Nurse in Waiting (18 page)

Her hand was locked in his and for a moment she let it lie there, making-believe
...
Then she turned it gently and he released it. And all the infinite tenderness she felt for him was masked by a nurse’s solicitude as she said quietly: “A few weeks now—no more.”

“I shall be free to come and go as I choose? To
—
to
possess
myself again?”

His eyes were shining and his eagerness was that of a boy. She said, hiding her pain as she would have hidden it from a boy: “You’ll be free of all your shackles—including me!”

It was no longer the nurse but Joanna, the woman, who waited hungrily for his answer. At first he made none. Then he echoed slowly: “Including you. D’you know—during these months I’ve come to depend on you so much that you’ve almost
become
me. To be entirely myself again—that’s going to be strange.”

It was not the answer for which she had longed. His mother had said “Stay,” had wanted her to see the fulfilment of her work in his recovery. But he had not said it too. She would go upon her way when the time came, and he was content to have it so.

And yet—hadn’t he admitted that for a brief space she had almost become part of him? What treasure more ought she to have hoped for? In the empty days which lay in front the memory of his having said even so much would be all that she would have left to her.

It had been as difficult to meet Shuan’s eyes as to meet Roger’s, in those first days of her knowledge of her love for him. For where, before, it had been merely her skill which had usurped the girl’s place with him, now every moment spent with him appeared to Joanna’s conscience as a cruel cheating of Shuan’s rights.

But Shuan was changing too
...
She appeared increasingly to have her own secrets.

She spent a great deal more time out of doors with her dogs and the horses and upon other activities about the estate, sometimes in
René
’s company, but, as he himself admitted, not always. Once when he had mentioned to Mrs. Carnehill that Justin McKiley would be away for the day and that he would be solely at the mercy of Mrs. Hagerty’s cooking, he had been invited to take his meals at Carrieghmere, where he duly and punctually appeared for luncheon.

Roger, Mrs. Carnehill, and Joanna were there too. But Shuan not.

“Where can the child be?” queried Mrs. Carnehill. “Have you seen anything of her this morning,
René
?”

René
looked surprised. “We rode before breakfast, yes. I left her at half-past eight. But did she not tell you? She has gone to Dublin with Mr. McKile
y—”

“To Dublin?” exclaimed Mrs. Carnehill, “and
—”

“With McKiley?” echoed Roger.

“I am sorry. I thought you would know,” said
René
uncomfortably.

Mrs. Carnehill quickly recovered her poise, and Joanna was forced to admire the effort she made to protect the girl’s dignity before
René
. She glanced at Roger and said quietly: “Now I remember—she did say something about being out. I must have misunderstood her. You know how I get things muddle
d—”

Roger, however, seemed constrained to make no such effort. He turned to
René
to ask coldly: “I don’t understand about this. D’you mean you thought we should know about her having gone to Dublin because she does go about with McKiley normally? That it’s a usual thing for her to do? That she does it often?”

Mrs. Carnehill interposed: “Roger!
René
couldn’t possibly know!”

“I dare say he does,” was the dry reply. “After all, I thought Shuan was usually out with him
—
when she wasn’t alone. I, at least, didn’t know she was making a companion of McKiley!”

Hesitantly
René
said: “Lately it has been so, I think. He has seemed to seek her out. She has come to the Dower House
—”

The boy looked utterly wretched over what must appear to him as a betrayal of Shuan, and Joanna found that she was pressing her nails into her palms in an agony of embarrassment for him
—
and for Roger.

He had no right to question
René
in this way. But it was as if, upon her being noticed by Justin McKiley, a man of his own age, he had come to a new realization of Shuan—as if he knew jealousy of her for the first time.

But it seemed that he had done with
René
for the moment.

“I see,” he said quietly. And a brooding, charged silence fell upon them all.

Later
René
sought out Joanna when she was alone.

