Dearest Love Read online

There were two days to get through before Titus would come. She filled them with almost unceasing activity—grooming the pony and the donkey, going for long walks with the dogs, visiting the rectory to say what a delightful Christmas it had been, entertaining various ladies from the village anxious to enrol her in the WI, the first-aid classes, the committee for the annual church bazaar...

  Friday came at last and no news from Titus. All the same she had a long session with Mrs Butter about meals for the weekend, saying lightly that she thought he would probably be home late that evening and arranging a light supper for him. She was filled with excitement at the thought of seeing him again even though a quarrel seemed inevitable and her heart, already badly cracked, would be broken completely. A good thing to get it over, she told herself, and took the dogs for yet another walk.

  It was late afternoon when she suddenly decided that she couldn’t face him. She would go out and walk up the lane behind the house from where she would be able to see the lights of the car. Only when he was in the house would she return. The Butters were in the dining-room so she went to the kitchen and through its doors to a passage lined with small rooms—the pantry, the old-fashioned still-room, the larder, the boot-room. At the end of the passage was another door, leading to the kitchen gardens, behind which were a variety of elderly coats, old hats and, ranged beneath them, a selection of wellies. She got into a jacket with a hood, pushed her feet into Mrs Butter’s wellies and went outside.

  It was still light although there was a bank of cloud beyond the hills. For a moment she wondered if she should fetch a torch, but supposing Titus was to arrive early and meet her? She buttoned the jacket tightly and set off.

  The lane up the hill beyond the kitchen garden was a stiff climb, and she marched to it via the stables so that she might offer carrots pulled from the garden to Bess and Jerry. By the time she was almost at the top, with the thick crown of trees which topped the hill only a few yards away, it was dusk, the distant clouds suddenly overhead and the first few drops of rain falling. As she stood looking down the hill towards the village there was a sudden gust of wind and the trees behind her swayed and creaked as it soughed through them. Though not a nervous girl, she wanted to be home—secure by the fireside.

  There was a shortcut down the hill, a narrow path which she and Titus had once taken; it would mean going a little way up into the trees but she thought that she could find it even in the gathering gloom. Somewhere on the right of her, she decided, as the first of the trees closed over her. The rain was coming down in earnest now and turning to sleet as the wind freshened. She took the path and at the fork a few yards further turned to the left, towards the village, took a step forward and rolled into a deep gully—right to the bottom.

  It was filled with dead leaves and an inch or so of water. She lay where she was for a moment, too surprised to do anything, and then got slowly to her feet, brushed herself down and looked for a way to climb out. It wasn’t a very deep gully but its sides were slippery with wet bracken and earth and when she took hold of a tuft of coarse grass it came away in her hand and landed her in a puddle of water. She would have to climb out before it got really dark so she went carefully all round it, feeling for a foothold in its sides, and came to the conclusion that there weren’t any—nor were there any large stones which she could pile against its steep sides.

  ‘How very unfortunate,’ said Arabella. Not a panicky person by nature, she felt a nasty little pang of fear at the idea of spending the night there. Not that she would have to do that, she told herself robustly. They would miss her at the manor. A pity she hadn’t brought a torch. If the wind would die down she could shout, but at the moment it would be a waste of breath. It just needs a rat or two, she thought gloomily.

  * * *

  The doctor stopped before his home with a sigh of satisfaction. Whether she liked it or not, Arabella and he were going to have that talk—but first of all he would wring her darling little neck and kiss her silent...

  He was welcomed by the three dogs with delight and by Percy with dignity and then by the Butters in their turn, beaming at him, deploring the sudden onslaught of bad weather and at the same time offering tea, drinks and saying madam was in the drawing-room.

  Only she wasn’t. ‘Well,’ said Mrs Butter, ‘she had a cup of tea here earlier, after she took the dogs out. She’ll be upstairs. I’ll call her.’

  ‘Don’t bother, I’ll go,’ said Titus and went up the staircase two at a time, knocked on the door and went in. Arabella wasn’t there, of course; he went from room to room and then downstairs again. She wasn’t there either.

  ‘She wouldn’t go out,’ declared Mrs Butter. ‘She took the dogs like I said, and I’d have heard the front door for we were both in the dining-room and you can hear it close from there.’

  The doctor said, ‘Ah, the back door,’ and went to look, the Butters close behind. ‘Is there anything missing?’ he wanted to know, turning over the coats and capes hanging there.

  ‘My boots,’ said Mrs Butter suddenly. ‘I had them on this morning—they were here, under that old jacket—I wear when I go down to the kitchen garden.’

  ‘Take a torch, Butter, and go down to the village. See if anyone has seen Mrs Tavener. I’ll go up the lane. Wave the torch if you find her—I’ll do the same.’

  He shrugged into an old mac, gave up the idea of boots since none of them were large enough for his feet, took the torch Mrs Butter had fetched, and opened the door. The wind took his breath as he stood there, the dogs crowding round, anxious to help. They all went up the lane at a great rate with frequent stops while Titus bellowed, ‘Arabella,’ in a voice to rival the wind.

