Marrying Miss Hemingford

by Nadia Nichols

  Mrs Smith was beside her bathing machine, mending one of the brown cotton gowns she provided for her bathers. Anne greeted her and asked after Tildy before paying her money and climbing into the little hut to change. Five minutes later, she had ducked under the sheltering hood and was swimming strongly out to sea. Deliberately she turned and made for the little cove beneath the cliffs from which she knew Dr Tremayne bathed.

  There was no one about. She waded ashore and looked about her. The sand was firm and pale, without the blemish of a footmark. No one had been there since the last high tide. She sat down on a rock to wait.

  Half an hour passed and no one came. Her disappointment was almost tangible. She told herself firmly that it was only because she was anxious to clear the air, to learn the truth in order that the hospital project could go ahead unsullied by gossip. It had, she upbraided herself, nothing to do with her personal feelings. She rose and paced the sand, wondering whether to return to the bathing machine, glancing upwards to see if anyone was coming down the path from the top of the cliffs. It remained deserted. At the top she could see a building, its windows reflecting the light from sun and sea and she wondered what it was. Suddenly making up her mind, she scrambled up the path towards it.

  It was a large house, empty and deserted. Weeds choked the path to the door and the uncurtained windows were festooned with cobwebs. She went closer and, shielding her face with both hands, peered inside one of the downstairs rooms. There was no furniture, except for a table, a cupboard and a few broken chairs but, though everywhere was thick with dust, the room was light and spacious. Excitement mounting, she ran round to the other side, which fronted on to a narrow lane. There was an oak front door with a tarnished knocker and more weeds growing in the drive. She stood back and looked upwards. It had two solid brick storeys and a row of dormer windows to the attics above those. It was obvious it had not been lived in for years. Why did not bother her, but here was their hospital.

  Impatient to find out who the owner was and whether it was for sale or lease, she ran back to the cliff path and skittered down its steep incline to the beach. She was not looking where she was going or she might have stopped herself, but her own momentum carried her down and straight into the arms of Justin making his way up the path. He put out his hands to hold her steady and stop her bowling him over. The suddenness of his appearance took her breath away and for a moment she could do nothing but stand facing him, her breast heaving.

  He had just emerged from the sea and was wearing nothing but skin-tight knee smalls. She watched mesmerised as the water ran off his muscular shoulders in little droplets, coursing through the fine hairs on his chest. She felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out and stop one on its way with her finger, might even have succumbed if he had not been holding her at arm’s length. ‘Oh,’ she said, shifting her gaze upwards to his face. ‘I…’ She stopped, unable to think of a single thing to say which did not sound mundane and utterly out of keeping with the moment.

  ‘Anne…’ His voice was hoarse as he looked down at her. The cheap cotton garment she wore was clinging to the curves of her body like a second skin, except that it did not cover her white throat and only just concealed the pink mounds of her breasts. He released his grip on her arms to reach out to touch the edge of it. She held her breath, waiting for him to push it down off her shoulders, wanting him to do it, to expose her breasts to his gaze. There was nothing in her head except a throbbing desire to meld herself with this man, to become one with him. She waited for him to fling her down on the sand and tear the damp garment from her trembling body, knowing she would do nothing to resist. But he did nothing of the sort. Instead he gave her a rueful smile and slowly lifted it back on to her shoulder. ‘You will catch cold.’

  She was shivering, but not with cold. She was on fire with the heat of her passion, a passion she felt sure he had shared until that moment. And now the ardour was gone leaving her raging with disappointment, desire unfulfilled. She felt the tears well in her eyes and blinked rapidly. ‘I am not cold.’

  He did not know how he kept his hands off her. She was so desirable, every contour of her body revealed beneath the wet costume, inviting him to explore. Her amber eyes, dilated and shining, drew him in, until he was floundering and it took a monumental effort of will to resist her, to break the spell and turn from her so that she would not see how his own body betrayed him. Did she not know what she was doing to him? His voice, when he spoke, was harsh, denying his weakness. ‘What are you doing here?

