Книга - An Ideal Wife

An Ideal Wife
Betty Neels


Mills & Boon presents the complete Betty Neels collection. Timeless tales of heart-warming romance by one of the world’s best-loved romance authors.A most suitable match! Louisa Howarth enjoyed her job as a doctor’s receptionist—until Dr Thomas Gifford appeared on the scene. She found Thomas aloof and demanding, but incredibly attractive. So when Louisa discovered he was engaged to the totally unsuitable Helena, she decided it was her duty to stop Thomas from making a terrible mistake.Only, Louisa hadn’t counted on her growing feelings for Thomas, or on the possibility that it wasn’t Helena he wanted to marry after all!












An Ideal Wife

Betty Neels











www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




CHAPTER ONE


IT WAS six o’clock on a glorious June morning and the sun was already shining from a blue sky. But it wasn’t sunshine which woke Louisa, it was a persistent thumping on the door knocker and presently the doorbell.

She sat up and peered at the clock by the bed. Far too early for the postman, and the milkman had no reason to make such a racket. She turned over and closed her eyes, still not quite awake, and then shot up in bed as the knocker was thumped again. She got out of bed then, flung on a dressing gown and went quickly downstairs. Whoever it was must be stopped before her stepmother was awakened, besides, neighbours living decorously in the quiet little street would complain.

She unbolted the door and was confronted by a man tall and broad enough to blot out the street beyond him. She had the impression of good looks and angry blue eyes as he spoke.

‘And about time, too. Must I stand here for ever, banging on your door?’

‘Not unless you want to. Are you drunk or something? It’s barely six o’clock in the morning.’

He didn’t look drunk, she reflected. His clothes were casual—trousers and a thin pullover—and he needed a shave. Louisa, who had a vivid imagination, wondered if he was an escaped prisoner on the run.

‘What do you want?’ she added stupidly. ‘And go away, do.’

‘I do not want anything and I am only too anxious to go away, but if you will look behind that bay tree beside the door you will see someone whom I presume belongs to you. She was half in and half out of your gate.’

Louisa nipped down the steps and peered round the tub. ‘Oh, Lord, it’s Biddy.’

She glanced at the man. ‘Our housekeeper.’ She bent to touch Biddy’s cheek. ‘She’s all right?’

‘She appears to be suffering a severe migraine. Be good enough to open the door wide and I will carry her in.’

Louisa pattered ahead on her bare feet, down the elegant little hall, into the kitchen and through the door at the end into the spare room. She flung back the counterpane and covered Biddy after he laid her on the bed.

‘I’d better get our doctor …’

‘No need. Let her sleep it off.’

He was already walking away, and she hurried to keep up with him.

‘Well, thank you very much. It was kind of you to stop. I hope it hasn’t made you late for work.’

He didn’t answer, only walked through the hall and out of the door without looking round.

‘You have no need to be so ill-tempered,’ said Louisa, and closed the door smartly on his broad back. If she had stayed for a moment she would have seen him cross the street and get into the Bentley standing there, but she went back to see Biddy, putting the kettle on as she went.

An hour later Louisa went upstairs to dress. Biddy would be fit for nothing for quite a few hours; Louisa would have to wake her stepmother before she left for work and break the news to her that she would have to get her own breakfast.

Downstairs once more, Louisa crammed down cornflakes and tea while she got early morning tea for her stepmother and then nipped upstairs once again.

Her stepmother’s bedroom was shrouded in semi-darkness, cluttered with discarded clothes and redolent of an overpowering scent. Louisa pulled back the curtains and put her tray down beside the bed.

She said, ‘Good morning, Felicity,’ in a voice nicely calculated to rouse the supine figure on the bed. ‘Biddy isn’t well. She’s in bed, and I don’t think she’ll feel well enough to get up for the rest of the day. I’ve brought you your tea and laid breakfast for you in the kitchen.’

Mrs Howarth moaned softly and dragged herself up against her pillows.

‘Louisa, must you come bouncing in like this? You know how delicate my nerves are. And what’s all this about Biddy? Of course she’s not ill. How am I supposed to manage without her? You’ll have to stay home …’

Louisa looked at her stepmother who was still an attractive woman, even with her hair in rollers and no make-up. ‘Sorry. Sir James is booked solid all day and his nurses won’t have a moment to answer phone calls and check in the patients. You can go out to lunch. I’ll be home around six o’clock, and we can have a meal then. I dare say Biddy will be all right again by tomorrow. A migraine,’ said Louisa.

‘You could have brought me my breakfast,’ complained Mrs Howarth.

‘I’m just off,’ Louisa told her. ‘I’ll take a quick look at Biddy before I go.’

Biddy was awake, feeling sorry for herself. ‘Miss Louisa, I dunno how I got here …’

‘well, you got as far as the gate,’ said Louisa. ‘Someone passing saw you and thumped the knocker.’

‘The missus didn’t hear?’

‘No, no. I told her that you were very poorly. Once your head’s better, you’ll be quite yourself again.’

‘Bless you, Miss Louisa. I got an awful ‘eadache.’

‘Yes, but it will get better, Biddy. Try and go to sleep again. I’ve put some milk here by your bed and some dry biscuits.’ She stooped and kissed the elderly cheek. ‘Poor old Biddy. I must fly or I’ll get the sack.’

‘You ought not to be working,’ said Biddy. ‘There’s money enough; spends it all on herself, she does. It ain’t fair.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Biddy. I like my job, and I meet lots of interesting people.’

‘You ought ter ‘ave a young man …’

‘No time,’ said Louisa cheerfully. ‘Now, have another nap, Biddy, and don’t try and get up—whatever Mrs Howarth says.’

Louisa caught her usual bus by the skin of her teeth, raced up Castle Street as fast as she dared without actually running, and hurried through the dignified portals of Sir James Wilberforce’s consulting rooms. She heaved a sigh of relief as she opened the waiting room door; it was empty save for a pretty girl in nurse’s uniform who was putting down the phone as Louisa crossed the room.

‘You’re late,’ Jilly said unnecessarily. ‘He wants you in there as soon as you arrive.’ She added at Louisa’s questioning look, ‘He’s in a good mood.’

Louisa tapped at the door of the consulting room and was bidden in Sir James’s fruity voice to enter. He was standing looking out of his window, but turned to look at her as she went in. He was a short, stout man with a wealth of silver hair and a round face with small, bright eyes. His patients loved him despite his forthright manner.

He wasn’t alone. The man standing beside Sir James turned when he did and gave Louisa a cool stare. Immaculate in his sober grey suit and silk tie, he looked very different from the man who had thumped the door knocker so fiercely that morning. Well, not different, thought Louisa, only the clothes. He was just as tall, his person was just as vast, and his eyes just as cold.

Sir James peered at her over his glasses. ‘Good morning, Miss Howarth. I mustn’t keep you from your work, but I must make you known to Dr Gifford. He is to become my part-time partner, taking over when I am on holiday or called away for any length of time. We shall see him once or twice a week, and you will work for him as you do for me.’

He beamed at her, and she realised that she was expected to show some sort of pleased acquiescence.

‘I’ll do my best,’ said Louisa inadequately, and stared at Dr Gifford’s waistcoat. ‘How do you do?’

He said smoothly, ‘I’m sure that Miss Howarth and I will work well together.’

Sir James said cheerfully, ‘Oh, I’m sure you will. She is most reliable—a splendid worker. Not easily put out either.’ He chuckled. ‘Copes with emergencies …’

Louisa shot a look at Dr Gifford. He was smiling. She didn’t much care for the smile. She said rather tartly, ‘Fortunately, these occur very rarely.’

