by Betty Neels
No one, watching him reading, would have guessed at the great surge of strong feeling which shook him as he deciphered Lady Manbrook’s rambling missive. His face was as calm as it always was, only his mouth had tightened and a muscle twitched in his cheek. He had been mistaken; he no longer knew where Suzannah was, if he was to believe his aunt’s gentle regret at her guest’s sudden departure, and he had no reason to doubt it. He read the letter once more, sat for a little while deep in thought and once more picked up the telephone. His secretary, Mrs Long, would have left his rooms by now; he phoned her home and she listened to what he had to say.
‘Two patients in the forenoon, sir,’ she assured him, ‘and no one in the afternoon; it’s your outpatients in the afternoon and you’re operating.’
‘I’ll see to all those, but rearrange the other appointments for the next two days, will you? I have to go away for a couple of days. There wasn’t anything desperately urgent, was there?’
‘No, sir, I’ll do that—will two days be enough?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll keep in touch.’
He rang off and then rang the hospital to talk to his registrar. ‘I’ll be in tomorrow,’ he told him, ‘but I shall want you to take over for the next two days after that. Sort it out, will you? I’ll give you a ring on the second day.’
Cobb tapped on the door to tell him that dinner was ready and the professor said, ‘Cobb, Miss Lightfoot has disappeared. I intend to go down to Great Chisbourne tomorrow evening and stay a couple of days. Will you have a bag packed for me when I get back? And a quick meal?’
Cobb looked shocked. ‘Of course, sir. Missing, you say? Such a pleasant, level-headed young lady. Mrs Cobb will be quite upset…’
The professor smiled grimly. ‘Well, tell her not to get too worried; I intend to find her.’
His day was long and hard; he had bent his powerful brain to the delicate task of removing a blood clot from his patient’s brain, examined his two private patients and his ward cases and dealt with a number of outpatients before he finally let himself into his house that evening. The faithful Cobb met him in the hall. ‘Mrs Cobb has a light meal ready, sir, and your bag is packed. Is there anything further?’
The professor took off his coat and stretched his great arms. ‘No, Cobb, thank you, only phone me if you should get any news—I’ll be at Great Chisbourne—if I’m not there, give a message to Trudy, will you?’
He went to his room and showered and changed, ate his meal and was back in his car within the hour.
It was late by the time he reached his house, but on the way he had phoned Trudy and she was there, waiting for him, wrapped in a red woolly dressing-gown, reassuringly matter-of-fact and comforting.
‘There’s coffee and sandwiches, Mr Guy,’ she told him, and, after one look at his tired face, ‘You’re tired to the bone. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? And you so happy with that nice young lady…’
‘The nice young lady has run away, Trudy. I have to find her.’ He flung his greatcoat down and sat down at the kitchen table while she poured the coffee.
‘Well, of course you do. And I’ll be bound she’s run away for a good reason. If ever I saw a girl in love…of course you’ll find her.’
The professor said quite meekly, ‘Yes, Trudy. I’ll go over to Lady Manbrook’s in the morning and find out just what happened.’
‘You do that, Mr Guy, but first you’re going to have a good night’s sleep or you won’t have your wits about you in the morning.’
His aunts were delighted to see him; they were also vague, but then they always were. It took time to discover that Suzannah had gone to look after an old friend and had taken Horace with her. ‘We’re not quite sure why she had to go,’ they told him, ‘but it seemed to be a matter of extreme urgency, for the dear child left very shortly after she had gone down to the village—you remember, dear?’ Lady Manbrook asked her sister. ‘It was only ten minutes or so after Phoebe Davinish came to see her—we didn’t see her, of course, but Parsons told us and Snow did say that Phoebe left looking put out.’
It wasn’t much, but it was a start; the professor stayed a little while with the old ladies and drove himself back to his home. Over his lunch he assessed the information he had gleaned; it was obvious to him that Phoebe had been the cause for Suzannah’s sudden flight to heaven knew where.
He drove back to Ramsbourne St Michael after lunch, parked the car and entered the village stores. Mrs Maddox was behind the counter, waiting for customers, and it was here that he had success, for she remembered Suzannah. ‘Lovely red hair,’ she observed chattily, ‘though she did look a bit worried. The shop was full and she was looking at those adverts I keep by the door. Next time I looked up there she was across the street, phoning from the box, and presently along comes the old gardener from Mrs Meredith’s and she gets in and off they go.’
‘Did she have a cat basket with her?’
Mrs Maddox looked surprised. ‘Oh, no, nothing at all with her. I didn’t see her come back…’
‘And this Mrs Meredith—where does she live?’
He was given a suspicious look. ‘Well, sir, I don’t rightly think I should say, for its none of my business.’
The professor, when called upon, could exert great charm. ‘I’m Lady Manbrook’s nephew. I am a friend of Miss Lightfoot’s and I do need to see her as soon as possible.’
