Nurse for the Doctor Page 16

  He smiled, and he had a very nice smile.

  “Perhaps I am hoping that my kindness will bring its own reward. Sometime when you are free of the headache perhaps you will let me—see you again.”

  “Perhaps,” she answered, although at the back of her mind she knew that she was never likely to see him again under the circumstances he suggested. She had only one real thought in her mind just then, and it was a thought that would grow stronger with daylight.

  She had stayed in Spain too long, but now that Dona Amelie was really better she could go away at once. She must go away at once.

  There was a light burning softly in the hall when she returned to the house where Dona Amelie slept peacefully, with her devoted maid in the adjoining room. And having said good night—or it should, strictly, have been good morning—to Senor Cavalho, and thanked him afresh, she crept upstairs to her room and turned the key in the lock.

  She didn’t know why she locked her door, except that she wanted to feel absolutely safe from intrusion. She couldn’t have faced inquiring eyes just then, while she got rid of the white lace dress that had done so little to ensure for her a happy evening.

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE next morning, in spite of such a short night, she made her way to Dona Amelie’s room early. The old lady was lying comfortably against her pillows, sorting out her morning’s mail, and drinking very black coffee, which she enjoyed. But she looked up eagerly at Josie when she entered. “Well?” she asked. “Did you have a pleasant evening?”

  “It was very pleasant, senora.”

  “And the dress?—It was admired?”

  “I—I don’t know. But it was very good of you to give it to me, and to lend me your wrap, and the pearls. I have handed the pearls back to Carlotta, who has restored them to your safe.”

  Dona Amelie said nothing, but she lay looking up at her with very shrewd, bright eyes.

  “My nephew has already telephoned,” she announced. “He was very cross because I neglected to let him know of our return to Madrid, and also I think he is a little annoyed because you were at the party last night—the birthday party for Miss Petersen!” She watched Josie closely. “And apparently you left early!”

  “I—I had a headache. Senor Cavalho brought me home.”

  “Hm,!” Dona Amelie examined a pale beige envelope of the crackly kind that meant that her correspondent was as well placed as herself. “A pity, because I hoped you would enjoy yourself thoroughly. However, perhaps you are a little over-tired after concentrating so much on myself,” and she smiled—but whether wisely or gently, Josie could not tell. “My nephew has invited himself to dinner tonight, and it is to be an early dinner because he has some sort of engagement afterwards.”

  Josie clutched suddenly at the bed post.

  “To dinner...?” Then she took a deep breath. “Senora,” she got out, with difficulty.

  “What is it, querida?” came in definitely gentle tones. Josie tried to keep her slim figure erect, while she ran nervous fingers over the carved flowers and fruit of the bed post.

  “Senora, I have to go home”—she took another deep breath—“to England! I would like to be released at once, because there are urgent reasons why I should—why I must go home! Carlotta is very well able to take care of you now that you are so much better; you have your own doctor quite close to you, and—and I would like to catch the Sud Express tonight.”

  “I see,” Dona Amelie said, as calmly as if the request had been for an evening stroll in the Paseo del Prado. “And you say it is urgent?”

  “Very—urgent!”

  The old lady nodded.

  “I will not attempt to pry, child, and you shall go! Leave everything to Carlotta—your packing, your ticket, the reservation that will be necessary if you are to be sure of a sleeper. And it will be advisable if you rest during the afternoon, although you do not normally take a siesta. In fact, I think you should go to your room now, because you do not look to me as if you have had a very good night.

  “I—I’m quite all right,” Josie stammered, although as a matter of fact she was a little taken aback by the ease with which she had won her point—her immediate return to England. She had expected a little opposition to the idea at least. “I’m not a bit tired.”

  “No, but you will be by tonight, and a sleeper is never a very comfortable thing, or that is my experience.” She waved a dismissing white hand gently. “Go, now, my dear, and we will meet again before you leave, and drink a farewell glass of wine together.”

  Josie went, a lump in her throat, a bewildered conviction at the back of her mind that all this was not actually happening. She, who had come to Madrid only three days ago, was going away from Spain for good, and it was by her own choice. She could have stayed, but she had decided to go—and having made that decision she felt as if she were going down into a vortex of despair.

  She lay on her bed for the rest of that morning and felt like someone who was only partly alive. Last night she had seen and talked with Carlos de Palheiro—after tonight she would never see him again! It was like being told that one would never drink water again, or eat sustaining food, or know what it was like to walk in the sunlight. By her own choice she was condemning herself to the shadowy side of the street for the rest of her life, and yet there was nothing she could do about it.

  She could not bear to remain, knowing that the man she loved might soon be married to another woman. She could not bear to be near him and not be a part of his life.

  Carlotta came stealing into her room with a late luncheon tray, and told her that everything was arranged. A first-class ticket had been procured for her, even a sleeper had been secured. There would be time for her to have a light evening meal before she left, and Dona Amelie had given instructions that it was to be served to her in her room. But before that she would like to see Nurse Winter in her own room, for the promised farewell drink.

  When Josie, dressed for her journey, entered her room, Dona Amelie was up and dressed. She was beautifully dressed for the evening, and dinner with her nephew.

