Consulting Surgeon (4 page)

And yet—hadn’t talking to him been somehow
stimulating
demanded her innate honesty. She remembered how her hands had trembled when she had finally set down her wine glass. Part of the cause of that had been annoyance. But part also, she realized, had been caused by the man’s sharp challenge to her own strength of character—a challenge as vital as the successful striking of a spark from a tinder, a challenge which, sooner or later, must be answered in full.

Strange that she had never felt equally annoyed or stimulated by Ned, she thought. If contact with Matthew Lingard was like setting a tentative bare foot upon an Indian fakir’s bed of nails, then Ned’s company was like sinking into the gentle comfort of a feather mattress. She felt pleased with the simile but she shied from deciding which she preferred.

Suddenly Coralie was in the room and standing at her side, seeming to bring a breath of the summer night air with her. She swung her handbag in the direction of a settee, tore the tiny Juliet cap from her curls and flung it after the bag. Then she stretched her arms and dropped them dramatically to her sides. “Bear,” she breathed ecstatically, “where
did
you collect him?”

Ursula thrust aside the book she had not been reading and started up. “Who—Mr. Lingard? Where is he, Coralie? Didn’t he bring you back as he promised?”

“Yes—oh, yes, he did.” Coralie dropped upon a pouffe and began to rock upon it, hugging her knees.

“But didn’t you ask him to come up? It would have been polite.” (She would
not
admit to a sense of disappointment!)

“I did ask him, but he excused himself, saying that he wouldn’t intrude upon Mummy if she wasn’t feeling fit.”

“Oh. Well, that was considerate of him.”

“And he said too”—Coralie cocked her head and eyed Ursula impishly—“that he was quite sure you subscribed to the worthy maxim, ‘Early to bed and early to rise,’ so he wouldn’t disturb you either! Bear, if you didn’t meet first at the party, and he says you didn’t, how
did
you get to know him? He says you travelled up from Sheremouth together today.”

“That was an overstatement. We met casually in the train. But oddly, enough, he is to be orthopaedic consultant at the Easterbrook Trust shortly.”

“Bear—you have all the luck!”

“Do I?” queried Ursula dryly.

“Of course. Why, he’s devastating! I knew he was a surgeon, but he didn’t tell me the Easterbrook bit. I wonder why not?” puzzled Coralie.

“He probably didn’t think it important to you. And for him I gather it’s merely a milestone on the way to Harley Street.”

“Talking of Harley Street,” Coralie twisted about on the pouffe and was suddenly serious, “I told him about Mummy’s headaches. He asked who our doctor was, and when I said we hadn’t had one since Dr. Bleen died he said he knew a good man, a friend of his, and if Mummy will consent to see him, he’ll arrange it. You are to ring him up.”

“Oh, Coralie, you shouldn’t have troubled him. I could have done all that was necessary,” protested Ursula.

“But why, when he offered, and he probably knows far better than you who is a good man for Mummy to go to? You are always so impossibly prickly, Bear, about this ‘professional etiquette’ of yours.”

“This isn’t a question of etiquette,” returned Ursula quietly. “It’s simply that there was no need to put ourselves under an obligation to Mr. Lingard.”

“Well, if he didn’t mind, why should you? And if you are afraid he’ll take it out of you when he gets you on the ward, I’ll beg leniency for you when I see him again!” mocked Coralie.

Startled, Ursula asked sharply: “Why—are you seeing him again?”

Coralie glanced up beneath the curtain of her lashes. “I may be. I could if I tried—” She broke off evasively, but contrived to leave a vague suggestion hanging upon the air when, claiming that she was “starving,” she went off to the larder to forage.

Disturbed, Ursula went about the room, plumping up cushions and smoothing chair-covers preparatory to leaving the lounge tidy for the night. Coralie was so impressionable, but surely, surely she wasn’t getting ideas from any charm which Matthew Lingard had chosen to turn upon her?

Ursula stood hugging a cushion and staring down at the chair from which she had taken it while she listened to a small voice within her which asked how she knew the man had charm, since she had certainly not encountered it?

