Love for the Matron (16 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

For a moment, E
lizabeth was silent from sheer astonishment until she realized that William was thinking aloud rather than anything else.

“Well, Susan isn
’
t quite old enough for you to be entertaining on her account,” she said, keeping her tone casual.

“Good heavens! Am I in for that as well? You must think me an awful old fogey, but most of my married friends either have sma
ll
children or grown-up ones, and in every case there
’
s a wife to look af
t
er that side of things.
”
He puffed thoughtfully at his pipe. “I suppose after Mary died I was so busy trying to fill the hole she left with work that there wasn
’
t a moment left for other considerations; and now that the wound is healed I don
’
t seem to have the time, anyway. Drink up your tea, Elizabeth, it
’
s getting cold. I don
’
t want to hurry you on your way, but if I
’
ve got Dear Emily to placate
...”

Elizabeth drank her tea obediently. “There
’
s really no need for you to come with me. I have a torch,” she protested.

William tapped out his pipe into the fireplace. “Suppose I said I wanted to? Would you deprive me of the pleasure?”

“No ... if you
’
re sure.”

“Quite sure,” William said calmly. “I expect you would like to powder your nose. Yo
u
know where the cloakroom is. I
’
ll
just tell Dear Emily I
’
m going out, in case the hospital rings.”

Elizabeth went into the little cloakroom. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and put up her hands to hide her flushed cheeks, but her eyes still betrayed the excit
e
m
e
nt that was surging up inside her.
My heart be still,
she admonished sternly, but its quickened beat ignored her entreaty. She wished she dared linger, but William would be waiting...

He was standing with his back to the fire and he smiled at her as she walked through the door. “Ready?” He picked up her coat from the arm of the chair and gestured to her to come and put it on. His hands rested lightly for a moment on her shoulders as he slipped it on for her.

Together they walked towards the door. William held it open for her to go ahead and she felt all her nerve ends tingling at his nearness. Desperately she tried to tell herself that she alone was feeling like this, that William was just the same as usual ... a quiet, rather shy man who had little to do with women and preferred it that way.

As they stepped out into the night the stars seemed to have woven a network of brightness especially for them and the moon laid down a shining silver path across the restless face of the river. The air was full of the pungent freshness that was
spring ...
the bursting buds on the trees, the thrusting plant in the borders, the grass growing strongly after its long winter
rest...

William took her arm and guided her along the path. “I can never decide whether I prefer the spring or summer, but I think spring has the edge. It comes after winter and it
’
s such a delight to feel the wa
rm
er air against one
’
s face and see things coming to life again.” He chuckled unexpectedly. “I don
’
t think I
’
ve been paying enough attention to spring, but I have a feeling I will this year.”

Elizabeth was silent. It would be so easy to read some special meaning into his words, but would she be right to? Hadn
’
t she gone to a lot of trouble earlier in the day to convince another
man
that she was too old
...
that they were too old for love?

All too soon, or was it too late? they reached the Matron
’
s house and William held out his hand for the key. Elizabeth
’
s fingers were trembling as she passed it to him. He looked down at her and there was an odd little smile on his face. He turned the key easily and opened the door and reached inside for the light switch. Idly she noticed that he had put on the light at the top of the stairs and not the one in the little hall. He stood aside to let her go in first, but this time he followed her inside.

He laughed softly. “Let the young ones stand out in the cold
!
” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her, his eyes very bright. “May I kiss you
good night ...
Elizabeth
?
”

Without waiting for her to reply he bent his head and touched her lips with his own, very gently at first, and then, as if discovering a long
-
forgotten sweetness, he kissed her as every woman longs to be kissed; as if she were the only woman he had ever found desirable and the one he wanted to kiss above all others. Elizabeth forgot that she had ever thought she was too old for love, that she had worried about her lack of response to a man
’
s kisses ... and all the warmth of feeling she had feared was dead and gone for ever welled up in her, like the rising sap of the spring, until all her senses were singing like the birdsong of early morning.

It was William who finally released her, so very reluctantly, and said rather shakily, “I think I
’
d better go now; and thank you, darling Elizabeth, for saying
goodnight ...
like that.”

