Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) (19 page)

After that
here was no question of feeling cut off from familiar faces, and yearning to be back in England, as far as Lucy was concerned. With the arrival of Sir John most of her agitation and her uneasiness left her. Even her anxiety for Miranda was lessened because it was now being borne by Sir John as well as herself, and she no longer felt any awe of his society, or suspected him of being incapable of feeling deeply about any single thing.

He had felt strongly enough about Miranda to decide at the last moment to be near her when her operation was taking place, and the sight of him in Fraulein
Wern
’
s office, with the scent of Fraulein Wern
’
s flowers doing things to her heartstrings, had been enough to lift Lucy out of a slough of despond and gloom into a sudden wonderful cloud of hope and reassurance.

Dr. Wern was not able to see Sir John that night, but he saw him early the following morning, and the two of them were closeted together for half an hour. Then Sir John, acting upon instructions from Dr. Wern, took Lucy right away out of the clinic to his own hotel. Lucy was at first loath to agree to this, but Sir John was firm, and her pleas to be allowed to remain near Miranda were dismissed. It was pointed out to her that she could do little good by remaining, and she had sense enough to acknowledge this. Miranda, when she had said good-night to her the night before, had been serene and unruffled. It would never do to
allow her to detect any anxiety near to her in the shape of a taut and nervous Lucy, on whom she had come to rely. She was not even told that her father had arrived. It was thought best, in order to preserve her state of emotionless calm, that she should not be told.

But Sir John, it was quite clear to Lucy, was feeling a certain amount of strain. He had a very slightly haggard appearance that went to Lucy
’
s heart, and his gray eyes were far less inscrutable than she had known them. When they reached his hotel he ordered coffee for them in the lounge and they sat watching the people who came and went, while outside a feeble sun struggled through a break in the leaden clouds and made a brilliance of the snow. In the afternoon they sat in the sitting room of his suite. As the hours dragged by they found it more and more difficult to talk, and Sir John stood before the heavily draped window and lo
o
ked out at the passersby and watched the light fade and night steal down over Vienna.

Lucy felt—and she was sure that Sir John agreed with her—that there was no subject of sufficient interest to either of them that they could possibly make any attempt to discuss just then, and it was only when he ordered tea and the curtains were drawn across the windows that he looked at her almost apologetically.

“
Dr. Wern
’
s instructions were that I should provide you with some distraction that would take your mind off Miranda,
”
he said.
“
But I
’
m afraid,
”
he said with a faintly wistful smile,
“
that I haven
’
t really provided you with any distraction at all.
”

“
Oh, yes, you have,
”
she assured him.
“
If you hadn
’
t been here
I
would have had to spend today alone, waiting for news, and that might have been really unbearable.
”

“
Then you are glad I came?
”
he asked, watching her as she sat forcing herself to drink a second cup of tea.
“
It occurred to me that it was hardly fair to expect you to endure this sort of thing alone—knowing how you feel about Miranda—and that
’
s partly why I made up my mind at almost the last moment to fly over and join you.
”

Lucy, recalling how she had clung to his hands the night before when he arrived so unexpectedly, and how much her eyes when she first looked at him must have given her away, felt a sudden hot glow rise up in her cheeks and dissipate their pallor, under his thoughtful gaze.

“
I was very glad to see you last night,
”
was all she could tell him, simply.
“
And
I
am doubly glad to have you with me today.
”

“
What would you have done if
I
hadn
’
t come,
I
wonder?
”
he asked, rather musingly, lighting a cigarette and then absentmindedly grinding it out in an ashtray.
“
Would you have sat alone at the clinic?
”

“
I
expect so,
”
she answered.

“
And the hours would have seemed interminable.
”

“
They would,
”
she agreed.

As if by common consent, the eyes of both went to the ornamental clock on the mantelpiece, and the same thought flashed through both their minds at precisely the same instant. By this time everything must be over, but the telephone they had dreaded to hear earlier in the day had not so far rung. Sir John turned and stared at it, and then started to pace up and down the room.

“
If
...
if all goes well with Miranda,
”
he remarked suddenly, quietly,
“
there will be the question of her convalescence to face up
t
o. It will be a prolonged period of convalescence. Will you be able to continue to devote your time to her?
”

“
I
wouldn
’
t wish to devote my time to anyone else,
”
Lucy answered, a trifle unevenly, for since Sir John had turned to stare at the telephone she had begun to feel a chill in the
depths of her innermost being, and her hands were clasping and unc
l
asping themselves nervously.

Sir John surveyed her intently.

“
You really are very fond of Miranda, aren
’
t you?
”
he asked.

Lucy lifted her violet blue eyes and met his gaze, and he saw that they were fear-haunted eyes.

