lucky." Because she realized that, after all, that was just what she waslucky to work under such a personality. At the end there were even a few tears wiped awav, and the applause was little short of deafening. The votes of thanks were expressed with a touch of real fervor that seemed in keeping with what Mrs. Milward gracefully described as a great occasion in the annals ofMeadlands. Mrs. Turtle at this moment stood up, rather red in the face with mingled emotion and nervousness, and said that she thought there ought to be a vote of thanks to Honey Milward for having obtained this sensationally good speaker at the last minute. And, as Dr. Anston bowed slightly, if a trifle ironically, in Honey's direction at this, there was a fresh round of applause. A good many ladies turned around to smile understandinglyat her. After that, tea, tasting very good even if it did come out of an urn, and lavish refreshments were handed -around, and there was as much moving about as was possible in the congested condition of the hall. Dr. Anston, with an air of friendly informality that secretly astonished Honey, came down into the body of the hall and made himself very agreeable, though he skillfully fended off all requests by visiting chairmen to come and address their respective institutes. Yet he did it charmingly. "My one and only appearance," he insisted with a smile, thereby filling Mrs. Milward's cup of pleasure to the brim. For, as every chairman and secretary knows, to obtain a good speaker is to taste the sweetness of triumph. But to obtain a good speaker who is unobtainable by others is tantamount to wearing the 26 conqueror's laurels. She gasped with satisfaction. "So kind of you to have made this one exception," murmured Mrs. Milward with. what she hoped was smiling^modesty. "All thanks to Honey," remarked Mrs. Turtle approvingly. "All thanks to Honey," agreed Dr. Ansion. glancing at that young woman in a way that made her blush. "We're ali very fond of Honey, you know. Dr. Anston. We've' seen her grow up," Mrs. Turtle explained. "And when we heard it was.a special friend of hers who was coming to speak to us, we were quite excited." "Was that what you heard?" he inquired mildly. And, although Honey made an attempt to put in a word here, Mrs. Turtle swept on. "Indeed, yes! Miss Emms and I were just saying" But, at this point. Miss Emms struggled up to the group to speak for herself, "An excellent speech. Dr. Anston." She shook him energetically by the hand. "The best speech we have had for seven or eight years." This took one back to Miss Emms's own years of office. "When I heard it was a special friend of Honey's who was coming, I was afraid there might have been a certain amount of partiality directing the choice. But, believe me. Dr. Anston, you did splendidly on your own merits." He said he was so glad to hear this,, and Miss Emm? withdrew, evidently under the impression that she had made his afternoon. Others came up to add their quota of congratulations and approval. Eventually Miss Selby, the highly efficient secretary, insinuated 27 herself between two broadly built figures and said in a confidential whisper, "It really isn't necessary for you or Honey to stay for the social half-hour, Dr. Anston. We do understand if you two want to get away on your own." "Thank you," he said and eyed Honey with a rather ' dangerous glance. "Perhaps we should go." "But Mother's expecting me to stay," Honey declared eagerly. "I didn't, come with Dr. Anston, Miss Selby. I'm afraid there's some sort of mistake. You see" "No, no, dear." Miss Selby smiled, with what Honey found an almost nightmarish degree of understanding. "There's no mistake. Everyone understands very well, and I'm sure it was awfully good of you both to give up so much of your afternoon. You just slip away now, and I'll explain to your mother.'She won't mind a bit." Honey began to say something else, but her mother rang her bell at that moment and announced that Thorgay Institute was going to give a play. "Now's your moment," said the efficient Miss Selby, wafting them both toward the door. Just short of the doorway, however, Mrs. Harridge waylaid them, obviously determined to unburden herself of the happy speech she had been composing during the past ten minutes. "Dr. Anston, you're a lucky man," she said, shaking the great surgeon by the hand. "There isn't a nicer girl than Honey this side of Forchester. But, mind you, she's a lucky girl too, and she knows it. I told her just now that I thought she was and, 'Mrs. Harridge,' she said, 'I know it!' " "But I didn't mean" began Honeydesperately. 