“And that could take weeks or months – if he doesn’t recover in it in the next few days,” Hannah offered it as her purely professional opinion.
Charlotte looked as if she found the notion of their patient being deprived of his memory for' a considerable length of time surprisingly attractive… even wholly desirable.
But later on that morning, when she went out into the garden to pick raspberries, and returned to the house by way of the terrace, she felt as if a slight chill enveloped her comparatively cheerful spirits as she observed the pair sitting watching the sea. They appeared to have fallen into a state of contemplative silence, and despite the fact that Richard was frowning, as if the charms of the prospect were just a little bit wasted on him in his present state of invalidism and mental confusion, Claire Brown had an engaging half-smile on her lips,' and there was no doubt about it she found the prospect – possibly, also, of the future – very satisfactory indeed.
Charlotte halted her footsteps, and decided not to pass behind their chairs in case she disturbed them; but although he didn’t turn his head Tremarth must have heard her footsteps, and he called out sharply as she was about to turn on her heel:
“Is that you, Miss Woodford?”
Charlotte answered by hastening her steps until she stood beside him.
“Yes? Is there something you want?” she enquired with a touch of over-eagerness. Tremarth turned his head towards her, and there was an extraordinary expression in his eyes as they met and held hers.
“As a matter of fact, there is,” he replied quietly. “I’d like to go back to my room…”
“Oh, but____________________”
“The sun isn’t as warm out here as I thought it would be, and the glare of the sea makes my head ache a bit. I’d like to go back at once if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me to my room! ”
Claire stood up protestingly.
“Oh, but, Richard darling!… Only a few minutes ago you said how lovely it was out here! And that you could never have enough of watching the sea! And if you want to return to your room I can help you upstairs and tuck you up in bed if you honestly feel you’d like to go back to bed! ”
“Who said anything about going back to bed?”
He actually snapped at her, and Charlotte was so surprised she couldn’t believe it. Claire flushed, and looked momentarily dismayed.
“I don’t think he’s as well as we thought he was,” she said quietly over his head to Charlotte.
Tremarth burst out impatiently:
“What utter rubbish! Just because I said I’d got a bit of a head____________________” But his eyes were frankly appealing to Charlotte. “Anyway,
Miss Woodford has been looking after me for several days – with the assistance of her efficient friend, of course! – and I’m afraid I’ve got used to having her around as a nurse. Miss Woodford – Charlotte!” He smiled at her a little stiffly, as if the muscles of his face were stiff and slightly painful, and every intensely feminine instinct she possessed was touched by the anxious insistence in his eyes. “I don’t need anyone to help me upstairs, but I’d like you to come with me and I’m not going back to bed. I shall sit in a chair in my room.”
“You’re quite sure you wouldn’t like to sit in a chair in the drawingroom?” Charlotte asked.
“No. My own room, if you please – and I’d like to be left alone there until lunch-time! ”
If he had actually attacked her with violence Claire could not have looked more hurt She gathered up her white handbag and gloves.
“Of course, if you’d rather I didn’t stay with you, Richard, I’ll go,” she offered. “Perhaps you’re not as well as we thought, and it might be better if you have a little more rest. So I’ll come back to-morrow.”
“Do,” Richard begged her, no doubt repenting of his harshness and eager that she should not go away feeling too badly used. “I’ll admit I’m a bit of a bear this morning, but tomorrow afternoon! – I’ll be delighted to see you! ”
Claire accepted her dismissal graciously.
“Then good-bye, Richard darling…She advanced towards him, bent and dropped a light kiss on his brow. “Take some aspirin, or whatever sedative tablets the doctor has prescribed for you, and see what a good long sleep will do for you. Despite what you’ve said to the contrary I don’t believe you slept well last night! ”
Richard muttered something that could have been agreement, or otherwise, and Charlotte removed the rug from his knees and followed him across the floor of the drawing-room towards the hall and the foot of the stairs. Claire stood watching them where they had left her alone on the terrace, and as soon as they started to ascend the stairs she went through the hall to the kitchen and demanded somewhat aggressively to know where the telephone was, and whether Hannah knew the number of the taxi-man who was to have picked her up at six o’clock that evening.
Hannah obligingly found the number for her, and afterwards she stood smiling to herself in the middle of the kitchen, and was not surprised when Charlotte came downstairs and informed her that Richard was feeling rather exhausted.
“I’m by no means amazed,” Hannah said. “I’ve a kind of idea that a little of Miss Claire Brown goes a long way, and that despite her ravishing appearance she is not everything the doctor ordered for our patient. In fact, when she comes again I shall have, I’m afraid, to make it clear to her that for the time being Mr. Tremarth is not nearly strong enough to receive visitors for longer than about ten minutes at a time.” Charlotte went over to the old- fashioned kitchen range and started stirring a saucepan that was simmering on the top of it. She was debating whether or not to take Hannah more fully into her confidence… And suddenly she decided that as Hannah was virtually in charge of
Tremarth and responsible for his recovery she had better know the truth. Especially as it involved Miss Brown, and any visits she might think fit to make to the house.
“As a matter of fact,” she said slowly, stirring the contents of the saucepan, “it isn’t going to be entirely up to us whether or not any visitors are allowed – one visitor, anyway. Upstairs just now, while I was making him comfortable in the big chair near the window, Mr. Tremarth made an admission to me. He says that he and Miss Brown are engaged to be married! ”
The admission she did not make was that the revelation had affected her in rather a curious way, actually having a strange numbing effect on her sensibilities and slowing down her reactions, so that she felt peculiarly clumsy as she stood beside the stove and sought to prevent the brew inside the saucepan from burning as it came to the boil. She stirred mechanically, and mentally reminded herself of all the things she had to do before lunch time, but the will to do them with anything like her normal expertise seemed to have vanished. She felt as if someone had given her a thump on the head and she hadn’t quite recovered from the blow.
“Married?” Hannah moved nearer to her, and sniffed the burning saucepan even while she expressed herself as intrigued. “You mean he actually told you himself that he’s engaged to Miss Brown?”
“Yes.” Charlotte turned empty eyes towards her, and her whole tone was extremely flat. “Of course, I was fairly certain that there was something____________________”
“Yes, I think she rather indicated as much herself, didn’t she?” But Hannah wore the air of one who was really extremely surprised, and even in view of what she had just been told by no means convinced. “Was it,” she asked, “a sudden admission that Richard made to you? I mean, did he seem to want to get it off his chest, or did he kind of take you into his confidence? And above all,” with emphasis, “has he the least idea who she is?”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte stared at her, the emptiness still in her eyes. “Of course he must know who she is if he’s going to marry her – ”
“But only a short while ago we were agreed that he was completely safe from feminine machinations because he’s lost his memory,” Hannah reminded her. “Are you trying to tell me that in addition to announcing his engagement he has also recovered his memory?”
“No. No____________________” Charlotte looked startled, and the contents of the saucepan boiled over and she whipped it hastily off the stove. “At least
– that is… I don’t think so,” she concluded uncertainly.
Hannah shook her head at her.
“You mean to say you accepted it that he’s going to marry a woman who is a complete stranger to him, and as a result, of course, he’s wildly, deliriously happy?”
Charlotte looked completely bewildered, and much more uncertain than before. She also looked as if a faint thread of hope lightened her darkness.