  Arabella heard it. She was numb with cold and her feet, despite the wellies, were blocks of ice although she hadn’t stood still. Indeed she had been scrambling in a fruitless manner up the sides of the gully and slipping down to the bottom again. She was frightened now and her answering shout had been no more than a squeak, but she tried again and was cheered to hear his shout in answer. A long minute later she saw the torch shining above her and looked up to see four pairs of eyes looking down at her.

  The dogs barked, delighted to have found her, and the doctor said, ‘Oh, you silly girl,’ in such a tender voice that she very nearly burst into tears. She gulped them back. ‘Don’t any of you fall in,’ she said.

  Titus was examining the gully by the light of the torch. He bade the dogs sit and then said, ‘Now, listen carefully, Arabella. Go to the end—that’s it, as far as you can go—it’s a little lower. I’m going to lie flat and reach down to you. Lift your arms as high as you can and I’ll lift you out.’

  ‘You won’t be able to—I’m too heavy.’

  He laughed. ‘One of your more ridiculous remarks,’ he said cheerfully. He waved the torch in the air in the hope that Butter would see it and stretched his considerable bulk on to the soaking ground. It was raining very hard now but he hardly seemed to notice that. He put his great arms down into the gully and caught Arabella’s cold hands in his.

  She landed in an untidy heap beside him, covered in mud and bits of bracken and grass and very wet. He got up and lifted her to her feet and she said in a small polite voice, ‘Thank you, Titus,’ and burst into tears. He held her close while she sniffed and snuffled in a manner totally devoid of any glamour, then she blew her small nose, mopped her face and said, ‘Sorry.’

  ‘My dearest darling girl,’ said Titus, in a voice which she had never heard before. He might have said a great deal more only Butter came puffing up to join them. As it was he contented himself with a kiss which took her breath before observing, ‘Mrs Tavener had fallen in the gully, Butter—she’s wet and cold. Would you go ahead and ask Mrs Butter to get a warm bath ready? We’ll be right behind you.’

  Butter hurried off and Titus picked Arabella up as though she had been a feather duster and carried her back down the l
ane with the dogs trotting beside him.

  ‘I can walk,’ said Arabella. He had called her his dearest darling girl. Had that been to keep her spirits up? And what about that kiss? Something to remem-ber lingeringly.

  Mrs Butter was at the door and so was Butter, with glasses and a bottle of brandy. ‘Ah,’ said the doctor, putting Arabella down but not letting her go. ‘Just what we all need.’

  ‘I don’t like brandy,’ said Arabella.

  A remark of which the doctor, quite rightly, took no notice. She drank it down under his impassive gaze before he picked her up again, this time without the jacket, and carried her upstairs.

  Half an hour later, warm and dry and very clean, her still-damp hair hanging down her back, Arabella went downstairs. ‘You’re not to dress, madam,’ Mrs Butter had said. ‘Doctor says a warm dressing-gown and you’re to go to bed early.’ First, however, she had to face him across the dinner table.

  Titus was waiting for her in the drawing-room. He looked as though he had never been near a gully in his life—the epitome of a well-heeled gentleman with time on his hands. She went slowly into the room. It would be hard to ask him about Geraldine but it had to be done. ‘Titus...’ she began.

  He was across the room and she was in his arms before she could say another word. ‘And before you say anything, my darling heart, I love you. I think that I always have only it didn’t occur to me sooner... And before you fling Geraldine in my teeth, I do not care a jot for her—never have. If you hadn’t been such a busybody, flinging me at her head at all hours of the day, you would have seen that for yourself. And, yes, I went to Holland—because Aldrik’s mother has had a stroke.’ He looked down at her. ‘Well, my darling?’

  ‘Well,’ began Arabella, ‘I love you, you see, and I think I must have a jealous nature.’

  ‘There are ways of curing you of that,’ said Titus.

  Neither of them saw the faithful Butter come to announce dinner and slide away again.

  Presently Titus said, ‘I shall always remember this day, my love.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Arabella and kissed him just once more.

  * * *

  She was remembering that just eighteen months later, sitting on the window-seat in the drawing-room, an open letter in one hand, a very small baby tucked under the other arm. ‘He’s coming home, my poppet—listen...’

  She began to read the letter again, out loud this time so that their son could hear it too, even though it meant nothing to his very small ears...

  Dearest love,

  By the time you read this letter I shall be on my way home. I have missed you so—the week has seemed like a lifetime without you. I picture you and our son sitting in the drawing-room reading this—I wonder if I am right? I cannot wait to be with you again.

  Why, I wonder, do VIP patients always choose to be ill in far-flung places? He is recovering; he will be flown home some time next week and I shall be able to treat him without having to leave you both.

  I am not sure at what time we shall land but I shall be with you at the earliest possible moment.

  Titus—who loves you.

  * * * * *

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  ISBN: 9781460318652

  Copyright © 1995 by Betty Neels

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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