  ‘I came looking for you.’

  ‘Why?’

  She had come to confront him, to quiz him about his broken engagement, to ask him why he had not told her he was the son of a viscount and why he had kissed his sister-in-law in that intimate way, but the accusations died in her throat. She simply did not care. He had stepped back from the brink, but that did not mean he was not affected and there would be other times. She smiled suddenly. ‘I have been exploring that house.’ She pointed upwards. ‘It will make a perfect hospital…’

  ‘Oh.’ It was his turn to be disappointed. ‘Did you know about it? Before you swam out here, I mean. Is that why you came?’

  ‘No, I was taking a dip and saw the cove and decided to come ashore to rest before returning. If you use this path often, you must have passed the house many times. I am surprised you have not considered it before.’

  He wondered how she knew he used the path and if she had deliberately come ashore to meet him. If he had not decided to curtail his swim, he might have missed her. He felt the hand of fate moving his affairs and was not sure he liked it. ‘The idea of a hospital was nothing but a dream until you came.’ He paused. ‘Do you make dreams come true, Miss Hemingford?’

  ‘You called me Anne just now.’

  ‘Did I? A slip. I apologise.’

  ‘No, don’t do that, it means you are sorry for it. You are not sorry, are you?’

  ‘Not in the least.’

  ‘Then when we are alone, I am Anne. And you are…?’

  ‘Justin. My name is Justin.’

  ‘It suits you. Do come and look at the house with me.’ She held out her hand and he took it and together they climbed up to the house and walked all round it. Her hand was in his the whole time, warm and comfortable and a perfect fit. He released it to try the door and both were surprised when it opened. ‘Oh, do let’s look round,’ she said, dancing inside, her bare feet making footprints in the dust.

  He followed as she skipped from room to room, exclaiming at each new find. ‘The big room downstairs, and the one beside it, will make the reception areas,’ she said. ‘And that parlour at the back, looking out on the gardens, can be your private sitting room. The kitchens are dismal and filthy, but that can soon be remedied.’ He listened without comment, marvelling at her enthusiasm, loving her with an ache in his heart that threatened to overturn his resolve.

  When they had been over the whole of the ground floor, she insisted on climbing the stairs in spite of the fact that some of the wooden treads were rotting. Fearful for her safety, he took her hand again. They went from room to room and finally stood looking out over the sea from one of the upstair windows. ‘Oh, it is perfect,’ she said, turning to him and laughing with an exultant joy that was only marginally caused by the discovery of the house. ‘Do you not think so?’

  ‘It will need a great deal of work.’ He had to keep his mind on the idea of the hospital or he would lose all control. ‘Some of the wood is rotting, half the windows are broken and I noticed some tiles missing from the roof.’

  ‘Such small matters are easily overcome. Tell me, can you not see it, clean and scrubbed and these rooms lined with beds? They have such wonderful views, they will aid the patients’ recovery, do you not think? And the staff can be housed in the attic rooms.’ She turned to him, glowing with enthusiasm. ‘What do you say?’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, if the fund can afford it.’

  ‘Oh, I knew you would agree.’ And she flu
ng her arms about his neck and kissed his cheek.

  He raised his hands to hold her, changed his mind, then changed it again, wrapping his arms about her, not wanting to let go, amused by her exuberance, wishing it might always be so. He wanted to speak to her privately, to tell her about Sophie, perhaps even tell her how he felt about her, but suddenly he felt tongue-tied. Telling her would spoil the moment. He did not want to bring the sordid world of reality into the fantasy world they had created here in this empty, echoing house.

  She dreamed of a hospital and it was his dream too, but added to that was another, which meant she would be at his side always, his wife and helpmate. But that would mean denying her the social intercourse of her equals, subjecting her to the life of service he had chosen and how could he ask that of her? If he was to have his hospital, to do the work he had set for himself, he could not have her. He lowered his head to brush the top of her head with his lips. ‘We cannot do anything about it until we have discovered who owns it and if it is for sale.’

  ‘Then let us do that at once.’

