Sweet Sanctuary

by Charlotte Lamb

  It was midnight when Jimmy drove back through the gates of Sanctuary. The wind made restless music in the trees which lined the drive. A few stars sparkled faintly in the sky. Kate was too sleepy to feel more than a faint interest as the dark bulk of the house drew nearer. All the lights were out. She had expected that, since Mrs. Butler went to bed very early, but she knew that the kitchen door was always unlocked. Country habits were different from town ones. No burglar would be attracted to Sanctuary—the loneliness and isolation meant that he would need a vehicle, and the dogs which slept in the kitchen at night, friendly though they were, would be sufficient warning of intruders.

  Jimmy Whitney was a countryman, and knew that he would find an unlocked door at the back of the house, so drove round to the stable yard to let her out of the car. He walked to the kitchen door with her. They were both relaxed and at ease. It had been an enjoyable evening. Wine, music and dancing had made them closer to each other than any other entertainment would have done.

  There was something, Kate decided, about dancing that made it easier to relax. The combination of exercise and pleasure, perhaps. She yawned and Jimmy laughed.

  "You won't need a cup of cocoa before bed tonight!"

  "Would you like one?"

  He shook his head. "Better not—Nick might suspect I was seducing you down here!"

  This made her immediately determinedly rebellious. "I shall make some for myself. You might as well have some. Blow Nick."

  Jimmy laughed. "All right—if you want to play it that way. Blow Nick indeed!"

  She made cocoa in a small saucepan while Jimmy lounged against the table, talking in a soft voice so as not to disturb the house. The dogs, having given them an excited but subdued welcome, had gone back to sleep in various corners.

  "It was fun tonight, wasn't it?" Jimmy smiled reminiscently. "I had a fantastic evening. I hope you did."

  "You know I did," she said indulgently. "I've never in my life been to a place like that. It was all so new to me,"

  "We'll go again," he promised.

  "I must buy a more suitable dress," she said. "And silver shoes, like that girl I pointed out to you."

  She poured out the cocoa and set a mug in front of him. Jimmy smiled at her.

  "You looked much more attractive than that girl! Clothes don't matter that much."

  "Dancing does," she said. "I ought to learn to dance properly."

  "You picked it up quickly enough! You're a natural dancer." He slid an arm around her and hummed under his breath. Kate laughed, swaying against him, her hand resting on his shoulder.

  Jimmy spun her in a dramatic swirl, and came up short against the wall. He laughed down into her upturned face. "You're fantastic, Kate!"

  A voice made them both jump. "What the hell do you think you're doing at this time of night?"

  Nick, ruffled of hair and glowering of countenance, stood in the doorway, his dressing-gown loosely belted over wine-coloured pyjamas.

  Jimmy's hands dropped from her like lead. "Oh, hello, Nick," he said. "I'm just going. Good night, Kate."

  Kate turned, hasty words on her lips, but he had already gone, sliding out of the door in a second.

  She stood, wondering what to do. Should she go up to bed, like a scolded schoolgirl, or defy Nick, stay here and drink her cocoa? She decided to do the latter.. Lifting her chin in defiance, she went to the table, picked up her mug and sipped.

  Nick stared at her grimly. "All my warnings went over your head, didn't they?"

  "I like Jimmy," she flung back. "So he flirts! Maybe I flirt, too! Had you thought of that? Girls can flirt, you know, without being scarlet women!"

  He laughed. "You flirt? Don't be ridiculous!"

  She looked at him from under her lashes, deliberately provocative. "You think I couldn't?"

  He strolled forward. Her heart began to thud and her mouth was suddenly dry.

  "Don't throw down the gauntlet to me," he said softly. "I just might pick it up."

  She wanted to retort in a casual manner, but the words seemed to be jammed in her throat. He stood too close. He was too overpowering. She felt suddenly weak, afraid of self-betrayal.

  He laughed. "I thought you'd change your mind!" Then he drew back, picked up the mug of cocoa she had made for Jimmy. "I might as well drink this— no point in wasting good milk," He drank a little, then looked gently at her over the rim. "I'm not playing the heavy father for my own fun, you know. You're very ignorant of the man-woman relationship, Jimmy Whitney, whatever you may imagine, is an expert, I only wanted to save you a nasty experience."

