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Authors: Marjorie Moore

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CHAPTER
EIGHT

Lunch at
Brent Towers that day had been a strained and awkward meal, and Jill certainly had reason to be grateful to Philip for helping to relieve the tension with his naturally cheerful an optimistic disposition. It was only his reassuring manner which had, kept Lady Hallard calm; prone to indulge in hysterics at the slightest provocation, his presence, and no doubt her own innate sense of duty as his hostess, had encouraged her to maintain some measure of control. Sir Trevor, who had at first appeared bewildered by the seriousness of Dr. Sharland

s disclosure, also seemed to turn instinctively to the younger man for confidence.

Returning to the library after watching at Terry

s bedside, Jill viewed the small group gathered round the log fire. Despite the familiarity of
th
e room and its occupants, she was aware of an atmosphere of unreality, a sense of detachment, as if she looked on some stage tableau. Three faces turned instinctively towards her as she entered, white
ma
sk
s
in the semi-darkness of the room.


How is he?

Lady Hallard asked with ill-concealed anxiety.


He

s sleeping.

Jill sank into an armchair, then addressed Philip.

Did Dr. McRey give you any idea what time he

d get over here?


He said he

d have to do an afternoon round, then Harriet would take over. I imagine he

ll be down somewhere around five or six.


You are sure he is the very best man you could get?

Lady Hallard queried plaintively. It was not the first time she had asked that question, perhaps needing the consolation of frequent reassurance.


No one better,

Philip responded easily.

McRey

s no social asset, and I doubt if you

ll like him, but he is the best man for the job, and that

s what matters, isn

t it?


I don

t care in the least what the man is like—so long
as he gets my baby better, nothing else matters.

Lady Hallard wiped her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief.

Why this should have happened to Terry of all people, I can

t understand—I just can

t!

she murmured tearfully.


These things can

t be explained, my dear.

Sir Trevor laid a consoling hand over hers.

Now don

t start worrying. We

ll soon have the specialist here and, as Philip says, it

s probably not nearly as serious as we think.

He instilled a note of encouragement into his voice.

Now, dear, how about ringing for some tea? I expect we can all do with a cup.

It was Jill who poured the tea from the heavy silver teapot, she knew its design so well. As a child she could recall tracing its intricate pattern of grape leaves with her fingers
...
milk?
...
sugar? ... hot toast from the silver dish? Even while she served the others and drank her own tea, Jill knew her ears were straining for the sound of a car on the drive, a crunch of gravel
...
Duncan McRey would be here soon, he couldn

t be long now. The conversation round the table was desultory, mostly led by Philip, who alone seemed fully aware of her detachment.


This layer of snow on the roads may slow down driving quite a bit,

Philip announced.

Jill looked up quickly, so he had even been conscious of her thoughts.

Yes, I had realized that.

She rose from her seat.

Excuse me, please, I think I

ll run up to the nursery again in case Terry needs me.


Rest a few minutes longer, Jill,

Philip suggested.

Nana will be with him, and seems an exceptionally sensible woman.


She is,

Jill agreed warmly, then went on, turning to Sir Trevor.

Will you ask Hawkins to meet the London train, there is a Nurse coming down from Baldwin

s.

She paused, then added.

Mother, I

ve asked to have the chintz room prepared for her, it

s near the nurseries—is that all right?


Of course, darling, do everything you think best—thank goodness you were here, and Philip, too. I just don

t know what we

d have done without you.

Jill had one foot on the bottom stair when she heard
the
sound of wheels on the drive. She felt at that moment
she must have been listening for that sound for hours. Now it had come, it was like music in her ears. Without pausing for the bell she swung round and, hastening to the door,
flung it wide. ,


Oh, you

ve come, thank goodness!

she gasped, as Duncan McRey mounted the steps.

These hours of waiting have seemed interminable. I was so afraid bad roads or something might hold you up.

She felt breathless, as if she had been running, and as she closed the heavy door behind him, hung on to the handle, glad of its support.


The roads are quite all right.

With slow determination Duncan McRey pulled off his gloves and overcoat and flung them carelessly across an oak chest m the hall, but his gaze remained on Jill as she leaned against the door, his eyebrows raised quizzically, an enigmatical expression
in his blue eyes.

Jill released her grip and stepped forward, seeking to escape that searching g
la
nce. The moment of breathlessness had passed. She felt steadier and more ready
to speak
. “It
was good of you to come
...

She broke off, hoping that
some
interruption from Duncan McRey would save her further words, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

I—I hope the journey wasn

t too bad
...
it you

ll come up to the nursery I will phone
for
Dr. Sharland to meet you, it only takes him five minutes to get
here.”


