enquired:
“There’s nothing wrong with Richard, is there? I mean, he’s not any worse?”
“No, he’s not any worse.”
“Has the doctor called?”
“Oh, yes, he called shortly after you left, and was fairly satisfied with the patient’s condition. But unfortunately, also shortly after you left, someone else called to see him… and she’s still here! Upstairs in the sick-room, sitting beside the bed and already quite at home! ”
Charlotte very nearly dropped her parcels, and her comparatively relaxed, carefree expression vanished altogether.
“She?” she demanded.
“A Miss Claire Brown, or so she calls herself. Says she’s Mr. Tremarth’s secretary.”
“Oh!” Charlotte exclaimed, and she and Hannah stared at one another for rather a long moment. And then Hannah roused herself sufficiently to help Charlotte with the parcels, said she would go through to the kitchen and make her a pot of tea, if she hadn’t already had some, and suggested that Charlotte, as mistress of the house, went upstairs and interviewed the young woman who was sitting with Richard Tremarth.
“Quite obviously he hasn’t the least idea who she is, but he seems to like having her sitting there with him. So unless you’re prepared to put her up for the night you’d better make an effort to dislodge her,” Hannah suggested. She peered inside one of the packages, and appeared somewhat overcome. “What on earth are these?” she demanded. “I thought pheasant shooting was over for this year! ”
“They’re partridges.”
“However much did you pay for them?”
“I – I can’t remember.” Charlotte was peeping at herself in the hall mirror, and pushing a wayward lock of hair out of her eyes. “Do I look tidy enough to go upstairs?”
“Of course you do. But wouldn’t you like some tea first?”
“No, I – I think I ought to see this young woman.” Her eyes met Hannah’s very, very faintly amused brown ones. “What is she like?” she asked. “Is she -?”
“Oh, charming. Not at all what I would describe as the average kind of secretary. And she must get a thumping good salary, because her clothes are marvellous. And she looks more like a model than a secretary… Well, that’s my opinion,” Hannah concluded, as if she personally considered her opinion was seldom at fault. “You see girls like her in the glossy magazines!
Charlotte reached for the grapes and the peaches that she had purchased for Richard, and said she would take them with her upstairs. She took another hurried glimpse at herself in the hall mirror, wondered whether anyone would ever be likely to describe her as the type of young woman you might find in a glossy magazine, and ordered Waterloo to return to the kitchen with Hannah. Then, nervously smoothing the front of her hair again, she ascended the stairs until she stood outside Richard’s room, and even before she tapped on the door and entered she caught the monotonous drone of voices from within.
The room – her room – was full of flowers. She need not have concerned herself about failing to buy some, for Miss Brown must have spent a small fortune on acquiring a selection of really prize blooms. Charlotte thought Hannah might have warned her as she gazed with astonishment at the tightly packed vases… and it seemed to her that every container in the house had been brought into use for the roses and lilies and other not so easily recognisable varieties that were saturating the atmosphere with perfume.
There would be absolutely no need for her to go wielding her scissors in the garden in search of some fragrant if rather overblown blooms for the sick-room.
Richard Tremarth was sitting up in bed and looking faintly flushed under his tanned skin, but his eyes were bright and amused, and even if he couldn’t remember very much he was obviously not suffering from boredom. His lug gage had been sent up to Tremarth from The Three Sailors, and Hannah had got him into fresh pyjamas that were quite strikingly becoming to one of his sleek, attractive darkness, especially as the almost purple blueness of the silk lent a quality of purplishblueness to his otherwise, unfathomable darkly grey eyes. And despite the fact that he was amused his eyes were still giving away few secrets. Charlotte noticed the length of his eyelashes, and felt her heart turn over.
