Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) (23 page)

For a single instant she wished that he would draw her right into his arms, blot out that tantalizing picture of Sir John that haunted her all the time these days, by bending his head quickly and claiming the soft red lips that were partly upturned to him as he held her. And then, perhaps
....

But Rupprecht Wern was not the type to take advantage of an odd though infinitely tempting moment. He did, however, look deep into her eyes before the others came
upon them, and he told her in a voice that was deep and quiet and moving,
“
If you ever decide to send out roots—in Austria—I hope that you will let me know.
”

Lise came swinging through the door into the veranda and behind her were several other young people all still obviously moved by the infectious spirit of the dance. Lise put her hands on her broad hips and surveyed her brother and Lucy with laughing, audacious, brown eyes.

“
Don
’
t tell me that you two have no desire to dance!
”
she said.
“
Why, it
’
s absurd to waste time out here when you can have real fun indoors. Come, now, Lucy—!
”
lately she had taken, as had her sister and mother, to calling the little English nurse they liked so much by her Christian name
“
—and you, too, Rupprecht! Come back with us and dance!
”

Dr. Wern looked at Lucy, and all at once she felt a spirit of something like recklessness enter into her. Rested, and temporarily fresh again, she could see no reason why—if he wished it—they should not dance together, even though it was not the kind of dancing to which she was accustomed. She smiled at Lise—and then she smiled at him.

“
Very well,
”
she said,
“
if you would like me to...
.”

Rupprecht Wern became happy himself all at once. He took Lucy
’
s arm and led her back to the lounge, brought her a glass of wine that put one or two more stars into her eyes, and then for nearly two hours they joined in the tremendous merriment that everyone was having there, while the musicians excelled themselves in the gallery, and only paused to accept refreshments.

When she went up to bed at last Lucy was strangely detached and happy, and forgetful of everything save the fact that for one evening at least one man had looked at her as if she could make or mar his world for him. She even thought that it would be a tremendous pity if his world had
to be marred, and she deliberately, as she took off the red dress and caught that faint odor of a perfume she had once used and that took her back to Vienna and a certain night when she thought she was near to being absolutely happy, shut her ears to the sound of Sir John
’
s cold, clipped voice saying good-night to her outside the door of the clinic.

Sir John and Lynette Harling, the celebrated ballerina...
.
Was there any reason why he should even pretend to be interested in her? Or why she should spare him a thought—the anguished kind of thoughts she had been in the habit of sparing him lately...?

And then, as at last she climbed into bed, she knew unhappily that there was.

Dr. Went h
ad decided to take one of his rare holidays, and to the delight of his mother and sisters he announced that he might remain with them for a week or longer if no urgent message was received that would call him back to his clinic in Vienna.

Lucy, when she knew that he was going to stay at the Hotel Arlberg for several days at least, was really pleased, and Miranda of course was delighted. Her delight was so transparent that it amused everyone, but Rupprecht Wern himself was obviously touched by it.

In the first few days of his stay he taught Lucy to ski; not well enough to skim the top of the valley, but enough to avoid turning turtle into snowdrifts at every available opportunity. She began to gain confidence when she was on skis, and to enjoy the pastime almost as much as he did, which was something she had imagined she never would do when she first started to learn.

Miranda watched them from her balcony, but her limbs were not strong enough yet to allow her to do anything so venturesome as try to ski, although she was impatient for the moment when she could make the attempt. She was permitted brief daily walks that were being gradually extended, and she could already make her own way around the quaint, rambling hotel, and was always welcomed with open arms in the kitchen when she put her head around the door. Frau Wern would set down an enormous glass of milk in front of her on which the cream was several inches deep, and there would be spiced cakes from the oven, or a bowl of preserves and a hot, crunchy roll.

Miranda felt very much like the king of the castle in those days, and she was enjoying the position immensely. She was quite happy for Lucy to go off and improve her skiing under the expert direction of her adored Rupprecht, and if she nursed in her head any persistent secret wish that their acquaintance, thus daily improved, might end in her favorite scheme at the moment, she kept it to herself. Although Lise and Gretel, she felt sure, had no objections to welcoming Lucy into their really intimate family circle, and she had overheard Frau Wern observing to her daughters, with rather a sigh in the words, that she hoped she would acquire a daughter-in-law before she died, since it was plain that she was not likely ever to possess a son-in-law.