‘Ah, well,’ said Sir James cheerfully. ‘One never knows what lies round the corner. Thank you, Miss Howarth; I expect you will wish to get on with your work.’

Louisa murmured and slid away. For a big girl she was very light and quick on her feet. Dr Gifford, listening gravely to his colleague’s observations, considered her at his leisure. Big, but beautiful with it. All that tawny hair piled up in a rather haphazard arrangement, that lovely face with its wide grey eyes, haughty little nose and too large mouth which lifted at its corners, and a nasty temper when roused, he reflected.

Louisa went back to her desk and began the day’s work: answering the phone, booking patients, greeting them with just the right amount of friendly sympathy they hoped for, offering them cups of coffee, cheering the faint-hearted, providing the social side of the practice while Mrs Grant, Sir James’s head practice nurse, dealt with the more tiresome aspects of it. They got on well together, she and Louisa. Mrs Grant was a motherly woman, and she was comfortably plump with a bright rosy-cheeked face and iron-grey hair.

Louisa sat down at her desk, and since there were no patients for the moment Mrs Grant popped out of her little treatment room.

‘Jilly’s gone for coffee,’ she said. ‘She may be pretty but, my goodness, she’s slow. What was all that about? Sir James introduced me to Dr Gifford; he looks nice enough.’

‘I’m sure he’s a very pleasant kind of man,’ said Louisa, not meaning a word of it. ‘Jilly must be delighted …’

Mrs Grant cast her a shrewd look. ‘Jilly is delighted with anyone wearing trousers. I suppose a pretty face is good for the practice.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘You’re pretty enough for several Jillys …’

Louisa said without conceit, ‘But I’m big, aren’t I? Men like wispy girls.’

Mrs Grant laughed. ‘Not all of them, love. My Ronny settled on me, didn’t he? And I’m not exactly sylph-like, am I?’

Jilly came back then, and Louisa, sitting watching her as she came into the room, had to admit that she was extremely pretty. Probably some of the younger patients, especially the men, found her very attractive.

‘Well, what did you think of him?’ she asked Louisa.

‘Dr Gifford? Well, he must be a good man if Sir James wants him for a partner. We didn’t speak, only to say how do you do.’

‘Oh, I know he must be a good doctor,’ said Jilly impatiently. ‘But didn’t you think he was frightfully good looking? And he smiled …’

‘Why shouldn’t he smile?’ asked Louisa matter-of-factly, and then added, ‘I must get on; Mrs Wyatt’s due in five minutes.’

Jilly wasn’t to be put off. ‘Don’t you like men? Haven’t you got a boyfriend?’

‘Well, of course I like men. And I do have a boyfriend. Now, do let me get on …’

She began sorting the morning’s work—patients’ notes, phone calls to make, accounts to deal with. She turned to the computer and stared into its blank face. She wasn’t sure that Percy would like to be described as a boyfriend. It would be beneath his dignity, and smacked of a relationship which he would never tolerate. Nor would she, for that matter—not that he had ever asked her opinion.

Percy, an inch shorter than she was, would have liked to call her his ‘little woman’, only great strapping girls such as she could never be that. It was a pity that he had taken it into his head that her continued refusal to marry him was merely what he called ‘womanly wiles’. Once or twice she had longed to give him a good thump and tell him to find some meek girl who wouldn’t answer him back, but she had been well brought up—there were some things one just didn’t do.

She sighed, and then smiled nicely as the next patient came in.

The last one went two hours later and Sir James went away to do his hospital rounds, taking Dr Gifford with him and leaving a pile of letters on Louisa’s desk.

‘See to that lot, Miss Howarth. Leave them on my desk and make out the cheques. Oh, and bank the cheques that have been paid, will you? I shall be back some time this afternoon.’

She watched Dr Gifford’s broad shoulders disappear through the door; he had given her a thoughtful look and said nothing, but she hadn’t expected him to. Before starting on the letters, she allowed herself to wonder if he disliked her. Hopefully she wouldn’t see much of him. She wondered where he had a practice, and later, over their lunch sandwiches, she asked Mrs Grant if she knew.

‘Didn’t Sir James tell you? A country practice not too far from here. Blandford way. Took it over when his father retired. Very rural, apparently, but lovely country.’

She bit into a cheese sandwich. ‘He’s well thought of, so I’m told.’

‘Married?’ asked Jilly, pausing on her way home. She only worked in the mornings, and did that halfheartedly. Louisa thought that Sir James employed her because she was young and pretty and that was what the patients liked. That she was pretty herself, even if she was twenty-seven, was something she didn’t regard.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Mrs Grant. ‘But don’t waste your time on him, Jilly, he’s as good as—to the Thornfolds’ youngest daughter. It’ll be a grand wedding.’

‘Will she like being a GP’s wife?’ asked Louisa.

‘If she loves him then she will,’ declared Mrs Grant.

Not an easy man to love, reflected Louisa, and began to tidy up before going back to her desk.

When she got home again that evening she found Biddy on her feet once more, looking very much the worse for wear but nonetheless preparing dinner.

‘Your Mr Witherspoon’s coming,’ she told Louisa. ‘So the missus told me to do something special.’

‘He’s not mine,’ said Louisa crossly. ‘And why must he have something special?’

‘Dunno, Miss Louisa. The missus is ‘aving a rest; tired out after the ‘airdresser’s.’

Biddy spoke without rancour. Mrs Howarth was no longer young, but she was still very attractive, even beautiful when she had her make-up on and her hair freshly dressed. Louisa agreed cheerfully; she got on well enough with her stepmother although there was no affection between them. Felicity was selfish and lazy and extravagant, but she was easygoing, too, and good company, and she could be very appealing, with her charming smile and her look of helplessness. And she was small and slender so that Louisa always felt at a disadvantage—overlarge and clumsy, conscious of her generously built person.

It was a nuisance that Percy would be coming to dinner. He had begun to take it for granted that he was welcome whenever he chose to invite himself.

She had known him for some years, and really, she had to admit, there was nothing wrong with him. A young lawyer with a secure future, he was a bit on the short side but not bad-looking and an agreeable companion. But not for life—in ten years he would be pompous and, she suspected, mean with money. But her stepmother approved of him, and Louisa, for the sake of peace, had never told her that Percy had proposed several times and she had refused him. Not that that stopped him …

As she changed into a dress and piled her hair she decided that if he proposed again she would make him understand once and for all that she wouldn’t marry him. She had never encouraged him, indeed she had discouraged him as nicely as possible without actually being rude. And a lot of good that had done …

Her stepmother was in the drawing room, leafing through a magazine. As usual she was beautifully dressed, her blonde hair expertly tinted, her face exquisitely made up. She looked up as Louisa went in.

‘Hello, darling. Had a busy day? Why are you wearing that dull dress? It makes you look positively elderly. Whatever will Percy think?’

Louisa went to the window and opened it. It overlooked a small garden at the back of the house, and beyond that there was a splendid view of the cathedral spire. She said flatly, ‘I don’t dress to please Percy.’

She turned to look at her stepmother. ‘Felicity, I don’t intend to marry him, you know. He takes it for granted and so do you, and I’ve tried to be polite about it …’

‘But, darling, he’s so safe, and you would never have to worry about anything.’

‘I don’t want to be safe. I don’t love him.’