28 "Now," directed Miss Selby, like one starting the runners in a marathon race, and Honey somehow found herself outside the door in the company of Dr. Anston. For a moment Miss Selby's hand waved beneficently from the diminishing aperture. Then the door was closed, and Honey stood alone with a man who was no longer the charming, friendly lecturer of the group meeting, but the ice-cold surgeon she had once called a monster. "And now, my very special friend," he said grimly, "I think you'd better come with me m my car and give me a few explanations." With ne more choice of action than a prisoner on the way to the scaffold. Honey was piloted along the path, handed into the black Jaguar, and installed in physical, if not mental, comfort beside Dr. Anston.' Then, still with no word from her, the car started. With a curious feeling of helplessness, she saw the familiar village street sliding by her, and a few minutes later they were out in the open country, heading she knew not where. The only thing she did know was that the man beside her was waiting for an explanation of what had happened in the village hall. "I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am" she murmured timidly at last. "You don't have to," he interrupted dryly. "You only have to explain how it all happened." "But I don't know!" Honey cried. "Any more than you do." "Oh, come, Miss Milward" Th
e mildness of his -tone struck her as oddly dangerous. "You must have given them some sort of lead, surely." "I certainly did not!" Honey retorted with a sudden 29 spurt of anger. "You don't suppose I liked having you foisted off on'me as a particular friend, do you? I choose my friends with more discrimination," she 'adde'd, rathertnexcusably. A curious silence followed this childish outburst. And then Honey said in a small voice, "I'm sorry." He raised his eyebrows slightly, as though to say she should be. - "Truly, I can't tell you how the whole thing grew to such proportions," she said almost pleadingly. "But if you've practised in a country district, as you say, you must know as well as I do that it doesn't take more than a few words to touch off a whole train of gossip and misconception." "Of course," he agreed coolly. "All I wanted, to know waswho uttered those first few words?" "I don't know," Honey insisted obstinately. But she turned cold suddenly as she remembered her mother's blithe assertions to Miss Emms that morning. "Half the people in the village have been trying to maI mean, pair me offwith someone, since I was about 16." At that he turned his head for a moment and regarded her consideringly. "Yes," he agreed, somewhat enigmatically. "I suppose they would." Honey's curiosity won over her annoyance and anxsety. "What do you mean by that, exactly?" she inquired. "You don't need me to tell you that you are .unusually pretty," he replied dryly. "An ideal choice for a vicarious romance." Honey was struck dumb, and after a moment he went on, with a deliberation she thought quite, fiendish. "I suppose they all think now that you and I have 3' gone off to buy the ring. Well, what predicament!" "Some of them will, no doubt." agreed Honey, trying to match his coolness and failing. "But Mother will explain, I'm sure," she added the next moment, with anxious insistence. "Think so?" He gave her a disturbing glance. "Your mother was one of those who greeted me, in a discreet whisper, of course, on the platform,, as 'a special friend of Honey's.' " The way he said "Honey" made k sound like some idiotic sobriquet, and Honey went a deep, soft pink. "I'm dreadfully sorry about all this," she said with what courageous determination she could muster. "In spite of all my efforts to rid her of any such notion, I'm afraid Mother insisted on seeing you in the light of the romantic figure who saved the day. I think she must have been the first one to describe you as a friend of mine, though I never claimed such a thing. The rest was embroidered in an orgy of wishful thinking. But, believe me, you're no more furious about it all than I am," she concluded feelingly. "I did not say that I'm furious about it," stated Dr. Anston enigmatically, in answer to all this apologizing. "But" she was completely put off her apologetic stroke "of course you are!" she exclaimed indignantly, as though she needed to convince him of the fact. "Oh, I don't know. I'm beginning to enjoy the situation," he declared carelessly. "I've never been engaged before: And certainly I never thought of becoming engaged to someone who regarded me as a monster." Honey's color deepened once more, but with a sort 3i of desperate obstinacy she said, "I'm not going to apologize for thatnqr take it back." "I don't want you to," he assured her. "ft would spoil the situation if you did." And'then, before she could ask What on earth he meant by that, he went on, "You have a certain flair for saying unexpected and provocative things. What, for heaven's sake, did you say to the old lady who stopped us near the door and told me I was a lucky man?" "A ... a lucky man?" stammered Honey, seeing greater gulfs opening before her. "Yes. 