Miss Brown, who was occupying the most comfortable chair the room contained and sitting very close beside the bed, was laughing in an attractive way when Charlotte entered the room, and she was still laughing as she stood up to acknowledge the presence of the owner of the house. Her wood-nymph blue eyes had a bright sparkle of pure gaiety in them, under her fluttering brown eyelashes, and there was a glow like a peach in her smooth, firm cheeks. She said as she held out a hand to Charlotte, and tossed back the spun-gold hair from her shoulders:
“You must be Miss Woodford, because Richard said you had red hair! As a matter of fact, he said you had the reddest head of hair he’d ever seen on a woman, and I’m afraid he kind of suspects it’s an indication of your temperament. But I’m sure you are behaving like a ministering angel to him at the moment, and even if he isn’t he ought to be profoundly grateful to you! I know I am, because he’s so obviously being marvellously looked after! ”
Charlotte could not immediately think of any suitable reply to this, but she took Miss Brown’s hand and murmured something about doing the best they could – by which she meant that, she and Hannah were doing the best they could, and of course Dr. Mackay, whose bill she hoped would later be settled by Richard Tremarth. The remark about her hair did not predispose her to take a tremendous fancy to Miss Brown… particularly as the wood- violet eyes had sparkled with rather unkind humour as she made it.
“I gather that you’re Mr. Tremarth’s secretary,” she observed. “I hope he recognised you?” she added, without any deliberate intention of sounding drily sceptical.
Miss Brown looked downcast for a moment.
“Well, no,” she had to admit. “I was horribly shocked because when I first walked into the room he just looked at me as if I was an absolute stranger. However, we’ve had a talk since then, and I honestly feel I’ve helped to jog his memory a little…She turned and bent gracefully over the bed, smiling warmly and encouragingly at the patient while she smoothed his top sheet in a womanly way with pretty and dexterous hands. “Haven’t I, Richard darling?” she enquired softly. “You’re not quite as woolly as when I arrived! ”
An expression of dry humour appeared in Tremarth’s eyes, and he even smiled a trifle whimsically.
“If you mean that I’m rather woollier than when you arrived, then I’m quite ready to agree with you,” he replied, while he seated himself more comfortably against his pillows, and seemed fascinated by the evening light as it stole across Charlotte’s hair. “In my experience secretaries do not normally address their employers as ‘darling’, but perhaps you’re not an ordinary secretary?”
Claire looked back at him quite unabashed, and continued to smile. “Well, shall we say I’m not a – frightfully ordinary secretary?” she suggested. “I manage to combine other qualities as well! ”
Charlotte said hurriedly that she had been shopping in Truro and had bought him some grapes. She held them out to him in their paper bag, adding that she would bring a fruit dish up from the kitchen on which they could repose together with the peaches she had also bought him when she went downstairs again.
“I – I hope you’re fond of fruit,” she said a little lamely, and received the curious impression that the invalid’s eyes actually warmed as he thanked her.
“You’re being embarrassingly good to me! ” “That’s what I said,” Claire Brown chipped in. “When one stops to consider that it must have been frightfully inconvenient taking you in and turning this nice house into a kind of nursing-home-’ ’
“Oh, rubbish!” Charlotte exclaimed. She looked at Miss Brown as if she could never really take to her, and then enquired rather more breathlessly of the invalid whether he liked fish.
“I bought you some Dover sole and some smoked salmon – ” “Good heavens! ” Miss Brown exclaimed. “You are determined to spoil him! ”
Charlotte ignored her.
“I hope you’ll feel like a little of the sole to-night,” she said, still sounding a little as if she had hurried up several flights of stairs without pausing for breath, “because I’ve discovered a new way to cook it-a very digestible way! There’s a wonderful book of invalid cookery downstairs amongst my aunt’s books, and I’ve been looking various dishes up____________________ I hope I’ll be able to tempt you when you get your appetite back! ”
“Thank you,” he murmured, very, very gently, “you really are a ministering angel! ” “I’m not much of a cook, but – but I’ll do my best!” she promised, sinking down on to the side of the bed and automatically straightening the