  He looked down at her and grinned. ‘Can you imagine the faces of the tabbies, if we go into town dressed as we are? They will all have apoplexy.’

  Her laughter pealed out. ‘And you will tell them it is because their corsets are laced too tight.’

  ‘Oh, dear, I am not forgiven for that, am I?’

  ‘Of course you are. Aunt Bartrum said you were right.’

  ‘Did she? The lady goes up in my esteem.’ He paused, not wanting to part from her, but knowing the idyll had to end. He had left George Harrison dealing with the early arrivals with the help of a nurse he had hired, but he could not allow him to shoulder the burden all day or his friend would regret promising his help. ‘Come, I will see you safely back to the bathing machine before you are reported drowned. And then I must return to my patients.’

  ‘Oh.’ She was suddenly seized by guilt. She had been gone hours; Mrs Smith would be worried, might even have alerted her aunt. ‘I must go at once.’ And she tore down the stairs, out of the house and down the cliff path with him at her heels. They both waded out and dived in as soon as the water was deep enough to swim. It seemed a great deal colder than it had on the outward journey and though it only took a few minutes, she was shivering uncontrollably by the time they reached the spot opposite the bathing machines.

  He stopped and moved closer to her, reaching out to take her hand. ‘I shall horrify all the patrons if I emerge here, so I will go back the way I came. Make sure you have a warm bath and a hot drink as soon as you arrive home.’

  She smiled as he raised her wet hand to his lips. It was the smile of a conspirator. ‘I think I will not tell of our meeting. I found the house and I will make enquiries about it and bring the matter up at the next meeting of the committee.’

  ‘And I shall be surprised and delighted.’ He turned and swam back the way they had come while she waded out to the bathing machine where Mrs Smith was still placidly plying her needle on the top step. ‘I am sorry I was so long,’ she said, clambering up into the vehicle. ‘I hope you were not concerned for me.’

  ‘Oh, no, Miss Hemingford, I saw you leave the water up by the cove, I knew you hadn’t drowned.’ Her smile was so broad, Anne knew she had also seen Dr Tremayne. ‘But if you don’t want to catch a chill, you must let me give you a brisk rub down to warm you before you dress.’

  Anne laughed aloud. ‘Mrs Smith, I am not a horse.’

  But she succumbed to the ministrations and when her body was pink and glowing, she dressed and strode home, optimism in every step. She had not said a word to him about the rumours, but they did not seem to matter. She loved him and she meant to have him and no one, certainly not Mrs Tremayne, would stand in her way. Together they would set up a hospital that would be a byword for excellence. If she could make his dream come true, she would be happy. She refused to acknowledge that there might be storm clouds ahead.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Rockbourne,’ said Lady Mancroft disdainfully, seating herself at the head of the table in Tuppen’s library, though no one had actually appointed her as chairman. ‘I have never heard of him.’

  The members of the committee were gathering to finalise the arrangements for the horse racing and sports. Neither Justin nor the Professor had yet arrived and Aunt Bartrum had just repeated the gossip that the doctor was the second son of Viscount Rockbourne.

  ‘He was Vice-Admiral Sir Joshua Tremayne,’ Captain Gosforth told them. ‘He was granted the title for his exploits in saving the West Indies for the British Crown back in eighty-two. The Battle of the Saints, they called it, on account of the islands being named after saints. I was there, a lowly midshipman, but it was a fierce encounter and he acquitted himself with great honour.’

  ‘Oh, a new title.’ Her ladyship was not going to give way easily. ‘New titles have been scattered like falling leaves in the last few years, no matter that the recipient has no ancient family background to support it. Why, it denigrates the position of those whose antecedents go back hundreds of years. Mancroft can trace his line back to Elizabeth’s time…’

  ‘To be sure,’ Mrs Bartrum soothed. ‘We know that and are fully appreciative of the honour you do us by participating in our project.’ Aunt Bartrum was being true to her word and was behaving as if she, and not Anne, were its instigator, notwithstanding her ladyship seemed to have usurped the role. Anne might have felt resentful, except that it served to take attention away from her and her confused feelings, and for that she was grateful.