‘There are many things more important than love,’ said Mrs Howarth sharply. ‘Security and a nice house, holidays and decent clothes.’

‘Is that why you married Father?’ asked Louisa.

‘I was very fond of your father,’ said Mrs Howarth a bit too quickly. ‘And, of course, before he lost that money we had a very pleasant home and I lacked for nothing.’ She added wistfully, ‘It’s hard to live as I do now. Genteel poverty, I believe it is called.’

Louisa didn’t reply. Her stepmother lived in some comfort and grudged herself nothing. She made no bones about accepting a generous slice of Louisa’s salary for, as she pointed out in a reasonable voice, Louisa enjoyed living in the same comfort in a pleasant house, having Biddy to see to the running of it and eating the good food provided. The fact that Louisa did quite a lot of the housework, helped with the cooking and quite often did the shopping as well were facts which escaped her attention.

Louisa had asked her once how she would manage if she were to marry, and Mrs Howarth had said airily, ‘Oh, my dear, I shall be quite all right; Percy will make sure of that.’

Watching him now, coming into the room, Louisa remembered that. He was still in his thirties, but already staid and with a well-nourished look which she reflected would turn into a portly middle age. He was quite good-looking and very correct in his dress, and she knew that she could never marry him. He wasn’t her kind of man. Her kind of man was utterly different. A sudden memory of Dr Gifford took her by surprise and she blushed faintly, which was unfortunate as Percy took it as a compliment for his appearance.

He had brought flowers with him and a bottle of wine, which he offered with a smug smile, confident of his thoughtfulness and their gratitude.

He kissed the cheek Mrs Howarth offered and crossed the room to where Louisa was standing by the window. ‘Hello, old lady—that’s a charming dress, and you’re as beautiful as ever.’

Old lady, indeed! She turned her cheek so that his kiss barely brushed it, and took the carnations he offered. She said, ‘Thank you for the flowers, Percy,’ and then added, ‘I’ll go and see if Biddy wants any help.’

When she had gone, Mrs Howarth said placatingly, ‘She’s shy, you know. I’ll leave you together after dinner.’ They smiled at each other, and as Louisa came back into the room they began to discuss the weather.

Biddy, still with something of a headache, had done her best, but the soup was too salty, the lamb chops slightly charred and the pudding bore a strong resemblance to a deep-frozen dessert. Percy, who prided himself on being a gourmet, ate with an air of martyred distaste while he enlarged at some length upon the political situation.

Louisa, brought up by an old-fashioned nanny, assumed her politely listening face and said, ‘Really?’ or ‘Is that so?’ at intervals, which was all that Percy required; the sound of his own voice was sufficient for him.

Louisa, munching petits pois which had been over-cooked, allowed her thoughts to wander. Where did Dr Gifford live? she wondered. She didn’t like him, she reminded herself, but he looked interesting.

She caught Percy’s eye and made the mistake of smiling at him, and her stepmother said at once, ‘We’ll have coffee in the drawing room. I’ll go and tell Biddy.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Louisa, hopeful of a few minutes’ respite from Percy’s ardent gaze.

‘No, no, dear. Take Percy along to the drawing room and I’ll join you in a moment.’

The drawing room was a pleasant place, and the very last of the sun cast mellow shadows over its furniture. Louisa went to open another window and said over her shoulder, ‘Sit down, do, Percy.’

But he had come to stand behind her, much too close for her liking.

‘My dear girl, you have no idea how I have been longing to get you on your own. I’ve given you plenty of time to make up your mind, although I’m sure that you have done so already—after all, I’m not such a bad catch!’ He laughed at his little joke, and Louisa ground her splendid teeth. ‘I can manage to be free in September; we could marry then.’

Louisa slid away from him and sat down in a little Victorian crinoline chair. ‘Percy, before you say another word, I don’t want to marry you. If that sounds rude and unkind, I’m sorry, but it makes it clear, doesn’t it? Once and for all.’

‘Why not?’ He sounded huffy but not heartbroken.

‘I don’t love you.’

He laughed. ‘You silly girl, of course you do. Only you won’t admit it.’

She stared at him. How did one make anyone as conceited as Percy understand something they didn’t want to know?

‘No, I don’t. If I did, I would have said so ages ago.’ She added, ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Percy. We’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t we? And we can still be friends, if you wish. You’ll meet a girl who’ll fall for you, and you’ll be happy ever after.’

Percy stood in the middle of the room, looking at her. ‘I have no wish to be your friend,’ he said ponderously. ‘Indeed, from what I have seen of your present behaviour, I consider that you would be quite unworthy of my friendship.’

Louisa goggled at him. He sounded like someone out of a Victorian novel, only worse. She said briskly, ‘Oh, well, that settles that, doesn’t it? Will you stay for coffee?’

It was entirely in character that he should agree. Anyone else—any man—other than Percy would have made some excuse and cut short the evening. But not Percy. His coffee, apparently, was more important to him than any awkwardness she might be feeling.

‘Well, if you are going to stay, sit down,’ she begged. ‘Isn’t the weather glorious? I love June, don’t you? Not too hot and the garden beginning to look lovely—if you have a garden.’

Percy sat, arranging his trousers just so, in order that the creases wouldn’t be spoilt. ‘You have no need to make conversation, Louisa. I am deeply hurt, and trivial talk is hardly going to assuage that.’

Only Percy could talk like that. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Perhaps because she had known him for so long.

She said flippantly, ‘I thought it was the girl who felt hurt.’

He gave her a look. ‘Only you, Louisa …’

He was interrupted by Mrs Howarth’s entry, with Biddy behind her carrying the coffee tray.

‘You’ve had your little talk?’ she asked. ‘Always so nice to clear the air.’

‘Oh, we’ve done that,’ said Louisa promptly. ‘I’ve finally persuaded Percy that I won’t do for his wife.’

Mrs Howarth gave a little trill of laughter. ‘Oh, darling, isn’t it time that you stopped being hard to get? Percy has had the patience of a saint …’

Louisa took the tray from Biddy and set it down on the small table beside her stepmother’s chair. ‘Felicity, you’ve been reading too many old-fashioned novels. I’m not a shrinking damsel of seventeen, you know.’ She looked at Percy. ‘I expect that’s the reason that I don’t want to marry you, Percy. I’m too old for you, and I don’t know how to shrink!’

‘I don’t understand you, Louisa. Such flippancy about a solemn thing such as marriage.’ He held out his cup for more coffee. ‘I find the whole conversation distasteful.’

‘You do? So do I, but I’m glad we’ve had it. I thought I knew you very well, but not well enough, it seems. Now I do.’

Mrs Howarth spoke sharply. ‘Louisa, how can you be so unkind to Percy? Really, I’m quite shocked and upset.’

‘Well, I can’t think why,’ said Louisa sensibly. ‘I’ve told you that I have no wish to marry Percy. And I’ve told him a dozen times.’

Percy got to his feet. ‘It is better that I do go, I think.’ He managed to sound sad and yet at the same time maintained what Louisa took to be a stiff upper lip.

‘Never mind, Percy. You’re well rid of me, you know.’ She offered a hand and he took it reluctantly and heaved a sigh.

‘I shall always have happy memories of you, Louisa—until today, of course.’

He took a sorrowful leave of Mrs Howarth then, and Louisa went to the front door with him. She should be feeling guilty, she supposed, but what she felt was a sense of freedom.

When she went back to the drawing room her stepmother said angrily, ‘You’re a fool, Louisa. You’re not a young girl any more; you can’t afford to be choosy.’