  “Such a pity,” she said, as Carlotta put a glass of wine into Josie’s shaking hand, “that my nephew will not be here in time to say goodbye to you, and thank you for all your kindness!” She was staring at the glowing amber in her own glass, and did not lift her eyes as she spoke. “But I am sure he would wish me to thank you on his behalf. And on my own behalf—” She made a little sign to Carlotta, and the latter handed her an envelope, sealed, and bearing the superscription: Miss Josephine Winter— and she pressed it into Josie’s hand. And as she did so she lifted her eyes. For the first time the English girl saw in them a certain mistiness.

  “I will not say goodbye,” the old lady said. “Vaya con Dios.”

  Josie found herself outside the room, clutching the envelope she would have liked to refuse, only words wouldn’t come to her aid, and translating over and over again to herself that parting blessing:

  “Travel with God.”

  It was impossible for her to make a pretence of eating anything, and Carlotta didn’t try and force her. But she had all her things beautifully packed, and when the moment for actual departure arrived they were carried downstairs by the chauffeur. Carlotta, a small, spare, grey-haired woman who had served Dona Amelie faithfully for many years, stood at the foot of the steps and watched until the car had disappeared from sight.

  Josie looked neither to right nor left as the car swept her away, but she had the feeling that other eyes apart from Carlotta’s witnessed her departure.

  At the station she was caught up in the whirl of frenzied excitement that inevitably pervades a great railway terminus when the arrival or departure of an important train is due. Josie’s train was waiting for her, and Dona Amelie’s grizzled chauffeur fought his way through the press with the luggage. He insisted on placing it in her compartment himself, handed her her ticket, and received the generous tip with which she rewarded him with a look of surprise. Then he touched
his cap in acknowledgement several times, smiled at her a little uncertainly, told her about the various stops, and how soon she could hope to reach her destination, and then withdrew on to the platform.

  Josie felt like someone who had been turned a little numb as she waited for the train to start. Part of her longed for it to start. The other part was dreading the moment just as someone suffering from claustrophobia dreads plunging into a tunnel.

  An elderly gentleman sat down opposite her, and made himself thoroughly comfortable. A severe-looking woman wrapped herself in a travelling rug, and took the other corner. The lights in the carriage seemed hard and bright, shining down on Josie, and the whole station itself was a sea of brightness, echoing noise and constant movement.

  Josie looked at her watch. Four minutes to go. She felt a little sick. She studied the people on the platform and thought, “Well, at least there is no one near and dear to me to see off, so I am spared that sort of anguish!”

  And then she shut her eyes, because the lights were really intolerable—she actually was beginning to develop a kind of migraine—and the endless movement on the platform bewildered her.

  Someone pushed open the sliding door to the corridor, and a quiet voice issued an instruction:

  “Get the luggage!”

  The words were in Spanish, but she knew enough Spanish by this time to understand them at once, and the voice was one she would never forget. A hand touched her arm.

  “Come along!” said the same quiet voice incisively.

  Josie followed him out into the corridor. She moved like an automaton, while behind her Fernandez snatched her suitcase down from the rack. The excitement on the platform reached boiling point when the long train started to slide away from it, and people waved frantically, called last minute messages, and even blew kisses. Josie felt a hand grasp her arm and draw her away from the rather desperate feverishness of it all, and she hardly dared to look to right or left as she was propelled outside to the waiting car. Not Dona Amelie’s old-fashioned car, but the Marquis de Palheiro’s long, black, glittering limousine.

  She relaxed against the pearl-grey upholstery and shut her eyes. Then anger coursed through her like a flood—anger and rebellion, and she opened her eyes.

  “How dared you take me off the train like that?” she demanded.

  The marquis, who was sitting beside her, answered even more quietly than before as he looked down at her: “I dared because I had to. Because it was the only thing I could do,” he told her simply.

  CHAPTER XVII

  JOSIE felt the smooth motion of the car as it bore her away from Madrid’s big central railway station, and for the first time that day she knew that time was not a factor she any longer had to reckon with. Not in the immediate future, anyway. Her train had gone, and she was still in Madrid, and although she had no idea where she was being taken, she did know that it didn’t matter very much.

  Nothing mattered very much just then, save that the motion of the car was soothing, that it was delicious to lie with her head against yielding cushions, and not even trouble to think. Although she had rested all day she was all at once terribly tired. It was just as if she were possessed by an inertia that wouldn’t let her think, and her spurt of anger having died, she didn’t even want to talk.

  The marquis had taken her off the train, but no doubt he had an excellent reason for that. He had said he had to do so, but as she stared out at the lights of Madrid—so sharply accentuated by the cold, velvet darkness of the night—she was not really curious. She only wished they could drive on and on, and that he wouldn’t mind if she fell asleep, and that once she wakened she would still find herself where she was.

  She felt his hand cover both of hers that were limply clasped in her lap.

  “Josie!”

  “Yes?” She turned her head rather languidly, and looked at him. The roof-lamp was on, and she could see his face dimly. His eyes were very dark—the sort of dark eyes it would be good to drown in, if only they were pools, she thought a little lightheadedly.

