by Betty Neels
Matilda stayed with her until supper was brought, a very small light meal because of the anaesthetic, but she ate most of it and, when a nurse came to make her ready for the night, Matilda was free to be shown her own room, next to the patient's. There was TV in one corner of it and she sat eating the supper which was brought to her, watching a film while she did so.
Lady Fox had been vague when Matilda phoned her. She would come to see Roseanne in the morning, she had said, and then they could discuss what was best to be done. 'Roseanne needs all the support she can get,' she had observed. `Fortunately you are there with her.'
Matilda had frowned fiercely at the phone. She had said with asperity, `I should be glad if you or one of her sisters will take over from me as quickly as possible-that is if she needs someone. I need to go back home, Lady Fox ; you must realise that I have to help my father in the village.'
Lady Fox had snorted angrily. `Surely you realise that Roseanne is more urgent than anything else.'
`Yes, I'm sure that she is, but if you feel it's so urgent that someone is here with her, should you not come yourself?'
She had put down the phone before Lady Fox had caught her outraged breath. Tomorrow, she thought as she got ready for bed, she would be sent her notice and a good thing too. It would make it awfully awkward for her father, of course, and she was sorry about that, but she was sure that Dr Bramley would back her up.
She got into her comfortable bed and put out the light and a second later someone tapped on the door. A nurse came in. `I'm so sorry, Miss (finch, but Miss Fox is being rather difficult. Perhaps if you came...'
Matilda, muttering under her breath, went.
Morning came and with it Lady Fox, in a nasty temper too, made worse since she had had to wait until the matron was free to see her. By the time she got to Roseanne's room she was rigid with annoyance because the matron had suggested that Roseanne would do much better if she had several days quiet, without visitors.
`I am her mother,' Lady Fox had said grandly.
`In that case,' Matron had replied smoothly, you will wish to co-operate in every way, will you not?'
Matilda was reading one of the more gossipy newspapers to Roseanne when her mother came into the room. Her eye lighted upon it at once.
`Gutter Press!' she cried. `How dare you read that rubbish to Roseanne?"
'It's not my cup of tea either,' agreed Matilda cheerfully, `but it takes her mind off herself. I mean The Times or the Telegraph don't print titbits, do they?'
Lady Fox gobbled, bent to embrace her daughter, who burst into tears for no reason at all, and then sat down heavily by the bed.
The visit wasn't a success-mother and daughter were too much alike for that. Matilda, who had prudently skipped away, could hear their raised voices and presently the quiet. severe voice of the sister on duty, and later Lady Fox was ushered into her room.
`And what was all that rubbish on the phony last night?' demanded that lady. `I must say I was amazed at your rudeness, Matilda.'
`Do please sit down,' said Matilda, `and I wasn't rude, Lady Fox, only stating facts. Now that I have the opportunity I should like to give up my job with you. I really only stayed because of Roseanne, you know, but she will be getting married soon. Let me see, it's Thursday.. .I'll stay with you until Saturday week if you would like that; that gives you time to find someone to take my place.'
Her companion looked thunderstruck. `But what am I to do? I shall. never find someone who will come each day...'
Not from the village you won't, reflected Matilda naughtily-the salary Lady Fox paid was a pittance compared to other jobs. Matilda, who had been unnaturally meek for far too long, felt a surge of delight at the idea of being free from her petty chores at the manor-house. She would be free to choose what she wanted to do. Mr Scott-Thurlow's handsome features imprinted themselves behind her eyelids; what she wanted to do was marry him...
She was aware that Lady Fox was speaking rather loudly in a cross voice, to stop abruptly as the door opened once more and Dr Bramley and Dr Scott-Thurlow were ushered in.
`Interrupting a little chat?' asked Dr Bramley and winked at Matilda. `Mr Scott-Thurlow has come to see Roseanne and then perhaps something can be arranged...'
Mr Scott-Thurlow wished Lady Fox good morning and then turned his attention to Matilda. 'Roseanne is more herself today?' he wished to know.
`Oh, yes. Rather a ragged night, though, but Bernard telephoned early this morning. He is coming down this afternoon.'
`In that case I suggest that we examine the patient.' The men went away and Matilda and Lady Fox sat without speaking until they returned.
`Quite satisfactory,' declared Mr Scott-Thurlow. `I leave Roseanne in Dr Bramley's capable hands. I shall, of course, visit from time to time. It will be necessary to take further X-rays to monitor progress. Physiotherapy will be started as soon as possible.
He stood just inside the door and Matilda thought how distinguished and handsome he was and so sure of himself... She heaved a sigh which he noticed with amusement. That them had been some kind of disagreement was obvious-the air was thick with it. Matilda had probably spoken her mind...
He went on gravely, `I am of the opinion that Roseanne will make better progress if she is without constant companionship. Visitors by al means, and certainly Mr Stevens should be allowed to call at any time. The nursing staid
here are excellent; she will not lack for sympathetic treatment.' He went to the door. `You must forgive me if I leave now-I have a busy day ahead of me. This is an unfortunate accident for your daughter, Lady Fox, but I can assure you that within a very short time she will be fully restored to normal health and strength.'
