Warning at Eagle's Watch (3 page)

She wrinkled her nose as she looked at it, pert and turned up. It gave an inkling that its strong-minded owner was easy to laugh, as well as easy to get angry. Her mouth was red, and a bit too large, and her freckles stood out sharply against her pale skin.

Not a pretty face, she told herself. Just a face. But it was a face that came to life with her sparkling green eyes and her smiling mouth. She smoothed the nurse's uniform over her trim figure and gave a last sigh. She was ready for "smiley" Mrs. Raymond.

Chapter 2

A few moments later, after surviving the critical glance that showed a trace of approval for her neat and professional look, Hillary accompanied Mrs. Raymond down the corridor to the next door.

"She's waiting for you, Nurse Holt." The housekeeper paused as if groping for the right words. "You may find her a little—well, a little temperamental." She fidgeted a bit, then added, "I'll leave you now. You can ring for me when you need me."

She scurried off almost as if she couldn't get away from the closed bedroom door soon enough. Was she afraid of her employer? And if so, just what was Hillary getting herself into?

Well, she'd soon find out. She had come this far, and she might as well delay no further. She tapped on the door.

"It's about time, if I may say so," said a querulous voice from within the room. "Come in. Come in!"

Hillary entered and closed the door behind her. The room smelled musty and closed in. The light was dim, thanks to the heavy draperies that covered the windows. As her eyes accustomed themselves to the grayness, she glanced around the huge room. The furniture was heavy and from another age. The carpets and trimmings were a faded, old-fashioned shade of lavender. In the far corner of the room, stretched out on an ornate daybed and wearing a ruffled lavender dressing gown, rested her patient. An empty wheelchair rested nearby. "I'm over here. Nurse. Make it snappy!"

Hillary let out her breath in a soundless sigh. She had a feeling that "temperamental" was an understatement.

"Good afternoon. Miss Scott. I'm Hillary Holt." She crossed the room in efficient steps, determined to be professional, determined not to let her new patient's reactions make her waver from her judgment about her duties.

She saw the medical folder containing her patient's history laying on the nearby dresser. She picked it up and read the short note the doctor had clipped to the outside.

To the Nurse: I have just heard that you will be arriving today. Here is the information on your patient, and a brief outline of the program I have prescribed for her. Sorry my duties keep me from being on the spot. I'll be by in the morning to meet and confer with you about any problems you may be having with her. And good luck!

Dr. Newburg

Good luck. She had a feeling that she would be needing it!

"How are you feeling today, Miss Scott? I must admit that I've not as yet had time to become familiar with your case history. I received this job on rather short notice."

"So I've heard," sneered the voice from the dim corner of the room. "And aren't I a sight for sore eyes, with these useless legs!" Clumsily she brushed a withered hand over her covered legs and tossed her white head proudly.

Hillary instinctively crossed to the window on the far side of the room. The dimness of the interior was depressing and frustrating. She wanted to see her patient. She pulled back the draperies, and the room was filled with the late afternoon sunlight.

"There. That's much better," Hillary said.

"In whose opinion?" snarled Miss Scott.

The young nurse turned to look at her patient now, more visible in the natural daylight. Her skin was papery and white, an abundance of wrinkles and creases. Her soft, angel-like hair was pulled delicately to the top of her head. She was old, in her late seventies or maybe her eighties. But her eyes contradicted the fact.

For in that face that showed the signs of so many years of life, two bright and very alive eyes stared out and took in all that was going on around them. At the moment she was giving Hillary the most thorough inspection that the girl had ever received.

Hillary stood quietly before her, trying to interpret her gaze.

"Let me tell you something, Nurse. Let us get this straight. I am in charge here. I make the decisions about everything that goes on in this household. You, as well as any other of my employees or guests, will do exactly as I bid. I am not a person to be argued with. And if that situation is not something that you can comply with, then you may pack your bags and go your pretty way.
Am I understood?"

In her life so far, Hillary had often been barraged by inquisitive lawyers, by pious boarding-school matrons, by demanding nursing instructors, and by temperamental surgeons. She had always held her tongue and her temper, flushing with rage at times, admittedly, but nevertheless refraining from losing her composure and giving vent to an emotional outburst.

Perhaps she was tired on that particular day. Perhaps she was feeling resentment, a deep inner anger for being obligated to take this Eagle's Watch position. Perhaps she just instinctively felt that this woman before her was a personality to be immediately reckoned with, a personality in which she had met her match in stubbornness and strength. But whatever the reason, Hillary opened her mouth and answered the lavender lady sitting so arrogantly before her.

"No, Miss Scott. I'm afraid that you're not understood. First of all, my duty as a nurse is to assist you in every way that I can to make you as comfortable and as healthy as is humanly possible. And while I am in your employ, I cannot answer to any of your wishes that may be detrimental to your health, either in my own opinion, or in the doctor's. Furthermore, I am not a scared little rabbit who is going to hop at your beck and call. If that's what you want, then you've hired the wrong nurse. I am a person, and I insist on being treated with respect. I have taken this position out of a strong feeling of duty, and I fully intend to do the best that I can. But if my work is not satisfactory to you, I'll pack my bags at a moment's notice and be gone before you can give it another thought. And now, are we both understood?"

Hillary knew that her face was burning with a telltale red flush. She was breathless, and her eyes were flashing and angry. And she fully expected the white-haired woman to explode at her outburst.

But she didn't. She just sat there in silence. She sat and stared coolly at the young, freckled redhead who stood proudly in front of her, the nurse who had been sent by her very best friend in the world, Matilda Waverly.

