by Mary Nichols
‘I am sorry.’
Justin gave a grunt meant to do duty as a laugh. ‘Not half as sorry as I was.’
‘I can understand you wanting to get away for a time, but why come here?’
‘To this hovel, you mean?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose that is what I do mean.’
‘To find a use for myself, to remind myself that there are others in the world a great deal worse off than I am, to lose myself…’
‘And have you?’
‘Until very recently, yes.’
‘And has no one tried to find you? Surely your parents…’
‘My mother died and my father has washed his hands of me. I have let down the family name, not only over a broken engagement, but because of the work I do. Oh, he did not mind so much while I was in the navy; second sons often choose the armed services and there was a war going on. He even managed to overlook the fact that I chose medicine, healing instead of killing, but when I came out he expected me to conform, to wish Andrew and Sophie happy and to spend my days in idleness on half-pay until I found myself another bride. I could not do it, Gosforth…’
‘I am sorry.’
‘Do not be. I am fulfilled.’ He was aware that this was only a half-truth, but if he repeated it often enough, he told himself, it would become reality. ‘But I would prefer you did not make what I have told you public. There was enough gossip at the time. And learning of my background would spoil my relationship with my patients.’
‘You have my word.’ He drained his glass and watched as Justin picked it up with his own and rose to refill them both. ‘It cannot have been easy. What about money?’
‘Ah, there you have it. I have a small allowance and my pension, which would be enough to live on, but it is not enough to support this project. I rely on charitable donations and until recently a generous landlord who chose to overlook the fact that I sometimes forget to pay the rent. Now he is selling to the developers and I am required to quit.’
‘What will you do?’
He shrugged, handing over a brimming glass. ‘Start again somewhere else.’
‘You need help to do that. Publicity. You should put yourself about, tell people what you are doing, people who can do something about it, people with deep pockets. You should frequent the Assembly Rooms, make yourself known.’
‘That is the last thing I want.’
‘I did not mean as Viscount Rockbourne’s son, but as the local physician promoting a brighter future for the poorer citizens of this town. It is a worthy cause.’
‘That would mean neglecting my patients.’
‘If you went during the day perhaps, but surely there is no reason why you should not attend some evening functions. You will moulder away and forget you are a gentleman if you do nothing but work. There is a ball tonight. Come as my guest.’
‘Out of the question. I am tired and I have no evening clothes.’
‘You still have your dress uniform, don’t you?’
‘Yes, but…’ He was sorely tempted. It was two years since he had attended any kind of social function, was beginning to wonder if he remembered how to behave at one. Had he forgotten how to make inconsequential conversation, how to flirt mildly, how to dance? Would Miss Hemingford be there? Why did his errant mind keep returning to her?
Walter had said all he meant to and rose to his feet. ‘I have to go. I am expected. If you change your mind, I will see you later at the Castle Inn.’
The ballroom at the Castle was large, decorated in the classical way with pillars and mouldings and a painted frieze. Even though a ball was held there every Monday, it was still a glittering affair in which the Master of Ceremonies was all over the place, presenting gentlemen to ladies, newcomers to each other, making sure everyone had partners. Anne, like her aunt, was much in demand and she enjoyed the attention, but she could not help wishing a certain medical man was one of their number. Dressed in fashionable clothes, he would easily have held his own.
‘Miss Hemingford,’ Major Mancroft said, breaking in on her thoughts as they executed the steps of the minuet. ‘I need your advice.’
‘My advice, Major? Whatever can I tell you that you do not know already?’
‘How to reach Mrs Bartrum’s heart. She is always charming and amiable towards me, but she is like that to Walter Gosforth too and I had hoped for more. She will not indicate which of us she will have and I hoped…’
‘Oh, Major, I cannot intervene in matters of the heart…’
‘She said she would leave the decision to you.’
‘She was bamming you. I have no influence with her at all and, if I had, I would not use it. If you wish to know if she will have you, you must ask her yourself.’
