The Little Doctor (19 page)

Inexplicably hurt when she had no right to feel hurt at all, Jane turned to Nicholas for the remainder of the evening, and the
following morning, when a sleigh-ride was suggested, it was Nicholas who escorted her.

As if he had taken it as some kind of token promise, Nicholas had responded by offering her his undivided attention. His manner, if not exactly proprietorial, suggested that there was at least some sort of understanding between them, which Max was quick to notice.

“You are, I suppose, going to marry Pell?” he asked when, for a moment, they were alone together. “You couldn’t have chosen anyone more—suitable.”

They were standing on the verandah, looking out across the valley towards the fairy-tale mountain peaks on its far side, each draped in its dazzling mantle of snow. It was the hour before dinner, when the purple shadows of the pines crept up to the verandah steps and the silence of the mountains reigned supreme.

“Yes, I know, Max,” she said huskily, because she could not explain to him that she would never marry Nicholas. “We’ve known each other for a very long time.”

“Of course.” His voice was dry, almost harsh. “Pell’s the sort of man who will complete your life for you. You have so much in common.”

She dared not trust herself to answer, for once, long ago, they, too, had so much in common. Everything they had done had been with one accord.

For a very long time they stood silently, looking at the mountains. This is goodbye, Jane thought. This is the real moment of our parting.

Max moved at last, thrusting his hand into the pocket of his jacket to produce a tiny package wrapped in white paper.

“There
’
s this,” he said. “I had planned to give it to you on Christmas morning, but there was too much confusion. I bought it in Zurich as I was getting something for Valerie. I owe you so much, Jane—”

He held out the package, awkward in his desire to get the moment over, and Jane’s hands were trembling as she took it.

“There
was no need,” she murmured, the conventional words all but sticking in her throat!

“I wanted to do it.” He stood waiting while she rumbled politely with the wrapping, helping her in the end to open the little box. In it lay a slender bracelet of finely cut amethysts linked together by a silver filigree chain.

“It’s—lovely!” There was almost a sob in her throat. “But you shouldn’t have bought me anything so expensive!”

He smiled without answering, lifting the delicate little circlet in his hands. The filigree was as light as cobwebs and far more beautiful than gold. Somehow she knew that he would have bought gold for Valerie.

“I thought this would suit you,” he said, waiting for her to hold out her wrist.

In silence he clasped his gift on her arm. There was no sound anywhere about them. They stood there for a split second—alone.

Forever! The words came into Jane on the silence, and looking down at the bracelet, she could not see where Max had fastened it. The tiny, concealed clasp made a continuous, unbroken circle of the lovely purple stones.

She did not tell Max that she would keep it always. She could not, because she had no right to say these things, but very gently she put her hand over it as she looked up at him.

“Be happy, Jane,” he said harshly as he turned and went down the steps into the shadowed night.

CHAPTER
NINE

Travelling back to England with Nicholas the following morning, Jane felt that she had left one part of her life behind her. She had come to a crossroads, where she knew she could not pause for very long. Along one way lay Max and heartache; on the other loomed a critical change in her career.

She could, of course, apply for a suitable position abroad. There were children everywhere, and in a good many ways she had already dedicated her life to children.

Nicholas, she felt
,
was being tremendously patient with her.

“Whatever you mean to do, Jane,” he counselled wisely, “don’t jump at a decision. Time often makes things look very different.”

She realized how true that was. Although time could not erase the mark Max had made on her life, it could allow her to forget, to fill her life with other things.

To this end she decided to look around for a transfer, but circumstances defeated her at first. She was asked to stay, at least until a suitable substitute could be found. It was easier, she supposed, to leave a job than it was to find another, and she had been so long in the Welfare service that she wanted to stay in it.

January passed without her seeing Max or Valerie. Snow fell in the dales, covering them with a white blanket so reminiscent of Switzerland that she knew this was no way to forget. Sometimes it was difficult to get the caravan to its rendezvous with the villages, but there was always a spice of adventure about getting through. Village halls and schoolrooms were warmed especially for their coming, so that it was almost a point of honor with them to get there on time.