‘Yes, I can. I’ve a nice job, and on my next birthday I get grandmother’s money that she left me. I can be independent for as long as I wish.’ She paused. ‘Tell me, Felicity, did Percy know about that—my legacy?’

Mrs Howarth looked uncomfortable. ‘Well, you know how things slip out …’

‘It would have been useful to him, wouldn’t it? Happy young bride hands husband a nice lump sum so that he can shoot ahead in his career. Or was he going to persuade me to make some of it over to you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Louisa. I have been left very comfortably off by your father.’

‘You’re overdrawn at the bank. You forget, you told me to open the post for you the other morning. There was a letter from the bank manager …’

‘You had no right.’

‘No, I know that. I didn’t read it deliberately; the letter was folded in such a way that I couldn’t help but read it as I took it out of the envelope.’

Mrs Howarth said in a wheedling voice, ‘Louisa, dear, it’s only temporary. If you could let me have some money? I’ll pay you back.’

‘Have you paid Biddy?’

‘Oh, she doesn’t mind waiting. She hasn’t anything to spend her money on, anyway.’

‘How many weeks do you owe her?’

‘A couple—well, three, I suppose.’

‘I’ll pay Biddy’s wages for three weeks. I dare say you can borrow whatever you want from one of your friends.’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly—I play bridge with most of them, and how could I ask them here for lunch?’

‘Then don’t ask them,’ said Louisa. ‘Try Percy. I’m going to see Biddy, then I’m going to bed.’

Biddy was tidying the kitchen before going to bed. Her eyes brightened at the sight of the notes Louisa held out to her.

‘Well, now, Miss Louisa, the money will be very welcome—got ter think of me old age, ‘aven’t I?’

‘Of course, Biddy. And if you don’t get your wages regularly, will you let me know and I’ll remind Mrs Howarth?’

Louisa went to bed then, but not to sleep at once. She sat by the open window of the pretty room and thought about her future. It seemed obvious to her that Felicity would be better off without her—she might marry again, for she was still pretty and amusing. It would be best if she found a room, or a tiny flat somewhere in the city not too far from Sir James’s rooms.

She would miss the comfortable life she led now, but that didn’t worry her particularly. Indeed, she had always wished to live independently but her stepmother had begged her to stay. She could see that if she stayed now she would be in a rut from which there would be no escape. A place of my own, thought Louisa with satisfaction, and when I get Granny’s money I’ll find a flat, somewhere near the cathedral.

She settled down to sleep then, her mind made up. Of course, there would be difficulties with Felicity, although probably she would be relieved not to have Louisa around the house. Louisa had a little money saved, and the money she currently paid Felicity each week would go towards the rent of rooms. A pity she had no one to advise her. Dr Gifford, for instance. She came wide awake at the thought. He was the very last person she would wish to receive advice from!

Mrs Howarth sulked for several days and gave vent to her annoyance by going shopping, buying expensive clothes on her credit cards, spending long hours with friends, playing bridge and gossiping. She ignored Louisa when she was home; this had no effect, though, for Louisa had her pretty head filled with ideas and schemes.

She had gone to various estate agents and enquired about flats, and had been appalled at the rents of even the smallest ones. Of course Salisbury, being a cathedral city, had a certain prestige, and the area around the close where she would have liked to live was very expensive. She began to hunt around streets further afield, where the rents were within her means, but she found nothing to suit her.

It was when she took Biddy into her confidence that her luck changed. ‘A flat?’ asked Biddy. ‘Bless you, Miss Louisa, there’s Mrs Watts—I see ‘er down at the Bell regular. Told me she ‘ad a nice little flat. One of those little turnings off St Anne’s Street. Close by and very quiet, so she tells me.’

‘Do you suppose she would consider me, Biddy? If I were to go with you on your evening off we could meet her at the Bell.’

Biddy considered. ‘Well, now, it ain’t the place for a pretty young lady ter be. But there’s a snug at the back of the bar; I dare say we could arrange something. Leave it ter me; I owes yer, Miss Louisa. I’ll miss yer, but it don’t seem right that you should do more than your share. I know you go out a bit with the missus, but only to dull bridge parties and the like. You needs young people—a man. Like ‘im ‘oo carried me ter me room. Mind you, I didn’t see ‘im all that clearly but ‘e was a big chap and ‘e ‘ad a nice voice.’

She peeped at Louisa. ‘Seen ‘im again, ‘ave you, Miss Louisa?’

‘Well, yes. He came to Sir James’s rooms one morning. He’s a doctor.’

‘Ah.’ Biddy was all at once brisk. ‘Well, I’ll ‘ave a chat with Mrs Watts and let you know, Miss Louisa.’

As ill luck would have it, Biddy’s next free evening was forfeited. Mrs Howarth had issued invitations for dinner and bridge afterwards to several of her friends, and Biddy had to be on hand to cook and serve the meal.

‘I don’t suppose it matters to you when you have your evenings,’ she’d told Biddy. ‘I shall be out to dinner on Saturday, so have it then.’

Despite this setback, Louisa decided that it was a good thing. If her stepmother was out to dinner, then they wouldn’t need to worry about getting back before the Bell closed. Mrs Howarth had told Louisa sulkily that she could have the house to herself or go out with any of her friends.

‘It’s Biddy’s night off so you’ll have to get your own meal. I dare say you’ll manage. It’s as well you’re not invited; Percy will be there.’

‘Just as well,’ agreed Louisa sweetly. ‘And don’t worry about me. I hope you have a pleasant evening.’

The Bell was old, dark-beamed and crowded. Biddy led Louisa through the groups of people clustered in the bar and into the snug behind it.

Mrs Watts was already there, sitting at a small table with a glass of stout before her. She was a small woman, very thin, and could have been any age between forty and fifty years old. But she had a friendly face and manner, and after the ladies had had their refreshment the three of them walked the short distance to her house. It was indeed small, the front door opening onto a tiny hall and the narrow staircase enclosed by another door.

‘I live downstairs,’ said Mrs Watts. ‘Come up and see if it suits you.’

There were two very small rooms, a tiny kitchen and shower room and loo, all very clean, and the furniture, although basic, was well cared for. There was a view of the cathedral from the sitting room window, and the roof beneath the window sloped down to the small garden below.

‘If you are agreeable I’d very much like to rent it,’ said Louisa. ‘It’s just what I was looking for. If I pay you a month’s rent in advance and move in gradually?’

‘Suits me. Come and go when you like, though I don’t want any of those rowdy parties. Not that that’s likely; Biddy has vouched for you being a young lady who is quiet and tidy.’ She smiled. ‘Not that I’ve any objection to a young man paying a visit.’

‘I haven’t one,’ said Louisa cheerfully. ‘But there’s always hope.’

She looked round the little place again. ‘May I have a key?’

‘Course you can. Two—one for the front door and one for this flat. One month’s notice on either side?’

‘Yes. Do we have to write that?’

‘No need. I won’t do the dirty on you.’ Mrs Watts drew herself up to her full height. ‘I’m an honest woman.’

‘Me too, Mrs Watts. I’m so pleased to have found this flat; it’s Biddy’s doing, really. I’ll start bringing a few things round next week; I’m not sure when I shall actually move in.’




CHAPTER TWO


LOUISA told her stepmother of her plans as they walked back from morning service at the cathedral. Mrs Howarth was in a good mood; she was wearing a new outfit which she knew suited her, and she had spent some time talking to friends after the service, arranging to meet at a coffee morning later in the week at which there would be a well-known TV personality.