‘When would be best? Tonight? For some reason, Captain Gosforth is absent, though he did say he would come. Should I strike while the iron is hot?’
‘That is a strange metaphor to use about one’s love,’ she chided him. ‘It sounds too aggressive when you should be all gentleness and persuasion.’
‘Yes, you are right, but should I go and ask her now?’
Anne looked towards her aunt, who was in animated conversation with Mrs Barry and the dandified Sir Gerald. She was having a wonderful time and enjoying her role of matchmaker so much, it would spoil it if she were to receive a proposal for which she was not prepared. ‘I should give her a little more time, Major. She was so attached to dear Uncle Bartrum, the idea of remarrying must be introduced gradually.’
‘Then I shall accept your advice, but if Gosforth gets in first…’
‘Major, it is not a race, not a case of first to offer first to be accepted, you know. I am sure my aunt will make her mind up according to the dictates of her heart. You must reach her heart.’
‘Oh, you are so wise, Miss Hemingford. If my heart and soul had not been otherwise engaged, I am sure I should be looking to you as my life’s partner.’
She laughed. ‘Flummery, Major, all flummery.’
The dance ended and he offered her his arm to return her to her aunt’s side, just as Captain Gosforth appeared in the doorway. ‘Damn,’ the Major muttered under his breath, making Anne laugh. Before the Captain could reach them, he had bowed before Mrs Bartrum and whisked her away for the next dance.
Walter, seeing the object of his hopes disappearing, bowed to Anne and extended his hand. ‘May I?’
‘Certainly, sir.’ And before she could draw breath she was being guided on to the floor and taking part in a conversation almost identical to the one she had had with the Major. It was highly diverting. If she had not been so modest and so fond of her aunt, she might have felt miffed that neither gentleman was interested in her as a potential bride. At least it saved her the task of having to let them down gently, though one of them at least was going to be disappointed; her aunt could not marry them both.
She was so engrossed with talking to her dancing partner she did not notice the new arrival. He stood in the doorway, watching her, and his emotions were turning like the cogs of an engine, back in time, back to another ballroom and another dancing couple, laughing into each other’s faces, oblivious of those around him. He felt again the fury he had felt then, the rush of blood to the head, the urge to seize the woman from her partner’s arms and drag her from the room. He had not done so, of course. Nor would he now; he had even less reason to do so. But he could not stand still.
As the dance came to an end he made his way over to the couple and bowed low. ‘Miss Hemingford, your obedient.’
‘Doctor Tremayne!’ She could not keep the astonishment from her voice. ‘I…I did not know you were coming.’ He was dressed in the impeccable blue coat and white breeches of a naval lieutenant. His epaulettes gleamed and emphasised his broad shoulders, his buttons shone and his breeches, tied with a ribbon above white silk stockings, displayed well shaped calves. The sight of him sent shivers running down her spine, especially as he was not smiling and his dark eyes, directed at her, were as cold and empty as be
fore.
‘He did not know himself,’ Gosforth said. ‘I persuaded him to come out of hiding for an evening.’
‘I was never in hiding.’
‘No, of course not,’ Anne soothed. ‘Everyone knows who you are. And I, for one, am glad to see you.’
The orchestra began to play a waltz and the Captain excused himself and hurried off to find Mrs Bartrum before she could be snatched up by anyone else. Anne was left facing Justin. He extended his hand. ‘I may be a little rusty, but may I have the honour of treading on your toes?’
She laughed; he did have a sense of humour, after all. ‘Indeed you may, sir, but it is your toes that will be at risk, I think.’
He swept her into the dance and she went gladly, uncaring that her aunt had caught sight of them and her mouth had dropped open; she was where she wanted to be, with the man who had held her in thrall ever since she had first set eyes on him.
He had not forgotten how to waltz, nor did his wound trouble him unduly, and before long Anne was lost to everything but the sound of the music and the feel of his gloved hand on her back. Her feet went where he led, her body swayed with his, her breath merged with his. It was as if they were one being, one entity, inseparable. Neither spoke.