  ‘Well, if the Regent expresses an interest, then it is my duty to support it,’ her ladyship said, stretching the truth. ‘But what I cannot understand is why the doctor should keep his father’s title a secret. A gentleman does not deny his rank without good reason.’

  ‘I believe he thought it would help him to be more acceptable to his poorer patients,’ Anne put in, speaking for the first time. ‘He sees his mission as one of service and they might be overawed or wary of him if they thought he was one of the upper echelons of society.’

  ‘Fustian!’ her ladyship exclaimed. ‘The peasantry care nothing for who or what a man is, so long as they are given their medicine. Besides, they are taught to respect a gentleman’s rank. I refuse to believe that is the reason.’ She paused, but as no other explanation occurred to her, added, ‘And there is Mrs Tremayne…’

  ‘What about her?’ Anne’s voice was sharp.

  ‘Mrs Tremayne told Captain Smollett the doctor is estranged from his father and brother.’ This was added by the Major.

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘Something to do with a broken engagement.’

  ‘There!’ Lady Mancroft was triumphant. ‘What did I tell you? He is hiding something.’

  ‘I cannot think that has any bearing on the work of the committee,’ Captain Gosforth said, endeavouring to change the subject.

  ‘But of course it has,’ the lady insisted. ‘If there is a scandal attached to him, then we should not be puffing him up over this hospital scheme.’

  ‘We cannot go ahead without him,’ Anne said, speaking mildly, although she was far from calm. If they decided they would no longer support the idea of a hospital, then she and Justin were lost. His interest in her was through the project and it was through the project she would convince him they belonged together. But she could not quite banish Mrs Tremayne’s accusations from her mind, even though she had made up her mind to pay them no heed. ‘It was his idea.’

  ‘That is nothing to the point. This committee was formed to raise money for a hospital for the poor, no more, no less, and if we decide Dr Tremayne is not a suitable person to head it, then we can appoint someone else. Professor Harrison, for example. I believe he has more standing in the medical world.’

  ‘I think that is despicable,’ Anne protested. ‘We should not be gossiping about the doctor, especially when he is not here to defend himself.’

  ‘Why is he not here?’

&n
bsp; ‘I expect he has been delayed. His waiting room is always full, which is why the hospital is so necessary, and in my opinion he is the ideal person to run it. He is skilled and caring, and it does not matter whether his patients are rich or poor, he does his best for them. They know that and they love him for it.’ Anne knew she was becoming heated and everyone was looking at her with curiosity. Her defence had been a little too spirited to be disinterested. She modulated her voice. ‘What happened in the past, unless it was something unlawful, has no relevance, surely?’

  No one offered an argument because the doctor and Professor Harrison had entered the room and none of them had the temerity to say anything to the doctor’s face. Anne, who had her back to the door, turned to face them, wondering how much they had overheard.

  Both men were impeccably dressed in dark frockcoats and strapped pantaloons and their cravats were elegantly tied, but both had wet hair. Dr Tremayne’s was darker and sleeker than usual and the Professor’s had sprung into tight unruly curls. Anne supposed they had both been for a dip before dressing to attend the meeting.

  ‘We were on our way here when we saw a commotion on the beach,’ the Professor explained. ‘There were two ladies running up and down, shrieking and pointing out to sea, and then we observed two heads bobbing in the surf. The sea is very turbulent this morning and not safe for any but the strongest swimmers.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed that on my way here,’ Anne said. It was the roughest she had seen the water since her arrival. The waves were taller than a man and the wind was whipping them up into white foam. The bathing machines had been pulled higher up the beach and she remembered thinking that if it continued she would have to forgo her swim the next day. It would be disappointing because she felt sure Justin would be at the cove on the look out for her. ‘It was surely foolish to go out in it.’

  ‘To be sure. The dipper cautioned her not to go from the safety of the bathing machine, but either she did not hear or decided to ignore the advice,’ the Professor went on. ‘The young man had seen her from the male section and went after her and then there were two of them in difficulties.’