Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) (7 page)

BOOK: Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan)
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Very well, Eva,

Lucy dismissed her quietly.

You can let Miss Harling know that I

ll be down to see her as soon as
I
can manage it.

But inwardly anger was taking possession of her in a kind of wave, for the imperiousness of the summons was almost like a deliberate affront. And Sir John had apparently countenanced it! Sir John, who was aware that she was employed solely in the capacity as a kind of nurse-companion for his daughter, and not someone who was to be at the beck and call of the Lynette Harlings of this world!

The anger made her feel hot with indignation, and when she looked down at Miranda and saw that the child was regarding her with almost an imploring look in her eyes, it grew until she realized that her own eyes must be sparkling a little indignantly.


You

re not going to leave me, are you, Noly
?”
Miranda begged.

Not just because Eva said you were to?


I

m going to get Fiske to sit with you,

Lucy replied.

But before that I

m going to give you your sedative.

This was a sedative that seldom failed to have the desired result of sending Miranda off into the pain-free sleep she needed.

And I promise to sit with you until you get really drowsy That all right?

forcing herself to smile in a composed and reassuring manner.


Yes.

Miranda sighed rather raggedly.

But I wonder what she wants you for—the woman with red hair?


Miss Harling to you, my love,

Lucy rebuked her gently. And then she added,

Oh, I expect she

s got a headache, and wants to borrow an aspirin, or something of the sort.


Perhaps she does,

Miranda agreed. Although she was strung up, she was also tired, and it was not long before the sedative took effect and Lucy was able to leave her with Fiske.

Lucy went downstairs to the first floor with a riot of the oddest sensations surging in her—curiosity, a sharp feeling of indignation directed against Sir John because he had not yet been to see his daughter, anxiety because Miranda made so little progress, and annoyance because she had been sent for like a servant to attend upon one of the visitors. Not that, if one of the visitors really needed her, she would have had any objection at all to doing her best for her, in whatever way she needed her services, but there were various methods of requesting those services and Lucy felt strongly that the happiest had not been made use of on this occasion.

Or, maybe, it was because she had already met Miss Harling that the antagonism was so easily aroused.

Miss Harling

s own voice called a languid

Come in

when she tapped on the door of the white room. At first the blaze of light inside the room almost dazzled her, for every silk-shaded light was switched on, and even the bathroom was brilliantly illuminated. The two maids were kneeling beside wide-open suitcases and trunks in the middle of the floor, and every article of furniture seemed draped with clothing, while the bed was a sea of exquisite underwear. Lynette Harling herself was reclining on a couch covered in white corded silk, with a little pile of cushions supporting one of her slender ankles, and she was wearing a brocade housecoat of a dull peach color that seemed to have borrowed its hue from her hair. That hair was wound in a coronet of plaits around her regally poised small head, and her eyes were bright and green—and venomous, almost, as the eyes of a snake.


Oh!

she exclaimed, as Lucy moved slowly forward over the thick white carpet to the side of her couch.

So it is you
,
Nurse Nolan!

Lucy said quietly,

Yes, Miss Harling. Is there anything I can do for you?

Lynette Harling

s eyes narrowed. They took in the fact that Lucy was not wearing a uniform and that her slim-fitting navy blue dress, with its white collar and cuffs—which Lucy had decided was at least businesslike—had obviously been created by a first-class dressmaker. And the way Lucy wore her hair curling softly all over her head, and forming feathers of fringe on her white forehead, the rather delicate pure oval of her face, were all things that at that moment added fuel to the fire of the ballerina

s annoyance, that had been rising moment by moment before Lucy knocked at the door. And she decided now that this nurse—if she was a nurse—had too cool and calm an air of condescension about her and she found it vastly irritating.


I sent for you a long time ago!

she said sharply.


About a quarter of an hour ago, Miss Harling, but I couldn

t leave my patient.


Your patient? You mean Miranda?


Naturally I mean Miranda.


But Miranda

s not ill! I mean—she

s an invalid, but she

s not exactly ill. She can

t walk, I believe?


No, she can

t walk,

Lucy agreed, and her voice was so extremely quiet now that Miss Harling stared at her rather hard, and felt the hot blood rise slowly to the alabaster smoothness of her cheeks. She dug two sharp white teeth into her lower lip.