‘Someone I’ve always wanted to meet,’ she told Louisa. ‘Such a handsome man. If he’s staying here in Salisbury I might invite him to dinner.’

She glanced up at Louisa, strolling along in her plain crêpe dress with its little jacket. The girl has an eye for decent clothes, reflected Mrs Howarth, and she is quite lovely. A pity she is so large. ‘I dare say you might like to meet him, Louisa.’ She added quickly, ‘Of course, we would have to have a specially nice meal. Perhaps you’d help out? My monthly cheque hasn’t come …’

It seemed the right moment. Louisa said in a matter-of-fact way, ‘Well, I can’t. I’ve found a dear little flat—it’s about five minutes’ walk from us. I’ve taken it and I’m moving in as soon as I’ve collected my bits and pieces.’

Mrs Howarth stopped short. ‘You can’t, Louisa. What am I to do? How shall I manage on my own?’

‘You won’t be on your own; there’s Biddy. And I have mentioned several times that if I found somewhere I liked I’d wish to have my own place.’

‘I’m very upset. You’re being most unkind.’ Mrs Howarth turned a carefully wistful face to the troublesome girl. ‘How was I to know that you meant what you said?’

‘Well, I usually do, don’t I?’

‘Your father wouldn’t have approved …’

Louisa stared down at the cross face. ‘Oh, yes, he would.’ She spoke patiently. ‘You know as well as I do that he would have wanted you to marry again, and you’ll have a far better chance without me; you’ll have no one to consider but yourself.’ That had always been the case, but she didn’t say so.

Felicity said thoughtfully, ‘Well, yes, you may be right. I have often refused invitations since it would have meant leaving you on your own.’

Louisa took this remark with a pinch of salt, but she said nothing and they walked on. At the house Mrs Howarth said at last, ‘Well, I suppose it’s quite a good idea. Of course, you must come here whenever you want to.’

The matter settled, Louisa went round the house, collecting up the odds and ends which were hers. Her mother’s little writing desk, the Georgian work table she had inherited from her grandmother, some small water colours and some of her father’s books. And Felicity, feeling generous, told her to choose what table lamps she might like to have.

So during the week Louisa went to and fro, gradually turning the little flat into a home, stocking the kitchen cupboard and arranging for the milkman to call, arranging for her post to be redirected, buying some pretty cushions and, just before she moved in, flowers.

She put her key in the door for the last time on Friday evening, and on the following morning wished her stepmother a temporary goodbye, spent half an hour with Biddy in the kitchen, assuring her that she was a mere five minutes away and that Biddy was to come and have tea with her on her next day off, and then she walked briskly away.

It was a lovely morning and the flat looked bright and comfortable, the sunshine streaming through its small windows. Louisa spent a happy day unpacking her clothes, doing more shopping for food, and cooking herself an evening meal. She had wondered if she would feel lonely, but that wasn’t so. Indeed, she felt free to do exactly what she wanted. No more bridge parties and no more Percy …

All the same she went back during the following week to make sure that Felicity wasn’t feeling lonely. She went during the evening after she had had her supper, feeling guilty that she had been selfish in wanting to have her own home. She need not have worried. As she went into the house she could hear the laughter and voices in the drawing room. The people turned to look at her as she went in—a party, a rather noisy one, with drinks and delicious titbits and her stepmother the centre of a group of her friends. The look on her face when she saw Louisa made it only too clear that she wasn’t welcome, although Felicity covered the look at once with a smile.

‘Louisa, darling—how nice to see you! I’m having a little party, just to cheer me up, you know? You know everyone, I think?’

Louisa went round greeting people, spent a few minutes with Felicity, and declared that she couldn’t stay as she was on her way to friends. A remark she couldn’t fail to see was a relief to her stepmother.

She didn’t leave the house immediately, but went to the kitchen where she found Biddy.

‘Now here’s a treat, Miss Louisa, and me just made a pot of tea, too. Sit down and tell me how you’re getting on. Not lonesome?’ She chuckled. ‘The missus is ‘aving a ‘igh old time; you don’t need to worry about ‘er being lonely. Parties and bridge and jaunting out to the theatre.’

Louisa said slowly, ‘I should have done this sooner, Biddy, and left her free to enjoy herself.’ She caught Biddy’s anxious look and added, ‘I’m very happy too, really I am. I don’t think I’m a very sociable person.’

‘Well, as to that, Miss Louisa, perhaps you’ve not met the right people you want to be sociable with. But don’t worry, ‘e’ll turn up …’

‘Who?’

‘Why, yer ‘usband, of course. Just round the corner, I dare say, waiting for yer—this year, next year … some time—’

‘Never,’ said Louisa, and laughed. ‘Don’t you worry about me, Biddy. I shall settle down nicely in my little flat and enjoy the summer. There’s the tennis club, and the Walshes have asked me over whenever I’d like to go; there’s a swimming pool there.’

‘Yer father liked them; their eldest boy’s a bit older than you are.’

‘But not waiting round the corner for me, Biddy. His eyes are fixed on Cecily Coates. I met her yesterday; they’re as good as engaged.’

‘Plenty of fish in the sea,’ said Biddy.

Louisa went back to her flat, relieved that Felicity was so happy but feeling hurt. She knew, had always known since the first time they had met, that Felicity had only a superficial liking for her, and she, although she had tried hard, had never managed more than a mild affection for her stepmother. Louisa dismissed the unhappy thought and got ready for bed. It was Thursday tomorrow, and Sir James had more patients than usual.

‘I must take the car some time soon—’ she had a little Fiat of her own ‘—and drive down to Stalbridge and see Aunt Martha.’ She was a lady of great age, her father’s elder sister. They seldom met but they liked each other. There would be no need to tell Felicity when she was going. Louisa put her head on the pillow with a contented sigh and went to sleep.

When she arrived at work the next morning Jilly was waiting for her. ‘He’s here,’ she whispered. ‘They were both here when I came. Asked for coffee, and there they were at the desk with books and papers all over the place.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Planning something.’

Louisa, conscious of a thrill of interest at seeing Dr Gifford again, said, ‘Jilly, you’re letting your imagination run away with you again. They must have quite a bit of sorting out to do between them if Dr Gifford is to help out.’

Jilly gave her a pitying look. ‘You’re so sensible,’ she observed. ‘I don’t know how …’ She stopped as the door opened and Sir James poked his head round.

‘Miss Howarth, will you come in, please? Jilly, when Mrs Grant arrives ask her to come here, will you?’

The sack? Was she to be made redundant? wondered Louisa, collecting pad and pencil and following Sir James. Was Dr Gifford full of ideas about running the practice, making more money? But heaven knew Sir James was doing very nicely. Surely Sir James wasn’t going to retire …?

She gave Dr Gifford an austere good morning and, when bidden to sit, sat.

Sir James peered at her over his spectacles. ‘I have received a wholly unexpected and urgent summons to the—ah—Middle East, Miss Howarth. It will necessitate my departure this afternoon. I may be gone for some time; at the moment I can say no more than that. Dr Gifford has most kindly agreed to take over as much of the practice as he can. Most fortunately he has a partner who is willing to co-operate fully.

‘This will mean that your hours may be somewhat erratic, and Dr Gifford would be glad if you would be prepared to return with him to his own practice for those days when he is not here. In this way, everything can be kept up to date. It would mean your staying overnight once or twice a week. You have no objection?’