  “Josie, why did you run away?”

  “I wasn’t running away. I wanted to go home.”

  “And have you never thought that here in Spain there is a home waiting to be offered you?”

  “No.” A sigh quivered down the whole length of her frame. “No.”

  “Have you never for one moment believed that I love you?”

  This time her breath caught. Suddenly her lower lip quivered, and he saw it. He saw the utter disbelief in the great brown eyes as they were turned towards him the sudden hopefulness behind the disbelief, shining like a star between the brightly-tipped lashes.

  “You—love me?”

  “Since the very first moment that we met!”

  “Oh!” Josie breathed, and then the roof-lamp went out and his arm was slipped behind her, and he drew her almost fiercely close against him.

  “Josie, you foolish—you incomprehensibly foolish child! So dependable and capable and wise in many ways, and yet creating only a web of unhappiness for yourself because of a stupidity one would never believe.”

  “But, I don’t understand,” she whispered into his neck. “I honestly don’t understand.”

  “There are many things you have to understand yet, querida, and more than one explanation is due to you. But, for the moment, this is enough—this is more than enough!”

  And his lips closed over hers as they had closed once before, and without the volition of her will she clutched at him and clung to him, and the kiss went on and on while the big car sped on its way noiselessly, and they might have been travelling on a cloud of bliss instead of inside a smooth-running modern chariot.

  When at last he lifted his head Josie’s lips were burning, and her whole body was trembling in a way it had never trembled before—not even on that night when he had kissed her in the garden.

  His voice sounded quite strange as he said: “That other time, when I tasted the sweetness of that flower-like mouth of yours, was the only gleam of hope I had until you told me I had been wrong about Duveen. Until then I’d suffered an agony because you seemed to like him so—and that very first time we had lunch together and you let him hold your hand. Oh, Josie, never again will any man so much as touch your hand without my express permission—and that will never be granted. I love you with every beat of my heart, and every breath I draw, and I want to hear you say that you love me in that way too.”

  “I do—I do!”

  “Then why were you so cruelly running away from me?”

  “Because—last night...”

  “Last night should never have happened to you.” He drew in his breath as if even the memory of it hurt him. “When I said goodbye to you down there by the sea I knew there would have to be a period of waiting for you and I, not because of the accident to Tia Amelie, but because there were certain things I had to do—obligations I had to be free of.”

  “Was—Sylvia an obligation?” she asked, hiding her face against him, while he spoke with his lips almost pressed to her hair.

  In a way she was ...” His arm tightened as he felt her shrink for a moment. “But not a serious obligation, my loved one! You see, she is Maria’s friend, and the two of them had spent quite a long time together in America—Maria had stayed for several months as the guest of the Petersens, and because Sylvia was not happy owing to the acquisition of a new stepmother she brought her back to Spain with her. I was happy for her to remain with us as long as she pleased—or I was until I realized that—Well, until I realized that she might not wish to go away at all...”

  “You mean she wanted to marry you?”

  He smiled into her hair, and if she had seen his eyes she would have realized that there was more humor in them than she would have ever believed possible, considering that his disposition was normally rather serious.

  “There have been women who have wanted to marry me before, querida—not so much because of any charms I possess, but because there are quite a lot o
f other things I do possess that are more material. Miss Petersen was a little bedazzled, I think, by the idea of a title—she has quite a lot of money of her own, and wealth would not attract her—but I was not bedazzled by Miss Petersen.”

  “She is very lovely,” Josie said, huskily. “And I am almost certain she is in love with you.”

  “You are in love with me, my darling,” bending almost protectively above her, and kissing her with a kind of restrained hunger, “and your love is all I shall ever want in this life. And you are so much lovelier than any woman I have ever met that it would be useless to compare you.”

  Josie looked up at him in bewildered bliss.

  “Go on,” she said, “about Miss Petersen—and your obligations.”

  “I wanted to give her a few weeks longer in Madrid, and then I hoped that Maria would cleverly persuade her to depart. In the meantime you were, as I thought, on the Costa Brava, still benefiting after your illness from the sea air, and secure with Tia Amelie. It didn’t take her very long to discover the way I felt about you, and she promised that she would never allow you to be overworked, and that if she became too much for you she would get the doctor to provide another nurse to assist you. She also promised that she would not allow you to depart under any circumstances, and that she would write to me about you and let me know exactly how you were.”

  “And—did she?”

  “Oh, yes. Tia Amelie is a wonderful correspondent, and I pictured you both very happy down there on the coast. I knew—and this gave me the greatest comfort—that you were well away from Michael Duveen, and I planned, whatever happened, to visit you before Christmas and ask you to marry me. You see I—I imagined you knew what was in my heart, and that you would be content to wait!”

  “That was why you spoke of—the sweetness of the rewards when they came?”

  “Of course! Would I have asked if you could endure our separation, and spoken of those rewards, if I had not been completely serious about you?”

  “I don’t know. I—” Once again she hid her face. “You see, I had a lot of time to think, and—Michael hinted—”