Then he was gone, the door had closed softly behind him, and there was only the fading sound of his footsteps to tell her he had been there. Elizabeth found she was trembling violently and she put her hand gently to her lips as if to savor again the wonder of his kisses. With a broken little murmur that was between laughter and tears she went up the steps as slowly as an old woman, but the warmth that throbbed through her veins belonged to youth itself. She switched on all the lights and went from room to room, picking up things and putting them down again, as if that simple little action would convince her that she hadn
’
t dreamt this last half-hour.

She made herself some tea more from force of habit than because she wanted it. She did remember to pour it out, but when she finally stood up to go to bed she discovered it cold and untouched. She was sure that she could never sleep as her mind kept hovering over each tiny event like a butterfly over a flower-bed, undecided which to sample first; but as soon as she turned off the light she drifted off on the wings of sleep as trustfully as a girl in love for the first time, sure that she would awaken in the morning and find it still true.

She woke to Annie
’
s voice saying over and over again, “It
’
s gone half past seven, Miss Graham, and your tea
’
s getting cold.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes and her glance went to the window where the spring sun was casting its first golden patterns on the trees, enriching their tender green. Her heart sang with joy and it was with difficulty that she made herself do the more practical things such as drinking her tea and getting ready to go on duty. Once she had put on her uniform and automatically glanced in the mirror to make sure her stocking seams were straight the reflection of a strictly tailored matron that gazed back at her was almost enough to convince her that the whole business was merely a dream—more pleasant than many, but fantastic all the same. Women of her age didn
’
t fall in love just like that with men they had scarcely known a week, and yet
...
it seemed to be affecting William the same way. If there was one person likely to be more serious and responsible than a hospital matron surely it would be a senior consultant physician.

Elizabeth slipped her cloak over her shoulders and stepped out into a world all bright and shining and golden with spring. The sky seemed bluer, the clouds whiter, the daffodils a deeper yellow, and the grass and the tender opening leaves had certainly taken a leap forward since yesterday. The river caught the blue of the sky and the fleecy whiteness of the clouds, and a breeze rippled the dancing reflections of the branches into mosaics of Chinese jade. In the wide meadow across-stream lambs gambolled as only lambs could, and in a patch of reeds nearby she could see two swans looking very nest-conscious. She paused for a moment before going into the hospital, as if to garner the final impression of it all before settling down to the more serious aspects of her job.

After breakfast Elizabeth took a quick summary of the report from Miss Selby, who gave no signs of having even observed that it was spring today and a glorious morning as well.

“Will you bring the holiday list with you to the Sisters
’
meeting, Miss Selby? It will be quicker if we get confirmation of their dates while they
’
re all together,” Elizabeth said pleasantly.

Miss Selby
’
s lips moved as if she had been about to protest that that wasn
’
t St. Genevieve
’
s method, and then they went into a straight line. “Yes, Miss Graham. You want me to come to the meeting as well?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, if you don
’
t mind, and then we can get things dealt with much faster, don
’
t you think?”

Miss Selby seemed caught between resentment and surprise at being consulted. “Yes, Miss Graham.”

Elizabeth hid a sigh and let her go. Perhaps one day she would find the key to the real personality of Edith Selby. Margaret Smith brought in the letters and Elizabeth saw that the girl was wearing a soft brushed wool cardigan of pale blue
...
was it a concession to spring or merely an item in her wardrobe? All the letters seemed to be routine ones and there was nothing to demand her attention or to hold her thoughts within the four walls of St. Genevieve
’
s.

Firmly she denied that she was keeping
a
n eye on the clock or listening for the approach of familiar footsteps. Perhaps she was concentrating too hard, because when William did arrive she was taken by surprise. He looked different this mo
rn
ing, and then she saw that he was sporting a boutonniere of early primroses, and it must be her imagination that he was walking with a more sprightly step than usual. It was only when Margaret Smith put down the tea-tray that Elizabeth saw that the girl was aware that there was change in the air and she gave Elizabeth and William a quick little glance before taking herself quietly out of the room.