‘Oh, well, that’s different, sir. Mrs Meredith’s gone—somewhere up north. Wait a minute, I’ve got the forwarding address somewhere. They went a week or more ago, and a fine muddle it was getting them moved, so I hear from all accounts, Mr Meredith not being able to come here and direct things and Mrs Meredith, nice though she is, always up in the clouds, no method if you see what I mean, as well as two of the naughtiest children I’ve ever met and a baby, too. Her Nanny got the measles and she was at her wit’s end for help…’ She rummaged around on the shelf behind her and produced a paper. ‘Here we are—everything is to go to Mr Meredith’s place of business for the time being—I suppose they’ve not settled in yet—I heard tell that it was a place in the country.’
The professor had listened with patience; he was getting somewhere, but far too slowly for his peace of mind. He thanked Mrs Maddox and got into his car. Mrs Coffin seemed a likely link in the chain. He walked into her little shop and was relieved to see the look of guilty consternation on her face.
‘Well,’ said Mrs Coffin in an agitated voice, ‘fancy seeing you here, sir, however did you…?’ She stopped and started again. ‘Come to look up Dr Warren, I dare say—he’ll be back from his rounds by now.’
‘I’ve come to see you, Mrs Coffin, if you could spare me five minutes?’
She made a great thing of looking up and down the village street. ‘Well, sir, it’s my busy time…’ She caught his eye; he was smiling, but there was going to be no putting him off, she could see that.
‘Come through into the back room, sir,’ she invited him unwillingly, and lifted the counter flap for him to join her.
The little room was crammed with furniture and a bright fire burned in the small grate. An elderly dog sat in front of it, a large black cat sat on one side, and on the other Horace was perched, looking uneasy.
The professor stooped to twiddle his ear. ‘Hello, old fellow,’ and Horace brightened visibly. ‘Yes, all right, I’ll take you back with me, we shall be glad to have you with us again.’
Mrs Coffin looked relieved. ‘Oh, you’ve come for Suzannah’s cat. She was so worried when she left; you see, she wasn’t sure how long she would be gone, and him and my Tiger don’t get on, only there wasn’t anywhere else to take him.’
‘That was very kind of you, Mrs Coffin,’ said the professor smoothly. ‘If you will let me have her address, I’ll let Suzannah know that he’s back with me.’
‘I’ve got the address somewhere—sent me a card last week, just to let me know she was all right. Here we are—Tidewell House, Tidemore, York. In the country, she said. I was t
o let her know how Horace was, but perhaps you’d be kind enough to do that if he’s going with you?’
She glanced at the professor; he seemed, in the last few minutes, to have got younger, or perhaps it was because she hadn’t got her glasses on.
‘Certainly I’ll tell her, Mrs Coffin; I shall be going back to London with him this evening.’
‘All that way!’ marvelled Mrs Coffin, who didn’t believe in travel. ‘You’ll give her my love, won’t you, sir?’ She produced Horace’s basket and he stowed him inside. ‘Such a dear girl, and never a grumble, though she looked that sad.’
‘Then I must find her and do my best to cheer her up,’ declared the professor blandly, and bade Mrs Coffin goodbye.
He drove himself back to his house, ate the meal Trudy had got for him, fed Horace and telephoned his registrar, to be told that a severe head injury sustained by a little girl in a street accident had just been admitted and would need surgery. ‘Otherwise everything’s fine,’ observed his right hand.
The professor suppressed impatience. ‘I’m on my way in ten minutes or so. I’ll come in as soon as I get back.’ They discussed the case for a few minutes and he hung up. ‘I’ll have to get back,’ he told Trudy, ‘but first I must tell you that I know where Suzannah is; as soon as I’m able, I’ll go to York and fetch her.’
‘You don’t know why she went?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Though I think I can guess.’ He gave her a hug. ‘I’ll be in touch, Trudy.’
It was almost eleven o’clock by the time he got home. He handed Horace over to Cobb, told him that he would be at the hospital if he was wanted, assured him that Suzannah was safe, and took himself off to the intensive care unit. He spent the greater part of the night operating on the child and, satisfied with his work, went home at last to sleep like a log.
He was back at the hospital in the morning, to find the child greatly improved and nothing urgent waiting for him. ‘I’m going up to York,’ he told his registrar. ‘I’ve a couple of patients to see at my rooms, and I’ll leave my address with Mrs Long—you can always get me in the car. I want to leave very early in the morning, and if all goes well I shall be back here in the evening of the next day.’
Thrusting all thought of his Suzannah from his mind, he worked without pause all day, catching up on letters, seeing his patients and doing a quick round at the hospital, but once home again he allowed himself to think of her. ‘We really can’t go on like this, can we?’ he asked the faithful Henry, and Henry, who hadn’t been allowed to travel down to Great Chisbourne, thumped his tail in agreement. The professor bent to stroke him. ‘You shall come with me to York,’ he promised. ‘I dare say I shall need all the moral support I can muster.’