During these long, often protracted journeys, she was aware that the growing friendship between Joe Otley and the nurse finally blossomed into a romance as spring laid gentle fingers on the dales. She was scarcely surprised. She thoug
h
t Joe and Olive ideally suited to one another and when, shyly, they asked her if she would attend their wedding she was more than happy for them.

It seemed, though, that there were going to be too many changes in the dales all at once.

Before February was out Nicholas told her that he had accepted an appointment in London.

“It will lead to all sorts of things,” he said. “The future could be very bright for us, Jane.”

He never failed to include her in that future. Always it was “us.” He had no desire to go on alone.

Was she, then, being unjust? Time and time again she thrust the suggestion aside, telling herself that she had already answered it, but Nicholas was always there with a firm persistence to present it again.

“It’s not a question of ‘second-best’,” he would argue. “It’s something that would grow. Between us, Jane, we have the ability to build up a happy marriage.”

It coul
d
be true, Jane thought, weakening a little. But what of the days when she thought of Max, when the past came rushing back to tear her heart to shreds? Was it fair to Nicholas to use him as a means of forgetfulness?

Then, on a brisk March day, when all the hills were green again and new lambs were in the fields, she saw Valerie for the first time since they had said their goodbyes in Switzerland.

The District Nurse’s car had broken down and she had offered her a lift to an outlying farm. Only when they got there did she realize that it was on Edward Jakes’ estate.

“I’ll wait for you,” she told the nurse. “There’s no great hurry as far as I’m concerned.”

It, was the first time she had lingered in the dale after her clinic was over, and she sat drinking in its silent beauty, seeing the great cumulus clouds sailing high over it and the beeches breaking into new green leaf.

Up here on the edge of the moor the trees grew sparsely, but they were still beautiful. The road to the farm was lined by sturdy chestnuts, making a canopy of branches above her head, and right at the farmhouse door stood a gnarled old walnut that must have been planted there over a hundred years ago.

Idly she watched chickens and ducks picking their way across the yard to a field on the opposite side of the road, and then, taking her bearings, she realized that she could be no more than a mile from Whinstanley Hall. A string of horses was being exercised on the natural grass ride crowning the adjoining moor, thoroughbreds all of them; no doubt they belonged to the Whinstanley stable. Like slender, graceful silhouettes they picked their way against the skyline until, thundering down from the opposite fell, came a big chestnut gelding. It was a massive horse, too big for any woman to ride, but a slim figure clung determinedly to its back. A. girl in a yellow sweater
and
cream-colored jodhpurs. Valerie!

There could be no mistaking the yellow hair blowing in the wind, no denying, as horse and rider came gradually nearer, that Valerie could ride.

The string of racehorses veered away and disappeared from view, but the big horse came on. It was a powerful brute, glorying in the experience and in its own strength, and it was almost more than Valerie could do to pull it up when she recognized Jane’s car.

Jane was already standing o
n
the rough farm track, her heart in her mouth.

“Don’t look so scared!” Valerie cried, laughing as their eyes met.
“
I can handle the Baron all right. He’s a devil of a horse and Max would have a fit if he knew I had him out, but Eddie wouldn’t take the risk if he thought I was likely to be thrown.”

Jane, who knew exactly what Max had to fear, bit her lip. Valerie looked the same, but there was the sudden black-out to take into consideration, the split-second paralysis of the brain that could make these sure hands useless on that taut rein a
n
d send Valerie hurtling over that sleek red head. Surely Max had warned Edward Jakes? It would have been easy enough to take the other man into his confidence over a serious matter like this, even though he disliked and distrusted Jakes.

“Max thinks I’m out on Hester. Such a nice, calm little mar
e
!” Valerie scoffed. “All prissy and full of good manners. The
right
sort of mount for me. Good heavens! I was riding a horse like that when
I
was seven! I want something with fire in it now. Something to make riding worth while.”

That was t
h
e answer, then. Max knew nothing about these secret rides over the moor. He had sanctioned the gentle mare, possibly with the added caution that Valerie must not go out alone. He had made that provision about her driving, Jane remembered.

I can’t possibly go to Max, she thought desperately. I can’t
spy
on Valerie. There remained Edward Jakes.