Louisa, not to be hurried, thought about it, and he went on quickly, ‘Mrs Grant will come in each day as usual to take calls and so forth. You will have a good deal more work, but naturally you will be compensated for that.’

‘Extra days off?’ asked Louisa.

‘Certainly. Or extra payment.’

‘I’d rather have the days. Yes, of course, I’ll help in any way I can, Sir James.’

The men exchanged a look. ‘Splendid,’ said Sir James, but Dr Gifford didn’t say anything.

‘Dr Gifford will take over from me at lunchtime and there will be the normal consulting hours. We are fully booked for today, are we not?’

When she nodded, he added, ‘Tomorrow’s patients have already been notified; those in the morning will come as usual, the afternoon patients I have asked to come on the following day. As you are aware, I do not as a rule see patients at the weekend. But this leaves Dr Gifford free to return home tomorrow afternoon and return here late on Saturday morning.’

He paused. ‘I make myself clear?’ When she nodded again he added, ‘You will be good enough to return with him tomorrow directly after the morning consulting hours, stay the night and return with the doctor ready for Saturday afternoon here. Sunday will be free.’

When Louisa said nothing he continued, ‘Dr Gifford will come on Monday morning, stay until Tuesday noon, and then return to his own practice until Wednesday afternoon. You will go with him. There will be a good deal of work involved, reorganising the patients, but I believe that it can be done, especially when they realise that the circumstances are urgent and unusual.’

She longed to ask why, but she merely said, ‘I will do all I can to be of assistance, Sir James.’

‘Yes, yes, you’re a good girl. I’m sure you will.’ He looked up as there was a tap on the door and Mrs Grant came in. And the whole business was gone over again. If Mrs Grant was surprised she didn’t allow it to show.

‘Of course I’ll do all I can to help, Sir James. I’m sure we’ll manage until you get back.’ She smiled at him and then at Dr Gifford, who smiled back at her—nicely too, Louisa noted. He hadn’t said a word but she rather fancied that he had had a good part in the planning. Sir James was a brilliant man but liked someone else to dot his ‘i’s and cross his ‘t’s. She gave a surreptitious glance at the desk and saw that the papers were maps of the Middle East and some airline ticket folders. She looked away, suddenly aware that Dr Gifford was watching her. He was going to be a hard taskmaster, she reflected.

Sir James asked suddenly, ‘Miss Howarth, your stepmother will have no objection to your altered schedule?’

‘I live on my own, sir.’

‘Have I been told of your change of address?’

‘Yes, sir; it’s written in your address book on the desk and it was written into your day diary.’

He laughed. ‘Can’t catch you out, can I?’

‘I should hope not, sir; I wouldn’t be of much use to you if you could.’

He laughed again, in a high good humour. ‘Well, that’s settled, and thank you. I shall leave you and Dr Gifford to iron out any wrinkles.’

And there will be plenty of those, reflected Louisa. Not normally a gloomy girl, the immediate prospect didn’t please her.

The first patients would be arriving very shortly, so she and Mrs Grant set about their various jobs, much hindered by Jilly’s constant demands to be told what was happening.

‘We’ll tell you at lunchtime. Now, get on with your work, Jilly.’ Mrs Grant sounded firm.

Patients came and went; the morning was busy. Louisa drank a cooled cup of coffee and wondered if she should tell Felicity. She decided not to; she would be away for one night only and that twice a week. She hoped she would be welcome at the doctor’s house.

She made a quick mental list of what she had better take in her overnight bag. Would she need her typewriter or computer? Surely he would have all that at his own practice? She supposed she would have to ask him. She dismissed these troublesome details from her head and picked up the phone; there were Sir James’s clinics and ward rounds to sort out at the various hospitals he visited.

He left very shortly after the last patient had been seen. Dr Gifford had been with him for the entire morning and they came into the waiting room together. Sir James paused on his way out. ‘I need hardly remind you to say nothing of my destination. I have your promise?’

They assured him of that willingly and wished him a good journey, and he said briskly, ‘Well, I shall see you all again shortly. I’m sure you will do all you can to make things easy for Dr Gifford and our patients.’

The two men went then, and Louisa, nipping smartly to the window, watched them get into a discreet dark grey Bentley. Sir James drove a Rolls; this car must be Dr Gifford’s. Oh, well, thought Louisa, at least I shall travel in comfort.

Jilly was all agog. ‘I say, I wonder who he’s going to see? Why is it all so hush-hush? I wish I knew …’

Mrs Grant said sternly, ‘Jilly, you heard what Sir James said. Not a word to anyone. If you break your word he’ll have you sacked. He could, you know, for leaking important information.’

‘Really? You’re not joking?’ When Mrs Grant shook her head, Jilly said, ‘I won’t say a word—only if he tells you about it when he comes back you will tell me, won’t you?’

‘That’s a promise. And if I don’t know and Louisa does, then she’ll tell you, won’t you, Louisa?’

‘Cross my heart, I will. What time is the first patient coming? I wonder if Dr Gifford is coming back before then? I’ve still got to get hold of Mrs Goulder and ask her to come on Saturday morning. She won’t like that …’

Half an hour before the afternoon patients were due to arrive, Dr Gifford came back. Louisa looked up as he passed her desk.

‘Will you bring your notebook with you, Miss Howarth? We have ten minutes to spare, I believe.’

The look he gave her was indifferent, although his voice was pleasant. She followed him into the consulting room and sat down, pencil poised.

‘I should like to be sure that we fully understand this rather complicated routine we must follow until Sir James returns. I shall remain here until tomorrow midday. You will accompany me back to my own practice, stay the night so that we can work on the patients for the following day, and return with me late on Saturday morning. I must ask you to work during Saturday afternoon, but you will be free on Sunday.’

Louisa said nothing; he was reiterating what she already knew. He went on, ‘I shall return here on Monday morning, stay until noon on Tuesday and return to my practice until Wednesday afternoon. I believe there are two patients for the early evening?’ And, when she nodded, he added, ‘I shall remain here until Friday noon, when we will return to my practice. We shall have the time then to sort out the patients for the following week. And I will see Sir James’s patients on Saturday afternoon.’

There would be a lot of toing and froing, reflected Louisa, and, of course, the only way he could cope was to go over Sir James’s patients’ notes with her whenever he could spare the time. Hopefully it would only be for a short while. The whole thing had been unexpected and there had been no time to make a better arrangement.

She said, ‘Very well, sir.’

He nodded without looking up from the papers on the desk. ‘Now, these patients this afternoon. Is there anything special I should know about them?’

She replied promptly. ‘Mrs Leggett will be here at two o’clock. She’s an old patient, but very nervous. We usually give her a cup of tea after you’ve seen her. Colonel Trump is next. Peppery, doesn’t like to waste time. Miss Fortesque is young and fashionable, and likes to be buttered up.’

Dr Gifford’s firm mouth twitched. ‘You are most helpful, Miss Howarth. I shall expect Mrs Grant here as chaperon.’

‘Well, yes,’ said Louisa matter-of-factly. ‘Sir James always has her in for the ladies.’ She added, ‘It’s not quite the same as a general practice.’

She was treated to a cold stare from hard blue eyes. ‘Thank you, Miss Howarth. I expect you wish to get on with your work.’

Louisa snapped, ‘Yes, I would. I’ll let you have the letters at the end of the afternoon.’

It surprised her when he got up and opened the door for her, looking remotely over the top of her head as he did so.