For a moment she stood silent. Then she thrust back the cushion, giving its corner a vicious tweak in the process. She
didn
’
t
know, she told the voice. So far as she was concerned, he had no charm—only the power to provoke, to challenge. But Coralie was of an age and of a type for whom mere sophistication might have charm, and so might an older man’s assured manner. Coralie had claimed to be in love before, but she was very volatile, and was usually ripe for new romance. But if, upon the strength of one meeting with Matthew Lingard, she was going to imagine herself in love, she might get hurt. And to be hurt by love was something that Ursula did not want Coralie to experience.

Mrs. Craig was unexpectedly amenable to the suggestion that she should see a doctor about her headaches. Ursula, realizing that she had been having them for some time without bothering to consult one, had an uneasy thought that she was impressed, even a little flattered, by the surgeon’s interest in what Coralie had told him of her. But she dismissed this as unworthy, though when she suggested that they could have chosen a new doctor for themselves, Mrs. Craig brushed this aside.

“Nonsense. It is far better to have the recommendation of a man of Mr. Lingard’s standing. I must say I’m very grateful to him. Or should I be more grateful to you, darling?” she asked of Coralie.

“I only told him about you. And he promised to do what he could,” said Coralie. “Ursula is to ring him up, he said. And then he’ll arrange it.”

Ursula went to the telephone, knowing that she should be grateful to Mr. Lingard, yet still reluctant to be under an obligation to him.

When she spoke to Matthew something in her tone may have conveyed as much, for he assured her quickly: “This is no particular trouble to me, you know. Dr. Contin is an old friend of mine. We walked the same hospital as students. I’ll willingly fix an appointment for Mrs. Craig.”

Ursula returned to the others with this news and was completely unprepared for Coralie’s passionate reception of it.

From her favorite seat, the pouffe, she sprang up to face Ursula, her eyes bright with disappointment.

“But why on earth didn’t you let this Dr. Contin come here to see Mummy?” she demanded. “Mr. Lingard might have brought him!”

“I didn’t think we need take up the time of either of them unnecessarily,” said Ursula calmly. “Mr. Lingard happens to be on holiday. Don’t you agree that I was right?” she appealed to Mrs. Craig.

Mrs. Craig closed her eyes and ran a finger across her brows. “It doesn’t signify, I dare say. I expect I shall feel well enough to keep the appointment.”

But Coralie turned again upon Ursula. “It was
your
idea!” she accused. “Mr. Lingard would have brought him here if you hadn’t interfered. I suppose you issued
your
orders about it—just to try to assert yourself with him before he has the right to order
you
about when he gets to Sheremouth! I can just imagine your tone—‘We professional nurses can manage these things,’ ” mimicked Coralie cruelly. “Or was it simply—‘I-am-Sister-Craig-and-my-word-is-law?’ That is, if it wasn’t something else still,” she concluded darkly.

Ursula stared at her. The quip about ‘Sister Craig’ had been a family joke, invented teasingly by Coralie at first sight of Ursula in a sister’s veil. It had gone into the archives of their sisterly exchanges, and never had Coralie flung it at her in anger as she was doing now. And after it had come that dark reference to something which Coralie had not expressed. What did she mean?

But Coralie would not say what she meant. When she said she had only an instinct to hurt, and had not been quite clear herself what she meant to express. But a moment later she knew. Bear thought that, by keeping Mr. Lingard from coming to the flat, she could keep him for herself and away from her, Coralie. Bear didn’t
want
her to get to know him better. That was clear from her reluctance to talk about him. But—Coralie hugged the knowledge with a secret satisfaction—
she
knew just what he thought of Bear. And it hadn’t been particularly flattering either. Even the bit about her looking like some kind of an angel had really been critical...

She flounced towards the door. “I’m going straight to the phone to tell Mr. Lingard that—that Mummy isn’t well enough to go to this doctor,” she announced.

“Coralie—please don’t.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, because it isn’t true.” How Coralie could stir up a tornado about nothing! But she was determined that Matthew Lingard should not be troubled twice.

