‘You saved them both?’ Aunt Bartrum queried.
‘Yes. Doctor Tremayne rescued the young lady. It was fortunate he is a strong swimmer for she was being swept further and further away and she had imbibed a great deal of sea water by the time he brought her ashore. Fortunately, she recovered when he ministered to her. The young man managed to make his way back with a little help from me. But I am afraid it delayed us; we had to go back and change into dry clothes.’
‘How brave of you,’ Anne said, addressing Justin. Their eyes met and held for a moment of time that could only have been a second or two, but it seemed like several minutes as she recalled their swim together, the pleasure of seeing his muscular body cleaving the water next to hers and then the feel of his kiss on her wet hand as he bade her au revoir. Even thinking about it made her shiver.
‘Nonsense!’ he said, still looking at her. She was in blue sprigged muslin with a silk fringed shawl thrown casually over her shoulders and looked so different from the sea nymph in the clinging wet bathing garment he had laughed with and kissed the day before, he began to wonder if it had been a dream sent to torment him. Her bright eyes and pink cheeks told him she was remembering too, but whether the memory was one of pleasure or shame, he could not be sure.
‘Why foolish young ladies should think they know better than the women who spend their lives by the water, I do not know,’ he went on a little caustically. How could he maintain the cool, practical mien of a respected doctor when she made him feel like a green schoolboy who had suddenly discovered the enchantment of the fair sex? And had he not promised himself he would not let it happen again? ‘She was warned, but I suppose she was too busy trying to impress Lieutenant Harcourt.’
‘Harcourt?’ queried the Major.
‘Yes, did I not say?’ He tore his gaze away from Anne to answer. ‘The young lady was Miss Barry. It was her mother and younger sister at the water’s edge and the Lieutenant who went to the rescue.’
‘Jeanette!’ Anne exclaimed. ‘But she is recovered, you say?’
‘Yes, I prescribed a mild sedative and a day in bed to recover from the shock, but she will be none the worse for it. A little wiser, it is to be hoped.’
‘I shall call on her as soon as we have concluded this meeting.’
‘Then let us make a start,’ he said.
Everyone settled down to business. The order of the races and the sporting events was settled. The Major, with whatever help he recruited, was to be in charge of organising the horse racing and curricle racing and Captain Gosforth would oversee the sporting events, such as sprinting, jumping, skittles and bowling for a pig. Mrs Bartrum was to supply the refreshments with the able help of Mrs Carter and her kitchen staff. Lord Mancroft undertook to see that no one misbehaved themselves and to evict anyone bent on being rowdy. He would not man-handle them himself, of course, but he had two big strong grooms who could be trusted to the task. Her ladyship’s role was to present the prizes to the winners; if a certain important personage were to turn up, then it would be her duty to welcome him and escort him round and present those she felt deserved the honour.
‘And Dr Tremayne?’ queried Anne, afraid they meant to snub him by leaving him out. Whatever he had or had not done, she could not be party to that.
‘I shall not be able to attend,’ Justin said quickly. ‘I cannot neglect my patients.’
‘I think perhaps your patients will neglect you.’ Professor Harrison laughed. ‘They will all be at the sports field, trying to win the pig.’
‘Not all of them, some are too ill.’
‘Then I will look after them. You will be needed to talk to people about your plans.’
‘But do not become too scientific,’ Walter added. ‘It will only confuse people.’
Somehow the news of the near-drowning had subdued everyone and the matter of the doctor’s secret past was not mentioned, much to Anne’s relief. She supposed they felt it would be churlish to make accusations against him when he had been instrumental in saving the life of one of their friends. Whether the matter would be raised again she had no way of knowing, but she hoped it would not, certainly not before she had had an opportunity to find out the truth for herself.
