An Unlikely Romance Page 5
When they had all gone, she had a bath and got into bed and read the letter once more before putting it back under the pillow. Perhaps she was making a mistake. She could tell him so and leave Timothy’s and not see him again and although he might be vexed at having his plans spoilt he wouldn’t break his heart, whereas hers would break. Her eyes filled with tears at the very idea of never seeing him any more. She slipped a hand under the pillow, held the letter tightly and fell asleep.
Staff Nurse Bennett was in an evil mood the next morning. Trixie could do nothing right; she was slow, clumsy, careless and entirely lacking in common sense. It was therefore something of a relief when a ward orderly interrupted a particularly harsh diatribe concerning her faults to say that Nurse Doveton was to go to Sister’s office.
‘Now what have you done?’ asked Staff Nurse Bennett fiercely.
Trixie didn’t bother to answer. It would at least make a change to be chastened by another voice. She tapped on the door and was bidden to enter.
‘There is a telephone call for you, Nurse. I do not, as a rule, allow nurses to take private calls on the ward, but it seems that I have to make an exception in your case. Pray be as brief as you can.’
Sister sailed away, looking annoyed and curious at the same time.
Aunt Alice, thought Trixie, putting a reluctant hand on the receiver. Quite a while ago, when Trixie had first started her training, Aunt Alice had telephoned her on the ward, and the ward sister had reduced her to silent misery at the very idea of junior nurses receiving calls on the ward. Trixie had extracted a promise from Aunt Alice that after all that she would never telephone unless it was a matter of dire emergency. She put the receiver to her ear, expecting to hear her aunt’s voice warning her that Uncle William had had a stroke or that Margaret had been in a car accident with one of her young men.
‘You had my note?’ asked the professor without so much as a hello.
She was too surprised to utter and he added a shade testily, ‘Well?’
‘Yes—yes, thank you.’ She drew a breath. ‘I didn’t expect—’
He cut in ruthlessly. ‘I shall be back in two days’ time. It might be a good idea to visit your aunt and uncle then. When are you off duty?’
‘After five o’clock.’
‘Good, will you let them know that you wish to see them? At what time do they dine?’
‘Eight o’clock, but they might be going out.’
‘In which case perhaps you can arrange to see them at seven o’clock?’
‘All right. Do you want me to tell them about us, that is, that you’ll be with me?’
‘I think not. I’ll be in touch when I return.’ He rang off with a quick goodbye, and she told herself that very likely he was terribly busy. She went back to the ward. There was no sign of Sister, and Staff Nurse Bennett had gone for her coffee-break. Trixie went back to her interrupted task of getting old Mrs Perch, recovering from a stroke, out of her bed and into a chair. The other two nurses were on the other side of the ward making beds.
‘Was it a blasting?’ asked one of them.
‘No. Nothing like that.’ She was saved from saying any more by Sister’s return.
She telephoned Aunt Alice the next day during her dinner-break, and that lady asked at once why she should want to see her and her uncle. ‘I hope you don’t want to borrow money, Trixie,’ said Aunt Alice, who had plenty of her own but disliked sharing it. ‘Or are you in trouble of some kind? I sincerely trust that that is not the case.’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Trixie. ‘I’ll explain tomorrow evening.’
‘We are dining out, so try to be punctual. Margaret is going to the ball at the Dorchester; I doubt if she will have the time to talk to you—she will have to dress.’
Trixie rang off for there was really no more to say. It would have to be said tomorrow, but the professor could deal with that. She hoped that he would allow his undoubtedly brilliant mind to forget his work for the moment and concentrate on what might possibly be a ticklish situation. Aunt Alice wasn’t going to like the idea of her plain and unassuming ward marrying before her own lovely daughter. A good thing the wedding was going to be so quiet.