'Dr. Anston, You're a lucky rean,' " quoted her companion, with terrifying 'accuracy. " 'There isn't a nicer girl than Honey this side of Forchester. But, mind you, she's a lucky girl too, and she knows it. I told her so just now and she said, "Mrs. Somebodyor-other, I know it!" ' Why did you claim to be a lucky girl,- so far as I was concerned?" he inquired quite lightly, but with an underlying note in his voice that told her he meant to have a reply. "It was all a mistake," Honey said desperately but inadequately, wondering if it would be any solution to her problem to throw herself out of the moving car to avoid further questioning. A moment's reflection, however, convinced her that she would merely find herself admitted to St. Margaret's as a special patient of Dr. Anston's, thus making her position ten times worse. So she gathered her wits and tried again. "When Mrs. Harridge whispered to me that I was a lucky girl, I thought she meant I was lucky to work for you." "And to this you agreed emphatically?" "I. . . yes," conceded Honey helplessly. "Most gratifying," observed Dr. Anston. "I hadn't realized that you considered yourself fortunate to work under me." "I don't, in the ordinary way," retorted Honey, stung into another of those unfortunate home-truths. "Only this afternoon it was different." "Why?" he wanted to know, this tone was the one he used when determinedly plumbing the depths of an over-confident student's meager knowledge. There was a long moment's silence. Then Honey said, as though she could not help it, "This afternoon you sounded kind, warm and understanding. I saw you for a moment1 think we all didas a man who put his knowledge, strength and genius at the disposal of suffering humanity, and asked nothing in return but that broken lives should be mended." "I ask very handsome fees in return, if my patients can afford them," he retorted rather disagreeably. But, glancing at him, she thought he was not a little moved. "Well," Honey said soberly, "the fact was that we were all carried away by what you said and the way you said it. If you want me to gratify you by the final admission, I suppose that, in some obscure way, I was proud to think I worked at the same hospital as you, and sometimes even under your direction." She thought he might have been generous enough to reply quite seriously to that. But his tone was still determinedly mocking as he said, "And as a result of your momentary submission to an effective speech, you found yourself more or less engaged to-me. Too bad." "Oh, Dr. Anston!" Honey was genuinely shocked. "Don't exaggerate. It's all very embarrassing and annoying, I admit. But there's no question of your 33 or ourI mean, there isn't anything that can't be determinedly explained away. As soon as I get home...." "But I don't think I wa'nt it explained away," Dr. Anston said. Honey blinked her gold-tipped lashes and swallowed hard. "What did you say?" she asked timidly. "What you thought I said," he assured her calmly. "I don't think I want our engagement explained away. It-happens to suit me admirably." "Happens to suit you!" The color rushed into Honey's cheeks once more. "And what about me? Suppose it doesn'tsuit me?" "Oh, my dear Honey" he said, and suddenly she found that it intrigued, as well as infuriated, her to have him call her "Honey" in that soft, amused tone of voice. "I would not, of course, have dreamed of involving you in such a situation on purpose. But since chance shall we say?" "It was chance!" Honey interjected, stung by the certainty that he still suspected her of pretending a friendship with him that did not exist, in order to cut a figure in her home village. "Since chance," he agreed, "has dictated the position for us, I must repeat, although the phrase seems to annoy you, that the situation happens to suit me very well." . "But I don't know what you mean!'