When the business on the agenda was concluded, she announced that she had found premises that she thought would be suitable for a hospital if Doctor Tremayne agreed. She risked a glance at him and found him looking closely at her, as if he could read her thoughts in her eyes. Could he see her longing to be close to him, to feel again his kisses on her lips, to run, hand in hand, across the beach and dance once again through those empty rooms, filled now with memories? Or was he thinking about his sister-in-law?
Justin had spent the whole meeting trying not to think about anything except the matter in hand, certainly not Sophie. If it had not been for her untimely arrival, the gabblegrinders would not now be slandering him. He had heard some of what was being said about him as he and George approached the room; the door had not be properly closed and Lady Mancroft had the voice of a drill sergeant. On the other hand, Anne’s reply had been spoken quietly and he had not been able to hear it. Had she been championing him? Or was she simply concerned for her hospital? Oh, it was her hospital, there was no doubt in his mind of that, and if she could not have it with him involved, she would proceed without him. As Lady Mancroft had so succinctly put it, there was always Professor Harrison.
Why did that trouble him less than the notion that Miss Hemingford believed ill of him? He could, of course, tell her what had really happened, but that would mean calling Sophie a liar and shaming his brother and he could not do it. If Miss Hemingford was so easily influenced by gossip, then he had been wrong about her all along. He searched her face for a sign, a sign that she was still the compassionate, unprejudiced woman he had believed her to be.
She could not bear that telling gaze and looked away to pick up a sheaf of papers from the table in front of her. ‘It is called Cliff House,’ she said, making a pretence of consulting them. ‘It stands on the top of the cliffs to the east of the town. It is empty and I have ascertained that it is available on a long lease that is very reasonable, considering the price houses are fetching nowadays. If we make a success of the races, then I think we will have enough to secure it, though it will need extra money for refurbishment and equipment.’
‘You said nothing of it to me,’ Aunt Bartrum said, giving her niece a reproving look. ‘When did you find it?’
‘Yesterday. I saw it from the sea when I was swimming, so I went ashore to explore it.’ She raised her eyes to look at Justin again and saw the wry upturn to the corner of his mouth and knew he was thinking of their time together exploring the house, and her whole body flooded with warmth. She had come so near to abandoning all control of herself; another minute and she would have been completely lost to all reason. Strangely she did not view that as a deliverance, but a disappointment, and admitting that gave her a disgust of herself. If he was the gentleman Walter Gosforth said he was, he would be disgusted with her too. But was he? If the kiss she had seen him give his sister-in-law was anything to go by, he was far from a gentleman. Nor did he seem to have any compunction about duping his own brother, cuckolding him perhaps. How could she think twice about such a man?
She made herself return her attention to the papers in her hand and continued. ‘This morning I ascertained it is owned by a Mrs Bolton who lives in Islington. I also discovered the name of the agent acting on her behalf.’
‘Why is it empty when everyone knows accommodation in Brighton is at a premium?’ Mrs Bartrum asked. ‘What is wrong with it?’
‘It is in want of repair,’ Anne said. ‘But nothing serious.’
‘I know it,’ Captain Gosforth put in. ‘I pass the end of the lane on my way into town when I come by the coast road and it can just be glimpsed from there. It is in dire condition and reputed to be haunted.’
‘Haunted?’ her ladyship gasped. ‘Then I, for one shan’t go anywhere near
it.’
‘Oh, come, Mama,’ the Major soothed. ‘Surely you do not believe in ghosts?’
‘I neither believe nor disbelieve, but I am not sure I wish to put it to the test.’
‘It is nothing to be afraid of,’ Walter told her. ‘It is only a little child.’
In spite of her conviction that she was practical and not easily frightened, Anne shuddered. Children in distress always aroused her strongest sympathies and if this child had not found peace in death, then she, or he, must have been very unhappy in life. But the house had not struck her as an unhappy house; quite the contrary, she had felt its peaceful ambience. ‘Do you know the story, Captain?’