The professor came on to the ward the following afternoon, accompanied by Dr Gillespie and his housemen. He greeted Sister Snell with his usual courtesy, nodded to Staff Nurse Bennett and engrossed himself at once in his patient’s treatment. Trixie, after the first surprise, took care not to look at him and since kindly providence put it into Sister’s head to send her to the records office for some old notes she was able to absent herself from the ward for ten minutes or more, by which time he was finished with his patient and was standing in the middle of the ward conferring with Dr Gillespie while Sister hovered. He took the notes with an absent, ‘Thank you, Nurse,’ his mind obviously fully occupied with Mrs Downs’s glands, and Trixie, with a heightened colour, took herself off to tidy that lady and sit her up in bed again. She managed to make that last long enough for the men to leave the ward and then, urged crossly by Staff Nurse Bennett not to be all day about such a simple task, set about feeding old Mrs Masters who was no longer able to do it for herself.
She was sent to her tea presently and she went the long way round to the canteen to see if there was a note for her at the porter’s lodge. There was no note but Murgatroyd looked up as she reached it.
‘I was to tell you,’ he said stolidly, ‘to be here, in this place, at quarter to seven sharp.’ He cocked a knowing eye at her. ‘OK?’
Trixie heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, yes, thank you, Murgatroyd.’ She gave him a rather shy smile and he grinned at her. What Professor van der Brink-Schaaksma saw in this mouselike girl he couldn’t understand, but there was no accounting for tastes, and the pair of them were nice, civil too, which was more than could be said for some of them.
Trixie walked on air to her tea, gobbled bread and butter and drank tea in a dreamlike state which left her companions puzzled, and went back to the ward for the last half-hour of her day’s work. It was a little longer than that, for Staff Nurse Bennett wasn’t one to allow a nurse to go off duty punctually—she called it clock-watching. All the same, Trixie was a mere fifteen minutes behind time and quarter to seven was still nicely remote.
She showered, did her face and hair with extreme care and got into the tweed suit. It was a chilly evening and already quite dark, and she thought it unlikely that the professor would suggest taking her anywhere after their visit. He had made it plain that any leisure he had would be devoted to his writing. She quite wondered how long it would take him to write the book, and, a little uneasily, wondered what would happen when it was finished. He wouldn’t need anyone to guard him then...
She was punctual but he was already there, talking to Murgatroyd. He came to meet her as she crossed the hall. ‘Ah, Beatrice,’ he took her hand, ‘what a comfortable person you are, doing what I ask without fuss and not asking tedious questions. You have arranged to go to your aunt?’
‘Yes. They are going out to dinner and I was asked to be punctual.’
‘Well, what we have to tell them will not take long, will it? Will they wish to discuss our wedding, do you suppose?’
She said bleakly, ‘No, I don’t think so. I think that perhaps Aunt Alice may be a bit annoyed...’
‘Because you are marrying before your cousin?’
‘Yes, and—and I think you must be very eligible. I mean you could have married anyone, taken your pick!’ She looked up at him with a small worried frown.
He said without conceit, ‘Yes, I could, but I do not want a wife who is forever wishing to go out to dine or attending endless parties. Once acquaintances have realised that we prefer a quiet life they will invite us less frequently. Of course I have a number of friends both here and in Holland.’
‘The medical profession?’
Trixie thought privately that she would need to buy the best medical dictionary there was—his friends would doubtless find long discussions about the human frame and its ailments a pleasant way of spending an evening. If she hadn’t loved him so much she would have backed out while there was still time.
They got into the car and drove to Highgate and as they stood in the porch waiting for the door to be opened he took her hand in a comforting clasp. ‘Just tell them why we’re here and leave the rest to me,’ he told her.
The maid who answered their knock was new but then Aunt Alice never could keep her domestic staff. Trixie said in her quiet voice, ‘Good evening. Mrs Doveton is expecting me—Miss Doveton.’
The maid nodded in a surly fashion and stood aside for them to go into the hall to be greeted by Aunt Alice’s voice saying loudly through the half-open drawing-room door, ‘Trixie, come in, come in. I do hope whatever it is you have to tell us won’t take too long—this really is most inconvenient...’
