Heart Specialist (10 page)

For his careless rejoinder hadn
’
t pleased her.

“
You must possess a witchball
,
little one! But take my advice and don
’
t look into it too often! And now go to bed early and make certain that you have a good night
’
s rest. At your age it is important always to have a good night lest the roses fade, and those sky-blue eyes of yours would not look well underlined by shadows.
Bonne nui
t
, ma petite
!”

She picked up Fifi and sat down by the fragrant log fire, and she thought a little resentfully that he could have a dinner engagement and go out for the evening!
She
was to go to bed early!

But she did what he wanted her to and wrote to Jane the following day. Jane replied on a perfect wave of enthusiasm for throwing up her present job and joining her the instant it was possible in Paris.

Never did
I
think you would one day be in a position to
employ
me, darling, but you can take it from me that I
’
m absolutely delighted you are in that position. What times we
’
ll have! What orgies of shopping! And I
’
ll keep all the fortune hunters away, if necessary with a revolver.

She did not know yet about the special clause in Miss Constantia
’
s will, and Valentine thought it best to let her know when she arrived, not before.

Once she knew that Jane was coming she began to look forward almost feverishly to seeing her, for she and Jane had a lot in common, in spite of the ten-year difference in their ages. There was a spare bedroom in the apartment, and it was got ready for her. Miss Constantia
’
s bedroom had been closed and locked, and Valentine had no intention of taking it over for herself, although it was the main bedroom. It was too full of memories of Miss Constantia and that last morning.

Sometimes Fifi scratched at the door, as if asking for admittance. But Valentine swept her up in her arms and hugged her and said,
“
No, my pet, you
’
re mine now. Miss Constantia particularly stated in her will that I was to keep you always, and that means I don
’
t have to lose you at the end of a year! You really are mine!
”

And Fifi, although bewildered at first, quickly got used to the change of mistresses.

She accompanied Valentine on her walks, and the two of them became familiar figures in the Tuileries Gardens. The Tuileries Gardens were within brisk walking distance of the apartment, and it was there that Valentine spent most of her time in those early spring days while she waited for Jane.

Peter Fairfield telephoned several times to make some arrangement with her, but each time she put him off. She didn
’
t quite know why she did so, and his voice sounded a little more hurt each time he telephoned. And one night the hurt was so noticeable, and he became so persuasive, that she relented and agreed to let him take her out to dinner. After all, she thought with that quick stab of resentment she had experienced before, Dr. Daudet didn
’
t ask her permission when he wanted to spend an evening with something choice and elegant in the way of feminine company, and he hadn
’
t even bothered to find out whether she had written to Jane and what sort of reply she had received.

Daily she had been expecting him to make some inquiry, but he hadn
’
t. And she heard no more, either, about his aunt.

So when Peter said pleadingly,
“
You
’
ve only allowed me to take you out once, and I thought when we met it was the nicest thing that had happened to me since
I
arrived in Paris!
”
something inside her grew very soft toward him.

“
I liked meeting you, too,
”
she said.

“
Then let
’
s meet again soon—tonight! I
’
ve just received my allowance, and something must have touched my uncle in a spot where
I
believed he was incapable of being touched, for he
’
s added to it something in the nature of a bonus. We
’
ll blow it all on a really good dinner. White tie and tails, and for you something, well, you could hardly look nicer than on the first day we met!
”

She laughed.
“
Nevertheless, I
’
d look a little odd accompanying you in all your magnificence of white tie and tails dressed in a tailored suit and blouse! No, if you really mean it
...
”

“
I do!
”
came the reply promptly.

“
And you
’
ll let me pay something toward the cost of the dinner
...”

“
Woman!
”
His voice was sharp this time.
“
Do you want to humiliate me? I
’
ve told you I
’
m in the money, and I can think of nothing more worthwhile than you to spend it on. Seriously, Valentine—
”
a note in his voice reducing her to even greater pliability,
“
—I hate to think of you as a kind of heiress, or whatever it is you are. I wish we
’
d met before you
’
d been left all that money by that old woman.
”

“
Oh, you mustn
’
t call Miss Constantia an old woman!
”
she reproved him at once.
“
She was the most adorable elderly lady I
’
ve ever known.
”

“
Well, you know what I mean. She
’
s put you out of my reach, in a way. And I ... I resent it.
”

Yes, she knew what he meant, and her heart swelled because it proved Dr. Daudet was entirely wrong, and she had done nothing rash when she made the disclosure of her legacy and its conditions to him.

They arranged that he would call for her at the apartment. All at once she didn
’
t see why she shouldn
’
t allow him to do so. And when he rang the bell Martine admitted him, and Valentine was waiting for him in the exquisitely furnished living room. She was wearing a black net dress that was the only really expensive purchase she had made since her arrival in Paris, and its deceptive simplicity and plainness could hardly have suited her better. Her hair was in a chignon low on her neck; she had a row of pearls around her slender throat, and her cobwebby sandals looked as if they were made of moonlight.

