The Daughter of the Manor

by Betty Neels

  Short of turning and running for it there was nothing she could do about it, not with Cricket watching. She said nothing at all in a rather marked manner, told Cricket what a delightful tea he had given them, and walked out of the door, stiff with dignity.

  ‘Why are you cross?’ asked the doctor blandly, strolling along beside her. ‘Is it because I called you a big girl or because I kissed you?’

  ‘Both,’ snapped Leonora. ‘And I would much prefer to walk home alone.’

  He ignored this. ‘But you are a big girl,’ he pointed out in a reasonable voice. ‘But, I must add, most splendidly shaped; to say otherwise would be an outrage.’

  ‘You shouldn’t talk to me like this,’ said Leonora, marching along, very red in the face.

  ‘Should I not have kissed you either? I enjoyed it.’

  So did I, thought Leonora, although she wasn’t going to say so. She kept a haughty silence and saw Mrs Pike peering at them from the closed door of her shop, which prompted her to say in a peevish voice, ‘There is absolutely no need to walk home with me.’

  He stopped and turned her round to face him. ‘I do not know what has made you so contrary. We are colleagues, are we not? And I thought we were friends.’ He grinned down at her. ‘And I wonder what Mrs Pike thinks we are?’

  ‘Is she still peeping? Oh, please, Dr Galbraith, may we walk on?’

  ‘Call me James…’

  ‘James,’ she went on, ‘you’re impossible…’

  She stopped. He wasn’t impossible; he was James who laughed at her because she was a big girl and was silly about being kissed, and she wished she had never met him. She wished too that she didn’t love him. Why would she discover that in the middle of the village’s main street with curtains twitching right and left of them?

  They were walking on, side by side, not touching. She felt quite dizzy with the sudden discovery of her love. This was love, she realised; whatever she had felt for Tony hadn’t been that—more of an infatuation, she supposed. She wanted to tell James, which was absurd; instead, anxious to break the silence between them, she started to talk about the children.

  He answered her with casual good nature and it amazed her that he couldn’t know how she felt. But why should he?

  At the house, he stayed for a short time, talking to her mother and father, then he bade her a brisk goodbye and strode off home, turning to wave at the open gate.

  ‘Who else was there?’ her mother wanted to know. ‘He has many friends, I’m sure.’

  ‘Well, there was his sister and brother-in-law and their three children.’

  ‘No one else? How extraordinary. Was it boring, darling?’

  ‘No. We played hide-and-seek all over the house—the children are charming.’ Leonora smiled to herself. ‘We had tea round the table in the dining room—with the children…’

  ‘Surely there was a nanny?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She was having the afternoon off.’

  Lady Crosby picked up her book. ‘Well, as long as you weren’t bored, Leonora. It sounds to me like the waste of an afternoon—you would have enjoyed yourself more if you had gone to the Dowlings’. Their niece is staying—such a pretty girl; plenty of money, I hear; I’m surprised Dr Galbraith wasn’t invited.’

  Leonora felt an instant hatred for the niece. She said abruptly, ‘I’ll go and see if Nanny needs any help with dinner,’ and took herself off to the kitchen, where she got in Nanny’s way until she was told to take Wilkins for a walk. ‘For I don’t know what’s got into you, Miss Leonora,’ said Nanny. ‘Proper crotchety you are and no mistake.’

  So she took Wilkins out into the garden and then into the park, and since there was no one else to tell she told him all about James.

  ‘I can quite see,’ she told him, ‘that it’s being an only child. I mean I can’t talk to Mother and Father, if you see what I mean—talk to them like they were all talking together at James’s house, saying what they really meant and knowing that the others were listening…’

  Wilkins pressed up against her, staring up into her face with soft brown eyes; he was her friend and offering sympathy, and Leonora, who almost never cried, cried a little now and felt better. ‘I’ll see him on Monday,’ she said, and blew her pretty nose and went back indoors and laid the table for Nanny.