Aunt Alice was sitting by the fire, half turned away from it and she didn’t bother to look round as Trixie and the professor went into the room. ‘Your uncle and I are dining at the Grahams’ and as I have told you so many times punctuality on social occasions is so important... I suppose—’ She turned her head then and saw them standing together, her hand still in his, and she stopped being Aunt Alice and became the polished hostess on the instant. ‘Why, Professor van der Brink-Schaaksma, what a delightful surprise. I suppose you have given Trixie a lift? I heard that you sometimes give consultations at the hospital where she works. How very kind of you—you must have a drink...’
His ‘Good evening, Mrs Doveton,’ was gravely polite and he refused the drink. ‘We must on no account make you late for your dinner party,’ he added smoothly. ‘Beatrice and I have come on the briefest of visits in order to tell you that we are to be married very shortly.’
Aunt Alice went an unbecoming crimson and then very pale. ‘Married... Trixie, marry you? How on earth...?’ She pulled herself together. ‘Well, this is a surprise, but of course Trixie has always been secretive and no doubt she is delighted to be stealing a march on her cousin...’
Trixie opened her mouth and closed it again with a snap, and the professor, without looking at her, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I do not think that either of us thought about Margaret, indeed I do not quite see why we should have done so. I have to return to Holland for some weeks very shortly and Beatrice and I shall marry before we go. I am honoured that she has consented to be my wife...’
‘But the wedding? How am I supposed to arrange a wedding in such a short time—bridesmaids and a reception and clothes?’
‘We wish to marry very quietly—just the two of us.’
Aunt Alice looked relieved. ‘Oh, well, in that case Margaret won’t need to be a bridesmaid—it would upset her terribly, you know, Trixie getting married first. You will have no guests?’
‘None, Mrs Doveton.’
‘I must tell your uncle, Trixie, I don’t know what he’ll say,’ and then belatedly, ‘I’m sure I wish you both happy.’ She rang the bell by the fireplace and when the maid came told her to ask the master to come to the drawing-room at once.
Uncle William, surprised though he was, was a good deal nicer about it than his wife had been. He kissed Trixie, wished her happy and shook the professor by the hand. ‘I’m delighted to see you happily settled,’ he told Trixie. ‘You must come and see us when you come back from Holland—a small party for you—Trixie has a number of friends even though we see so little of her. Can’t think why she doesn’t come here more often.’
A remark which earned him a frown from his wife which the professor, standing between them, saw with amusement. It would, he reflected, give him great pleasure to bring Beatrice to dinner.
‘So you cannot tell us the date of your wedding?’ asked Aunt Alice.
‘That isn’t possible. It depends on my commitments both here and in Holland. You will agree with us that in the circumstances a quiet wedding which can take place quickly is the only answer.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Aunt Alice, ‘it does seem the only solution. Do let us know when you are married.’
‘Certainly, Mrs Doveton.’ The professor smiled his charming smile, his eyes like blue flint. ‘And now we mustn’t keep you from your dinner party.’ He looked down at Trixie, standing so quietly beside him. ‘We also have our evening planned, have we not, my dear?’
She said, ‘Yes,’ as convincingly as possible, submitted to Aunt Alice’s kiss somewhere near her cheek, kissed her uncle and watched the professor make his farewells, something which he did with easy good manners.
‘Give my love to Margaret,’ said Trixie as they left.
The last thing Mrs Doveton intended doing. ‘On no account is Margaret to be told,’ she admonished her husband. ‘She will only have hysterics and young Mr Spence will be here shortly to take her to the ball. I will tell her tomorrow.’
Which she did, and was rewarded by Margaret having hysterics. ‘The very idea!’ she screamed. ‘The scheming wretch, daring to get married before me, and to that man too—all that money and they say he’s got a lovely house as well as a place in Holland. How did she do it? We’ve all tried to get him interested...he must be blind—she’s so plain and dowdy.’ She burst into fresh floods of tears and only stopped when her mother pointed out that she wouldn’t be fit to be seen if she didn’t pull herself together...