. Anger and alarm struggled in Honey's voice. "How can it suit you to appear to be engaged to someone you don't like and who doesn't like you?" . '"Is it really as emphatic as that?" He fumed his head and smiled at her suddenly. For a moment she i 34 recaptured a slight degree of the afternoon's, spell. "I don't want to labor the point," she said and dropped her eyes. "But we certainly are not friends." He did not reply to that. Instead he drew the car up before a pleasant-looking roadside restaurant and said, "Shall we go in.and discuss this over tea? I don't expect you managed to get any more tea Tfian I did, with all the congratulations and inquiries." He took her consent for granted, which was Dr. Anston's way, of course, and presently they were seated in a long, cool panelled room, with a large teapot of "family" proportions in front of Honey. A profusion of cakes, scones, jam and cream was grouped enticingly on the table. Honey, who possessed a healthy young appetite, began to remember that she had had a hasty and rather meager lunch. But, as she poured out the doc-ter's tea, she felt she must know what fate was hanging over her before she could really enjoy the good things. So, as she pushed the sugar bowl a little selfconsciously toward him, she said. "Will you tell me if you were ... if you were teasing mejust now, or if you seriousl
y meant that you thought you mightwe might...." "My dear Honey, I am completely serious. I.hope you don't mind my calling you Honey ..since everyone else does. And, by the way, my name is John." "Is it?" said Honey faintly, and there passed before her a confused vision of herself rushing up to him in the operating room and saying, "Oh, John!" while Sister fell in a dead faint. "I shall have to explain my family background to you,''1 he went on coolly. "My parents are dead, but I have one very charming, very determined, very man35 " agin'g sister. She is a good deal older than I am, and ever since she married extremely happily herself, it has been her one hope and ambition to see me in the same blessed condition. To her, any reasonably eligible bachelor constitutes a challenge. And a bachelor within her own family circle is something hardly to beborne." He paused, and Honey fixed him with a beautiful but skeptical glance. "Dr. Anston, are you asking me to believe that you're not a match for your own sister if it comes to a con.test of wills?" she said with a touch'of innocent irony. "Ah, but you see, I'm fond of her," he retorted, with that quick and unexpectedly charming smile. "If it were merely a question of being crushing, I wouldI know you will agreebe able to deal with the situation single-handedly. But, as it is, ever since I was about 22. ..." He paused again, perhaps at the gleam of speculative interest that had come into her eyes." "34," he said with apparent irrelevance. "I.beg your pardon?" Honey blushed. "Not at all. It's customary to know the age of one's fiance," he said, brushing that aside. "What I was say-' ing was that, since about age 22 I have, with varying degrees, of skill and tact, been avoiding the various plans my dear sister has made for me. During the past two years she and her husband have been abroad. I had hoped that by now she would regard me as either a hardened bachelor, or old enough to know my own affairs best." "And doesn't she?" inquired Honey, interested in spite of herself. ' 36 "Unfortunately no." "But if she's living abroad, as'you say, I don.'t see that she can constitute a particular menace to your bachelor state." "Ah, but she is coming home on a visit -in the next Tew weeks." "She may have changed her views by now. You never know." "I'm afraid I do know," he corrected regretfully. "That's just my difficulty. She has written to say that she has met the verv woman for me. In fact, she 'describes her in terms of menacing enthusiasm. And she adds the melancholy fact that they are traveling to England on the same boat and will be seeing a great 'deal of each other while my sister is here." Honey was uneasily silent, and after a moment Dr. Anston went on reflectively, "It's a gloomy prospect and will entirely spoil a meeting I was anticipating with so much pleasure. On the other hand, of course, if I were already engaged when my sister landed. ..." "Dr. Anston, it's a preposterous idea!" ;. "My sister will be here for only six months," he remarked as though to himself. "After that, she and her husband will be returning to the States, where he [has extensive business interests." This time the silence was a longer one. But then Honey said, with ruthless determination, "I'm sorry, but I really can't regard this as a serious predicament. Certainly not one that would justify such a fantastic | remedy." "Serious is a relative term. Honey," he replied with |.Aat half-lazy, half-mischievous smile, which made her ^wonder if he had really been laughing at her all the stime. "And it has so much to do with the viewpoint of 37 ^.