Peter looked at her and then caught his breath. ...

“
And all this for me!
”
he said.
“
Valentine, I
’
m ... I
’
m honored!
”

She swept him a little curtsy with her wide skirts, although she suddenly felt absurdly shy. Perhaps it was the look in his eyes.

“
You needn
’
t be,
”
she returned.
“
You look as if you
’
re just about to step into the shoes of Sir David Fairfield, Bart!
”
And as a matter of fact, that was exactly what he did look like, with his Englishman
’
s air of being born in formal evening garments, although like most Englishmen he probably loathed the feel of them. And not even Dr. Daudet had anything on him in the matter of impeccable grooming.

“
Did I say my uncle was a baronet?
”
he inquired, smiling.
“
As a matter of fact, he is, and one of these days I hope to be one, too. But at the moment Uncle David looks good for another fifty years.
”

He made no comment on the sumptuousness of the apartment, said that he didn
’
t think they should wait for a drink, as it was
he
who was taking
her
out, and Valentine was conscious of slight relief, just in case the telephone should ring at any moment, or worse still, the front doorbell shrill suddenly.

Outside he had a taxi waiting, and Valentine felt a rising bubble of excitement as she realized that this was the first time she had been taken out to dinner in the French capital by a man who looked capable of entertaining her in a manner that would do justice to her new black dress.

And Peter Fairfield, apparently, once he got the bit between his teeth, did things as his instincts prompted him they ought to be done. His aunt had come over to do some shopping a month before, and in the process of acting as her escort he had taken her to a restaurant perched high above the Seine, from whose windows one could see all the lights on the opposite bank, dangling like colored streamers across the steel-gray water.

It was a well-known restaurant, famous for its service, and even more famous for the fashionable people who frequented it. It had a sort of Victorian opulence about it, and the waiters were even more soft voiced and attentive than they had been at the only other smart restaurant in Paris Valentine had visited, the one she
’
d had lunch in with Dr. Daudet.

Tonight, as she sat facing Peter Fairfield at a discreet table in a
corner
, near enough to a window for her to look out at those fascinating colored lights, she couldn
’
t for some reason help thinking about Dr. Daudet, and although she didn
’
t actually compare him in her mind with her fellow countryman, she did make a few comparisons. Peter didn
’
t make her feel in the slightest degree embarrassed every time he looked at her across the centerpiece of flowers, but she did find pleasure in looking at him. He was
so
extremely wholesome, and there wasn
’
t one gleaming brown hair on his head that wasn
’
t beautifully brushed. His teeth were as hard and white as Leon Daudet
’
s, but the doctor had a crooked smile, and Peter
’
s smile was open.

She could never forget for one instant when she was with Dr. Daudet that he was many years older than herself—possibly somewhere in his late thirties—and those years had bestowed upon him enough experience to make her appear very silly and young in his sight. Peter just made her feel like a contemporary, and with him she could relax and be herself. Dr. Daudet, on the other hand, at times exuded a kind of protectiveness toward her, and with him there would never be any need to make the next move. He was always capable of that! Therefore, with Dr. Daudet she was not relaxed, but in some curious way she was resigned. Resigned to what
...?

She looked up suddenly to see him looking at her, and it wasn
’
t in her imagination, because he was at a table at the far end of the room, in a little alcove that was something like a private dining parlor in itself, and with him was Madame Faubourg, splendid in golden lame.

Valentine had just had a portion of veal swimming in wine sauce placed in front of her, and she looked down at it rather helplessly and then up again at Dr. Daudet.

Yes, he was still there! He was dining at the same restaurant with the dark-eyed widow who was willing to take her under her wing!

Madame Faubourg hadn
’
t caught sight of her as yet, and she was smiling with a kind of open seductiveness right into the doctor
’
s face. He was answering something she had said and looking straight down the length of the room at Valentine. His eyes were completely enigmatic and very,
v
ery dark
. V
alentine felt her pulses quicken nervously, and then yet again she experienced that upsurge of resentment.

Dr. Daudet hadn
’
t made the smallest indication that he had recognized her. Well, she wouldn
’
t recognize him! Instead, she leaned forward impulsively across the table and said something happily to Peter.

Her reward was a brilliant enamored smile from him, and as the waiter had turned his back for a moment his hand stole out and covered one of hers. She felt his fingers give hers a little squeeze and she didn
’
t withdraw her hand until the waiter turned around.

She was sure that Peter enjoyed their meal—their first dinner together! She chatted to him so brightly, was never in the least shy, and she looked so enchanting beneath the lights that more than one pair of masculine eyes—apart from those of Dr. Daudet—wandered in her direction while the meal lasted. And then when it was over, the bill paid, the waiter beaming because of the size of his tip, and Peter had suggested that they go on to somewhere to dance, she knew that she would have t
o
pass that table in the alcove in order to reach the door.