Hillary waited in the deafening silence for the blow to fall, for her employer to send her abruptly away. She was already regretting her impulsive words, if only out of fear that an emotional upset could aggravate her patient's condition.

But Priscilla Scott said nothing for quite some time. And then, very slowly, the traces of a smile began to etch their way on her withered face. Her eyes were dancing.

Then she spoke.

"Now that we've gotten to know each other, Hillary, don't you think it's time we began to work?" She pointed to the doctor's folder that Hillary still clutched in her hand.

Hillary was dumbfounded. She stared into the clear and intelligent eyes of her employer. And slowly, the realization of what was going on dawned on her.

"You just baited me, Priscilla Scott. Didn't you?"

The eyes smiled gleefully back at her.

"And it was such fun! My, I haven't had such a good time in ages." She chuckled in a low, throaty voice.

"But why?"

"To put it bluntly, Hillary Holt, because I had to see who you were. Because I had to see what kind of stuff you were made of. Because I had to make sure you were here on your own accord, an independent person, and not a little snip of a girl who was doing her great-aunt's bidding because her great-aunt held the purse strings."

"But I
am
here to please Miss Matilda," Hillary said honestly.

"Because you feel you owe her something. Which is admirable. But not because you're interested in the rest of her money. Which would not be uncommon. But if that were the case, then you would have cowered before me. You would have done whatever I demanded to stay in her good graces. You wouldn't have dared to risk it all!"

Hillary giggled now and sounded like a young girl. Despite her earlier anger, she felt herself warming toward her patient.

Miss Scott spoke again. "But you blew your cool. And so now I know that Matilda was, as usual, right in her judgment of character. Which is very, very fortunate for me."

Hillary shook her head in disbelief. "Miss Matilda doesn't know anything about me. Miss Scott. I've never even laid eyes on her."

"That just goes to show how little you know, freckled Hillary. She knows just about everything there is to know about you. She's followed your life every step of the way. She cares very much, you know."

"But why has she stayed so far away?" Hillary felt a strange pounding in her ears. Did the answer mean so very much to her?

"She had her reasons, Hillary. She thought it was better that way. And she's usually right, as you will hopefully one day find out. Matilda's a bit of a character. Quite a bit. That's why we're such good friends. But enough of Miss Matilda. We'll have plenty of time to speak of her. Right now, I want to welcome you to Eagle's Watch and tell you how glad I am that you're here. I need you very much, you know."

"I'll help you all that I can."

"I know you will. I'll be open with you and admit something I've never admitted to another soul. This stroke has been quite a shock to me, Hillary. I feel dependent and vulnerable, a state that doesn't agree with my disposition."

Hillary could well imagine, remembering her employer's sharp tongue on her arrival. "When I read the medical information, I'll have a better view of your condition. I can see that you're the type—well, the type who likes to be on top of things."

"How politely you put it. I'd just say I like to rule over everything in sight. Rather hard to do when you can't stand on your own two feet. By the way, I hope you're a good bird watcher."

A bird watcher? Hillary swallowed. This was all too strange to be true. Was Miss Scott a little senile? It was hard to believe, with those clear, piercing eyes. But still, a bird watcher?

"If you mean eagles, Miss Scott, I must say I didn't see a trace of them as I pulled up."

"Bah, eagles. We'd have to have your head examined if you thought you saw any of those. I haven't seen one for over thirty years. No, it's vultures I'm talking about."

"Vultures!" Hillary cried helplessly. "What vultures?"

"The ones who will be descending on Eagle's Watch very shortly, Nurse Holt. My not-distant-enough relatives, as soon as they receive word of my recent illness. You'll see. Vultures."

"But relatives who care always come around when someone is ill, Miss Scott. Aren't you being just a little unfair to them?"

"I wish I were. But last year, when I suffered a mild angina attack, they flocked from miles around, fluttering like a mob of fools, talking of wills, and legal rights, and driving me crazy. They would have liked to give me a hand into the grave, if you ask me. I'll never forget it. They're a strange group, Nurse Holt. You'll see."

"But I think you're overdoing it. People just aren't that bad, as a rule."

"People don't follow rules when there's a lot of money at stake."

"Personally, I don't give a hoot about money."

"That's why I like you, Hillary. I have a feeling I can trust you."

Hillary could see that her patient was tiring. "You can certainly trust me. Miss Scott. So believe me now when I say you need some rest. I'll go and review the doctor's notes, and then come back after a while."

"Before you go, what do you think of Eagle's Watch?"

Hillary looked into the dark eyes that stared into hers. Only the truth would do.

"Quite honestly, I think it's the strangest and most desolate place I've ever laid eyes upon. But I guess you could say it's intriguing."

The old face was smiling. "Honest girl. I think it's horrible too. I like you, Hillary. What do you think you should call me? Miss Scott sounds a bit formal."

Hillary thought for a moment, feeling a surge of affection for her. "I think you're a little too salty to be called Priscilla. I'd like to call you Scotty. Is that all right? Just between us."

A faraway look came over Priscilla Scott's eyes. "Isn't that a strange coincidence? That's what Matilda always called me." She smiled to herself. "And it's fine, Hillary. Scotty is fine. Now go and do your homework, and let a poor old woman get some much-needed rest."

She closed her eyes, and the nurse tiptoed silently out.

Peeling cozy in the sunny green room next door, Hillary curled up in a big stuffed chair and began to peruse the medical material she had carried with her. The time ticked by; the sun began to sink behind the west wall of the castle.

Priscilla Scott was eighty-four years old. Her medical history was generally one of a relatively healthy woman, aside from the usual problems that often accompany the later years of life. Her joints worked well, her digestion had been excellent. Her eyes occasionally gave her problems, she tired easily.