But how could she approach the man? She disliked him intensely and he knew it. He might tell her quite bluntly to mind her own business.

“Are we very near the Hall?” she asked.

“About a mile,” Valerie answered. “Why?”

“I wonder. I saw some horses being exercised.”

“Would you like to come over and see the stables?” Valerie offered immediately. “Eddie wouldn’t mind. He’s terribly proud of his bloodstock. I had no idea you were interested, as a matter of fact, or you could have come up before.”

“
I
really don’t know one horse from another,” Jane was forced to confess. “Only when they look dangerous.”

“Don’t let the Baron frighten you,” Valerie laughed, bending to caress her mount’s sleek neck. “He’s really quite a lamb.”

Jane did not reply to that. Instead she turned to the farmhouse door where the District Nurse had made her appearance.

“Boy or girl?” she asked.

The nurse shook her head.

“It looks like it will be a lengthy business,” she said. “I think you should go ahead, Doctor. The farmer will run me back.”

“Anything I can do?” Jane asked.

“
I
don’t think so. There aren’t any complications. She’s a fine, strong girl, is Mavis, but it’s their first, and they take their time, as you know.”

Jane nodded.

“I’ll call back this way,” she promised. “I’m going to the Hall for half an hour or so.
”

The nurse looked surprised, but she said nothing. The impatient Baron was well down the farm road and hidden by the trees.

“Just as you like, Doctor, but if you haven’t time don’t worry,” she said. “As I said, the farmer will see me home. He’ll have to ‘wet the baby’s head,’ anyway, at the local. It’s a tradition around these parts!”

The kindly, smiling eyes were still on Jane’s face, as if the nurse would probe the mystery of her sudden journey to the Hall, but Jane could hardly confide in her.

When she joined Valerie farther down the rough track the Baron was kicking up little furies of dust with his heels, impatient to be back on the moor again.

“I’ll have to get him back on to the grass,” Valerie decided. “He hates the road. Give him plenty of room, will you, before you start up again. I suppose he really is a bundle of nerves.”

Jane kept her foot on the clutch, waiting.

“I’ll get there before you,” Valerie bent down to the open window to inform her. “It
’
s much quicker straight over the moor. The road winds about all over the place.” She flicked her riding-crop. “See you anon! You know the way, don’t you?”

“I can find it,” Jane said.

The horse went off like a shot, through an open gate and out onto the moor. Jane had the firm impression that it would have gone just as fast if the gate had been closed, providing a barrier that had to be jumped.

Grimly she put the car into gear, turning out onto the winding dale road in the direction of the Hall. She had not stopped to think, but an odd sort of urgency forced her on. Somehow s
h
e must get a few minutes alone with Edward Jakes. Somehow she must find a way of appealing to this man. He could not really be blamed, of course, if he did not know the whole story.

Perhaps her uncertainty made her drive more slowly than she might have done, but Valerie was very far ahead of her when she caught her first glimpse of horse, and rider breasting the slope to a coppice that stood out darkly against the green of the hill. Valerie was riding hard and the horse was going like the wind.

Jane had to keep her eyes on the road, but she saw them again where the trees thinned a little. There was the distant flash of a yellow sweater before the ridge of the hill hid them from sight.

The road wound downwards now, dropping to cross a narrow ford. She splashed through the water and up again on the other side, allowing herself a swift, searching glance at the hill.

What she saw electrified her. She could neither act nor think. The Baron was thundering on along the slope—riderless.

Automatically she brought the car to a standstill, pulling in to the side of the road. When she got out her limbs were trembling, and all the color had gone from her cheeks. Yet, once she was on her feet, she didn’t hesitate. A low drystone dyke separated the road from the moor and she was over it in seconds. Her mind was quite clear now. She was perhaps the nearest person to Valerie at that moment. Vaguely she knew that the Hall was somewhere on her right, the farm away to the left. Perhaps the farm was the nearer of the two.

Running, she covered the rough, uneven ground to the screen of trees behind which Valerie an
d
the Baron had vanished for that fatal second or two while she had negotiated the ford. The small spinney, set on a hill, shielded what lay behind it, but soon she was running in the shade of the trees, round them and on to the moor again.