The Daughter of the Manor
He did come, driving up on Saturday afternoon in his Porsche, and if his kiss and hug were lacking the fervour of a man in love she didn’t notice because she was glad to see him.
He went indoors with her to meet her parents and make himself agreeable and then they went for a walk. He took her arm and talked and she listened happily to his plans. They would marry—he was a bit vague as to exactly when—and he would set about restoring her father’s house. ‘There’s a chap I know who knows exactly what needs to be done. It’ll be a showplace by the time it’s finished. We can have friends down for the weekend…’
Leonora raised a puzzled face. ‘But Tony, we shan’t be living here; Mother and Father wouldn’t much like a great many people coming to stay—even for a weekend.’
He said rather too quickly, ‘Oh, I’m thinking of special occasions—Christmas and birthdays and so on; it’s usual for families to get together at such times.’ He smiled at her. ‘Tell me, what’s been happening since I was last here?’
‘Nothing much. The Willoughbys’ dinner party, and—I almost forgot—the new doctor to take over from Dr Fleming—he had a heart attack—not a severe one but he’s got to retire.’
‘Someone decent, I hope. Local chap?’
‘Well, no, I don’t think so. I don’t know where he comes from. He’s bought Buntings—that nice old house at the other end of the village.’
‘Has he, indeed? Must have cost him a pretty penny. Married?’
‘I’ve no idea. Very likely, I should think. Most GPs are, aren’t they?’
Tony began to talk about himself then—the wheeling and dealing he had done, the money he had made, the important men of the business world he had met. Leonora listened and thought how lucky she was to be going to marry such a clever man.
They went to church the following morning and she stood beside Tony in the family pew, guiltily aware that she was glad the new doctor was there too and could see her handsome fiancé.
Dr Galbraith was handsome too, and his height and size added to that, but he was… She pondered for a moment. Perhaps it was the way he dressed, in elegant, beautifully tailored clothes, sober ties and, she had no doubt, handmade shoes—whereas Tony was very much the young man about town with his waistcoats and brightly coloured ties and striped shirts. She took a peep across the aisle and encountered the doctor’s eyes, and blushed as though she had spoken her thoughts out loud and he had heard her.
She looked away hastily and listened to the Colonel reading the lesson, with a look of rapt attention, not hearing a word, and she took care not to look at the doctor again.
It was impossible to avoid him at the end of the service; he was standing in the church porch with the Flemings, talking to the vicar, and there was no help for it but to introduce Tony to him.
‘The new GP,’ observed Tony. ‘I don’t suppose there’s much work for you around here. Wouldn’t mind your job—peace and quiet in the country and all that. You fellows don’t know when you’re lucky. I’m in the City myself…’
The doctor said drily, ‘Indeed? One of the unlucky ones? You must be glad to spend the weekend in this peaceful spot.’
Tony laughed. ‘Not even a weekend—I must go back after lunch, try and catch up with the work, you know.’
‘Ah, well, it’s a pleasant run up to town. I dare say we shall meet again when next you’re here.’ The doctor smiled pleasantly and turned away to talk to the vicar’s wife, who had joined them, and presently when he and the Flemings left the little group he did no more than nod affably at Leonora, who gave him a decidedly chilly smile.
‘A bit of a stiff neck, isn’t he?’ asked Tony as they walked back to the house. He gave his rather loud laugh. ‘I don’t need to have qualms about the two of you!’
‘If that’s a joke,’ said Leonora, ‘I don’t think it’s funny. And why do you have to go back after lunch?’
‘Darling—’ he was at his most cajoling ‘—I simply must. There’s no let-up, you know, not in my world—the business world. Keeping one step ahead is vital…’
‘Vital for what?’
‘Making money, of course. Don’t bother your pretty head; just leave it to me.’
‘Will it always be like this? I mean, after we’re married? Will you be dashing off at all hours of the day, and do we need a lot of money? Don’t you earn enough for us to get married soon?’
He gave her a quick kiss. ‘What a little worrier you are. I am that old-fashioned thing—comfortably off. We could marry tomorrow and live pleasantly, but I don’t want to be just comfortably off; I want to be rich, darling—a flat in town, decently furnished, money to go abroad when we want to, all the clothes you want to buy, dinner parties, the theatre. I want you to have the best of everything.’
‘Tony, I don’t mind about any of that. I’m not a town girl; at least, I don’t think I am. I like living in the country and I don’t care if we haven’t much money. After all, I’m used to that.’ She added thoughtfully, ‘Perhaps you’ve fallen in love with the wrong girl…’
He flung an arm around her. ‘Darling, what nonsense. The moment I set eyes on you when we met at the Willoughbys I knew you were what I was looking for.’
Which was quite true—she was a very pretty girl, had been ready to fall in love, and was an only child, with no large family to complicate matters. She lived in a lovely old house with plenty of land, which would be worth a fortune once he could get his hands on it.
He would have to go slowly, of course, and naturally he couldn’t do anything to make Leonora unhappy. Her parents would be just as happy in a smaller house, somewhere close by, and he and Leonora could live in the big house. It would be a splendid focal point for meeting influential men and their wives—men who would give him a helping hand up the financial ladder.
Decently dressed, Leonora would prove an asset; she had lovely manners and a delightful voice. A bit outspoken at times and a good deal more intelligent than he had expected, but he was sure that he could persuade her to his way of thinking.
It was a couple of days later when Leonora met the doctor again. The icy weather had become quite mild and it rained from a dull sky. Sir William had caught cold and sat morosely by the fire, while his wife fussed around him and Nanny offered hot drinks and aspirin, which left Leonora looking after the household and doing the shopping, for, much as she loved her father, she could see that two females hovering over him was just about as much as he could stand. So she made the beds and hoovered and did most of the cooking and now they were running out of groceries.