  She woke several times during the night, thinking about James, longing to see him and at the same time dreading their meeting. She would have to behave as though nothing had changed and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to manage that. To give up her job at the surgery would be the easiest way out of her dilemma; on the other hand, if she did that she wouldn’t see him. Besides, Sims was going to start on the roof on Monday morning and would expect to be paid. She slept at length and woke with a heavy head.

  Monday wasn’t as bad as she had expected. For one thing the surgery was full and when the doctor came in there was no time for more than a brief good morning, and, for another, when he had dealt with his patients he went away at once, not waiting for his usual cup of coffee. He wasn’t back when Mrs Crisp arrived and Leonora took herself off home.

  If I can get through one day like that, I can get through the rest of them—until he finds a receptionist to suit him, she thought. She had calculated that Mr Sims would take three weeks to patch the roof; once that was done, if she didn’t want to go on working for James she could think up some excuse and leave. After all, she had only gone to fill a gap, hadn’t she? She refused to think further than that; a future without the doctor wasn’t to be contemplated…

  She managed very nicely during the next two weeks, offering him chilly good mornings and good evenings, making sure that there was never a chance for them to be alone. It took all her ingenuity at times, and the doctor, puzzled and a little amused, wondered what she was up to.

  He played along with her; he was kind and friendly and impassive. He knew by now that he loved her and intended to marry her but he was content to await events. Something was worrying his Leonora and, being a man without conceit, he was quite unaware of the truth.

  The roof repaired, Mr Sims took away his ladders and Leonora’s cheque, and since there was no further excuse to make as to why she had to continue working Leonora sought for a way of ending a situation which from her point of view was becoming increasingly awkward. Only the day before, James had suggested that she might like to have lunch with him at Buntings so that she could admire the garden. Her refusal had been so instant that he had lifted an eyebrow, watching her red face and listening to her trying to soften her sharp reply.

  ‘That is, thank you very much, but I said I’d be home as soon as possible; I’ve several things to see to.’

  He had smiled then and said placidly, ‘Of course—another time.’ Then he’d begun to talk about one of his patients who wanted to alter his appointment.

  It wouldn’t do—she would have to think of something.

  As it turned out, she had no need to do that.

  It was the following day, when she got home in time for lunch, that she found Nanny sitting in the kitchen looking flushed, and coughing a nasty little dry cough.

  ‘You’ve caught cold,’ said Leonora, and bustled her off to bed with a hot-water bottle and a hot drink and some aspirin. ‘You stay there, Nanny—I’ll see to the lunch and tea, and get supper when I get back this evening. Don’t you dare get out of bed.’

  ‘I’ll feel better presently,’ said Nanny, and fell into an uneasy doze.

  Lady Crosby, informed of Nanny’s poorly state, made a little face.

  ‘Oh, dear, poor Nanny. Do you suppose it’s flu? I’d better not go near her; you know how easily I catch things. I expect you can manage, darling. We can have an easy meal this evening—something you can deal with when you get back from the surgery. I don’t suppose we need to send for Dr Galbraith.’

  ‘Well, if Nanny’s not better tomorrow I think you had better, Mother.’

  ‘Of course if Nanny’s ill she must be looked after. You’ll se
e him this evening, won’t you? Or tomorrow morning? I dare say it’s just a feverish cold. Nanny is never ill.’

  Leonora got the lunch, tidied up, took a look at Nanny and found her sleeping, and went to get the tea-tray ready and then examine the contents of the fridge. It would have to be a corned beef pie, disguised in a handsome dish. There were vegetables enough and some prawns in the freezer—prawn cocktails, she decided, the pie with a variety of vegetables and an egg custard. She could make a sauce from strawberry jam when she got home that evening.

  She made Nanny a jug of lemonade before she left, turned her pillows and bathed her hot face and asked her mother to take a look from time to time. ‘You don’t need to go into Nanny’s room—if you’d just take a look to make sure she’s all right.’

  ‘Very well, dear, since there is no one else. Supposing Nanny wants something or feels worse?’

  ‘I’m sure you can cope, Mother, and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.’

  Lady Crosby looked vexed. ‘To think that you should have been marrying Tony and looking forward to a settled future…’

  Leonora thought of several answers to that but none of them seemed suitable.