He felt something stir inside him, a twisting of his gut, a lightening of his heart, a reaching out to another human being. Oh, he felt for his patients, shared their pain and anxiety, but this was different; it was painful and yet joyous, immeasurable, eternal. He looked down at her. She was smiling dreamily, her eyes unfocused. Did she feel it too? But why would she? Why would she look at a doctor with no pretensions to do anything but serve those who needed his skills and could not afford to pay for them? He could tell her otherwise, but he had too much pride to do that.
The music came to an end at last and the moment, if there really was a moment, passed. ‘Thank you,’ he said stiffly, bowing and offering her his arm.
She took it and they perambulated round the circumference of the room. ‘You have caused quite a stir, Doctor,’ she said, hoping he would not notice that her hand on his sleeve was trembling. ‘Everyone is wondering how you came to transform yourself and whether they should acknowledge you.’
‘You did.’
‘Naturally I did. I know you for what you are.’
He looked startled, as if caught out in a guilty secret. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That you are a man to be admired for the good work you do, for your unselfishness in caring for others.’
‘Oh. Thank you.’ The words were spoken with relief and quiet sincerity. ‘But it takes another of like mind to see it.’
‘I have heard you are about to lose your home to the greed of the developers.’
‘Yes.’
‘You will fight them, of course.’
‘No, I do not have the means and it would be a futile thing to do. I would rather expend my energy on finding somewhere else.’
‘You need a proper hospital.’
He gave short laugh, quickly stifled. ‘What I need and what I may have are two different things, Miss Hemingford.’ He paused to negotiate a way around another couple. ‘But Captain Gosforth seems to think that if I put myself about and conduct a public campaign for funds I shall succeed.’
If she was disappointed that he had not come to the ball especially to see her, she did not show it. ‘He is right. We could have a musical evening, another ball. There are any number of ways to raise money for a good cause. All we have to do is convince people of its importance.’
‘We, Miss Hemingford?’ And for the first time his face was lit in a genuine smile. He had been handsome before, but with his eyes sparkling with humour, he took her breath away.
‘Of course.’ How she managed to keep her voice from betraying her, she did not know. She had fallen in love, really in love, for the first time in her life, the first, last and only time. He had softened enough to smile, but there were still mountains to climb, one of which was the fact that he had given no indication he returned her feelings. In his eyes, she was a wealthy philanthropist, indulging herself, trying to lay up good marks in heaven. But she did know that was the way to his heart. And even if she managed to pierce its shell, there was still prejudice and snobbery to overcome.
Aunt Bartrum would not consider his station in life high enough and she was sure her brother would not approve. Harry had no jurisdiction over her, but she would not like to fall out with him. He and Jane were very special to her; she could not lightly discount what they had to say. And there was still a mystery surrounding the man himself, still questions unanswered, questions she had no right to ask. But it did not make one jot of difference to the way she felt. It was glorious, heart-stopping and at the same time frightening in its intensity. Her emotions were so scrambled, she didn’t know whether to laugh aloud or burst into tears. Surely he knew? Surely she had given herself away?
‘I intend to do all I can to help,’ she said, doing her best to overcome the crack in her voice. ‘The first donation shall be mine and I intend to rally everyone to support you.’
‘You have already given me money.’
‘Ah, but this is different, this will be an official fundraising project.’
He laughed. She was glowing with life, ready to take on the world and it made him smile indulgently. She had brought with her the first of sign of brightness in his life for years, a ray of hope. ‘I think you do not know what you are taking on, Miss Hemingford.’
‘Oh, be sure I do. Now let us go and tell my aunt all about it.’