It wasn’t until Mrs Leggett had come and gone and Colonel Trump was closeted with the doctor that Louisa had the chance to speak to Mrs Grant. Jilly was in the little treatment room, setting it to rights, and for a moment they were alone.

‘Will he do?’ asked Mrs Grant. ‘Mrs Leggett liked him.’

Louisa pulled a face. ‘I dare say he’s got a super bedside manner, only he isn’t going to waste it on me. He looks through me, over me and round me, but hardly ever at me, and when he does it’s like an icy draught. I don’t think he likes me …’

‘Nonsense, Louisa, everyone likes you. Shall you be able to manage with all the going back and forth? Is it really necessary?’

‘I’m afraid it is. He’s got to know something of Sir James’s patients before he sees them as well as keeping an eye on his own practice. The idea is for us to get their notes sorted out between his surgery hours, so that by the time we get back here he’ll have them all at his fingertips.’

‘Poor man; he’ll be worn out.’

‘So shall I.’

‘I dare say it won’t be for long. Have we any idea how long Sir James will be away?’

‘Not an inkling. I hope it’s only for a few days.’

Miss Fortesque arrived then, in a cloud of expensive scent and wearing an artlessly simple outfit which must have cost the earth. She was wearing an armful of gold bangles which jingled and jangled, and she was in high spirits.

‘I wasn’t sure about coming; Sir James said that he was called away but that a colleague would see me. What’s he like?’

‘I’m sure you’ll like him, Miss Fortesque,’ said Louisa, with just the right amount of enthusiasm in her voice. ‘I’ll show you in if you are quite ready.’

She opened the door, and Miss Fortesque swept past her and advanced with a little cry to where the doctor had risen to meet her. Louisa waited long enough to see him greet his patient with bland courtesy, but over that lady’s head he shot Louisa a look which made her blink. ‘If you would be good enough to send in Sister Grant?’

Miss Fortesque had been coming regularly for some months and she could never be hurried. Today the consultation lasted twice as long as usual, and when she finally came out of the consulting room she left in high spirits.

She tripped over to Louisa’s desk and bent over it to whisper, ‘He’s gorgeous; I hope Sir James is away for a long time. Is he married?’

‘I believe that he’s engaged, Miss Fortesque. Sir James will be away only for a short time. Shall I book you in for your next appointment?’

‘Yes, I’d better come sooner, I think. I don’t feel as well. Next week, perhaps?’

‘I’m afraid we’re fully booked for the whole week. Shall I fit you in on the following week and let you know?’

‘Yes, do that. Before Sir James gets back.’ Miss Fortesque gave her a little smile. ‘Lucky you, here all day with him. Though I don’t suppose he really notices you.’ Her gaze swept over Louisa’s person, suitably dressed for her job with not a bracelet or earring in sight, and she smiled again.

Louisa got up. ‘I’ll show you out, Miss Fortesque,’ she said, and ushered the lady through the door and closed it with a sigh of relief. She locked it, too. There were no more patients for the moment and they could have a cup of tea.

They had their tea sitting at her desk. Jilly had just carried Dr Gifford’s tea tray in, and reported that he had thanked her nicely and smiled. ‘He’s on the phone,’ she said. ‘I like him.’

Mrs Grant chuckled. ‘So did Miss Fortesque, but that cut no ice with him. Very professional, he was, lovely manners, beautiful bedside manner, too, but remote, if you know what I mean. I must say he’s a remarkably handsome man.’ She glanced at Louisa. ‘He’s good too; I’m not surprised Sir James got hold of him. Are they old friends, I wonder?’

‘Perhaps you could find out when you go back with him tomorrow,’ said Jilly.

‘Certainly not,’ said Mrs Grant. ‘It’s none of our business, Jilly. Let’s get tidied up; old Lady Follett will be here very shortly.’

They were piling cups and saucers on the tray when the door opened and Dr Gifford put his head round. ‘Miss Howarth, if you will come?’

He motioned her to a chair. ‘Lady Follett. I see that Sir James intended to suggest hospital treatment. Does she know this?’

‘No. He wrote to Mr Wolfitt, the surgeon he had in mind, and asked about beds and so on. We’ve had no reply as yet.’

He nodded. ‘And Mr Tait—I see there’s a query on his notes.’

‘Mr Tait can’t make up his mind whether to start a course of treatment or not.’

‘Thank you.’ He glanced up. ‘You are most helpful, Miss Howarth.’

It was after six o’clock when Mr Tait left, still undecided, allowing them to clear up quickly and go home, leaving Dr Gifford sitting at his desk.

‘Poor man,’ said Mrs Grant as they wished each other goodnight on the pavement. ‘I hope there’s someone to look after him.’

‘I should think he’s quite capable of looking after himself,’ said Louisa.

There were only two patients Friday morning, but both were new so they took a good deal longer than usual. Louisa, as neat as a new pin, her overnight bag safely in the cloakroom, got on with her work and wondered if there was any news of Sir James. She had seen Mrs Watts and explained that she would be away from her flat from time to time, and that lady had agreed to keep an eye on the place if she wasn’t there.

‘Mind you, I wouldn’t do it for everyone, but, knowing it’s the doctor that needs you to work for him, I’ll do it willingly.’

Dr Gifford had said they would be leaving at noon and it was precisely that when he came into the waiting room. ‘Ready?’ he wanted to know, and added to Mrs Grant, ‘You’ll lock up and see to everything, Mrs Grant?’ He gave her a charming smile. ‘I’ve left my address and the phone number on the desk; don’t hesitate to let me know if anything crops up which you can’t deal with. You know what to say if anyone wants an appointment?’

‘Yes, sir.’

He took Louisa’s bag from her and ushered her out of the door and down to the pavement, wasted no time in urging her to get into his car, and drove away without speaking.

Louisa allowed five minutes to pass as he crossed the city. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked mildly.

‘Gussage-up-Chettle, just this side of Cranborne.’ He added, ‘The practice is at Blandford; there are surgeries at Cranborne, Broad Chalke and Sixpenny Handley.’

‘Very spread out,’ said Louisa.

‘There is a lot of rural country to cover. Normally we manage very well.’

‘Well, let’s hope that Sir James is back soon. Have you had any news of him?’

He was on the Blandford road, driving fast now. ‘Yes.’

When he had nothing more to say, she said, ‘All right, so you’re not going to tell me anything. It’s a good thing that this is a situation which will soon be over—I hope—for we don’t get on, do we? Of course, it isn’t your fault—you can’t like everyone you meet, can you?’

He had turned off the main road and was driving quite slowly now along country lanes running between farm land. He said coldly, ‘Far be it from me to dispute your opinion, Miss Howarth. Perhaps we might ignore our personal feelings and concentrate on what we have to do. I should appreciate your cooperation.’

‘Oh, I’ll co-operate,’ said Louisa cheerfully. ‘It wouldn’t do for Sir James to come back to chaos, would it?’

His grunt told her nothing.

He turned a corner and there was Gussage-up-Chettle. A handful of cottages, a church set astride a crossroads, fields of ripening wheat stretching away towards gentle tree-covered hills.

‘Oh, very nice,’ said Louisa. ‘I’ve never been here before.’

She didn’t expect an answer and she didn’t get one. He took the left-hand fork, turned in through an open gateway and stopped before a house half-hidden by trees and shrubs. Louisa got out and took a good look at it. It was what an estate agent would have described as a ‘gentleman’s residence’, mostly Regency which had been added to from time to time, for it had a variety of windows at odd levels, wide eaves and a cluster of tall chimneys. The roof was tiled and its walls whitewashed, and the flowerbeds around it were stuffed with flowers—roses of every colour, scabias, wallflowers, morning glory, myrtle, late tulips, forget-me-nots; she lost count.