  There was only a handful of patients at the surgery and Leonora glanced with relief at the clock as she started tidying up.

  The doctor saw that. ‘Going out this evening?’ he asked casually.

  ‘No. Oh, no. Nanny’s got a bad cold so I said I’d get dinner this evening. She’s keeping warm in bed.’

  He was at his desk, locking the drawers, putting papers in his case.

  ‘Not often ill, is she? A vigorous little lady.’

  ‘She’s a darling,’ said Leonora warmly. ‘I don’t know how we would manage without her.’

  ‘No—well, don’t hang around. I’ll lock up and see you in the morning. Let me know if you are worried about her and I’ll take a look.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, I will.’

  She hurried home and found her mother playing patience in the drawing room while her father read.

  ‘How’s Nanny?’ she asked.

  Her mother looked up. ‘Hello, darling. I peeped in once or twice; she seemed quite comfortable—coughing a bit, but what does one expect with a heavy cold?’ She turned over a card. ‘Are you going to be a clever girl and cook our dinner?’ She smiled sweetly at Leonora. ‘Something nice?’ she added coaxingly.

  ‘I’ll surprise you,’ said Leonora, and sped away, not to the kitchen but to Nanny’s room.

  Nanny was awake, hot and restless and thirsty. ‘Your ma popped in but I didn’t like to bother her,’ she said when Leonora frowned at the empty jug.

  ‘I’m going to wash your hands and face and put you into a fresh nightie and make your bed,’ said Leonora. ‘Then I’ll bring you some soup and after that a cup of tea and some more aspirin.’ She picked up the jug. ‘Give me five minutes, Nanny.’

  She whisked herself into the kitchen, popped the prepared pie in the oven, put the vegetables on the slow burner and set the soup to warm. There was still a lemon; she made a jug of lemonade, lavishly iced, and bore it back to Nanny’s room before gently washing her, sitting her in a chair while she made the bed and fetched more pillows. Then she settled her against them, a shawl around her shoulders.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Nanny. ‘I do believe I’d like some of that soup.’

  The dinner was cooking itself, thank heaven. Leonora took the soup upstairs and before Nanny started on it took her temperature. It was up—not frighteningly so, but none the less higher than it should be.

  In the morning, she decided, she would ask James to come and see Nanny—perhaps an antibiotic…? At the moment Nanny seemed easier and when Leonora slipped up to look at her just before she dished up she was asleep.

  She reassured her mother at dinner. ‘Nanny’s asleep at present; if she has a quiet night I dare say her temperature will be down in the morning.’

  ‘We can’t have Nanny ill,’ observed her father. ‘Perhaps we should get Dr Galbraith to look in tomorrow some-time.’ He glanced at Leonora. ‘You can manage, my dear. I dare say we can get extra help…’

  He looked around vaguely as if to conjure domestic help out of the walls and Leonora said quickly, ‘No need, Father, I can manage.’

  And her mother said, ‘Of course you can, darling, and I’ll help.’

  Leonora thanked her gravely, both she and her father aware that Lady Crosby had no intention of altering her gentle day’s routine. She had always had a sheltered life, first as a girl with doting parents and then as a wife cherished by a husband who shrugged off her inability to cope with domestic problems.

  At first that hadn’t mattered, for there had been money enough to employ a housekeeper and help in the house, and now, since he had lost most of his money, it was too late to change her ways. Leonora knew that too and accepted it. All the same, if Nanny were to be ill for more than a day or two it would be difficult to manage even with the help she had from the village.

  She was a sensible girl; she decided to worry about that if and when it happened, and after a last peep at Nanny went to bed.

  It was just after three o’clock when she woke, and a vague feeling of uneasiness got her out of bed, to creep out of her room and along the wide corridor leading to the passage where Nanny had her room.

  Nanny was muttering and mumbling to herself, half choking on a nasty little cough, and she felt hotter than ever.

  ‘Nanny,’ said Leonora, ‘how do you feel? Shall I get you a drink and bathe your face—cool you down a bit?’