  "Do you think we any of us learn from other people's experience? Don't we only learn from our own?"

  He sighed. "Very well, if you insist on playing with fire, go ahead." He looked weary and drawn. He put down the cocoa and walked to the door. Kate wanted to run after him, promise never to see Jimmy again, but she knew that she must not do that. Better for Nick to disapprove of her because she went out with Jimmy than for him ever to suspect that she was in love with himself.

  She finished her cocoa, washed up the two mugs and left them to drain on the draining-board. The dogs lifted lazy heads in farewell as she went to the door. She snapped out the light and left them to sleep peacefully until morning.

  During the night Kate woke several times, hearing faint coughing, and sat up to listen with a frown. It was hard to slide back into sleep, and, weary as she was, she felt uneasy. It could not be Nick coughing. Was it Mrs. Butler?

  At last she got out of bed, slipped into her dressing-gown and padded along to the older woman's bedroom.

  Her knock was answered immediately. A husky voice said, "Come in, my dear…"

  Mrs. Butler was sitting up in her bed, the bedside lamp shedding a pale halo around her. Her white hair hung in plaits beside her face. In the white flannelette nightgown she looked oddly like a schoolgirl.

  "I heard someone coughing. Are you ill?" Kate looked at her in concern. Surely her face was very flushed?

  "I think I've developed a cold…" The voice whispered drily, like a reed blown by the wind.

  Kate bent over her, touched her forehead. It was dry and very hot. Her cheeks were hot, too. The crumpled skin felt rougher than usual. A pulse beat visibly at the base of the thin neck, in a deep hollow above the tiny lace frill of the nightgown.

  "You are a little hot," Kate said slowly. "Running a slight temperature. A touch of 'flu, perhaps. It's just the weather for it—a deceptive thaw in spring is always the time when one catches a cold."

  "I shall be all right," Mrs. Butler said, and then was shaken by another bout of coughing, bending forward, her slight body at the mercy of the cough.

  "You must be good," Kate said firmly. "Stay in bed until that cough has gone."

  "Stay in bed?" Mrs. Butler laughed. "Nonsense! I'm not a baby to be mollycoddled like that!"

  "If you neglect a cold it can turn into something much worse," Kate threatened. "You don't want to be ill, do you? Much better to take precautions."

  "Mollycoddling!" snorted Mrs. Butler.

  "No such thing. Just being sensible. I'll bring you your meals in bed."

  "You'll do no such thing! This isn't a hospital!"

  "It will be no trouble to me. And I can cook for Nick, too. Mrs. Pepper will be doing all the housework as usual, Nick won't mind."

  Mrs. Butler was silent, her bright blue eyes gazing at the opposite wall in a trance-like stare. Then she smiled. "Very well, child. If you insist! If you're sure you can manage Nick."

  "Of course I can manage Nick!" Then Kate stood still, looking down at the old woman with suspicious eyes. Mrs. Butler met her glance innocently enough, but what was that at the back of the amazingly clear, vivid eyes? Kate was undecided. Then Mrs. Butler smiled up at her sleepily.

  "I hate to trouble you, my dear, but my throat is so dry…"

  "Hot milk," Kate nodded, and turned to hurry down to the kitchen.

  She returned in a few moments with a glass of
warm milk, flavoured with a tiny sprinkling of nutmeg and some sugar. Mrs. Butler took it gratefully, sipped and beamed at her. "Delicious!" She finished the drink in a moment. Kate shook out her pillows and helped her to settle more comfortably.

  "Try not to lie on your back. Your cough will be easier if you remember that." She tucked her in gently, smiling at her, and turned out the light.

  "Goodnight, my dear," murmured Mrs. Butler. Kate tiptoed to the door and went out.

  Nick was leaning in the passage, his brow stern. She gasped at the sight of him and put a finger to her lips. He followed her down to her own room. She turned, on the threshold, and looked at him.

  "Your aunt isn't very well," she told him.

  "What is the matter with her? Why didn't you wake me?"

  She explained, and he listened in some concern. "Is it serious, do you think?"