^;-;the person concerned.I suppose somepeople would not have realized thatyour mother's predicament this morning was at all serious." "My mother's predicament? Oh!"Suddenly,and with great clarity,she remembered how he had come unhesitatingly to their rescue over the dreadful crisis ofthemissingspeaker."But that'sdifferent!"she saidearnestly.Andthenimmediatelywonderedifhis help on that occasion.constituted a moral claim to her assistance now. "Well,if you say it's different,it is,"he agreed, thereby making her feel that perhaps she was being ungenerousandungrateful. "Dr.Anston"hervoice took on a nal most pleading note,"you do see,don't you,that I can't be engaged to you?It's an unheard of suggestion!" "But,my dear,you'are,more or less,in the minds of several people who know you well,"here minded her,withwhatshecouldnothelpfeelingwasacertain degreeofmaliciousenjoyment. "Notirrevocablyso,"Honeycounteredquickly. "No.Nothing is irrevocable,"he agreed."But then this engagement would not be irrevocable either.My sister would be leaving England justabout the time,I suppose,when you would becompleting your train* in gat St.Margaret's.I take it you were not planning to stay on at the hospital after your third year?" "I don't think so."Honey conceded. "Very well,then.The situation would solve it self," hedeclared,withacomposurethatshethought excessive. "Idon'tseequitehow."Shestaredattheteapot andwonderedifhervoicesoundedasuncertainto himasitdidtoher. "Don't you?" he said, kindly but with an alarming degree of firmness. "As I see it, you would leave the hospital and go to London or into private nursing, or whatever you originally intended. There would be a certain amount of gossip and speculation still, per- . haps, on the days when I visited St. Margaret's. But, after a while, it would all die a natural death, with no inconvenience to you and very little to me. The advantage of the whole scheme would be that I would have thoroughly enjoyed my sister's visit, free from any well-intended interference on her part." Honey was silent, though she felt instinctively that it was a weakness even to appear to consider his proposition. For some reason she felt struck dumb. "Do you think it would be necessary to admit to an engagement at the hospital?" she asked at last. "Oh certainly!" "Wouldn't it be sufficient if we just pretended to your sister? I could come and meet her and... ." "No, no." He dismissed such faint-hearted tactics with good-humored impatience. "If we do the thing at all, we must do it properly. It would be asking for trouble and complications if we posed as an engaged couple in one part of our lives and not in another." Honey reluctantly saw the force of that, but still hesitated on the brink of what seemed to her an extraordinarily perilous decision.' "For six months.only?" she said at last. "Possibly a li'ttie less," he replied encouragingly. "For the length of my sister's stay in this country." "And you really mean that this would be a great help to you?" "An enormous help," he assured her gravely. "As I said earlier, it would never have occurred to me to : 39 --" . invent such a situation. But, since it has been more or less forced upon us, I am more than willing to accept it. If you agree," he added politely. In actual words, the final qualification sounded as though she still had some choice in the matter. But Honey had an inner conviction that it was little more than a figure of speech. Right from the beginning, she had known in her heart that if Dr. Anston wanted something, the chances were 100 to one against his failing to get it. And, incredible though it might seem, he wanted to be engaged to her. Or,-at least, to appear to be engaged to her. "Very well," she said finally, her tone carrying something between resignation and bravado. "I can't deny that I was profoundly thankful for your help this morning, and I suppose it would be ungrateful not to acknowledge a sort of moral claim on my help now." "I don't think I would put it that way," he said mildly. "I did your mother that small favor without any thought of putting either of you under an obligation. It's more that, through good or ill fortune, as one cares to look at it, this situation has arisen and_" "We won't split hairs about it," interrupted Honey, aware that, if (hey discussed it much longer, her courage would fail her. "If you truly want my help in this Fantastic form, then I'll" she swallowed "do my best. But please keep it all as academic.as possible." Her choice of words seemed to amuse him a good deal. "I don't know that one can be academically engaged. Honey," he said. "But at least I will undertake to steer you clear of too many complications." A typically arrogant Anston claim. Honey thought crossly. But she had accepted now, and she would see 40 , the silt-nation through to the best of her ability. 'Eyerie though a voice inside her had already begun to ques-";: tion her decision. Where would sueh a situation lead ' to? It seemed far-fetched and almost dangerous in some half-sensed way.'But she had given him her ' wocd. There was no getting out of it! '