The Daughter of the Manor

by Betty Neels

  She looked up as the door opened and Tony walked in.

  At the sight of him she gave a little gasp, put down her mug of tea and put her suddenly shaking hands in her lap out of sight.

  ‘Darling, you didn’t think I’d let you go, did you? You see, here I am ready to go on my knees. I’ve no excuses, only that I was overwhelmingly busy when you came to see me and hardly knew what I was saying. Forgive me?’ His smile was charming. ‘Shall we start again? Just give me the chance to explain and you’ll see how right I am. A marvellous future for us both—your parents will see what a splendid plan it is; it just needs a little persuasion from you—they listen to you, don’t they?’

  He came a little nearer, still smiling.

  ‘Go away,’ said Leonora. ‘I’m working. Besides, I have no wish to speak to you ever again and I’ll never forgive you—’

  ‘Oh, come now, darling, you know you still love me.’ His voice was beguiling.

  ‘No, I don’t. I can’t bear the sight of you.’

  He laughed then. ‘Oh, you know you don’t mean that.’

  ‘Oh, but I do, and if you come a step nearer I’ll throw this mug of tea at you.’

  Tony laughed again, lunged forward and took the mug from her—just as the doctor came quietly through the door, tapped his elbow and sent hot tea pouring down his shirt and fashionable city suit. A few drops splashed his face too and he wiped them away furiously.

  ‘You clumsy…’

  He saw who it was then; he saw Tod too, standing by his master, all gleaming teeth and rumbling growls.

  ‘Am I interrupting something?’ asked the doctor genially. ‘Is Mr Beamish annoying you, Leonora?’

  She said, ‘Yes. Please make him go away. I don’t seem able to make him understand that I don’t want to see or hear from him again.’

  ‘Quite right,’ agreed the doctor. ‘Perhaps I should warn him that it might be as well if he did just that, for I don’t like to see my friends harassed.’

  He smiled at Tony, his eyes cold. ‘I am a mild man, but if I get annoyed I can lose my temper. So be off with you, Beamish, and don’t show your face here again or there might be trouble. You had better take that suit to the cleaners as soon as possible; tea stains are difficult to remove.’

  He stood aside and added gently, ‘If you go quietly Tod won’t bite you.’

  Tony went without a word, casting an apprehensive eye at Tod, who leered at him.

  The doctor shut the door after Tony had gone and turned to look at Leonora. She was still sitting at the desk, looking at the notes on it, determined not to cry. She had been overjoyed to see the doctor but now she felt humiliated too. He seemed to be everlastingly helping her out of awkward situations; he must consider her a fool…

  ‘Well, now that’s dealt with,’ said the doctor, ‘we’ll go back and have our lunch.’

  She still wouldn’t look at him. ‘Thank you for coming when you did. It was lucky you did. Do you know that Mrs Crisp can’t come? I’ll stay here—I’ve nothing much to do at home this afternoon.’

  ‘I’ll take the calls on my phone; I’ll drive you home when we’ve eaten. I’m famished.’

  ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I do mind. Where is your British phlegm, Leonora?’

  ‘My phlegm? Oh…’ She smiled then and looked at him. ‘Why do you always say the right thing, Dr Galbraith?’ She got up and picked up the mug from the floor. ‘I didn’t know he was coming.’ She gave the doctor a questioning look. ‘Did you?’

  He smiled at her. ‘Not until Cricket told me. Cricket always has his ear to the ground; he never misses a whisper of gossip or news and this is a small village. And Beamish passed me in his car as I drove back.’ He saw her look. ‘No, I didn’t intend to interfere, Leonora. I supposed that you would be home and he would have to deal with your parents as well as you, and it is hardly any of my business. But Cricket’s information rather changed my plans.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much. I expect he would have gone but I—I was glad when you came in with Tod.’

  ‘Oh, Tod can put the fear of God into anyone,’ said the doctor easily.

  ‘I think you can too,’ said Leonora.

  She went with him then, back through the village and into Buntings, to find Cricket waiting, his sombre countenance breaking into a wintry smile at the sight of her. While they had been gone he had whisked up a feather-light cheese omelette, made a jug of lemonade, since he had decided that Miss Crosby wasn’t a young lady to drink the doctor’s beer, and prepared a little dish of chocolates to go with the coffee.