  Kate shook her head. "I'm sure not, but it's best to be quite certain. She's agreed to stay in bed for a few days."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like Aunt Elaine! She's usually dead against any such idea! She must be worse than you think. We must get the doctor first thing in the morning."

  "I agree," she nodded. "Goodnight."

  He stood, staring at her closed door for a moment, then stalked back to his own room without answering.

  The doctor was reassuring after he had seen his patient. "She'll do," he told them cheerfully. "I wish all my patients were as active as she is—she puts most of them in the shade."

  "Is it just a cold?" Nicholas asked him.

  He played vaguely with the stethoscope hanging from his neck. "Well, perhaps a little more than that."

  Kate noticed that his eyes slid away as he spoke, and she immediately suspected him of conspiring with Aunt Elaine. "Influenza?" she asked abruptly.

  He glanced at her. "I'm not certain. I'll be back to see her tomorrow. Keep her in bed for the time being. Be firm about it. She can be obstinate, I know, but at her age it's not wise to neglect a bad cough."

  When he had gone Nicholas leaned against the kitchen table, watching Kate preparing a light lunch for his aunt. "Are you worried about her?" His voice was tense, and she glanced at him in surprise.

  "No, of course not. You heard the doctor."

  "He sounded serious to me," he said, frowning. "It isn't like him to fuss, or like Aunt Elaine to be so ready to put up with fuss."

  Kate lifted the tray, checking that it was properly set. She had added a slender glass vase containing one fragrant spray of lilac. Salad and a little grilled fish, bread and butter and a small bowl of fruit.

  "She won't eat the fish," Nick said absently.

  "I'll take that risk," she answered, moving towards the door. He took the tray from her and gestured.

  "I'll take this up. I want a word with her. Have we got the same? Will it spoil if I stay up with her for a little while? I'm beginning to think it's time I had a long talk with Aunt Elaine."

  "We've got roast lamb," she said. "It isn't ready yet, so you have plenty of time. I'll call you when it's on the table."

  "Call me before that," he said. "I don't like cold food."

  Kate glared at the door, feeling like throwing something after him, then turned towards the oven to check the condition of the lamb. It was browning nicely, Mrs. Pepper would not, of course, be coming today, since it was Sunday, and she had plenty to occupy her while Nick was upstairs with his aunt, but Kate could not help being very curious about their long conversation. The hands of the clock crept round. The meal was almost ready, but still Nick did not come downstairs. What could they be discussing? He had looked ominous when he left the kitchen. Had he, too, suspected that his aunt was to a certain extent exaggerating her illness in order to throw them even closer together?

  Kate had begun to suspect it last night. Mrs. Butler had not seemed ready to stay in bed until it occurred to her that, with herself out of the way, Nick and Kate would be spending the Sunday alone in the house, to all intents and purposes. A long, quiet day with no other visitors expected.

  Kate sighed. Her hand brushed a curling tendril of hair back from her flushed forehead as she bent over the roast lamb. The meat was beautifully cooked, the vegetables nearing perfection. She had made the rich, brown gravy and the mint sauce was standing on the table in a sauceboat.

  She called Nick, and a moment later he came downstairs with the tray. Mrs. Butler had eaten the salad and picked a little at the fish.

  "She said it was delicious, but her appetite seemed very small," he said, seeing her eyes on the fish.

  "You… you weren't upsetting her?"

  The grey eyes were cold as winter frost. "Why should I be?"

  Kate defied the grey eyes, her chin rebellious. "You seem to be in something of a temper to me! You were up there a long time, and I suspect you were arguing with her."

  "I don't really think that's any of your business," Nicholas said icily.

  She flushed, but stuck to her guns. "Maybe not, but I feel responsible for Aunt Elaine…"

  "You call her that now, do you?" His tone cracked like a whip.

  "She asked me to," she retorted. "You were in the room at the time!"

  "I don't recall it," he said dismissively, leaving a lingering implication that she lied.

  Fiery-eyed, she snapped, "Ask her, then!"

  "Oh, she'll support you. She seems infatuated with you! She wants everyone else to be so, too, but we're not all as gullible and emotional as Aunt Elaine!"

  She went white. He had brought it out into the open at last, and the cruelly biting contempt of his voice was gall and wormwood to her. She straightened herself, head held high, facing him with wide, hurt eyes.

