A Case of Heart Trouble (17 page)

house, and how many times I've left it to go to Oldthorpe unaccompanied by Stephanie. I think she will bear me out that I’ve never once received a telephone call, and I've never once left the house for longer than a few minutes without Stephanie!”

She saw his mouth drop open slightly as if she had astonished him; and then his eyes narrowed still more as he regarded her.

“Is that the truth?” he asked. “The absolute truth?”

She turned disdainfully away.

“I’ve already suggested that you question Mrs. Baxter if you imagine I'm incapable of telling the truth. At least, having employed her for quite a long time, you should believe her. And now, if you’ll forgive me, I'd like to go to bed. I came down to borrow a book, but I've plenty of magazines I can read, so I won’t disturb you any longer. . . .”

But he got between her and the door.

“Dallas, I apologize if I’ve misjudged you. But Mrs. Loring was quite certain—”

“Mrs. Loring!” she exclaimed, and then bit her lip. “Dr. Loring, I’m tired, and I’d like to go to bed—”

“And I want to get to the bottom of this,” he exclaimed, frowning so that his dark brows met in the middle. “If you're as innocent as you pretend, why did my cousin Brent telephone you here yesterday afternoon—shortly before I arrived back home?”

“Shortly before you—arrived home?” She gaped at him foolishly.

He stood very close to her, and his face was darker than ever. It was almost forbidding.

“If you’re not a little liar, and you’re telling me the truth, how do you explain that one away, little Nurse Drew?”

Suddenly she heard herself laughing, a high, hysterical sound.

“I can’t,” she managed, at last, when she had stopped laughing. “Or rather, I could, but it might involve awkwardness all round! And since it would not serve any very useful purpose I wouldn’t question Mrs. Baxter . . . not about me! Just accept it, Doctor, that your cousin Brent is quite irresistible to me! I simply live for the moments when he remembers we're on the telephone here, and of course I spend all my free time with him! ”

As he had moved away from the door she took advantage of the fact that she could now escape, and did so. Without waiting to hear him say anything further, or even to look properly at his face, she fled from the room, and upstairs to her own bedroom. Where she took the unnecessary precaution of locking her door!

C H A P T E R F O U R T E E N

THE next day was Sunday, and Dallas saw little or nothing of her employer. She took Stephanie to church in the morning, and in the afternoon the two of them went for a walk on the moor. At tea-time they joined the doctor and his sister-in-law for a brief half-hour in

the drawing-room, but apart from that they took all their meals upstairs in the schoolroom, and were much happier than they would have been downstairs. Or Stephanie appeared perfectly happy, and Dallas had taken a silent vow that never again would she sit at the table in the dining room with Dr. Loring and the beautiful Joanna.

When the doctor’s aunt returned, and if Joanna had departed and she herself was still employed by the doctor, she might resume her old position in the household, but not while Martin and his enchanting sister-in-law were the only two occupants of the house apart from herself and Stephanie and the servants.

But it didn’t look as if Mrs. Letitia Loring would be returning for some while. Dallas received a card from her—very colorful, and bearing the address of a villa just outside Grasse—and she stated that she was enjoying herself thoroughly in glorious spring sunshine, and had no intention of returning to England until her friend grew tired of her. She hoped everything was well at Loring Court, was sure Stephanie was being well looked after by Dallas, and sent her love to them both.

She apparently had no idea that Joanna was now firmly established at Loring Court.

On Monday the weather changed, and it was impossible to take any outdoor exercise. They spent the whole of the day in the schoolroom, while outside great gusts of wind tore at the young green things in the garden, and blustery showers of rain and hail lashed against the windows. Dallas understood that Martin Loring was remaining until the end of the

week, but she never encountered him on the stairs or in the corridors, and as Joanna was working in her studio she concluded that he must be either working or reading in the library .

Later in the day, during a brief lull in the weather, she saw him and Joanna emerge together in raincoats from the house, and set off for a walk across the moor. At tea-time, since he and Joanna were still absent, and no tea-tray was carried to the drawing-room, she and her charge had their tea upstairs.

The following day conditions were much the same —in fact, rather worse—and the day after that the frenzy of wind and rain seemed to arrive at a peak of determination to wreck the garden. Dallas was concerned to see that trees were down, bushes uprooted, and borders beaten flat. The wallflowers that had been doing so splendidly under the south terrace were a shambles when she and Stephanie took a short breather out of doors, when it was not actually raining, to have a look at the damage.