* * *
THE PROFESSOR AND Trixie got back to the car and he said thoughtfully as he drove away, ‘I do not like your aunt, Beatrice.’
‘Well, I don’t either, but she looked after me for years and sent me to the same school as Margaret and dressed me...’
‘And loved you?’
‘Well, no. But then I wasn’t a real niece—Uncle William was Father’s brother.’
‘You would not mind if we saw rather little of them once we are married?’
‘No. I thought you were splendid...’
‘Thank you. Shall we have dinner somewhere? There are one or two details to settle.’
‘That would be very nice, but I’m not dressed...’
He turned the car away from the heart of the city. ‘We’ll go to a delightful pub at Stonor—north of Henley. I’ve booked a table for half-past eight.’
He drove down to Brent and then on to the A40 and the M40, driving fast and silently until he turned off the motorway and took a country road to Stonor. The Stonor Arms was an eighteenth-century inn, skilfully converted, and the professor couldn’t have chosen a better place to soothe Trixie’s rather battered spirits. They had their drinks in a restful atmosphere and then dined in a leisurely fashion on terrine of duck, fish served with a samphire sauce, lamb cutlets and a fruit tart with lashings of cream. Throughout the meal the professor sustained a rambling conversation about nothing in particular, never mentioning Aunt Alice or Margaret or their own future, so that by the time they reached their coffee Trixie had become her usual matter-of-fact self again.
The professor, an observant man despite his absent-mindedness, eased the flow of inconsequential nothings.
‘I shall be going to Holland in two weeks’ time. If you are agreeable we will marry on the day of departure. You do not need to concern yourself with the arrangements to do with your leaving. I will attend to those. Have you any particular church in mind?’
‘No. I don’t think so. I go to St Ethelburga’s—it’s close to Timothy’s.’
‘Then we will be wed there.’ He sat back, completely at ease. ‘Let me see, if we marry in the forenoon we can get a ferry from Dover in the early afternoon and be in Leiden by the evening. I have to examine students on the following morning.’
It was daunting, to say the least. ‘But will you want me there?�
� She did her best to sound sensible.
‘Of course. I shall be there for three days; we shall stay at my home nearby.’
‘Then after that?’
‘We shall visit my parents and then go back to my home. I can arrange my consultations from there. I need to be back at Timothy’s some time before Christmas. Are you agreeable to this?’
‘Yes—yes. I don’t need to see Aunt Alice again before we get married?’
‘Only if you wish to. Is there any particular friend you would like to have at the church?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ve several friends; if I asked one or two that wouldn’t be fair on all the others.’
‘A wise decision. Perhaps it might be a good idea to invite your friends and mine for drinks one evening when we return to London.’
‘I thought you didn’t like parties?’
‘Nor do I, but I like my friends, and, well, I think they would expect something of that sort.’ He smiled a little. ‘Besides, when we have done our duty I will be left in peace to get on with my book.’
Trixie was beginning to hate that book. It was a great pity that she had to fall in love with a man so absorbed in his work that he paid no heed to the life going on around him, but, since she had, she would make the best of it. He wanted a buffer and she would be just that and somehow she would go through their life together without once allowing him to guess that she loved him.
He said suddenly, ‘I sometimes wonder what you are thinking behind that quiet face, Beatrice.’
She smiled widely. ‘Just at this moment I’m thinking that I ought to be getting back to Timothy’s. I’m on duty in the morning and take-in week starts tomorrow.’
They left the pleasant place and started on their way back to town.
‘How is your patient?’ she wanted to know. ‘The private patient with exophthalmos.’
‘Doing well, I’m glad to say. She presents a most interesting picture—I was expecting corneal ulceration at the very least but there is little sign of that. Now, I have another patient on the wards—an euthyroid case with entirely different symptoms...’