  "I don't know what your aunt wants, but for myself I want nothing whatever!"

  He laughed, his lip curling. "You expect me to believe that? Sylvia's right—you showed from the. first day how you felt about Sanctuary. It's a lovely house, I can understand your attraction towards it. But you must get used to the fact that you'll only be living here for a short time."

  Drily, she whispered, "What are you really saying, Mr, Adams?"

  His voice was rough. "Don't put down roots, Kate. You don't belong here. You never can."

  She nodded. "I know that. Your aunt may have some crazy ideas about the way things are, but I can assure you that I don't agree with her. Not in the least. I… I'm ready to leave whenever it's desirable."

  He turned away. "That might be now," he said in that brutal, rough tone.

  She shrugged. The back of her throat stung with salt, Her eyes were dry, though, and she kept her chin up. "I'm ready," she said.

  He was silent for an instant, then he said in a calm voice, "No, perhaps we had better wait until Aunt Elaine is better. She needs you here for the moment." His gaze swung back to her, shifted slightly as it met her own. "I have never known her take such a fancy to anyone," he said abruptly.

  "I'm glad she likes me. I like her."

  He nodded. "You're a kind girl. You'll know how to help her over the difficult days. She must be made to accept Sylvia—that's all we can hope for now. You can do it if you really want to…" Again the grey eyes stabbed at her accusingly.

  "I'll do what I can," she said flatly.

  "The best you can?" he challenged.

  "Do you think I want her to…" The hot, angry words trailed off, and Kate bit her lower lip. "I'll do my best," she finished.

  The meal was almost silent. Now and then she looked up to find Nicholas staring at her. He would look away, and she would choke back a painful sigh.

  It was a bitter thought that he suspected her of plotting with his aunt to exclude Sylvia from Sanctuary. A bitter thought that he believed her to be laying traps for him! Humiliation and pain made her wince at the idea. For the moment he seemed to think her mercenary in her supposed plan to steal his affections from Sylvia. That, at least, was preferable to the truth—she could not have borne it if he had guessed that she was in love with him. Any suspicion, di
slike or scorn was better than the real truth.

  When she took Mrs. Butler a tray of afternoon tea later, she found her dozing gently, an open book in front of her on the neat coverlet.

  Opening one eye, the old woman gazed at her. "You look very mutinous! Has Nick been saying things?"

  "He said enough," Kate told her. "What did you say to him, that's more the question!"

  An impish smile hovered around the old mouth and a twinkle lit the vivid blue eyes. "Didn't he tell you?"

  "He did not!"

  "Then why should I? Presumably he prefers to keep it quiet, and I don't blame him!"

  Kate sat down on the side of the bed and stared at her in some bewilderment. "Are we talking about the same thing?"

  "We're talking about the fact that Nick no longer loves Sylvia," triumphed Mrs. Butler.

  Kate felt the colour rush from her cheeks. She swallowed and her ears went oddly deaf, then her eyes focused on the flushed old face.

  "Did he actually tell you so?" she demanded.

  Mrs. Butler shrugged. "He didn't tell me so in so many words, but the whole tone of the discussion made it very clear. No man in love would talk about his girl in those terms!"

  "You're evading the issue," said Kate certainly. "From what he said to me I came into the discussion somewhere, and Nick now has the impression that I've been plotting to…" Her voice died, she was suddenly scarlet.

  "To what?" asked Mrs. Butler teasingly.

  Kate got up hurriedly. "Enjoy your tea," she said, and left the room. She had meant to have it out with the old lady, but somehow she just could not bring herself to do it. It would be far too embarrassing, and the fact that she could sense Mrs. Butler's amusement underlying what they had already said made her even more shy.

  She could hear Nicholas talking to the dogs in the kitchen. She stood, hesitating, wondering what to do, and was relieved when the telephone rang in the office. It was Jimmy, suggesting a drive to have tea at the farm, and she did not need time to consider his invitation. It would take her out of Nick's company, and that was enough.

  Nick appeared very angry when she informed him that she was going out with Jimmy, but he said nothing at all, merely nodded curtly. The back of his neck was suddenly dark red, though, and she saw his mouth tighten as he turned away.