‘The house belonged to a Colonel Skipton. His wife died and, having no children or grandchildren, he was lonely and became more and more of a recluse, refusing invitations and never being at home to callers. The house became filthy and the old man unkempt. He had one old military friend who decided to take him in hand. He took it upon himself to advertise for a housekeeper and a young widow applied and was taken on. She had a little daughter and the child changed the old man’s life. He doted on her. The house became full of light and laughter, and though there was gossip about the three of them living together like that, he did not let it trouble him and neither did Mrs Bolton. When the old man died, he left the house to her…’
‘What happened?’ Anne could hardly breathe, so intense was her feeling.
‘The child, I think she was called Susan, pined for the old man and was always searching the house, calling his name, pretending they were playing a game of hide and seek and he was simply hiding from her; it was something they had done frequently. One day she went down the cliff path when her mother was busy elsewhere, no doubt because the Colonel had often taken her down there to play. One supposes she was caught by the tide. Her body was washed up further along the coast some days later. The mother could not stand the place after that and left it to stand empty.’
‘Oh, the poor thing!’ Anne said, completely taken up by the story, feeling the mother’s anguish at the loss of her child. ‘And so they say the little one still looks for the old man?’
‘Yes, people passing by have heard her calling to him.’
‘Oh, that is nothing but the wind and the sea,’ the Major put in scornfully.
‘No doubt you are right,’ Anne said, forcing herself back to the matter in hand. ‘But what do you think of the idea of taking the house for our hospital? It is large enough to house fifty patients on the first floor, with waiting rooms and accommodation for the doctor on the ground floor. The attic rooms would house the staff.’
‘What about drinking water?’ the Captain asked.
‘I knew water might be a problem, considering that a hospital must use a great deal of it, but the agent assured me there is a well of pure water in the garden that has become overgrown, but it can be cleared out.’
‘You have been busy on our behalf,’ Justin remarked laconically, pretending, as they had arranged, that this was the first he had heard of it. ‘I think we should take a look at it. Can you obtain the key?’
‘I have it,’ she said, retrieving it from her embroidered reticule. ‘No one else has shown an interest in the place. It is too far on the edge of town for anyone of consequence to want it and it is too big and dilapidated for a tradesman. The agent was perfectly willing for me to have the key until we reached a decision.’
‘I am not going anywhere near it,’ Lady Mancroft said with a shudder.
‘Nor me,’ said Aunt Bartrum. ‘I will leave it to Dr Tremayne and Professor Harrison to decide.’
‘If they agree, then it is more than ever important to raise as much money as possible at the games and the ball,’ Anne said, handing the key to Justin, touching his hand with hers as she did so. It was no more than a brushing of her fingers on his, but it was enough to send ripples of warmth flowing through her all over again. Whatever this man had done in the past, whether he was a cur or not, did not matter. She wanted him, she wanted him so desperately it was almost a physical ache.
It looked as though she would have her way over the hospital, though whether she would have it on a more personal level she was not so sure. There was still that warning of Mrs Tremayne’s echoing in her head. He has these fancies, you know, but they do not last… It is only when the project, whatever it is, palls and he is off again that the dear people he has involved in it realise his capricious nature. Believe me, it will happen again and you will be left high and dry.
‘It was providential that we stopped to rescue that young lady,’ George said, as they strolled back to the doctor’s house.
‘Yes, she might have drowned,’ Justin said. ‘And even if someone had dragged her ashore, they might not have known how to revive her.’
‘How did you know? I have never before seen anyone being pumped out like that.’
‘I learned to do it at sea. Sailors are always tumbling overboard and very few of them can swim. Turning them over and applying pressure to the chest expels the water and allows air back into the lungs.’
‘I agree that was providential, but that was not what I meant. I saw how the wind was blowing with those people; if you had not arrived a hero, you would have been subjected to a quizzing.’
‘I know. It has probably only delayed it, not prevented it altogether. Sooner or later, I shall have to give an account of myself.’
‘Why not sooner?’
