Doctor Raoul's Romance (3 page)

“That must be Dr. Lerouge, with the specialist. Are you ready to see him, darling?”

“Quite ready,” answered Gillian.

She smiled bravely up at him. He turned to her and the special look passed between them that usually came only when they were alone together. It was a bright beam of love, piercing Adrien like a dart, yet somehow uplifting her. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she began to straighten Gillian’s pillows, brush her hair, and tidy the room.

Gillian was very pale now. She lay there, waiting, smiling, for
the examination she had come to dread.
She had had so many of
them, in the last months. And always the result was the same.

The specialist was six feet tall. His hair w
as exactly the color of
ripe corn and he
a
llowed it to curl riotously over his head. And one knew at once that this was not from vanity, but because he saw no point in forcing hair to stay flat when nature had intended otherwise. But it was cut short and well combed.

His eyes were gray, and at first sight hard. His nose was long and straight, flaring a little at the nostrils. His mouth was firm, but its full underlip made it appear unexpectedly sensuous. His chin was square, his jawbone like a boxer’s. Yet there was humor in the face: in the lines about the eyes, perhaps, or in the little hollow at the corner of his mouth, where a girl would have claimed a dimple, or perhaps in the slightly quizzical tilt of his head.

This was a man, Adrien decided, who questioned everything, who took nothing on trust. A man who would test things for himself.

Adrien realized she had been staring at him; she had hardly heard Nicholas’s introduction. When Blanche had rushed into Gillian’s room and told her that the specialist wanted to see the nurse before he saw the patient, and that he was “out of this world,” she had expected something unusual, but hardly this.

She forced her eyes away from his face. The moment she had done so, she realized he had been staring at her too—glaring at her, rather, with very evident disapproval.

He seemed very young to be a specialist. He couldn’t possibly be more than thirty-five. Thirty-six? Then suddenly he was speaking. His English was perfect, but with a slight, undeniably fascinating accent. But his words made her, in spite of her resolution, in spite of her training, flush scarlet with anger.

“You are a nurse, mademoiselle? Why are you not in uniform, may I ask?”

She raised her chin, and looked at him defiantly.

“I am not wearing uniform, Doctor, because Mr. Renton particularly asked me not to. He said his wife was tired of ‘medical formality.’ ”

Had she imagined it, or was there actually a twinkle in this awe-inspiring specialist’s eye
?

He said, “When I am in charge of a case, I like the proper procedure to be observed. This is not because I am stuffy or conventional, Nurse Grey, but simply because I consider a uniform is the most suitable apparel for an attendant in a sickroom. I have discovered, from experience, that a uniformed nurse is more efficient. However, this is not as yet
my
case. My apologies.” He smiled at elderly Dr. Lerouge, who seemed to be trying to keep his face noncommittal, and consequently looked rather like an owl. “Shall we go to the patient now?”

The specialist bowed politely, allowing the practitioner to precede him as they followed Adrien up the stairs. Nicholas came last. Looking back, Adrien saw him, his face pale, his hand dragging against the banisters.

“Nicholas...” she thought. “Oh, Nicholas!” She longed to go back for him, to walk beside him, to take his hand.

“Much this damned specialist cares!” she thought rebelliously. “This is just a case to him. An interesting, unusual case. His eyes will light up when he sees Gillian’s symptoms. He’ll be planning a sensational article for a medical magazine. He may be clever, but he just isn’t human. He isn’t human at all.”

They had arrived at Gillian’s room.

Adrien opened the door of the invalid’s room, and they all filed in. Smiling and composed, Gillian sat up to welcome them. She held out her hand, determinedly frivolous.

“Dr. Dubois—how very nice of you to come.” She might have been welcoming a guest to a party. “But you won’t knock me about too much, will you? I feel very fragile today.”

Adrien was astonished to see how the doctor’s manner
changed now that he was with his patient. The gray eyes softened. “Like the sea,” thought Adrien, suddenly, unwillingly
.
“Like a gray English sea, touched by sudden sunlight.”

He took Gillian’s thin little hand, kissing it gallantly, French
fashion.

“Madame, may I assure you I have not the slightest intention of tiring you.” He sat on the edge of the bed, still holding her hand, his fingers now on the pulse. His eyes strayed to the little table where the “patience” puzzles were, then back to Gillian in her blue nightgown, her fair hair floating softly about her face, her eyes much too bright.

Then he picked up one of the puzzles and moved it lightly between his hands, trying to make the elusive little balls fit into their proper holes.

“Madame,” he said, “this is a charming little puzzle. I would like to ask you whether you have been successful in solving it.”

Nicholas, his nerves evidently at breaking point, burst out angrily, “Doctor, my wife is not a child. The children bring these things to amuse themselves, when they’re with her. But I’m sure you are a busy man, as I am. Must we waste time on trivialities like this?”

Gillian gave a light, tinkling laugh. As a schoolgirl, she had practised that laugh a lot, and now she could produce it effortlessly whenever she wanted.

“Darling, please don’t interrupt. I’d much rather Dr. Dubois asked me questions about puzzles than have him prodding me asking whether this or that hurts.”

The doctor said gently, “I assure you both, my question is not trivial at all. I am very anxious that it should be answered.”

Nicholas scowled at him. Dr. Lerouge moved restlessly. Adrien, standing in front of the window, caught hold of the sill, and held on to it frantically to prevent herself from rushing across to Nicholas, taking his hand, and exclaiming, “Don’t, darling, don’t look so worried. It’s all right, really it is. This doctor may be exasperating, but he’s clever. Oh yes, he’s clever all right. You can tell that at once. There’s something behind this silly question of his. It’s leading up to something. You must let Gillian answer.”