He bade her goodbye and turned to Matilda. `Thank you for your help,' he said and smiled and took her hand, and was interrupted by Lady Fox.
`Your bill, Mr Scott-Thurlow...'
The eyes smiling down at Matilda became icy. `You will receive my account from my secretary in due course, Lady Fox.'
Matilda, who had done her best on several occasions to be sympathetic to Lady Fox, and failed, felt sorry for her; Mr Scott-Thurlow's voice had been courteous and straight from the North Pole, implying delicately that there had been a breach of good taste on her part.
When he had gone and Dr Bramley had gone to speak to the sister looking after Roseanne, Lady Fox spoke. `Well, you had better get yourself back home,' she said crossly. `It seems you're not needed here. I shall have to come over every day, I suppose. I shall forget all this nonsense about your leaving, Matilda, and expect you tomorrow morning as usual.'
`Certainly, Lady Fox, I did say that I would stay until Saturday week, but it was no nonsense. I shall leave then.'
CHAPTER FOUR
DR BRAMLEY gave Matilda a lift back home after a stormy ten minutes with Roseanne, whose threatened hysterics at the idea of being left on her own were curtailed by Matilda's timely reminder that Bernard when he arrived to visit her would expect to see a bravely smiling girl, looking her best and wearing the lacy bed-jacket her mother had had the forethought to bring with her.
On the way back Dr Bramley asked cautiously, `Have you and Lady Fox fallen out, Tilly? I detected a distinct coolness in the air...'
She explained. `Anyway, it's time I found something else to do-Hilary will be home for some months and Esme's awfully good helping Father. I'd quite like to get a job not too far away from home, so that I could pop in regularly. I've no idea what. I don't suppose there are many people who want someone just to see to the post and the flowers and so on.'
'I'm given to understand that you are a splendid cook among other things. I don't doubt that something will turn up. Go and see. Roseanne from time to time, won't you? She needs someone to stiffen her spine; she never could stand up to her mother. This chap she intends to marry seems nice enough.'
`Oh, he is-she's a different girl when he' with her.'
`It amazes me how love can alter a person.'
Matilda said yes,
doesn't it and wondered if it had altered Rhoda Symes. She thought it unlikely. Perhaps that was because she didn't love James Scott-Thurlow, or even that he didn't love her. Wishful thinking.
She enquired after her companion's bees, a passionate hobby of his, and they were still discussing them when he stopped outside the rectory and, when invited to go in with her, followed her inside for a delayed cup of coffee.The next ten days were a bit difficult; Matilda went to the manor-house each morning, obeying Lady Fox's beck and call without outward rancour although her feelings inside didn't bear scrutiny. Her successor had to be found-no easy task, for no one who knew Lady Fox and the miserable salary she paid was prepared to work for her.
Lady Fox was reduced to asking Matilda what to do.
`Well,' said Matilda thoughtfully, `if you were to offer a bigger salary and advertise in the Salisbury or Yeovil papers.. .and there's room enough to offer a bed-sitting-room, free, of course.'
`Well, really,' observed Lady Fox indignantly and did so. There was one applicant, a middle aged lady, rather stolid, who obviously would stand no nonsense, expected a good deal of free time and a month's holiday and showed not the least timidity towards Lady Fox. On the other hand, she had splendid references, a pleasant voice and manner and her typing, after Matilda's home-taught efforts, was excellent. She was engaged and Matilda sighed with relief for she had known all along that, if no one had been forthcoming to take her place, she would have felt compelled to stay until someone turned up.
She had gone to see Roseanne several times, driving herself in her father's elderly car, and found her much improved. Bernard had gone again but had promised to return each weekend and, since he had the good sense to take a pile of magazines with him, Roseanne was quite happy sitting up in bed, looking at soft furnishings, tables and chairs and the like, planning their home when they married.
Dr Bramley had been quite right, thought Matilda on her way home after a particularly cheerful visit; love worked wonders. Which thought, naturally enough, led her to Mr Scott-Thurlow.
She wished that she could see him again, but although he had been back to the hospital to see Roseanne she had never been there at the same time. Perhaps it was just as well. A job, she told herself firmly, something else to think about, new people to meet and occupy her mind.
She left Lady Fox's employ ostensibly on good terms with that lady. Her father saw a good deal of Sir Benjamin and it would never do to have ill feeling between the manor-house and the rectory. On Sunday, Miss Twisk, who had taken her place, was to be seen sitting where Roseanne usually sat in the family pew and Lady Fox, on her way out after the service, bowed graciously towards the rectory pew-on the surface at least bygones were to be bygones.
It was delightful to be free of her various little tasks at the manor-house; over the weeks she helped her mother make rhubarb jam, poked around very happily in the large untidy garden, painted one of the numerous sheds which were dotted haphazardly around and then, since the weather was warm and sunny, she embarked on the drawing-room curtains, well worn and faded. Mrs Chump had rummaged around her stock and found a dye in a pleasant shade of old rose and Matilda set to. It was a messy business but she was pleased with the result as she hung them up to dry. Still in a serviceable pinny, she went back into the house and sat down in the kitchen to drink her coffee with her mother and
Mrs Coffin. The old fashioned bell, first in the row ranged beside the dresser, disturbed their casual gossip.