William saw Elizabeth gazing at his primrose. “It was such a lovely morning that I went for a walk before breakfast,” he admitted shyly. “I found these tucked away at the foot of the castle wall.” He looked at her directly. “How are you this morning
...
Miss Graham?”

She knew that he was secretly saying Elizabeth behind the screen of the more formal words. “Very well, thank you, but I
’
m afraid I wasn
’
t up early like you ... I overslept.” Then she recalled an item from last night. “Was Dear Emily all right when you got back?”

He smiled rather wryly. “Indeed she wasn
’
t. She
’
s handed in her notice.”

Elizabeth flinched. “I
’
m sorry ... especially as it seems to be my fault. What will you
do?”

He refused to be dis
m
ayed. “She might change her mind, but I doubt it. I suppose in a way it
’
s something I should have seen to years ago, but when you have a comfortable pair of shoes you hesitate to get a new pair even though the old ones are worn out. You mustn
’
t blame yourself,” he went on with surprising firmness. “I wouldn
’
t put the clock back
...
for anything. Would you want to?”

Elizabeth felt the color coming up into her face. “No,” she said very softly, and busied herself with pouring the tea.

He watched the movement of her hands as if he had never observed them closely before and there was an air of proprietorial interest about him that made her feel rather self-conscious.

“Oh, by the way, Anthony Hingston rang me up this morning to say he wouldn
’
t be coming in today. He asked me to tell you that he had decided to take advantage of his home comforts for a day or two.” He glanced at Elizabeth keenly. “He said you would know what he meant.” Elizabeth had difficulty in meeting his eyes as she passed over the cup of tea. “Yes, I think so,” she admitted reluctantly, “but I don
’
t suppose I
’
d better explain.”

William laughed. “All right. I won
’
t press the point. Anything special on the agenda today
?
”

“The Sisters
’
meeting ... the first one I
’
ve had. I
’
ll have a better idea of how things are going once it
’
s over.”

“Are you running into patches of trouble, then
?
”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Nothing as definite as that. It
’
s not even passive resistance
...
it
’
s only a feeling I get now and again that reminds me that I
’
m still a stranger at St. Genevieve
’
s.” He smiled at that. “Not for me, you aren
’
t. It
’
s odd that we
’
ve got to know one another so well in so short a time. Perhaps at our age we get to the heart of things more quickly.” He glanced at her apologetically. “I shouldn
’
t have said
our
age. I
’
m older than you. Does it matter
?
”

Elizabeth put down her cup hastily. “No
...
I
’
m beginning to think age doesn
’
t come into it. I don
’
t know quite how to explain it
...”

He chuckled. “I don
’
t think you have to. I felt like a schoolboy this morning
...
the only difference was that I had to shave.” He got to his feet. “No, I won
’
t have another cup of tea. I might forget to treat the Matron with due respect.” Elizabeth glanced at him quickly and the look in his eyes made her lower her own in confusion. He was gone before she could escort him to the door as usual. A little smile touched her mouth. Was impossible that William was
running
away
...
for now? Rather sternly she brought herself back to the tasks on hand.

There wasn
’
t time to start her round before the Sister
’
s meeting and she would have to do it later in the day. She busied herself with summarizing her notes. She knew she would have to put a lot across in a very short time and it would have to be done concisely before the opposition had a chance to find their ammunition.

As Elizabeth walked along the corridor towards the boardroom she could hear a murmur of voices. She had deliberately left her arrival to the last moment so that there was very chance that all the Sisters would be already in their places. As she appeared in the doorway there was a sudden hush as if some unseen hand had switched the sound off and then there was a rustle of aprons as they stood up polite to greet her. As Elizabeth went to her high-backed chair at the head of the table she had time to observe that all the more senior staff were sitting together while the more neutral memb
e
rs like Sister Moffatt, Sister Ross, and Sister Collins had taken chairs to her right. She wondered if some unseen spectator might refer to them as the prisoner
’
s friends. She couldn
’
t avoid the feeling that she, Elizabeth Graham, was on trial this morning, and that while those present weren
’
t all actively hostile they would exp
ec
t her to prove that she was the right person to be Matron of St. Genevieve
’
s, rather than take any action themselves for or against her.