As for Lucy, during those days of rather exhilarating freedom, she was attacked by a most unusual spirit of carefree determination to make the most of them, and as on the night of the dance an even fiercer determination to put away from her all wistful hankerings after even a brief little note from Sir John—if it was in his own handwriting—and to try to think of him only as her employer.

It was obvious that he thought of
her
only as an employee! His last letter to Miranda, which accompanied an enormous box of chocolates and a leather writing case, had not even requested her to convey his kind regards to Nurse Nolan, which he sometimes did. It had ignored Lucy altogether. And as a postscript he had added the information that the chocolates were from Miss Harling.

Miranda had surveyed the expensive box of chocolates, with the wide satin ribbon that was looped around it, with a distinctly unchildlike look of distaste, and had suggested to Lucy that she might like to be made the possessor of it.

“
I
’
m not all that fond of chocolates,
”
she said,
“
and you are.
”

Lucy shot her a shrewd look. There was no doubt about it, Miranda, for all her fragile appearance, was a small person of strong views. If she carried these views on into her future life, and Sir John made Lynette Lady Ash, and therefore, Miranda
’
s stepmother—as Lucy was quite certain he would before very long—then Miranda
’
s future, even though she had regained the use of her legs, might be stormy—perhaps very stormy.

“
If I were you,
”
she said suddenly,
“
I
’
d give the chocolates to Frau Wern. It would look like a little mark of appreciation, and I
’
m sure she
’
d love them.
”

“
And neither you nor
I
would have to eat them!
”
Miranda observed, with a sudden rather wicked little grin.

Lucy did not grin back at her—for she felt oddly humorless just then—but she watched Miranda depart for the kitchen with approval. The sight of that ornate gilt casket containing an assortment of highly priced confectionery had done something to her that was more or less equivalent to having the breath knocked out of her. It told her that every time she tried to thrust Sir John out of her thoughts she was merely indulging in a form of hollow pretense, and if she had needed evidence that the beautiful ballerina was still strongly in favor, it had arrived that morning!

When she went out to join Dr. Wern on the sparkling snow slopes, in the brilliant sunshine, she was looking somewhat graver than usual, and there was something else about her expression that caused him to look at her rather keenly for a moment; then almost at once he looked away. If he had deduced that something rather special was troubling her he said nothing, only knelt down in the snow to fasten the strap of one of her skis, and then told her that that morning they were going to make for a chalet a little less than halfway down the valley, and that he was expecting to see some evidence now that she really was becoming an expert skier.

Lucy smiled at him, just a trifle wanly, and he smiled back, but with something encouraging in his smile. She gave him her hand, as she always did when they started off, and after that the exhilaration of the movement and the spectacular perfection of the morning did the rest. When she returned to the hotel at lunchtime she was sparkling and aglow, with a color in her cheeks that made her eyes seem positively brilliant, and as blue as the absurd wool cap she wore on her dark curls. She had had more than one tumble in the snow, and she was shaking it from her blue
w
indbreaker as she ascended the steps to the hotel, and in her dark blue trousers that were tucked into the tops of her heavy ski boots she looked very slim and young and graceful.

The comparative dimness of the hotel lounge made her blink her eyes, and then she looked again. It
was
Sir John who was seated in one of the comfortable chairs beside a little table that bore a tray of coffee. He was turning the pages of a magazine when she entered with Dr. Wern behind her, but he stood up slowly as she came to a halt and stared at him—plainly unable to believe that her eyes were not playing her tricks.

“
Sir John!
”
Lucy exclaimed at last, as he stood with his straight and rather rigid back to the stove, still wearing the tailored garments in which he had traveled from England, and which made him look very correct just then. His eyes had a curiously veiled expression. But he held out his hand to her.

“
How do you do, Nurse Nolan?
”
he said.