The pair of them left very early the next morning. It was a cold, bleak day, but the roads were dry and the Bentley made light of the miles. The professor stopped at a service station after a couple of hours, and then drove on into a day which was now almost as dark as the night, with thick clouds racing across the steel-grey sky and a fine rain beginning to fall. But presently the rain ceased, and by this time he had almost reached York and the sky was clearing.
‘A good omen, Henry,’ observed the professor to the little dog curled up on the seat beside him.
He had no need to go into the centre of York but skirted its edges, and after a few miles turned off the main road and took a narrow lane which led him to Tidemore. Tidewell House, he was informed when he stopped to ask, was less than a mile along the road, and he found it easily enough; a farmhouse at one time, it was now a comfortable dwelling set in a good-sized garden with paddocks on either side. He drove up the short drive and got out, rang the old-fashioned bell beside the solid front door and waited, the picture of calm patience, for it to be opened.
He said to the rather severe elderly woman who opened it, ‘Is Mrs Meredith at home? I should like to speak to her.’
‘She’s in. What name shall I give, sir?’
‘Bowers-Bentinck.’
She ushered him inside and opened a door in the hall. The room he entered was small and only partly furnished, with packing cases lining a wall. He contemplated them without much interest, seething with an inward impatience now, and it was with relief that he heard the door open and turned to see Mrs Meredith.
They shook hands while he made the usual civil excuses for disturbing her. ‘I believe you have Miss Lightfoot working for you; I am anxious to see her.’
Mrs Meredith, airy-fairy though she was, had sharp eyes; not a man to show his feelings, she decided, but boiling over inside. ‘Yes, she’s here—how fortunate you came today, for my permanent nanny is returning tomorrow and Suzannah is going back. She’s out with the children, but they’ll be back any minute. Have you come a long way?’
‘London.’ He hesitated. ‘I hope to take her back with me, if that would be possible?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ She smiled at him, scenting romance in the air. ‘I’ll get a coat and go and meet them, and take over the children and leave you free to talk.’ She was half-way to the door. ‘She’s been marvellous—I don’t know what I’d have done without her, and the children love her. I won’t be a moment.’
They went through the house, out of the back door and through the door in the garden wall. There was a paddock beyond and fields. The professor came to a halt and heaved a great sigh; his Suzannah was in the field, tossing a ball to the two children with her; they were shouting and screaming and racing around her, and Mrs Meredith and the professor were quite close before she looked up and saw them.
She stood, the ball fallen from her hand, staring at him, her mouth open, the colour creeping into her face and then ebbing away, leaving it pale. She said in a squeaky voice, ‘How did you get here?’
‘In the car. Hello, Suzannah.’ He had come to a halt before her and took her hands in his, and neither he or Suzannah noticed Mrs Meredith dragging the children back to the house.
‘How did you find me?’ she whispered.
‘It wasn’t too difficult, my darling—your hair—people notice it. What did Phoebe say to make you run away?’
She gave her hands a little tug, but he tightened his gentle hold, and when she looked up into his face she could see that she would have to answer him. ‘Well,’ she began, ‘she said that you and she were going to be married and that you were sorry for me and felt that you had to help me and that I was an embarrassment to you…’
She sniffed and her eyes filled with tears.
‘Oh, dear, oh, dear,’ said the professor at his most soothing. ‘And, of course, you believed her.’
‘Well, I didn’t want to, only you didn’t seem to like me…’
‘My dearest love, I not only like you, I love you. I fell in love with you the very first time we met, but I must confess that I didn’t realise it for some time, although I was plagued by an urge to look after you from the moment Phoebe told me that she had sacked you. But you refused my help in no uncertain manner, didn’t you? It was then that you took possession of my heart and mind.’
‘You never said anything,’ she said sharply. She gave another tug and he laughed softly.
‘Don’t get cross, my darling; several times I thought I would take a chance, and always you backed away and started talking about the weather. But now no more of that. Will you marry me, Suzannah? And I want the answer now, so don’t start arguing!’
‘I never…’ She began and saw the look in his eyes. ‘Oh, Guy, of course I’ll marry you, and I’m sorry I ran away, only I love you and I thought that you didn’t love me…’
The professor let her hands go at last and wrapped his great arms around her. ‘And that, my darling, is something I must disprove to you.’
He kissed her slowly and then quite fiercely, so that she had no breath to speak, only just enough to kiss him back.
The sun had gone in and a fine drizzle was drifting down. Suzannah couldn’t have cared less; she was in heaven, and as for the professor
, that most observant of men, he hadn’t even noticed; he had his heart’s desire.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3966-1
THE CHAIN OF DESTINY
Copyright © 1989 by Betty Neels.
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