A great tree was lying across the drive and practically blocking it, the waters of the lake were churned to a pitch of fury that all but swamped the little island in the middle of it. On the way back to the house, with a bedraggled Joe tugging at his lead and eager to get back into the warmth and the dryness of well-carpeted rooms, they ran full tilt into Joanna, who had been doing a similar tour of the grounds, but in the opposite direction.

She was wearing glistening yellow oilskins, and she looked enchanting. Her color was the color of a rose, her eyes were like brown velvet that had somehow acquired a sparkle, and as she wore no hat her silken dark hair was bespattered with rain drops, and looked silkier than ever. There was no doubt about it that the Yorkshire air suited her, even in rough weather, and she looked extraordinarily fit and vital.

She glanced disapprovingly at Stephanie, who was rather pale after being confined to the house.

“Good gracious, child, you look as if you’ve been shut up in the house for months!” she exclaimed. “Is Nurse Drew afraid that you’ll both be blown away if you take a little exercise out of doors?” “We are taking a little exercise out of doors now,” Dallas pointed out somewhat unnecessarily.

“Is this the first time you’ve put your noses out of doors for three days?” Joanna’s slim eyebrows went up. “I was saying to the doctor only yesterday that you’re inclined to coddle that child, Nurse Drew . . . and he agreed with me that it’s a pity you aren’t more robust yourself, and less afraid to face the weather. Stephanie needs a constant companion who can encourage her to do things, not hold her back. After all, what’s a little rain and wind? I myself have been for a brisk walk across the moor already today, and I’m going out again this afternoon. Would you like to come with me to the village, poppet?”

Stephanie, who had been alarmed by the sight of the great tree across the drive, and the other signs of havoc, agreed, but without enthusiasm.

Her aunt lifted her chin and looked at her, and shook her head. “If I had you for a few weeks you’d soon get some real color in your cheeks. However, there’s plenty of time to see what we can do . . . and this afternoon we’ll have tea in the village, shall we? There’s a nice little place where they do real cream teas that’s only just opened up, and you and I’ll be amongst the first customers. What do you say, poppet?”

“If we can take Joe,” Stephanie answered, despite the fact that

Joe was plainly only interested in getting back inside the house.

Joanna made a careless movement with her shoulders.

“Of course, if you want to.”

Dr. Loring came round the side of the house, and he, too, was wearing oilskins that glistened. He glanced briefly at Dallas, flicked Stephanie lightly on the cheek, and looked at Joanna.

“You look as if you’ve been defying the elements in the same way that I have,” he observed. “Where are you going now?”

“Back upstairs to do some work in the studio. But I'm taking Steve to the village this afternoon. She looks as if she could do with some exercise. Why don't you come with us?”

He glanced up at the wind-torn sky, and around him at the havoc in the garden, and suggested:

“I'll drive you there if you like.”

Joanna made a little face of mockery at him.

“Darling, don't tell me you're afraid of getting wet, too? Nurse Drew is terrified of a few drops of rain . . . extraordinary in a member of the nursing profession, when most of them are so tough, and encourage toughness in others. However, I can't allow my niece to suffer as a result, so I'm taking her on for the afternoon. Come with us, darling, and be bold . . . leave the car in the garage! ”

But he shook his head quite firmly.

“I've already had all the exercise I want for one morning. I've been as far as Wem Tor.” He glanced for a very brief instant again at Dallas. “See that my daughter is well wrapped up this afternoon, Nurse. I agree with Mrs. Loring that she looks a bit peaky. It isn't good for a child to remain imprisoned in a house for too long.”

“But the weather has been absolutely impossible for taking walks out of doors,” Dallas protested, feeling that she was being dismissed as altogether too feeble for words. “This morning is the first morning since Sunday that there's been even a break in the rain.

Joanna and Martin glanced at one another. Joanna smiled.

“Tell her, Martin,” she urged, “how badly soaked we got the other afternoon—literally soaked to the skin! —but we survived. I don't think there's much point in being alive if you can't face up to the weather.”

Dallas turned away rather hurriedly, taking Stephanie by the hand.

