Nurse Linnet's Release (15 page)

CHAPTER
XV

Another two weeks later Diana said to Linnet:

“I’ve decided that I must go to London and do some shopping and visit my own hairdresser; and as I’ve written to Adrian about it and he agrees—the local G.P. seems to have reported very rosily on my general progress!—I’m going to take you, too, and you can pop down into Kent and visit your parents with Guy. Also there’s a little matter of a cocktail party Sir Paul and Lady Loring are giving next Saturday, and you and Guy are both invited, as well as, of course, myself—another proof that Adrian thinks me well enough to be allowed a few dissipations! And I thought if we left on Tuesday that would give us time for everything and a nice break at the same time.”

Linnet was quite pleased by the idea of a break, particularly as she was very anxious to pay the visit to her parents, and Cathie had written confirming that she was going to marry Pat Murphey and had suggested Linnet might manage to get away if only for a night and join in a little celebration in London.

“
Of course, if you can persuade Major Monteith to swell the numbers and make the party that much merrier we’d be delighted
!”
Cathie had added. But when Linnet showed Guy her friend’s note he merely looked a little amused, and then patting her on the shoulder said:

“I’d merely cramp your style if I put in an appearance, darling, because I don’t really know your friends, and although Nurse Blake’s certainly an eyeful, her
fiancé
and I would probably have nothing at all in common. My knowledge of medicine is strictly limited. So you trot along without me and enjoy yourself.”

“But we won’t be talking shop,” Linnet protested.

“Nevertheless, I’ve a feeling I wouldn’t melt into the picture as well as you will, darling, and they’ll be just as happy without me.”

But Linnet couldn’t help thinking that Cathie, even if she wasn’t actually hurt by his declining the invitation, might think it a little strange. For, after all, he and Linnet were engaged themselves. “Very well,” she said.

He rubbed his cheek against her hair.

“Of course I’ll drive you to London,” he said, “and I shall stay in Town all the time you’re there. And we’ll devote a whole day to your parents.”

“You don’t think you—you would like to spend a night with them?” she asked, a little hesitantly.

His eyebrows ascended slightly.

“Wouldn’t that be a little inconvenient in a busy doctor’s house?”

“I don’t think so. In fact, I know it wouldn’t. And,” she added, “I’ve a feeling they’d like to see rather more of you than a few hours would enable them to do.”

“Just as you like, sweetheart,” he replied, carelessly tweaking her ear. “If you think the investigation into my suitability as a prospective husband for you is likely to last that long.”

But although she knew he was joking lightly she felt a little uneasy, and curiously disappointed, at heart. He was no more anxious to devote time to her parents than he was to the friends of her working days. Was he, she asked herself, something in the nature of a snob? Or was it merely that he felt the people she knew would bore him?”

Without him she probably enjoyed her evening with Cathie and Pat Murphey and two or three others of their friends far more than she would have done if he had accompanied her, for it was inevitable that they talked a certain amount of “shop”, and the old days at St. Faith’s and all the things that interested people who came to have any connection with St. Faith’s monopolized quite a lot of the conversation. But, for all that, it was spirited conversation—even very lively conversation by the time the evening was half over, and drinks had been circulating fairly freely, although Linnet followed her usual custom and was extremely abstemious.

Cathie looked radiant, and Pat Murphey, having been caught at last, looked resigned and content that it was so. Roger Sherringham, who was amongst the guests, bestowed more than one slightly reproachful look on Linnet, and during the course of the
evening he told her that she had severely damaged his heart for him, and that he had never imagined she would go and get herself engaged so soon after the hospital dance.

“And to a patient,” he said. “Why pick on a patient?”

“Why not?” she answered, and treated the rest of his badinage lightly, although she was not quite sure that what she chose to regard as badinage was altogether badinage.

She declined to let him see her back to the hotel where she was staying with Diana, however, although Guy had not arranged to call for her. And when she said good night to Cathie the latter most unexpectedly kissed her with even more unexpected warmth, and expressed the wish that she would be as happy as she was sure she was going to be herself.

“And, if you don’t come back to Aston House, perhaps our paths will cross again one day—perhaps you’ll even invite me to your wedding? I’d like to see you married, Linnet, and I’d like to tell your Major Monteith that he’s a lucky man!”

Linnet smiled at her, and then climbed into the taxi that was waiting for her at the kerb. And as the taxi carried her away she waved to Cathie through the rear window, and felt as if she was waving goodbye to a whole slice of her life.