Then don

t ring him yet, I want a chance to thaw out. I can

t examine a child with frozen fingers.


I

m sorry

of course, I forgot,

Jill faltered, then went on:

Come into the library and have some tea
...
My people are there, they are most anxious to meet you.


Just a moment.

He laid a restraining hand on Jill

s arm as she turned away.

What is the matter with you?
You seem all to pieces.

Jill was again uncomfortably aware of that searching stare
.

I

m all right—naturally worried about my stepbrother, that

s all.

She could not help a note of resentment creeping into her tone. The censure in his voice hadn

t escaped her. Did he expect to find her cool and dispassionate about a case when that case happened to be a child so dear to her heart? She wasn

t in hospital now. Her personal feelings were h
e
r own affair, her attitude no business of his.

It

s been a long wait since Dr. Sharland saw Terry this morning. Now the child is complaining so much of his head and naturally I am anxious to have your opinion.


Hence the exuberance of your welcome, and I imagined it might be because you hadn

t seen me since yesterday!

There was no mistaking his irony, and Jill found herself flushing. He really was a hateful person; only her love for Terry, her longing to do the best for him, would have made her send for him, and since nothing could shake her faith in his ability, then anything was worth putting up with for Terry

s sake. Not venturing a reply, Jill threw open the door leading to the library and ushered the visitor
in.


Mother ... Trevor, this is Dr. McRey
,
Dr. Traven,
of course, you know.

The introduction effected, Jill returned again to Duncan McRey.

I daresay you

d like some tea; I

ll ring for fresh.

Once again the small group round the fire became, to Jill, like a stage set, and now, with Duncan McRey

s tall figure added to the group, it appeared totally unreal. His dominating personality seemed to over-awe the others, and even her mother, whom Jill knew must have been
lon
g
ing
to discuss the one matter so near to her heart, seemed resigned and sat quietly while he, enjoying his tea, calmly discussed entirely irrelevant matters. At a signal from Jill, Philip slipped from the room to phone Dr. Sharland. At least, his arrival might hasten things, Jill hoped, as she sat barely able to contain her impatience.

Later, when with Dr. Sharland, Philip and herself, Duncan McRey stood outside the night nursery door, all that air of detachment had left him. He was alert, keen and insistent on every detail, and questioned them all exhaustively with regard to the onset of Terry

s indisposition.

I

d like a word with his nurse before I see the child.

As Duncan McRey seated himself on the wide window
-
seat of the day nursery firing questions at Nana, Jill found her thoughts wandering. She had lost track of the conversation; words, only words, came meaningless to her ears. That window-seat was her earliest childhood memory. She could even recall the days when it had been out of her reach; then, gradually, she had managed to clamber up—that first time she had reached the window unaided had imbued her with a sense of power and achievement, a sign
of

growing up

which had filled her with pride. Since those long ago days, and all through girlhood and adolescence, it had remained her favourite seat. She had always sat there in her happiest moments, staring across the garden sharing her happiness with the birds, the trees, the flowers. She had also escaped to that seat with her grief, sorrow, which, judged by her childish standards, had been
c
om
parable with the agony of despair, yet on looking back had been nothing more than a mere disappointment. It seemed absurd that Duncan McRey should be occupying that very corner, his head resting against the window-frame as she had been wont to rest hers, his arm lying along the
sill, his long, sensitive hand fingering his pen as, now and again, he jotted down a note on the pad resting on his knee
...
Life played strange tricks, his being there seemed so utterly incongruous, as if he had found his way into her most intimate dreams.

Duncan McRey was replacing the top of his pen, screwing it firmly as he placed it in his waistcoat pocket. .

Well, I

ll run over the boy. I imagine it means a lumbar puncture
...

He turned to Jill and added casually,

Lucky youngster, your brother, to have a nursery like this.


It was mine as a child.

Jill found herself speaking.

It was never used as anything else, but just remained empty until mother remarried and Terry was born.


Of course, he

s your half-brother.

He picked up a large, much-worn teddy bear from the top of a chest.

This looks as if it might have been handed down, too.


Yes, it was my favourite toy,

Jill admitted.

It

s purely decorative now. Terry never liked cuddly toys.


Sounds like a discriminating young man. Cuddly toys are a form of escapism; no doubt he is a more self-sufficient child than you were!

Without response Jill took the teddy bear from Duncan McRey

s hand, then watched the three men disappear through the door to Terry

s room.


Aren

t you going with them, Jill?

Nana asked.


No, I

d rather wait. You go down to Mother; tell her they have only just gone in to Terry, she

ll be worrying why they are so long.