Dr Gifford had taken her bag from the boot. ‘Come in; lunch will be ready.’

The door stood open, leading to a wide hall, its polished floor strewn with rugs. There was a console table under a giltwood Queen Anne mirror flanked by two side chairs, their high backs upholstered in green velvet. The walls were white with one or two fine paintings which she had no time to study, for the baize door at the back of the hall was opened and a woman as tall and big as Louisa came to meet them. She was middle-aged, her hair still dark, her features severe, but they broke into a smile as she reached them.

‘Ah, there you are, Rosie,’ said the doctor, and to Louisa, ‘This is my housekeeper, Rosie, Miss Howarth. Rosie, will you take Miss Howarth up to her room?’

He turned to Louisa. ‘Lunch in ten minutes. We shall have time to go through the post before my surgery.’

Louisa paused. ‘What post?’

‘I brought it with me from Salisbury. You can get it answered while you are here.’

He was walking away to a door at the side of the hall, and had it opened and went into the room beyond before she could utter a word.

‘This way, miss,’ said Rosie, and she led the way up a nice old oak staircase to the floor above. ‘This will be your room, and if there’s anything that you need you have only to say.’

Louisa stood in the doorway and looked around her. The room was charming and overlooked what appeared to be a very large garden at the back of the house. It was furnished simply but, she could see at a glance, there was every comfort there.

She said warmly, ‘What a delightful room. Thank you, Rosie.’

The housekeeper nodded. ‘Best not waste time; the doctor’s a punctual man.’

She went away, leaving Louisa very tempted to waste ten minutes doing nothing. That wouldn’t do, of course; she was here to work, and obviously the doctor had already arranged that to his satisfaction. She poked at her hair, did her face, took a quick, refreshing look out of the window and went downstairs.

Lunch was served in a large, airy room, its windows wide open. Its walls were panelled in a pale wood. There was a mahogany bow front sideboard, matching the Georgian dining table with its ring of matching dining chairs, and a carpet worn with age on the floor. A priceless carpet, Louisa thought, taking the chair the doctor had pulled back for her.

‘Will you have some of this cold ham? One of the local farmers cures his own,’ the doctor told her.

She accepted the ham and made a good lunch, for she saw no reason not to. Nothing was quite what she had expected but that couldn’t be helped. The meal was delicious and she was hungry. Nevertheless she endeavoured to make conversation since that was the polite thing to do. But without much success. She was answered civilly, but it was obvious that the doctor was a man who never used two words if one would do.

They had their coffee at the table before he said abruptly, ‘If you will come with me to my study, Miss Howarth?’

It was a comfortable room with an untidy desk, an old-fashioned mahogany office chair behind it and a couple of deep leather chairs drawn up on either side of the fireplace. Louisa sat down on one of the small chairs facing the desk and waited.

‘I have been through most of the letters for Sir James,’ said Dr Gifford, ‘and made notes. If you would answer them suitably? Most of them are straightforward; most of them require two appointments. You have brought the appointment book with you? Arrange them as you think fit, using the timetable we have set up. Phone Mrs Grant if you need to, and any of the patients should you feel it necessary. Please make it clear that for the moment Sir James is away, and, if they prefer, give them a provisional date in ten days’ time. We will deal with the reports from the path labs and hospitals this evening.’

‘Where am I to work?’

‘Here. I think you will find everything you will need. I hope to be back around five o’clock. Rosie will bring you tea. We will dine at eight and do the rest of the work this evening.’

He got up, saying to her surprise, ‘Why not take a few minutes’ stroll in the garden before you start? I’m going now; you won’t be disturbed during the afternoon.’ He turned at the door. ‘Do you like dogs?’

‘Yes.’

‘I shall bring my dog back with me.’

He was holding the door open for her. As she went past him, she asked, ‘What’s his name?’

‘Bellow.’

‘Oh, that sounds like a Latin word—something to do with wars …’

He answered gravely, ‘No, no, nothing so alarming. He has a permanent wheeze.’

‘Oh, bellow, of course!’ She smiled up at him and encountered his bland stare.

He opened a door at the back of the hall leading to the garden and left her then, and she went outside and strolled around, admiring everything. There was nothing formal about the garden, but it was beautifully tended and had been planned and planted by someone with a masterly eye. Just looking at it soothed her, although she wasn’t sure why she needed to be soothed.

There was plenty of work for her to get on with during the afternoon. She dealt with the post in a competent manner, set aside anything she felt the doctor should see himself, and when a tray of tea came sat back and enjoyed it, feeling that she had earned it. And I only hope dinner will be a bit more sociable than lunch, thought Louisa, biting into the last of the scones.

It was tiresome to know so little about the doctor. The practice was obviously a large and far-flung one; he had a partner and he must bear his share of the workload. But he was, after all, a GP, and unlike Sir James didn’t have consulting rooms and a big private practice. She paused to think. She was only guessing; for all she knew he might be a brilliant medical man, preferring to hide his light under a bushel, coming out of obscurity in order to help Sir James.

‘I really must find out,’ said Louisa, talking to herself since there was no one else to talk to.

‘What must you find out, Miss Howarth?’ The doctor’s voice, so quiet just behind her, took her by surprise so that she choked on her scone, coughing and spluttering while he thumped her back.

When she at last caught her breath, she said indignantly, ‘What a beastly thing to do, creeping up on me like that …’

She turned round to look at him, standing there with a very large, silent dog at his side, and he said gravely, ‘I do apologise. I had no idea that you were of a nervous disposition.’

Not an answer to soothe her already ruffled feelings.




CHAPTER THREE


LOUISA said, ‘I am not in the least nervous, Dr Gifford.’ And she held out a fist for Bellow to explore. ‘This is Bellow? He looks magnificent. What breed is he?’

She spoke in the coldly polite voice of someone who had been brought up to be courteous at all costs, and the doctor hid a smile.

‘His father was a St Bernard, his mother a Great Dane. A formidable parentage. Contrary to his appearance, he is a very mild dog, likes cats and children, but I have no doubt he would protect his own if they needed it.’

Louisa reflected that the doctor looked quite capable of protecting himself, but if Rosie was alone in the house Bellow would be splendid company.

Bellow sniffed at her fist and butted it gently with his great head.

Dr Gifford went to his desk and glanced through the orderly papers she had laid ready there. ‘Finished? We have an hour or so before dinner …’

He sat down with Bellow beside him, and Louisa sat down opposite to him, and together they went through the work she had done and then worked their way through the list of Sir James’s patients. It took quite a while.

He closed the diary finally. ‘Shall we have drinks outside? It is a pleasant evening and we could both do with half an hour’s peace.’

They sat in comfortable chairs under a mulberry tree at the end of the garden, drinking chilled white wine and making no attempt at conversation. When Rosie came to tell them that dinner would be in fifteen minutes, Louisa got up, murmured about tidying herself and went to her room. She was already quite tidy; she almost always was. She did her hair and face and deplored the fact that the only dress she had brought with her was the one she was wearing, a beautifully cut and expensive coat dress in stone-coloured shantung silk, entirely suitable for her job. And the epitome of good taste. All the same she would have liked to look more glamorous. Dr Gifford’s complete uninterest in her person irked her.





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