The next day Guy drove her down into Kent, and perhaps to make up for his defection of the night before—for, in spite of the fact that she tried to pretend to herself that it was not so, and that his disinclination to meet her friends was quite understandable, Linnet had felt almost hurt by his refusal to accompany her to Cathie’s little party—he was particularly charming to her, and he remained charming throughout the day. He expressed so much admiration for Heatherbridge that her heart warmed and swelled a little with sudden happiness, and by the time they arrived at the red-brick house in which her parents lived she was sure that the admiration was genuine, and therefore she felt happier still.

Dr. Kintyre’s neat brass plate gleamed beside the white-painted garden gate, and beyond the gate a flagged path wound between beds of healthy-looking roses to the front porch where her mother waited to receive them. As soon as the car stopped she had the door open, and Linnet realized that the sight of the big Bentley must have surprised her considerably. She looked awed, Linnet thought, as she came down the path to meet them, and she looked so homely, and motherly, and so familiar and dear that Linnet felt a lump rise in her throat as she rushed into her arms. For in a few months from now she might be on the other side of the world almost, and only letters would link her with her parents.

On the whole, the day was a success. The lunch was a success, because Mrs. Kintyre had spared no pains to make it so, and Dr. Kintyre, whether or not he was secretly impressed by the looks of the man his daughter was to marry, was extremely affable to him. And Guy responded by being charming to Linnet’s mother, and to her unmarried sister who was still at home. The boys—and there were four of them—were all away at school, and Linnet could not help feeling that that was perhaps fortunate, for boys in any walk of life will be boys, and Guy’s car would almost certainly have intrigued them, and he might not have taken too kindly to seeing them swarming over it and examining all its gadgets.

Before they left Linnet took Guy round the garden, and showed him all her favourite haunts. He smiled a little as he watched her picking a big bunch of flowers to take away with her.

“That’s not really necessary, you know,” he said. “I can buy you all the flowers you want.”

“But these are garden flowers!”

“And you’re a garden flower yourself, aren’t you, Linnet?” he suggested, his smile suddenly gentle. He took the half-opened yellow rosebud she had just picked from her hand and inserted it into his lapel. “Then I’ll wear you on my heart!” he said.

When they got back to Town Diana was looking beautiful but bored. She had had a facial treatment that morning, as well as a hair-do and complete restyling of her golden hair, and in addition she was wearing something new and expensive. She had had lunch with Adrian Shane Willoughby, and he had expressed the opin
i
on that she was almost completely fit again, but in spite of such a satisfying verdict she did not look as if her lunch with him had provided her with much enjoyment. For the first time since Linnet had known her she seemed definitely moody—almost spitefully moody—and the fact that Linnet appeared to have enjoyed her day did nothing to improve the moodiness.

“Well, I’m glad you won’t be' running away and leaving me again before we get back to the cottage,” she said. “Tomorrow we all put in an appearance at Sir Paul’s cocktail party, and tomorrow night I thought we might have a little dinner-party somewhere—you and Guy, and Adrian and myself. That is if I can persuade Adrian to be one of the party. If not I’ll find someone else—or Guy will probably know of someone else.”

Looking at her, Linnet found it difficult to believe that she would have any serious difficulty in persuading Dr. Shane Willoughby to spend the evening with her—unless, perhaps, he preferred to spend it with her alone!

“And there’s one other thing I want to talk about,” Diana said, “before we get caught up in a social whirl. I’ve decided that I’ll have to go back to Rhodesia and sort out a few of the things I left
behind there—the rest of the stuff will be sold up, and that will be the end of it!” with her lips forming rather a tight line. “There isn’t very much I want to keep, but some things I must keep, and I can’t go over them alone. Will you come with me, Linnet, and help me? Of course I’ll pay all your expenses, and I thought we’d go out by sea and fly back. You shouldn’t be away for more than six weeks or a couple of months, and by that time Guy will be wanting to marry you and go back to Rhodesia himself, and you’ll have had a kind of preview of the sort of life that awaits you. What do you say, Linnet?”

Linnet was completely taken aback, and she said she would have to think the matter over.

“And consult Guy, I suppose?” Diana suggested dryly. “Well, somehow we’ll get him to agree, and I think it’s a good thing that you should have a breather before you get married. Believe me,” viciously, and biting her scarlet lip, “marriage is something you need a breather for, and if you’re wise you won’t rush into it!”

And Linnet thought again that her lunch that day definitely couldn’t have been a success.

The next afternoon Linnet dressed herself with unusual care for her first official presentation to Sir Paul Loring. Before that she had seen him often, especially in her early training days at St. Faith’s; but it was one thing to see a famous physician surrounded by hordes of white-coated students, and to be comfortably aware that even if he fell over her he wouldn’t know her—and certainly never remember her! But to be introduced to him by Diana as her companion and someone who would soon have acquired the status of a reasonably near relative, and wife of a man like Guy Monteith, was another thing altogether.

