The Secret Woman (10 page)

She took him away and while I unpacked, a parlormaid brought tea to my room. Baines came with her ostensibly to see that she served it in the correct manner but actually to inform me that my meals would be taken in my own room. I realized that this was an edict from Lady Crediton and that he only ventured into this part of the house to deliver such commands.

I was beginning to learn something about the ways of Castle Crediton.

***

April
30th.
This is my third day and I feel as though I have been here for months. I miss Anna. There is no one here with whom I can be friendly. If Miss Beddoes, the governess, were a different type, she might be useful, but she's a bore, always anxious to impress on me that she has come down in the world. A vicar's daughter, she told me. I said: “Snap. So am I.” She looked startled. I'm sure she was surprised that one so lacking in decorum should have come out of a vicarage. “What can one do,” she demanded. “One has never been brought up to work for a living, and suddenly it is a necessity.” “Ah,” I replied, “that's where I was more fortunate. I knew from my earliest days that I should have to battle for my bread in a cruel world, so I prepared myself.” “Really,” she replied with cold disdain. But she does regard me a little more kindly since we both came from similar stables, or as she would say, were “distressed gentlewomen.”

She has told me quite a lot about the family, and for that I'm grateful. She whispered that she believes there is a streak of madness in my patient. I would call it hysteria. Mrs. Stretton is a passionate woman deprived of a husband. I think she is obsessed by him. She writes letters to him every day and tears half of them up. Scraps of paper fill her wastepaper basket. He, Miss Beddoes tells me, is
not
very welcome in the house since his “disgrace.” What disgrace? I wanted to know. But she couldn't tell me. It is something which is Never Spoken Of. They seem to want to keep him far away. But because of the child they brought Mrs. Stretton over here. “You see,” she said, “until Mr. Rex marries, that child is in a way a sort of heir.” It's a muddled setup and I haven't quite worked it out, but I intend to. My patient takes up so much time. I cook for her because Dr. Elgin wishes her diet to be watched. She is like a child and I suspect her of getting one of the servants to smuggle chocolates to her. She likes coffee and makes it herself. There is a spirit lamp in her room for the purpose. I think if she were well she would be fat. She is indolent and likes to stay in bed, but Dr. Elgin does want her to rest. She orders the maids to shut the windows after I've opened them. She hates what she calls the “cold,” and fresh air is an important part of the treatment.

I discovered this afternoon that Baines's wife, Edith, is Ellen's sister. She came to my room especially to tell me so. She wanted to say that if there was anything she could do to make me comfortable she would be pleased to do it. Great condescension from the butler's wife. She looks after all the maids and they are quite in awe of her. Ellen must have given me a good reference.

***

May
1st.
Two exciting things happened today. I am growing more and more pleased with Castle life. There is something about this place—an atmosphere of tension. I'm never quite sure of what my hysterical patient is going to do, and I'm constantly aware of intrigue. For instance there is what happened to the Captain to make him unwelcome here. I think that if they didn't want him here they might have left his wife where she was. He could have visited her now and then, I suppose. It is some island. She has mentioned it to me as “the Island.” I wanted to know where but refrained from asking. She is inclined to retreat if one is too curious.

The first adventure was my meeting with the Crediton heir. None other than Rex himself. I had settled my patient for an afternoon rest and had taken a little walk in the gardens. They are as magnificent as I expected them to be. There are four gardeners living on the estate with wives who work at the Castle. The lawns look like squares of fine green velvet; I never see them without wishing that I had a dress made out of them; the herbaceous borders will be dazzling later on I'm sure. Now the big features are the lovely aubrietia and arabis—in mauve and white clumps growing on gray stone on the terraces, and of course Castle Crediton aubrietia and arabis must be twice as bushy as anyone else's. That is the first thing that occurs to me in this place: opulence. You know it's the home of a millionaire and a first or second generation one. There is a continual straining after tradition, the Creditons want the best ancestry, the best background that money can buy. It's different from the Henrock's place where I nursed poor Lady Henrock—and very successfully for she left me five hundred pounds in her will—just before going to the Queen's House. There had been Henrocks at Henrock Manor for the last five hundred years. It was shabby in places but I could see the difference. As I was inspecting the most elaborate of sundials whom should I see bearing towards me than the heir to the millions, Rex Crediton himself. Mr. Rex, not Sir Rex; Sir Edward was only a knight. I am sure that must be rather a sore point with her ladyship. He is of medium height and good-looking but not exactly handsome; he has an air of assurance and yet there is something diffident about him. His clothes were immaculately tailored; I think he must get them in Savile Row. There'd never be anything quite like that in Langmouth. He looked surprised to see me so I thought I would introduce myself.