`Front door, drat it,' said Mrs Coffin. `It'll be Postie, and why `e `as to make such a din...' She got up. `The dear knows what 'e'll be up to next.'
She went away and Matilda kicked off her sandals and lolled back in her old basket chair. She said, `Today I shall go to Sherborne and look for a job.'
Mrs ffinch put down her coffee-mug. `Darling, but what will you do?"
'I've no idea-something will turn up...' She smiled at her mother and turned round to see what Mrs Coffin had been given by the postman.
Not a parcel and not the postman either. Mr Scott-Thurlow came through the door behind Mrs Coffin, bending his handsome head so as not to knock himself out on its lintel.
Matilda, to her great annoyance, blushed at the sight of him; her mother beamed a welcome and got to her feet. `Good morning, Mr Scott-Thurlow-you're just in time for coffee. Do sit down. Have you been over at the manor-house?'
She patted the Windsor armchair beside her and Matilda, glad of something to do, got up to get the coffee-pot from the Aga.
`You must forgive me for calling at such a time, Mrs ffinch. Yes, I called at the manor on my way back from seeing Roseanne. She is doing well now.'
He took the mug Matilda offered him and Mrs Coffin said, `Well, I'll get on with the bedrooms, me loves,' and took herself off.
Before she left the kitchen Matilda, strangely reluctant to be with Mr Scott-Thurlow, asked, `Do you want any help with the beds?' and had actually got out of her chair again, intent on escape, when he said quietly,
`Please don't go, Matilda; it was you I came to talk to.'
`Me?' She sat down again. `Whatever for?'
He smiled a little, and Mrs ffinch said briskly, `Oh, well, I must get on-such a large house, you know, always something to do..."
'Please stay, Mrs ffinch. I have a suggestion to make to Matilda. I understand that she no longer goes to the manor and I wondered if she would be interested in a temporary job-not far away-between Sherborne and Montacute. An old gentleman whose wife is in hospital for a few weeks. There is a housekeeper and plenty of help in the house but he needs companionship, someone to read to him, play cards, potterin the garden with him, listen while he talks... You would of course need to live there but there is no reason why you shouldn't come home at the weekends. There is no hard work involved but it may be dull and perhaps at times demanding. The salary...' The sum he mentioned made Matilda's eyes open wide.
`Too much,' she said roundly.
`Indeed not,' he told her seriously, `taking into account the fact that you will have very little time to yourself save at the weekend.' He didn't smile. `I hope that you will consider it very seriously, Matilda.'
She loved him very much, but at the same time she was aware that she was just a little in awe of him; he looked and spoke exactly how an eminent surgeon should-courteous and impersonal and remote. She had no idea what he
was thinking behind that calmm face. She frowned. `When do you want to know?"
'Now.'
She looked at her mother and found that lady smiling. `You were only saying, Tilly dear, that you were going to look for a little job in Sherborne today.' Her parent gave her a guileless look.
`How would I get there? Is there a bus? And how do I get home for the weekend?"
'You would be driven there. You drive, do you not? I believe that there is a car you might use at weekends.'
`When would this gentleman want me to go?' She looked down at her pinny. `I've been dyeing curtains...'
Mr Scott-Thurlow, who knew nothing of dyeing curtains, let this pass.
`Tomorrow afternoon?' he suggested gently. `Try it for a week-if you aren't happy then the matter can be arranged.' He got up. `I must get back to town-may I pick you up about three o' clock tomorrow?'
Matilda heard herself say yes as her mother went out of the room with him. It was only as she heard the front door squeak when it was opened that she realised that she didn't know the name of her new employer. She ran through the house, swept past her mother about to shut the door and raced down the garden path to where Mr ScottThurlow was getting into his car. He was in it by the time she reached it and she poked her head through the window, her bright hair all over the place, her lovely face inches from his.
`His name?' she demanded urgently. `What's his name, this old gentleman?'
He allowed himself the pleasure of studying her face before he answered. 'Scott-Thurlow Mr Charles Scott-Thurlow. My grandfather.'
A man of reserve, not given to impulse, he kissed
the face, so temptingly close, raised a hand in grave salute and drove himself away.
Matilda stood staring after the car, a prey to mixed feelings: delight, surprise-and why had he kissed her? He was engaged, wasn't he? To a beautiful woman, and what would she say if she knew? Or perhaps in her particular social circle the odd kiss didn't count for anything. But it hadn't been an odd kiss...
Mr Scott-Thurlow was having mixed feelings too. After years of knowing exactly what he wanted, and that included a suitable marriage to someone who would make no demands upon his dedicated life, run his house well and take care of the social side of his life, he was experiencing an overpowering wish to see Matilda again and as often as possible. She would wreak havoc in his orderly life, she was impulsive, quick-tempered, given to speaking her mind upon occasion and, from what he had seen of her, uncaring about her appearance.