Dr. Dubois said evenly, “Madame, please may I have my answer?”

Gillian hesitated, put her head on one side playfully, as though determined to be as annoying as the doctor, but Adrien got the impression that they already understood each other very well.

“Let me see, what was your question, Monsieur le Docteur? Oh yes, I remember! You asked whether I’ve succeeded in solving that little puzzle. Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I have.”

“Good,” said Dr. Dubois, smiling at her. “That was the answer I had hoped for.” He moved his hands a little, tilting the box, and the little colored balls ran swift
l
y, safely, into their places.

He said, “To solve a puzzle like this one needs steadiness and patience. And confidence. Otherwise one’s hands tremble and things go wrong. These are qualities you are going to need, madame. And I am convinced you have them.”

“I’ll try, Doctor,” Gillian breathed, her eyes never leaving his face.

Dr. Dubois got up from the bed, and walked slowly across the room.

“The treatment I propose is radical. I propose a series of injections of a new chemical compound I have discovered, which strengthens the heart and forces it to strong, firm action. I am using layman’s language, you understand?”

Dr. Lerouge started to say something, then stopped. Dr. Dubois glanced at him. He said, “I believe my colleague feels I ought to warn you that my work in this field is still largely experimental.”

Nicholas exclaimed, “Do you mean you intend to use my wife as a sort of guinea pig? I won’t have you come here with a suggestion like that! Dr. Lerouge, how could you let him?”

Dr. Dubois laid a calming hand on Nicholas’s shoulder.

“Calm yourself, monsieur
,
” he said quietly. “There is no need
to be excited. I think your wife understands very well what the, situation is.”

Gillian said, “This treatment is dangerous, isn’t it, Doctor? Will I die?”

“Madame, we must all die some time. But it is possible—no, probable—that you may live many years in perfect health and vitality. But only, I am convinced, if you submit to my treatment.”

Gillian’s eyes sparkled.

“Doctor, you’re the first person to hold out any real hope to me. With even a chance of real life ahead of me, I can face anything. And I would much rather die than go on like this.”

“Madame, I too would feel that way.”

“Tell me, will I have to go to hospital?”

“Would you prefer that, madame?”

“No—oh no! I would much prefer to stay here. With my husband.”

Dr. Dubois looked thoughtfully at Nicholas, who was standing quietly now at the foot of the bed, his fists clenched, his face pale as death. Then his eyes turned to Adrien.

“If you stay at home you will need good nursing. Excellent nursing. I would like, please, a few words alone with your nurse.” He held the door open for Adrien.

“Where can I talk to you quietly, without interruptions?” he asked.

“I think the salon is free.”

“Then let’s go there.”

There was a bowl of lilies-of-the-valley on the table, and the scent of the flowers rose between them.

She thought, “Now it’s coming. He’s going to say that I’m not efficient. Well, he’s not going to get away with that! I’ll show him my qualifications. Just because I wasn’t wearing uniform. That isn’t a crime...
”

Then suddenly she realized he wasn’t going to say anything of the kind. He came around the table toward her, almost pushing the obstacles to one side with an impatient gesture. He put his hands on her shoulders, and looked down into her eyes.

“Nurse Grey—you realize, don’t you, that this is a desperate case?”

“Yes, Doctor, I realize that.”

“As things are now, Madame Renton hasn’t a chance. She’ll be dead inside three months. I believe I can save her. But I must have your cooperation. One hundred percent. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Dr. Dubois.”

“I cannot tell precisely how she will react to this violent stimulant. One must be prepared for anything. It will be a great responsibility.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“I would send her to hospital. But the will to live is very important in a case like this. She is very anxious to stay with her husband. And so,” he smiled suddenly, “it’s up to us, isn’t it, Nurse? You and me.”

“Yes, Doctor. I won’t let you down. Or Gillian—Mrs. Renton.” Her heart added, “Or Nicholas.”

He gave her another long look, then dropped his hands, as though satisfied.

“I believe you, Nurse Grey. Dr. Lerouge says your qualifications are excellent. I trust you. Now for details. I shall not start this treatment for a few days. First I want to try to build up Madame’s general strength a little. Here is a diet I want you to follow exactly
...
”

He went into technicalities. In spite of herself, Adrien was fascinated.

“Well, that is all for now, Nurse. I will call again tomorrow. This case interests me very much. And now, I would like to say farewell to my patient.”

He went back to the bedroom. Jeanne was hovering to offer wine and biscuits, which both doctors refused—the elder with evident disappointment, explaining, that they were in a hurry.

Nicholas was sitting by Gillian’s bed, holding her hand. With an apologetic smile, he asked Adrien to show the doctors out.

When they had gone she stood a moment in the tiled hall. The house was very quiet now. From the kitchen came the rasping murmur of an electric coffee-mill, as Jeanne ground coffee beans.

At the foot of the stairs, in a little niche in the wall, was a wooden crucifix. Someone had placed a little vase of primroses in front of it.

Adrien hesitated a moment. Then she clasped her hands.

“Please,” she prayed, “help me to do my best. Help me not to let Gillian down, or Nicholas. And help Dr. Dubois.”

Tears stung in her eyes. Impatiently she brushed them away and went back to her patient.

CHAPTER THREE

The little girl knelt quietly in the shadowed church, the candle she had just lighted glowing serenely before the statue of the Madonna and Child. Adrien crept past her, so as not to disturb her, and sat down to let the peace of the little building steal into her and soothe her.

She started suddenly, to find the little girl standing beside her, looking at her with big brown eyes.

“You’re Nurse Adrien, aren’t you?” the child asked.

“Yes. And I think you must be Frances.”