  All of which Leonora enjoyed, almost her normal, matter-of-fact self once more. Only as they drank their coffee did she ask, ‘You don’t think he’ll come back again?’

  ‘No, I’m quite sure he won’t.’ The doctor handed her the dish. ‘Have another of these chocolates. I don’t know where Cricket gets them but they are quite good.’

  Presently he drove her home. ‘I’ll have a word with your father if I may,’ he told her as they got out of the car.

  ‘Yes, of course. Don’t leave Tod there; he likes Wilkins; they can go into the garden.’

  As Tod joined them she said, ‘We could go in through the garden door. I dare say Wilkins is somewhere in the garden at the back.’

  He came to meet them and after a moment’s wariness he lumbered off with Tod.

  The garden door needed a coat of paint and its framework was by no means solid, and inside the house, going down the stone-floored passage towards the kitchen, the doctor saw the woeful state of the walls. He said nothing, of course, but Leonora said over her shoulder, ‘We don’t use this part of the house very much. It will be a great deal drier once we’ve had the roof repaired.’

  ‘Old houses are difficult to maintain,’ observed the doctor mildly, ‘but it is surprising how well they last. Well built in the first place, of course.’

  ‘Great-Great-Grandfather had it built,’ said Leonora, and opened the door into the kitchen.

  Nanny was sitting in her own particular chair by the Aga, knitting, and made to get up.

  ‘No, don’t move, Nanny,’ said Leonora. ‘We came in this way because of the dogs. I’m just taking Dr Galbraith to see Father.’

  ‘You’ll stay for tea?’ said Nanny.

  He refused with regret. ‘I must go back and do some work—letters and so on. They do pile up. Another time if I may.’

  ‘You’re always welcome in this house,’ said Nanny, ‘and I speak for everyone in it.’

  Leonora took the doctor to her father’s study and then left them and went in search of her mother.

  ‘Darling—you’re late home. Have you been busy? The Dowlings phoned; Mrs Dowling wants you to go over when you can spare a minute—something to do with the jumble stall. I didn’t hear you come in.’

  ‘I brought Dr Galbraith through the garden door; he wanted to see Father.’

  ‘I wonder why?’ Lady Crosby put down the book she was reading and looked at Leonora. ‘Is your father ill? No one told me.’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that. Tony Beamish came to the surgery earlier; I think Dr Galbraith thought it better if he talked to Father about him.’

  ‘Oh, dear. Was he horrid? But you weren’t alone with him?’

  ‘Only for a short while before Dr Galbraith came back to the surgery.’

  ‘And…?’ said Lady Crosby. ‘Did he send Tony packing?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leonora. She would have liked to tell her mother all about it but, much as she loved her parent, she was aware that anything unpleasant or worrying was ignored by her. She would tell Nanny presently and they would have a good laugh over it.

  The two men came into the room a little later and her father said, ‘I’m sorry that you have been bothered by young Beamish, my dear. I understand from Dr Galbraith that we are unlikely to see or hear from him again.’ Sir William blew out his moustache and looked fierce. ‘The scoundrel, wanting to turn us out of ou
r home, pretending to be in love with Leonora. It must have been pretence; no man would behave in such a manner towards the girl he intended to marry.’

  The doctor, watching Leonora, saw her blush and reflected that she should do that more often; it turned her pretty face into a thing of beauty. Even in her rather dull country clothes she was lovely. He had a sudden wish to see her decked out in haute couture and jewels—sapphires and pearls, he thought, long, dangling earrings and rings on her fingers. She had pretty hands…

  ‘You must come to dinner one evening.’ Lady Crosby’s voice cut into his thoughts. ‘We don’t entertain much these days, but we are always glad to see our friends and neighbours.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Is Leonora proving satisfactory at the surgery?’

  ‘Indeed she is, Lady Crosby. I’m thinking of asking her to stay on permanently—part-time, perhaps, sharing with Mrs Crisp when she returns.’

  ‘Really? Well, why not? It is quite proper for us to help in the village in any way we can.’