I can

t walk, either—at least, I can only walk with difficulty, because I sprained my ankle rather badly some weeks ago, and it still pains me at times. I sent for you to give it massage—which I imagine you must be capable of doing?

with an unpleasant look.

You
are
a trained nurse, aren

t you?


I

m a state-registered nurse, if that

s what you mean.


It doesn

t really mean a thing to me, but I

ll take your word that you know something about ankles, at least. And mine is hurting me.

She stuck it out on the cushions in front of her, but there was no sign of any swelling as far as Lucy was able to observe.

I
must have given it a twist either getting in or out of the car today.


That

s quite likely,

Lucy agreed.

And the best thing you can do in that case is to rest it.


I am resting it,

with the persistent sharpness in her voice.

But I

ve got to hobble downstairs to dinner.


You could have your dinner up here on a tray. I

m sure Sir John would understand.


What!

The shapely eyebrows lifted scornfully, and she cast a glance that was almost disdainful around the lovely, firelit room.

Do you imagine I

m going to turn myself into an invalid just because you suggest it?

Her maid brought an evening gown arrayed on a hanger to her side for her inspection, and she cast an imperious look at it. It was a billowing mass of white tulle patterned with enormous golden roses, and in Lucy

s faintly awed eyes it was sheer perfection, but Lynette Harling plainly did not agree with her for she waved it away with a pettish gesture.

Not that thing, Lawson. You know I can

t bear it! I

ll wear the black—the black and jade!

She directed a look of cold enmity at Lucy, and with a superbly graceful gesture rose from the couch.

You

ve come too late, Nurse Nolan, because I

m going to have my bath. But tomorrow you can start getting to work on my ankle—the massage treatment that i
s
so good!


I will if I can spare you the time Miss Harling,

Lucy replied quietly.

Lynette shed her brocade housecoat like a butterfly throwing aside its chrysalis, revealing herself in a lace brassiere and panties.


As to that,

she returned, her voice like the drip of ice,

I have no doubt that Sir John will see to it that you make time!

Outside the room L
ucy paused for a moment to subdue those unworthy feelings of anger that were doing their best to take possession of her again, for if the dancer really was being troubled by the aftereffects of a badly sprained ankle, then massage was the treatment she required. But that she would be more or less ordered to provide the treatment made her feel cold and disturbed deep down inside her.

Ten minutes later Lucy went downstairs to fetch Miranda a hot drink. She had no wish to trouble any of the servants on so busy an evening. She reached the foot of the stairs just as her employer, immaculate in evening clothes, reached it from the opposite direction, and she thought that he directed a displeased look at her.


I

d like to speak to you in the library, if you can spare the time, Nurse Nolan!

he said quietly.

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

Lucy had
the feeling, which proved to be quite correct, that she was about to receive a reprimand, and the reprimand was not long in being delivered, in quiet but rather cutting accents as soon as the library door had closed behind them.

 

Sir John, she could see very plainly, was very definitely annoyed.


Nurse Nolan,

he said, without even offering her a chair,

did Mrs. Abbott make it clear to you that I wished you to go straight to Miss Harling

s room as soon as she sent for you tonight?

Lucy looked him levelly in the eyes.


Mrs. Abbott was far too busy to pass your message on to me herself, Sir John, but Eva, whom she instructed to let me know that for some purpose or other
I
was to go to Miss Harling

s room, did not waste any time in letting me hear of your wishes, as far as I know. I could not, however, go at once, because I was unable to leave Miranda.


Why not?

 


Miranda has had one of her bad days today, and I make a practice of remaining near her when she is like that.


I
see.

He frowned slightly.

But you could have left her with Fiske.


I
could.

She stared at the tips of her lightly polished fingernails.

But I don

t think Miranda would have been happy about that.


And yet,

he reminded her swiftly, sharply,

only a few

days ago you were trying to persuade me that Miranda no longer had any real need of you, and that Fiske could undertake all the duties you felt did not any longer come within the scope of a hospital-trained nurse!


Yes, that is quite true,

Lucy agreed, looking up at him again with a kind of dignified gravity in her eyes this time.

But perhaps I made a mistake about the extent of Miranda

s progress.

BOOK: Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan)
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