“What time do you want to leave, Mrs. Loring?” she asked, careful to avoid both pairs of coldly critical eyes.

“Oh, around about three o’clock,” Joanna answered. “Give me time to have a nap after lunch.” She caught Martin by the arm.

“And I’ll join you in the library for a drink about twelve, honey. Be sure and be there, won’t you?”

“I’ll be there,” the doctor promised, a little dryly. “And please don’t call me honey,” he added.

“Darling, then.” She smiled at him dazzlingly. “Dearest, sweetheart . . . which do you prefer?”

That afternoon, after lunch and Joanna’s nap were over, Dallas belted Stephanie into her dark blue school raincoat, with a thick cardigan underneath it, and waited with her in the hall until the widow joined them. She was looking peevish, as if either her lunch hadn’t agreed with her, her nap had been too short, or she was a little regretful because she had suggested the afternoon outing, and surveyed her niece with a definitely jaundiced eye.

“Well, I suppose if we’ve got to set out we’ve got to set out,” she exclaimed. “But, for heaven's sake, darling, must you take the dog?”

Stephanie was holding Joe, already attached to his lead, under one arm.

“You said I could,” she reminded her aunt.

Joanna shrugged.

“Oh, well, if he gets blown away don't blame me! Those shortlegged dogs are not very good in rough weather, and you'll probably have to carry him.”

When they got out on to the steps she glanced up at the sky. The clouds, black and lowering, were simply racing along, and in every gust of violent wind the rain came at them as they set off down the drive. Dallas, who realized it would be useless to offer either of them an umbrella because it would be blown inside out, watched with concern in her eyes for Stephanie as the eight-year-old bent almost double in her efforts to keep up with her aunt.

Twenty minutes later she came racing back along the drive, soaked, dishevelled and alone. Joe's lead was in her hand, but Joe himself was not attached to it.

“He got away,” she gasped.” I don’t know how he managed it, but he did! His collar was always too big for him, and he slipped it. . . She leaned, gasping for breath, against the hall table, and while Dallas mopped at the moisture that was running down her face from her hair she explained that her aunt was too cross to help her to look for Joe. Stephanie burst into tears. “She said he’s an absurd animal— not a proper dog—and it would be as well if we did really lose him! ” she revealed. “She’s gone on to the tea room, but I came back.”

She clutched at Dallas with her cold, wet hands.

“Please help me to find Joe! ” she pleaded.

“Of course, darling,” Dallas answered. “But you must promise to go and get yourself dry while I set off and look for him. Just give me some idea of where you lost him, and I'll do the rest.”

Stephanie gulped with relief.

“I’ll get out of everything and put on dry things if you’ll only bring him back,” she promised. “It was down by the lake, where the drive bends and the woods begin. He was frightened by the wind, and I had to put him down because he was struggling so hard I couldn’t hold on to him. He shot into the woods ... I might have found him at once if Aunt Joanna hadn’t held on to me and said he’d find his own way home, but I know he won’t. . . . He’s too small!”

Dallas agreed with her, but she didn't waste time letting her know that she did, and she didn’t waste time discussing the matter any further. She dived into the little room off the hall where coats were kept, and slipped into her own raincoat that had been hanging there since morning, and pulled on a pair of Wellington boots that were not her own and rather too large for her. She didn’t bother about a hat, but waited to see Stephanie ascending the stairs before leaving the house, and then plunged forth into the wild inclemency of the weather to begin a search that she secretly thought hopeless.

Joe was so small—a miniature of his kind, apart from being not much more than a puppy still—that he could be hiding anywhere and remain unseen while the daylight lasted, and after daylight it would be useless to search for him in the woods. In addition to which the gale had once more lashed itself into a veritable fury, and if Joe was cowering in panic he certainly wouldn't come out into the open.

It was as much as Dallas could do to walk down the drive, and by the time she reached the comparative shelter of the woods she was utterly breathless, and her hair, like Stephanie’s, was plastered to her head by the rain. Because of the lowering clouds the day was drawing to a close much earlier than usual, and it was difficult to see anything in the dimness of the woods. She could hear vague crashing noises every now and again, as if a tree was forced out of the ground by a giant hand and flung carelessly down; and on the shore of the lake, where she found herself at last, the wind as it reached her was icy.