  The doctor didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘You are quite right, Lady Crosby; I am glad you agree with me.’ He shook hands then, said a few words to Sir William, and added casually to Leonora, ‘I’ll see you around five o’clock,’ and followed her out into the hall. At the door he whistled for Tod and got into his car, aware that Leonora was glowering at him from the steps.

  He didn’t drive away but opened his door and got out, leaning on the car roof, watching her come towards him.

  ‘What’s all this, then?’ she wanted to know. ‘Have I been asked if I want to go on working for you?’ She added coldly, ‘It’s usual to be asked before it’s talked about.’

  He considered this muddled speech. ‘I apologise; I was attacking you from the rear, wasn’t I? But when you’ve cooled down, Leonora, consider the offer, will you? And let me know when you’ve made up your mind.’

  He got back into the car and she stuck her head through the window.

  ‘Of course I’ll come permanently,’ she told him. She sniffed. ‘Since I’ve been asked…’

  ‘Splendid.’ He raised a hand and drove away. ‘Now what possessed me to do that?’ he enquired of Tod sitting beside him.

  Tod didn’t answer. Eyes half-shut, he was comfortably drowsy after a good romp in the garden with Wilkins.

  Leonora went back into the house and found her father in his study.

  ‘You like the idea of working for Dr Galbraith?’ he asked her as she went in. ‘It curtails your freedom…’

  ‘Father, if I had all day with nothing to do—’ and that’s a joke, she reflected, thinking of the bed-making and hoovering and cooking, about which he was apparently unaware ‘—I would have to fill it with doing the flowers and helping Mrs Dowling with her bazaars and visiting. I really enjoy it.’

  She hesitated. ‘And Father, I get well paid and I don’t need the money.’ A fib, that! ‘Could we have the roof over the kitchen mended? If I lent you the money? I really have no use for it, and if I put it in the bank it’s just there doing nothing, whereas the tiles are falling off all the time.’ She saw his frown. ‘Please, Father…’

  ‘The money is yours, my dear; you must wish to spend it on some new clothes—something for your mother, perhaps.’

  ‘There’s enough for that as well. It’s too soon to buy clothes for the summer anyway, but I’ll take Mother up to town later on and we’ll shop. The roof first, though!’ She smiled at him. ‘Just between us two.’

  ‘I do not care to take money from my daughter,’ said Sir William.

  ‘You’re not; I’m lending it. It makes sense, you know, for if one or two repairs aren’t made the house will fall apart and won’t be of much use to me when I eventually get it.’

  ‘There’s that, of course. Very well, my dear, provided that you promise to spend your money on yourself once the roof is seen to. I’ll get Sims to come round and inspect it. He might deal with it while this weather holds.’

  She went to him then and kissed the top of his head. ‘Don’t tell Mother.’

  Sir William allowed himself to smile. ‘No, no, I won’t. In any case your mother has very little idea about repairs and so forth.’

  Leonora went to the door. ‘I’m going to make scones for tea…’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, Leonora. I’m sorry about Tony Beamish. Your whole future.’

  Leonora said matter-of-factly, ‘Father, it would have been a disastrous one. I much prefer the future Dr Galbraith has offered me and living here in the village. I would have been unhappy in London and I’m sure that is where Tony and I would have lived for most of the time.’

  Nanny, told of Leonora’s job probably turning out to be a permanent one, was pleased. ‘You’ll see a bit of life even if it’s only the folk living around here. And you’ll have a bit of money to call your own.’ She glanced at Leonora. ‘You like working for the doctor? You like him as a person?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I didn’t think I was going to at first but he kind of grows on one, Nanny, and he was rather splendid when Tony turned up.’

  ‘So you’ll go every morning and evening?’

  ‘Yes, but for the moment I’ll go all day; Mrs Crisp isn’t coming back for a couple of days. She had a bad migraine so she’s taking a few days off, but when she starts she’ll relieve me at half past twelve and stay until I go back at half past four. Of course, I’ll be free on Saturday afternoons and Sunday.’

  ‘Well, that’s nice,’ said Nanny cosily, and thought how well the pair of them were suited. Perhaps if they saw more of each other… ‘I’ll make the tea if those scones are ready; it’s almost time for you to go to the surgery.’

