Читать книгу An Ideal Wife - Betty Neels, Бетти Нилс - Страница 5

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.