“Mrs. Stretton's nurse,” I told him.

He raised his eyebrows; they are light and sandy, his lashes are sandy too; he has topaz-colored eyes—yellow-brown; his nose is aquiline just like Sir Edward's on the portrait in the gallery; his skin is very pale and his mustache has a glint of gingery gold in it.

“You are very young for such a responsibility,” he said.

“I am fully qualified.”

“I am sure you would not have been engaged unless that had been the case.”

“I am sure I should not.”

He kept his eyes on my face; I could see that he approved of my looks even if he was a little dubious about my capabilities. He asked how long I had been at the Castle and whether I was satisfied with my post. I said I was and I hoped there was no objection to my walking in the gardens. He said there was none at all and pray would I would walk there whenever I wished. He would show me the walled garden and the pond; and the copse which had been planted soon after his birth; it was now a little forest of fir trees. There was a path through this which led right to the edge of the cliff. He led me there and examined the iron fence and said the gardeners had strict instructions to keep it in good repair. “It would need to be,” I remarked. There was a straight drop right down the gorse to the river. We stood leaning on the fence looking across at the houses on the opposite cliff over the bridge. There was a proud proprietorial look in his eyes and I thought of what Anna had told me about the Creditons bringing prosperity to Langmouth. He looked important then—powerful. He began to talk about Langmouth and the shipping business in such a way that he made me feel excited about it. I could see that it was his life as it must have been his father's. I was interested in the romance of the Lady Line; and I wanted to hear as much about it as he was ready to tell.

He was ready and willing but he talked impersonally about how his father had built up the business, the days of struggle and endurance.

I said it was a wonderfully romantic story—the building of a great business from humble beginnings.

I was surprised that he should talk so freely to me on
such
a short acquaintance and he seemed to be too, for suddenly he changed the subject and talked of trees and garden scenery. We walked back to the sundial together and he stood beside me while we read the inscription on it. “
I
count
only
the
sunny
hours
.”

“I must try to do the same,” I said.

“I hope all your hours will be sunny, Nurse.”

His topaz eyes were warm and friendly. I was fully aware that he was not as cold as he liked people to believe; and that he had taken quite a fancy to me.

He went in and left me in the garden. I was sure I should see him again soon. I walked round the terraces again and into the walled garden and even through the copse to the iron railings beyond which was the gorge. I was amused by the encounter and elated to find I had made an impression on him. He was rather serious, and must probably be thinking me a little frivolous because of the light way I talk, and I laugh quite frequently as I do so. It makes some people like me, but the serious one might well think me too frivolous. He was of the serious kind. I had enjoyed meeting him anyway, because he was after all the pivot around which the household revolved—and not only the household; all the power and the glory was centered on him—his father's heir and now the source from which all blessings would flow when his mother was no more.

I went back to the sundial. This, I said to myself, is certainly one of the hours I shall count.

I looked at the watch I wore—made of turquoise and little rose diamonds, a present from Lady Henrock just before she died, and compared it with the sundial. My patient would soon be waking. I must return to my duties.

I looked up at the turret. This was not the turret in which my patient lived; it was the one at the extreme end of the west wing. I have very long sight and I distinctly saw a face at the window. For a few seconds the face was there and then it was gone.