Justin stopped to consider the question. He wanted Miss Hemingford to trust him, to believe in him without calling for explanations about why he had done what he had, or so he told himself. But the other side of the coin was that, if he volunteered the information, she might blame him for what had happened. After all, no gentleman of breeding reneged on an engagement whatever the provocation. The condemnation of society would be enough to make her hold him in revulsion. He could not understand why it mattered; there was never any likelihood they would make a match. He had decided his work would fill his life and marriage was not part of it, certainly not marriage to one of the ton. ‘I will choose the time,’ he said.
‘It is your business, my old friend, but I cannot understand the difficulty. Tell the truth and shame the devil.’
‘She-devil,’ he murmured.
‘Surely not Miss Hemingford?’
‘Good God, no! Far from it. She is more angel than devil, as well as beautiful and intelligent…’
‘Oh, I begin to see. The she-devil is the other one. You have got yourself into a coil, Tremayne. If I can do anything to help…’
‘Support me in this hospital idea, that must be my first consideration, before anything else. My feelings have no relevance.’
‘You do not need to ask. I will do what I can.’
Justin suddenly became animated and quickened his pace. ‘Then let us see to the patients who are waiting, and then go and inspect Cliff House.’ They turned the corner and discovered the houses at the sea front end of the street was already falling to the hammers of the developers. The air was filled with noise and dust. ‘We have no time to waste.’
The fields to the west of the town were often used for games and military parades and on the Thursday chosen for the sports the weather was fine and warm and long before the opening ceremony the crowds were gathering, some to take part, others simply to watch or wander round the many booths set up to entertain and to tempt people to part with their money. There were booths selling hot potatoes, gingerbread, whelks and lemonade and sections roped off where the populace could try their hands at nine pins, bobbing for apples, archery and boxing, all of which would bring in more revenue. Anne sat at a table, taking the entrance fees as people flocked in.
She had seen Justin only once since the last committee meeting and that was when they met by chance while she and her aunt were promenading the sea front after tea at the Assembly Rooms the previous Sunday. He had been in animated conversation with Mrs Tremayne, but stopped to bow to them both. ‘Ladies, your obedien
t.’ His smile had seemed a little forced, as if he would rather not have come upon them.
They had returned his greeting from beneath their parasols. ‘Good day, Dr Tremayne. Mrs Tremayne.’
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Bartrum, Miss Hemingford.’ Mrs Tremayne’s cheeks had been bright pink, as if she were embarrassed at being caught out in some indiscretion.
They had exchanged comments about the weather, which was calm again after the storm, and Justin had told them he had viewed Cliff House and was of the opinion that it would make a good hospital and he had made an offer for the lease. ‘Of course, there is a great deal of work to be done before it is ready for its first patient,’ he had said.
Mrs Tremayne had made a snort of derision. ‘Really, Justin, it is a ruin. I cannot see how you can possibly contemplate making it into a hospital.’
‘Oh, I shall,’ he had said quietly.
‘You know, he is only doing it to win a wager,’ Mrs Tremayne had said, turning to Anne and her aunt. ‘If he wins, I will make a donation to his hospital, but, if I win, he will come home and make his peace with his family. I am confident of success.’ She had smiled and taken his arm. ‘I know him so well, you see.’
The memory of the encounter still burned Anne’s cheeks whenever she thought of it. The woman had been so sure of herself, so like a cat in a cream bowl, that Anne wanted to scream at her, ‘You shall not have him!’ And that, looking back, only showed how foolish she had been to be taken in by a handsome face, a muscular body and a couple of kisses. Kisses meant nothing to him; she had proof of that, and the sooner she put him from her mind the better. She had made an excuse that they were in a hurry to be elsewhere and dragged her aunt away. She had not looked back.
Now he was coming towards her with Tildy skipping at his side. The child was not in the least in awe of him and was chattering gaily. Seeing Anne, she broke away from the doctor and ran to stand before her. ‘Hallo, lady.’
Marrying Miss Hemingford Page 18