“Mr. Carnehill is angry about Shuan,” he said unnecessarily. “But indeed it is nothing! Will you assure him of that?
Bien compis
—
it is understandable—yes?—that Shuan, a lovely girl, should be a little flattered for a time by the attentions of a man like Mr. McKiley. He is—skilful with women,
n’est ce pas
?”

Joanna shivered involuntarily, remembering the man’s attempted “skill” with herself. She hoped not, but it was indeed possible that Shuan was intrigued by him, as she had been. And yet there was something she did not understand
...

She said slowly: “But
René
—do you remember, after Mr. McKiley had sold Deirdre the mare and Shuan was so upset about it, you told me that you thought she had come to hate him for it? If that were so—only a little while ago—how has
this
happened since?”

René
scraped at the ground with the toe of his shoe. “I thought so. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps
—
I flattered myself and I do not understand her as well as I believed
—”

At dinner Shuan’s
name was not mentioned, and
shortly after the meal
René
excused himself to return to the Dower House.

Mrs. Carnehill let him go without suggesting that he should wait to see Shuan. And it was not until an hour or two later that the girl herself appeared.

Her face was flushed and there was a new, artificial jauntiness in her manner. She put an arm lightly around Roger’s shoulders, and her greetings of “Hullo, darlings” seemed to include them all in it. But Joanna noticed that her eyes were watchful and her gaiety was on the defensive. She was hiding something
...

Mrs. Carnehill said in a matter-of-fact one: “What about dinner, darling? Have you had any?”

“Heavens, yes. Ages ago. Justin took me to the
Greville. It was marvellous. We had
—”
For a
moment the natural Shuan seemed about to break through with an artless catalogue of the meal’s highlights. But the new, wary Shuan substituted instead: “We had quite a party. Justin’s friend Magda was there, and some men Justin knows
—”

“In fact, a party that you might have mentioned here you meant to attend!” It was Roger’s first contribution to the conversation and his voice was cold.

Shuan swung round upon him. “I don’t see why!” she retorted defensively. “Mums doesn’t usually question where I’m going. After all. I’m not a child any more, being expected to report every movement
—
And if it’s a question of my not being here
for two meals, well they’re not usually so punctual that
—”

“It’s not a question of meals, punctual or otherwise. And you know it,” put in Roger icily. “It’s merely a question of common courtesy and—of the company you choose!”

“Oh, you mean
Justin
?” The pert affectation of surprise was offensive, and Joanna realized from a glance at his darkening face that Roger found it so.

“Yes, I do mean McKiley,” he said crisply. “And I’d rather you didn’t associate with
him, that’s all.”

Shuan began stormily: “It’s not for you to say
—”
at the same moment as Mrs. Carnehill murmured:

“Roger, aren’t we getting things rather out of proportion? Justin is our agent and presumably has our confidence. Shuan and he have known each other for a long time. There’s no reason at all why he shouldn’t want to take her about
—”

“
Nor any reason at all why she should find it necessary to accept!” he snapped. Then with an air of considering the incident closed, he rose, picked up the stick which he must still use for walking, and moved towards the door.

Shuan’s jaunty affectation dropped from her like a fallen cloak.

She said in a small, tight voice: “Roger—wait!”

But he had already gone, and after staring for a moment at the closed door she turned back, her whole figure seeming to droop with frustration.

“There was no particular harm in your going to Dublin with Justin, darling,” said Mrs. Carnehill gently. “But you know that Roger has never liked him, and he does tend to get things out of proportion because of it.”

Shuan shrugged her arms out of her coat and let it drop over the back of a chair. Then she sat down on a low stool, hugging her knees and not looking at anyone

“It’s not what you think!” she said. “It’s well, Justin knows a lot of people, and he may be able to find me a job!”

Joanna looked at her sharply. Something—perhaps the momentary hesitation before the bald statement—gave her to believe that Shuan, realizing that some explanation of her association with Justin was called for, had offered this one on the spur of the moment.

But Mrs. Carnehill took it at its face value. “A job, Shuan! What sort of a job? You hadn’t said anything to me about wanting one!”