Who on earth is that? I asked myself. One of the servants? I didn't think so. I had not been near that turret. There was so much of the Castle I had not explored. I turned away thoughtfully; and then some impulse made me turn again and look up. There was the face again. Someone was interested enough to watch me, and rather furtively too, for no sooner had she—I knew it was a woman because I had caught a glimpse of a white cap on white hair—realized that I had seen her than she had dodged quickly back into the shadows.

Intriguing! But was not everything intriguing in Castle Crediton? But I was far more interested in my encounter with the lord of the Castle, the symbol of riches and power, than I could possibly be in a vague face at a window.

***

May
3rd
. A perfect day with a blue sky overhead. I walked in the garden but there was no sign of Rex. I had thought that he might join me there and meet me “by accident,” for I believe he is quite interested in me. But of course he would be busy at those tall offices which dominate the town. I had heard from several sources of information that he had stepped into Sir Edward's shoes and with the help of his mother ran the business. I was a little piqued. I had imagined, with a fine conceit, that he had been interested in me. When he did not appear, I started to think of the face at the window and pushed Rex out of my mind. The west turret, I thought. Suppose I pretended to lose my way? It was easy enough, Heaven knew, in the Castle; and I could quite easily go up to the west wing and look round and if discovered imply that I had lost my way. I know that I am overcurious, but that is because I am so interested in people and it is my interest in them which makes me able to help them. Besides, I had an idea that, to help nurse my patient, I had to understand her, and to do that, I needed to discover everything I could about her. As everything in this house concerned her, this must.

Anyway, toward late afternoon, the sky became overcast, the bright sunshine had disappeared, and it was clearly going to rain at any moment. The Castle was gloomy; this was the time in which I could most convincingly lose my way, so I proceeded to lose it. I mounted the spiral staircase to the west turret. Judging that it would be a replica of the quarters in which I lived, I went to a room in which I was sure was the window whence I had seen the face and opened the door. I was right. She was seated in a chair by the window.

“I…beg your pardon. Why…” I began.

She said: “You are the nurse.”

“I've come to the wrong turret,” I said.

“I saw you in the garden. You saw me, didn't you?”

“Yes.”

“So you came up to see me?”

“The turrets are so much alike.”

“So it was a mistake.” She went on without waiting for me to reply which was fortunate. “How are you getting on with your patient?”

“I think we get on well as a nurse and patient.”

“Is she very sick?”

“She is better some days than others. You know who I am. May I know your name?”

“I'm Valerie Stretton.”

“Mrs. Stretton.”

“You could call me that,” she said. “I live up here now. I have my own quarters. I hardly ever see anyone. There is a staircase in the west turret down to a walled garden. It's completely shut in. That's why.”

“You would be Mrs. Stretton's…”

“Mother-in-law,” she said.

“Oh, the Captain's mother.”

“We're a strangely complicated household, Nurse.” She laughed; it was slightly defiant laughter. I noted her high color with its tinge of purple in the temple. Heart, possibly, I thought. It was very likely that she might be my patient before long.

“Would you like a cup of tea, Nurse?”

“That is very kind of you. I should be delighted.” And I was because it would give me an opportunity of going on talking to her.

Like her daughter-in-law, she had a spirit lamp on which she set a kettle to boil.

“You're very comfortable up here, Mrs. Stretton.”

She smiled. “I couldn't hope for more comfort. Lady Crediton is very good to me.”

“She's a very good woman, I'm sure.” She didn't notice the touch of irony in my voice. I must curb my tongue. I love words and they get out of control. I wanted to win her confidence because she was the mother of one of those two boys born almost simultaneously of the same father but by different women and under the same roof, which could have been a situation from one of Gilbert and Sullivan's operas—except of course that they were never improper and this was decidedly so. I must go along and have a look at old Sir Edward's portrait in the gallery. What a character he must have been! What a pity that he was not alive today! I was sure he would have made the Castle even more exciting than it was.