He allowed himself to be led towards Mrs Bartrum, who was standing beside Captain Gosforth. With the Captain so evidently on good terms with the doctor, she could do nothing but acknowledge Justin and listen to Anne’s enthusiastic proposition. Anne knew she had boxed her into a corner, but it was in a good cause and she felt no qualms about it. The poor of Brighton, particularly the children, needed to be looked after and she meant to do all she could to see that they were. It had, so she told herself, nothing to do with the fact that she had fallen head over heels in love with Dr Tremayne.
They were all standing together in a group when there was a movement by the door, which meant a newcomer had arrived. Anne, who had her back to her, did not see her, but Justin did. His face blanched and, excusing himself on the grounds that he had a call to make, he bade everyone goodnight and hurried from the room by another door.
Perplexed, Anne stared after him and then turned to see who had entered. The woman approaching the Master of Ceremonies was unbelievably lovely and she evidently knew it and smiled easily as everyone stopped whatever they were doing to watch her progress. She had golden hair, a flawless complexion and eyes the colour of cornflowers. Her gown of cream satin shimmered as she moved and the diamonds at her throat glittered.
‘Who is that?’ Anne whispered.
‘That,’ murmured the Master of Ceremonies, who had heard her question, ‘is Mrs Tremayne.’
Chapter Five
How Anne got through the rest of the evening, she did not know. She danced, made conversation, laughed, and watched the vision who had invaded her happiness with a great lump in her heart that threatened to stop it beating altogether. All her hopes had been shattered. She was engulfed with misery. Why had he not told her he had a wife? Captain Gosforth had hinted that he might have, but he should have said so himself. Surely when they were dancing he had realised how she felt about him? It was cruel and unfair and she wanted to crawl away and hide.
Of all the foolish things to do, falling in love at her age was the silliest, and falling in love with a married man was the outside of enough. She could never admit it. She had to go on as if nothing had happened, to pretend all was as it should be. She had her pride, after all, and it was her pride which must sustain her.
The long evening came to an end at last. Arrangements were made for people to meet again, to go to other functions, but Anne hardly heard them. All she wanted was to go home, to find her bed and giv
e way to her distress.
‘You are quiet, Anne,’ her aunt said as they travelled home in a cab. ‘Did you not enjoy yourself?’
‘Yes, Aunt, of course I did. I am a little tired, that’s all.’
‘You should not be tired at your age. You should be able to stay up until dawn and not feel a thing. Are you unwell? Shall I send for Dr Tremayne in the morning?’
‘No, no, I do not need to consult a doctor, certainly not Dr Tremayne.’
‘Oh, has he displeased you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Strange, isn’t it?’ her aunt went on, unaware that she was twisting a knife in Anne’s wounded heart. ‘The doctor is living in that unsavoury tenement, apparently as poor as a church mouse, and yet there is a wife, bedecked in diamonds and silks, who suddenly appears like a ghost from the past…’
‘And the doctor disappears like a bolt from a crossbow.’ The laugh Anne attempted died in her throat. ‘Perhaps they are estranged. But if they are, why has she put in an appearance now?’
‘I am sure I do not know.’
‘Did he not tell you when you consulted him?’
‘Why should he do that? If he wants to have secrets, it is his business, not ours.’
‘To be sure.’
‘Did he say nothing to you when you danced with him? I am not at all certain that I approved of that, but as the Captain assured us he was a gentleman, I could say nothing against it, but I am sure it was noted.’
‘By the Mancrofts, I suppose. You may tell them, if they ask, that we talked of his wish to set up a hospital, nothing more.’
Her sharpness alerted her aunt and she turned to face her. ‘Something has put you in the suds, Anne, I wish you would tell me what it is.’
‘Aunt Georgie, I am not in the suds, I am simply tired.’
‘Then perhaps you should lie in tomorrow. We are not expected at Captain Gosforth’s picnic until the afternoon.’
‘I know. I heard you talk of it. Who else is going?’
‘I do not know. The Mancrofts, of course and I suppose Mrs Barry and her girls, and, if they are going, you may be sure the lieutenants will not be far behind.’