“
I
don
’
t know why it is,
”
she told him truthfully,
“
but if Miranda was my own child
I
couldn
’
t feel any more affection for her. She....
”
She made a little gesture with her hands, as if words suddenly failed her.
“
I suppose it
’
s because she is
...
well, Miranda!
”
And inwardly she added to herself,
“
And your daughter...!
”

Sir John
’
s eyes were very grave as he continued to hold her gaze.

“
In that case I feel that both Miranda and I owe you a debt. You have done so much for her these past few months, and without you her life would not have been as pleasant as it has been. In fact—
”
he paused
“
—if what you once said to me was true, I might have a great deal to reproach myself with if—
”

“
Don
’
t!
”
Lucy interrupted him sharply.
“
Please don
’
t use that word
‘
if.
’
”

He went across to her and drew her out of her chair, holding her by her slim shoulders in front of him.

“
As a matter of fact,
”
he said to her in almost soothing tones,
“
I have a feeling—an extraordinary feeling, amounting almost to certainty—that we have no need to make use of the word
‘
if
’
...
”

The telephone shrilled sharply in its corner of the room and Lucy started so violently that for an instant his hold on her tightened, and then he let her go slowly. He crossed to the instrument and picked up the receiver, and Lucy took a few panic-stricken steps in the direction of the window, as if she

wanted to escape from within sound of his voice. She put her hands up over her eyes as she listened to him speaking in very measured tones in answer to a voice that addressed him.

“
Yes
...
yes,
”
he said quietly—so quietly that Lucy felt the words were absorbed by the thick carpet and curtains in the room.
“
Yes, I see!
”

Lucy
’
s knees began to tremble; she was shaking all over, and she clutched at the back of a chair for support. It was bad news—she was so certain that it was bad news that she did not need to hear any more, and a kind of vague oblivion descended on her that could not have lasted more than a few seconds. In all her nursing experience she had never felt like this before, because this was the first time anything so acutely personal had had the power to devastate her, bringing in its train this dreadful, cold feeling of utter uselessness and hopelessness.

There was nothing she could do—it was all over...! Sir John was at her elbow saying something to her. She turned to him, her eyes dull and glazed.

“
You don
’
t need to tell me
,
”
she said,
“
It
’
s all over, isn
’
t it? And it
’
s—
”

“
It
’
s good news!
”
Sir John said, very quietly.

Much later t
hat night, in the dim glow of a single, shaded electric bulb, she stood beside Miranda
’
s bed with its plain green bedspread, and looked down at the small, waxen face on the pillow. Miranda was still not conscious that there was anyone around her, but she would live. In a few weeks she might begin to walk!

Sir John, who had been the first to be allowed to see his daughter, was waiting for Lucy in the corridor when she rejoined him. He looked tired and sunken eyed, as if he had passed through a travail of secret sorrow and anxiety, and was not yet fully aware that the burden was lifted.

But Lucy
’
s eyes were shining when she joined him, although her face was markedly pale. He looked down at her from his superior height.

“
If
I
were you,
”
he said,
“
I
would go to bed now.
”

From the dimness at the end of the corridor Dr. Wern appeared, wearing an expression that was quiet and controlled.

“
Come into my aunt
’
s office,
”
he suggested, opening the door.
“
There are coffee and sandwiches awaiting you.
”

But Lucy was unable to touch a sandwich, although she was grateful for the coffee. She thought Rupprecht Wern seemed to watch her closely, in a kind of unostentatiously concerned way, and he endorsed Sir John
’
s expressed opinion that a good night
’
s rest was what she required.

“
I
don
’
t suppose you slept very well last night, did you?
”
he asked.

Lucy confessed that she had not. She wondered whether he despised her for her completely unprofessional conduct and then decided that there was only sympathy in his nice dark eyes as he studied her. She felt her heart swell within her as she looked at him. That night she felt as if he was a superman, and the fact that Miranda would walk again was a miracle only he could have achieved. She could never, never be sufficiently grateful to him for what he had done.

Sir John, also neglecting the sandwiches but drinking the black coffee, listened to the even flow of Fraulein Wern
’
s smooth tones, and tried to concentrate on what she was saying, but all the time he, too, was watching Lucy—and he also watched Dr. Wern.

It occurred to him suddenly that they were both dedicated to a similar worthwhile task, and their outlook on life must have a great deal of similarity. They were not of the same nationality, but they did speak a language that united them through their main interest, and right from the beginning Sir John had suspected that Dr. Wern was not utterly unaware that Nurse Lucy Nolan was
an unusually
attractive young woman. Tonight there was even a faint concern for her in his look, and Lucy
’
s eyes took on a kind of luminous light every time she turned them in his direction.