Coralie halted. “Well, don’t blame
me
if this Dr. Contin thinks we are brutal to Mummy, making her go to him when she is really ill,” she threatened. “But, of course, it’s all very well for
you.
I’m not likely to meet Mr. Lingard again without some opportunity like this. But at that silly hospital of yours
you
will be seeing him every day!”

How romantically rewarding a prospect did Coralie imagine that to be, wondered Ursula wryly. When she and Matthew Lingard met on the ward, they would both be absorbed in their work, and that they had met before in two electrically charged encounters would not signify at all. But she was glad that Coralie had betrayed what had upset her, for that made it easier to reassure her.

She went over and ruffled her stepsister’s curls affectionately. “Do you know, I’m going to be quite gratified if Mr. Lingard even remembers me?” she teased.

“But he will. He told me that you reminded him of some kind of an angel—”

“Botticelli, perhaps?” queried Ursula amusedly. “That wasn’t necessarily a compliment to any warm charm, you know!”

“Yes, Botticelli, that was it. How did you know?” But, not waiting for an answer, Coralie pursued her theme; “When a man is on the spot you can
make
your opportunities with him if you want to. I know I could.”

It was a hint that Ursula was to remember when, after Mrs. Craig’s visit to Dr. Contin, she discussed with Ursula his chief recommendation—that the London flat should be given up for the time being and Mrs. Craig should go down to the country or the sea for at least the rest of the summer.

Mrs. Craig declared plaintively: “I told him that I couldn’t bear the thought of being out of London for so long—particularly of burying myself, not to mention Coralie, in the sort of place where there would be no prospect of being able to make up a bridge four and perhaps not even any decent shops. But he wouldn’t hear of my staying in town, so I had practically made up my mind to face the worst when Coralie had the bright idea that we should both come down to Sheremouth, to an hotel.”

“To Sheremouth? But does that quite tally with Dr. Contin’s idea of complete rest and quiet for you? You know Sheremouth in the season is not so very different from London.”

“I know. And that’s what makes it quite a good compromise. I couldn’t
endure
that other deadliness. Nor would it be fair on Coralie. So if we come to the Grand we shall be near you, which will be nice for your off-duty. And at least there’ll be some life for Coralie. Don’t you
want
us at Sheremouth, then?”

“On the contrary, I think it would be lovely for all of us,” said. Ursula warmly. “Though I do feel it is not quite what the doctor had in mind for you.”

Mrs. Craig lay back in her chair and closed her eyes. “But I am leaving it to you to explain the situation to him. In fact, now I’ve made up my mind, you’d better go and telephone him straight away. I told him I would let him know where I decided to go.”

“And supposing he considers Sheremouth unsuitable?” asked Ursula bluntly.

“If he does, then I shall defy him and stay where I am. But he won’t, if you use a grain or two of tact. Remember, I’m
depending
on you...”

Mrs. Craig allowed her voice to trail away in a tone of complacent trust which Ursula supposed she ought to find flattering.

But as she went to the telephone to use “a grain or two of tact” for the doctor’s persuasion she was aware of only one insistent thought.

The move to Sheremouth had been Coralie’s idea! Certainly she had acted swiftly to make her own opportunities with Matthew Lingard! Everything pointed to the fact that she was building high hopes upon the prospect of seeing him again and, realizing this, Ursula was aware of a perplexity that was mingled with dismay.

The man was years older than Coralie, and probably fully experienced with women. And Coralie might have found his provocative raillery attractive, so long as it was not used too tellingly against her. But what could she be promising herself on the strength of a single meeting with him? Was it possible that he had found it amusing to encourage her in a brief flirtation which meant nothing to him but which the girl had taken seriously?

No. The thought had struck an ugly note, but Ursula rejected it immediately. For she judged that the man, intolerant, critical and confidently ambitious as he had seemed, still had a quality of character that would not stoop so far. If he had encouraged Coralie it was because he was attracted by her, for he would have brought the same sincerity to that as he had done to his outspoken criticisms of herself.

Or was that letting herself believe that, in a different way,
she
had been briefly important to him?

As she picked up the receiver to call Dr. Contin, a little sigh escaped her. The nearer truth, she thought, was almost certainly that Matthew Lingard was entirely indifferent to his future relations with either of them.

CHAPTER THREE