She had the feeling, as he clasped her hand, warm as a piece of toast when she removed it from her glove, that his greeting was not really a friendly one—not a warmly friendly one, that is. There was something repressed about both his voice and his manner, and even when he turned to Dr. Wern and smiled at him slightly—for at least he could never forget what he owed to him, and what Miranda owed to him—the air of faint hauteur was still there. Both Lucy and Dr. Wern were strongly conscious of it.

But Dr. Wern put forth his hand and grasped Sir John
’
s as if he was really pleased to see him, and Lucy exclaimed, a little weakly,
“
But, why—why didn
’
t you let us know that we could expect you, Sir John? Miranda would have been thrilled.... Oh, this really is a surprise!
”

“
I rather gathered that,
”
Sir John replied, and although his firm teeth were revealed in another of his faint smiles, his eyes remained unsmiling.
“
But if I
’
d warned you that I was coming you might possibly have remained in until I arrived, and that would have prevented you from enjoying some splendid exercise. As it is, I see that you
’
ve been having a first-class morning.
”

“
Y-yes,
”
Lucy stammered.
“
Dr. Wern is teaching me to ski.
”

“
As to that,
”
Rupprecht Wern remarked, offering the other man a cigarette,
“
Nurse Nolan is becoming so rapidly proficient that it will soon be quite unnecessary for her to receive any tuition at all.
”

“
Really?
”
Sir John replied, but he did not sound particularly interested. He glanced for a moment at Lucy, and then away again.
“
Well, it is something to know that you have not been bored. I rather feared that you might be, unless there were several other guests in the hotel. That Dr. Wern has been able to do something to prevent your feeling dull is most fortunate.
”

There was silence for a bare half second, and then Lucy—feeling suddenly strangely appalled, for this was a Sir John she had never met before, not even in those early days at Ketterings, when she had thought him hard and distant—rushed into speech.

“
Have you seen Miranda since you arrived, Sir John? How do you think she is looking?
I
do hope you
’
ll find her almost normal again. Dr.
Wern
is quite delighted with her.
”

“
Yes, I have seen Miranda.
”
He studied the glowing end of his cigarette, and then absentmindedly crushed it out in an ashtray. It was only half-smoked. He produced his own cigarette case and offered it to the other two. Lucy shook her head; she had not accepted one of Dr. Wern
’
s.
“
I
think she is remarkably improved, but Frau Wern thought she ought to have a little rest before lunch, and she is having one now in her room.
”

His avoidance of Lucy
’
s eyes as he spoke was almost marked, but it was absolutely clear to Lucy what he was thinking. He paid her an excellent salary to care of his daughter, who was still only recovering from her severe illness, and yet not only did she delegate some of her duties to Frau Wern—who presumably had her own concerns to worry about—but she spent the morning enjoying herself out of doors on skis with the surgeon who had performed the operation! She was cheating her employer, and she was carrying on something that looked like a flirtation while she had no right to be doing anything of the kind!

A burning color rose up in her face, suffusing it from chin to brow, and she turned away from both men hurriedly. She moved toward the foot of the wide oak staircase.

“
If you
’
ll excuse me, I
’
ll go and have a look at her now,
”
she said, in a voice that did not carry very clearly, because it was all at once a trifle choked. She felt Rupprecht Wern
’
s eyes follow her with a certain quiet sympathy in their depths, but Sir John did not even lift his head, and he remained standing stiffly by the stove.
“
I don
’
t suppose there
’
s anything she needs, but in any case it
’
s nearly lunchtime and.
..
.
”

She broke off and set one foot on the stairs, and then she raced up them hurriedly, and they heard her moving with equal speed over the polished boards of the gallery.

Dr. Wern turned to Sir John and studied him gravely for
a
few moments, and then he said quietly,
“
Now that you have arrived, Sir John, I imagine you
’
ll be staying for
a
few days at least? Miranda will be pleased to have you here.
”

“
It was my plan to remain for a few days,
”
Sir John replied. And then he touched a bell on the table somewhat impatiently.
“
Is it too early for a drink?
”
he asked.
“
And if it isn
’
t, will you join me?
”

“
If you
’
ll excuse me,
”
Dr. Wern said, inspecting his hands,
“
I must go and get cleaned up for lunch. But it most certainly isn
’
t too early for a drink. The bell will be answered in a moment.
”