Jill felt herself drawn mechanically towards the window-seat which Duncan McRey had so recently vacated. She gave an involuntary sigh as she settled against the cushioned back, the teddy bear still clasped in her arms. He had looked so odd holding it, stupid the way he had stroked its head and tweaked its ears. J
i
l
l
found herself doing exactly the same thing. Then, burying her face in its soft covering, she found herself fighting back the tears which stung her eyes. In a moment she had regained control, and setting the bear down crossed to the mirror and, leaning forward, scanned her features. He mustn

t think she

d been crying
. S
he carefully applied powder to her cheeks, then, composing herself, returned to the window. Suddenly she felt calmer, and although the low murmur of masculine voices came to her through the dividing door to the night nursery where Terry lay, it brought no sense of dread but only anxiety. Jill had little doubt in her mind of the diagnosis. Her afternoon spent with Terry had convinced her it was meningitis. She knew full well its possibilities, its dangers, but somehow, since Duncan McRey had entered the night nursery, Jill

s fears had quietened and left her with a calm sense of resignation.

The sudden opening of the intervening door and the clearer note of conversation brought her to her feet Her knees
f
elt unsteady, but she managed to pull herself to
gether
and cross the
oil
c
lothed
floor with dignity
.


I’ll
have a word with Miss Fe
rn
ley...

Duncan McRey

s words reached her ears, and before he joined her she heard Dr. Sharland and Philip descend to her waiting parents.

“I expect you
know pretty well what to expect.

Duncan McRey crossed the room, ignoring her as she stood in the doorway, and settled himself again in the window-seat
.
In spite of that new-born feeling of confidence, Jill was conscious of her quickened heartbeats as she stood waiting
f
or him to proceed.


May as well sit down, too, we aren

t in hospital now.

He looked up at her with a faint smile.

Jill seated herself on the edge of the seat, her hands gripping the edge of the chintz cushion.


I did a lumbar puncture. I

ll take the fluid back with me for examination.

He paused.

I

ve no doubt that it

s meningitis. It

s unfortunate, but we must hope that it will take a normal course—we should know pretty soon. There is, unfortunately, some evidence of ear complication.


I see.

Jill spoke quietly, and in the silence which followed she was sure that her thumping heart must be clearly audible.


I understand from Traven that you have sent for a nurse from town. How about a night nurse, too? I think he

ll need one. That Nanny of his seems a sensible woman, but it

s important that he have experienced handling.


Of course
...

Jill broke off, then added:

I ... I
shall
write to Matron. I shall explain that I can

t get back.
I intend to take over the day nursing myself. I want to be with Terry until
...
until we know ... until I am sure he is progressing.


You can

t do that
.

The words were terse, almost sharply
spoken.

The unexpected tone caused Jill to look up to find his steely eyes commanding her attention.

I—I don

t understand—surely it

s the obvious thing for me to do.

His short laugh jarred Jill

s taut nerves, but she remained silent waiting for him to speak.


Obvious

.

He echoed her word with a note of derision.

To my mind there is only one obvious thing for you to do, and that is
to return to your job.


...
but Terry
...
until he is out of danger
...
How can I leave him?

Duncan McRey leaned towards her and there was a commanding note in his voice

You told me once that having private means, not being depe
n
dent on your work made no difference; you loved your job sufficiently to ignore, that, perhaps, unfortunate advantage. Unless you were indifferent as to how Matron would accept your behaviour you wouldn

t be in the position to walk out of your job for a purely personal matter, would you?

Jill found her eyes faltering before the intensity of his gaze, and an involuntary shiver went through her. It was a moment or two before she could answer, and even then she found difficulty in framing her words.

I ... I don

t think I understand.

Her voice quivered miserably.


You understand perfectly well.

He spoke sharply and almost contemptuously.

It

s no affair of mine, you must naturally do as you please. I will give you full instruction as to nursing the child before I leave. Dr. Sharland will keep in touch with me, and I

ll get over again in a day
or so
—that is, unless Dr. Sharland requires me sooner.

He rose to his feet with an abrupt movement which sent the teddy bear, against which he had been leaning, flying to the ground.

“Please ...
don

t go for a minute
...
You can

t!

Jill was stung to words, yet scarcely conscious of what she was saying, and quite unaware of her action tugged desperately at his arm.

At her detaining hold he paused and turned to look down at her where she sat on the edge of the broad seat, her face, white and strained, raised to his imploringly.

What more have you to say?

The tone was more gentle and, to Jill

s infinite relief, he re-seated himself beside her.

Come along, I haven

t much time you know, I

ve got to have a word with Sir Trevor and I

ve still a long journey ahead of me.


I ... I won

t keep you long,

Jill faltered.

Please be patient with me, I am trying to understand.

She knew she could no longer conceal the tell-tale tears which stung her eyes.

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