Sir Paul, she had suspected, was quite a pleasant man, and so it turned out to be. He held her hand in his and looked down at her a little whimsically as he said:

“Do you know, I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“Oh!” Linnet exclaimed, and looked up at him with slowly widening eyes.

“Quite a lot,” Sir Paul repeated, but he did not give her any information as to who was the source of his information. And then he glanced at his god-daughter with approval. “And you’re looking so much better, young woman, that you won’t require anyone to keep an eye on you before very long. And by that time Nurse Kintyre here will be thinking of getting married, I suppose?” looking once more at Linnet as if for some reason she intrigued him a little.

Linnet couldn’t imagine why she should intrigue him. He was not the type to indulge in light flirtations with pretty nurses—certainly not with engaged young women—and yet he did, definitely, seem interested in her.

She looked about her at the crush that filled his pleasant home in one of London’s oldest squares. The room was beautifully furnished, and very elegant, and most of the women present were very elegant, too. Linnet was wearing a little candy-pink suit and a white lace hat that sat like a frosted leaf on her gently curling short dark hair, and although all her accessories were in their way quite perfect, and she knew she looked very nice, she did not feel she could compete in even a small way with the smart sophistication that was chattering in many different varieties of voice on all sides of her.

Guy had discovered several friends amongst the press, and after introducing her here and there he had made an excuse to leave her alone for a short while while he renewed association with one of them. He didn’t actually leave her alone, for a rather shy young man had just been presented to her and was talking to her, but she felt a little discarded when she saw that the woman he had attached himself to was quite strikingly attractive and exquisitely clothed, and welcomed him with nothing less than open arms. In fact, he was holding both of her white gloved hands in his while he stooped and looked into her face, and she laughed delightedly up at him.

Linnet felt all at once acutely embarrassed, and when the shy young man asked whether she would like another drink she said yes please, although she didn’t really want one, because she didn’t feel like talking to him just then. But as soon as the young man left her alone she felt terribly conspicuous, and was looking round for a quiet corner which might offer her sanctuary when she caught sight of Adrian Shane Willoughby.

He was very correctly dressed, and he was leaning against a white painted door and quietly smoking a cigarette when her eyes met his, and she realized that he must have been looking hard at her for several seconds. He removed his shoulder from the door
with one easy, graceful movement, and came across to her.

“Well, Nurse Kintyre—or shall I call you Miss Kintyre, these days?—and how are you?” he asked.

“Very well, thank you, Doctor,” she replied.

“You look it,” he admitted, gazing down at her. There was colour in her cheeks like the candy-pink of her suit, and her eyes looked more than ever like crushed violets under their shyly sweeping eyelashes. “You look very well indeed. And, before I forget, I mustn’t omit to congratulate you on your engagement!”

“Oh-oh!” she said, and looked down at the gilt clasp of her handbag. “Thank you—very much!”

There was silence between them for almost half a minute, and then he said very quietly:

“I’d like to congratulate Major Monteith, too, if he’s anywhere about?”

Before she could prevent herself Linnet’s eyes went to the corner of the room where Guy and the woman who had welcomed him so enthusiastically were sitting side by side on a little Regency couch, and carrying on a spirited conversation. He still retained possession of one of her hands, and her free hand was occupying itself picking imaginary specks of fluff from one of his lapels, and their heads appeared to be unnecessarily close.

Linnet knew that she swallowed something in her throat, and she even licked her lips without quite realizing what she was doing, because they had gone suddenly a little dry, and even as she did so she recognized that Adrian Shane Willoughby was aware of what she was doing, and why she was doing it. He took her by the elbow and guided her over into the corner she had been previously making for, and indicating the wide, padded window-seat he dropped down on it beside her.

“Forgive me, Nurse,” he said, “and I’ll have to go on calling you Nurse, I think
...
”

“My name is Linnet,” she told him, without quite understanding the necessity that compelled her to do so.

“Well, then, Linnet, forgive me for saying this, but I’ve got to say it—are you
quite
sure you know what you’re doing?”

She looked up at him, still instinctively moistening her lips a trifle.

“You mean—?”

He glanced once more across at Guy and the woman beside him. “This engagement of yours
...
!
Are you sure that you’re not making a mistake?”

She realized that she ought to feel a little annoyed with him—that some people might consider his question quite unwarrantable, in spite of the fact that Guy had so obviously, if only temporarily, forgotten all about her. But his voice was so gentle—there even seemed to her to be a note of urgency in it—that she knew she could not possibly take offence. And in any case she liked him very much, and nothing he could say would ever be really likely to offend her.