Shuan jerked an ungracious head towards Joanna.

“It was her suggestion in the first place. She said she thought I had taste in interior decoration
—
antiques and things—and asked me if I’d ever thought about taking it up as a career. I said no, and that you and Roger would have a fit at the very idea. But afterward I thought I’d like to, and I asked her how to go about getting one.”

Mrs. Carnehill looked bewilderedly at Joanna. “Neither of you mentioned it to me!”

“I didn’t realize,” Joanna told her quietly, “that Shuan was going to take up seriously a suggestion I made quite casually. I didn’t think it was ever mentioned to you, Mrs. Carnehill, because Shuan didn’t seem anxious to go on with the idea when
—
when she realized the practical difficulties in the way—getting regularly to Dublin or even farther afield, for instanc
e—”

“And now you are thinking of it again?” Mrs. Carnehill turned to Shuan. “Darling, do you think you’d really
like
it? And what does Justin know about it, anyway?”

Shuan shrugged her shoulders, and Joanna was reminded painfully of Roger abandoning a subject in which he had lost interest. But she knew from observation of the girl while they had been talking, that Shuan was seeking to shrug off as of no consequence a topic which she had used only as a cloak for something else. She said vaguely: “I don’t know. But he has a lot of influence with people in Dublin. And he
says
he knows of just the thing for me, but it may take time.”

Mrs. Carnehill regarded her niece in a puzzled
way. “I can’t think
—”
she was-beginning, when
at the door there was a sudden diversion. Roseen the housemaid appeared unceremoniously at it, her head completely wrapped about turban-wise with a printed cotton square and her eyes wide with horror.

“Could ye come now to the kitchen, Ma’am?” she begged Mrs. Carnehill. “For will Cook not have the scalp off me when she comes back from spending the evening with her mother, the way she laid upon me the solemn promise to take a pair of ducks from the oven the minute they were done?”

Mrs. Carnehill rose. “And you’ve burnt them, I dare say?” she said tolerantly.

“Black! Black as the craggy hearthstone!” declared Roseen with dramatic relish. “And me, wrapped in the interest of giving meself a home-perm., the way I do have t’be keeping in the curlers for
three hours or more ! Would ye come now and
see could we maybe scrape the creatures, so that Cook might be thinking they had no more than the breath of an overheating in the oven?”

To this impassioned appeal Mrs. Carnehill could do no less than yield. She left the room with Roseen, and Joanna, wanting to laugh looked across at Shuan, hoping to share the joke.

But the girl’s eyes were fixed upon hers without humor. Rather breathlessly she said: “You knew I was making it up, didn’t you? That it wasn’t the real reason for—for Justin?”

“Yes. I think I guessed.” Joanna’s tone was quiet as she added: “But does there have to be a reason ‘for Justin
’
as you put it? Forgive me, Shuan, but I think you’re being terribly unwise!”

The girl’s mouth set in a stubborn line. “That’s my affair. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you? Well, my idea of Justin McKiley is that he is a very knowledgeable man of the world and that he could be—quite unscrupulous for his own ends, whatever they happened to be. And doesn’t it weigh with you that Mr. Carnehill hates the idea of your associating with him? Must you go on
—
for any reason at all?”

For answer Shuan gave a short, rather mirthless laugh. Then she reached for her discarded coat and flung it over one shoulder with a flick of the wrist. Before she left the room she said over her shoulder: “Yes. I am afraid I must. Only I couldn’t hope that anyone would understand!”

And Joanna, alone and infinitely puzzled, found only one rather incredible suspicion dawning upon her. Was it possible—was it
anyhow
possible that Shuan believed she could stimulate Roger’s love by making him jealous of Justin McKiley?

Desperately, without thought for herself and her own love for Roger, Joanna longed to be able to make Shuan see, irrevocably, that she could gain nothing in that way—nothing! That jealously, deliberately created, was a boomerang, inflicting most hurt where it originally sprang to action.