  Dr Galbraith had nothing to say about Tony when she saw him that evening. There weren’t many patients and when he had seen the last one he bade her goodnight, reminded her to lock up carefully and drove away. She watched him go, feeling vaguely disgruntled, although she reminded herself that she had no reason to be.

  The doctor would be away for the weekend; she had been given a phone number to contact his stand-in at Wells and the phone had been switched through to him. ‘I’ll be taking over again early on Monday morning. Enjoy your weekend.’ He had gone before she could reply.

  Well, she would enjoy her weekend, she supposed. A long-delayed visit to the Dowlings to discuss the bazaar, her turn to do the flowers in church, and her mother had some friends coming to tea in the afternoon. Leonora felt restless. She wondered where the doctor was going—to see whoever it was who had called his dog Tod? He had made no secret of his affection for her, had he? I hope she’s nice, reflected Leonora; he deserves a good wife.

  She thought about him a good deal during the weekend, imagining him in a variety of situations—at the theatre, dining out with the unknown girl, meeting friends. In fact she thought about him so much that she quite forgot to think about Tony. He had disappeared out of mind as well as out of sight.

  Leonora’s imaginings were very wide of the mark. The doctor spent his weekend with his sister who lived with her farmer husband and three children in a lovely old house on the outskirts of Napton on the Hill, a small village in Warwickshire. Far from the theatre-going and dining out that Leonora had envisaged, he walked and rode and pottered around in old tweeds, ate huge meals in the vast old-fashioned kitchen and kicked a football around with his two small nephews. When he was tired he sat down and his small niece climbed onto his lap and demanded stories. She wanted to know about Tod too.

  ‘He’s very well,’ her uncle assured her. ‘Though that’s a funny sort of name you gave him. A young lady I know doesn’t much like it.’

  ‘What young lady?’ his sister, who had just joined them, wanted to know.

  ‘A quite beautiful young lady with a great deal of dark hair and a sharp tongue. Very sensible too.’

  ‘Lives in the village?’

  ‘Yes. I imagine her ancestors owned it at one time. She lives in a lovely house that’s mouldering away for lack of money, with her mother and father.’


  ‘And does good works?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘Well, go on,’ said his sister. ‘Is she married, engaged, and do you like her?’

  ‘She was going to be married but luckily no longer, neither is she engaged—not at the moment. Yes, I like her. A series of—er—happenings made it possible for me to ask her to be my receptionist at the surgery. She’s quite good—needs the money to have the roof repaired.’

  ‘But if she’s the daughter of the manor…’ began his sister.

  ‘I used cunning; I implied that she would be undertaking vital charitable work.’

  ‘You’ve been to a lot of trouble.’

  The doctor sat back with his eyes closed. ‘Funnily enough, until now I was unable to understand why.’ He opened one eye. ‘Is it time for tea?’

  He was about to get into his car on Sunday evening when his brother-in-law said, ‘Molly would like to come over and see you. Would that be all right?’

  The doctor smiled. ‘Jeffrey, Molly wants to get a look at my new receptionist. Of course you must all come—make it a Saturday if you can; on Sunday she is much taken up with church and Sunday lunch.’

  He got into his car and Tod got in beside him. ‘I’ll do my best to arrange a meeting but it’s quite likely that she will refuse to come. She isn’t sure if she likes me. You see, I have been witness to some of her more delicate situations.’ He laughed. ‘Why, when we met for the first time she tripped up in the lane and sat down hard a few yards from the car. Very tart she was too, and then disarmed me completely by apologising for being rude. You’ll like her.’

  He thought about her as he drove back to Pont Magna. ‘She is beginning to take up too many of my thoughts,’ he told Tod, ‘probably because I haven’t met a girl like her before—and I’m not sure if I want that.’

  He pulled one of Tod’s silky ears gently. ‘Ah, well, back to work in the morning and that will give me plenty to think about.’

  So when Leonora arrived on Monday and poked her head round the surgery door to say good morning she was taken aback by his cool rejoinder and impersonal blandness.

  He’s quarrelled with her, she reflected, finding notes and marshalling the patients into seats. A full house too—nasty coughs, a black eye, a toddler with suspicious spots and the snuffles, and the verger, who had fallen down the last few steps of the narrow, winding stairs to the church tower and had got some nasty bruises as a result.