  Nanny didn’t seem to hear, looking past her at the empty room, whispering to someone she couldn’t see. Leonora turned the bedside lamp so that the light shone on Nanny. Her face was grey and somehow grown small and her breathing was harsh and quick.

  Leonora flew through the house and down the staircase and picked up the phone. At the sound of the doctor’s quiet voice she let out a great sigh of thankfulness.

  ‘James, it’s Nanny. She’s ill—hot and restless and her breathing’s funny—and she doesn’t know me.’

  ‘Unlock the front door and go back to her.’ His matter-of-fact manner steadied her. ‘I’ll be with you in ten minutes.’

  It was less than that when he came quietly into the room. He was wearing a thick sweater and trousers, his hair stood on end and there was a faint stubble on his chin, but his manner was as cool and self-assured as though he were in his surgery.

  He took one look at Leonora. ‘Go and put on a dressing gown before you catch cold; we may be here for a little while.’

  His tone was impersonal but she flushed a little, until that moment forgetful of the fact that she had rushed to Nanny in a cotton nightie and bare feet. She nodded and disappeared silently, to reappear moments later, her dressing gown fastened tightly around her, slippers on her feet.

  The doctor was bending over Nanny, going over her chest with his stethoscope. Presently he stood up. ‘Pneumonia. I’ll give her an injection—an antibiotic—and see if I can find her a bed. She needs hospital treatment.’

  Leonora’s eyes looked enormous in her pale face. ‘She’ll hate that…’

  His voice was very gentle. ‘At the moment she isn’t very aware of where she is—she’ll only need to stay for a few days until the antibiotics do their work, then we can have her back.’

  He took his phone from his pocket and dialled and Leonora stood as quiet as a mouse, holding Nanny’s hand, listening to his calm voice.

  ‘There’s a bed at Bath; I’ll get an ambulance; the sooner she gets there the better.’ He glanced at her. ‘Get a bag and pack a few things, will you?’

  ‘Yes. May I go with her? Please…’

  ‘I’ll take you in the car; I’ll see her safely in bed and bring you back here—hopefully in time for morning surgery.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll go and dress and get Nanny’s things together. Will you be all right here?’

  He checked a smile and assured her gravely that
he would be.

  She tore into the first clothes she laid hands on, washed her face, dragged a comb through her hair and tied it back with a bit of ribbon, before going back to pack a bag for Nanny. An easy task. Nanny’s drawers were immaculate, garments folded exactly, beautifully ironed, smelling of lavender bags. Leonora packed her old-fashioned nighties, her dressing gown and slippers and brush and comb and bag of toiletries, added her spectacles and the Bible she kept on her bedside table and closed the case.

  The doctor was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Nanny, completely relaxed. ‘Shall I make a cup of tea?’ she asked. ‘I got you out of bed very early…’

  ‘A splendid idea, and bring a pencil and paper with you. You must leave a note for your mother and father. You don’t want to wake them?’

  ‘They would worry. Perhaps I could phone them from the hospital.’

  ‘A good idea. The ambulance should be here in fifteen minutes or so.’

  She crept down to the kitchen and made tea. Wilkins, from his basket by the Aga, was pleased to see her, accepted a biscuit and went back to sleep, and she went back upstairs with two mugs and more biscuits on a tray.

  While they ate and drank she composed a note and showed it to the doctor. ‘Would that do? I don’t want to upset them.’

  He gave her a thoughtful look, read the note and handed it back. ‘That’s fine. If you’ve finished your tea, we’ll get Nanny wrapped up ready for the ambulancemen. They may wake your parents…’

  ‘Probably not; their room is at the back of the house and there’s a door to the passage leading to it. Shall I creep in and leave the note? And then if they’re awake I can tell them.’

  He nodded without speaking and began to wrap Nanny carefully in a blanket. She was quieter now, unaware that she was coughing.

  Leonora whispered, ‘Is she very ill?’ She added sharply, ‘Tell me the truth.’

  ‘Yes, but I hope that we have caught it in time. She’s a tough little lady.’ He listened. ‘There’s the ambulance. Go and let them in; tell them to be quiet.’