In a mackintosh even older than the tweed coat, a hat, shapeless with age, rammed down onto her head, she picked up her basket, announced that she was going to the village and, accompanied by Wilkins, set out.
‘At least we won’t skid on ice,’ she observed to Wilkins, who was plodding along beside her. ‘Though we are going to get very wet.’
Mrs Pike’s shop was empty, which was a good thing for she allowed Wilkins to come in out of the rain, offering a sheet of newspaper which he was to sit on while Leonora took out her list.
A visit to Mrs Pike’s was a leisurely affair unless she had a great many customers; she chatted while she collected bacon, cheese, the loaf the baker left each day, the marmalade Sir William preferred, tea and coffee, sugar and flour. Not that there was much to gossip about: Mrs Hick’s new baby, the Kemp’s youngest boy with a broken arm—‘What do you expect from boys, anyway?’ asked Mrs Pike—and Farmer Jenkins making a bit of trouble about his milk quota. ‘Whatever that is, Miss Leonora; I’m sure I don’t know what the world’s coming to!’
This was one of Mrs Pike’s frequent observations and the preliminary to a lengthy monologue of a gloomy nature, so it was a relief when two more customers came in together and Leonora was able to gather up her shopping and start for home.
It was still raining. Dr Galbraith, driving out of the village, saw Leonora’s bedraggled figure ahead of him, marching along briskly, Wilkins beside her. He passed them and then pulled in to the side of the road, opened the door and said, ‘Get in—I’m going past your place. Your dog can sit at the back.’
‘Good morning, Doctor,’ said Leonora pointedly. ‘Please don’t bother. We are both very wet; we shall spoil your car.’
He didn’t answer but got out of the car and walked round to where she stood. ‘Get in,’ he said pleasantly, and opened the door for Wilkins, who was only too glad to get out of the rain.
‘Oh, well, all right,’ said Leonora ungraciously, and slid into the front of the car. ‘I have warned you that we are both very wet.’
‘Indeed you have, and now I’m wet as well.’ He glanced at her. ‘A waste of time, Leonora…’
‘What’s a waste of time?’
‘Trying to get the better of me.’ He was driving now and turned to smile at her. ‘How are your mother and father?’
‘They’re very well—no, that’s not quite true. Father’s got a very bad cold; he’s a shocking patient when he’s not well and Mother gets worried.’
‘In that case, perhaps it might be as well if I took a look at him. An antibiotic might get him back on his feet—colds can drag on at this time of year.’
‘Yes, but aren’t you on your rounds or something?’
‘No.’ He swept the car through the gates and up the neglected drive to the front door and got out to go round the bonnet and open her door and then free Wilkins.
‘Do come in,’ said Leonora, all at once minding her manners, ‘and take off your coat. I’ll fetch Mother.’ She turned round as Nanny came down the staircase.
‘Oh, good, here’s Nanny. This is Dr Galbraith, our new doctor; he’s kindly come to see Father.’
Nanny eyed the doctor. ‘And that’s a mercy. How do you do, Doctor? And a fine, well-set-up young man you are, to be sure. Give me the coat; I’ll dry it out while Miss Leonora takes you to see the master.’
She turned her attention to Leonora then. ‘And you too, Miss Leonora—off with that coat and that old hat and I’ll give Wilkins a good rub down. There’ll be coffee when you come down.’
Dismissed, the pair of them went upstairs to find her father sitting in a chair by a brisk fire with his wife bending over him. She looked up as they went in and gave a relieved sigh. ‘Dr Galbraith, I was wondering if I should ask you to call. You met Leonora…’
‘Yes, Lady Crosby, and it seemed sensible to take a look at Sir William, since I was passing.’ He went to look at his patient and Leonora discovered that he was no longer a man who persisted in annoying her but an impersonal doctor with his head stuffed full of knowledge, and to be trusted. His quiet voice and his, ‘Well, sir, may I take a look at you?’ was reassuring.
CHAPTER TWO
SIR WILLIAM coughed, blew his nose, coughed again and spoke.
‘Nothing much wrong—just this infernal cold—cough keeps me awake, makes me tired.’
Leonora helped him off with his dressing gown and followed her mother to the door. She paused to ask, ‘Do you need me to stay?’
She was surprised when the doctor said, ‘Please,’ in an absent-minded voice as he bent over his patient.
She stood by the window and glanced out at the rain-sodden landscape, listening to the doctor’s quiet voice and her father’s querulous answers. He wasn’t well; perhaps they should have called the doctor sooner, she thought worriedly.
She loved her parents and got on well with them; indeed, she had been perfectly happy to stay home with them. Before her father had lost his money, there had been plans afoot to send her to friends in Italy, suggestions that she might train for a career, have a flat in town—the world had been her oyster.
She hadn’t regretted the loss of any of these, although she sometimes longed for new clothes, a visit to the theatre, evenings out at some famous restaurant. The longings weren’t deep enough to make her unhappy, and now that she and Tony were to marry it seemed to her that she would have the best of both worlds—living with Tony, sharing his social life, and coming home whenever she wanted to.
Dr Galbraith’s voice disturbed her thoughts. ‘If you would help your father with his dressing gown?’
He didn’t look up as he wrote out a prescription. ‘If you could get this made up? It’s an antibiotic. And a couple of days in bed. Flu can hang around for a long time if it isn’t treated promptly.’
He handed her the prescription and closed his bag. ‘I’ll call again in a day or so, but if you’re bothered about anything don’t hesitate to call me.’
‘Hope I haven’t given it to my wife,’ observed Sir William.
‘As I said, let me know if you are worried about anything.’ He glanced at Leonora. ‘Forewarned is forearmed.’
‘Obliged to you for coming,’ said Sir William. ‘I’m sure there’ll be coffee downstairs for you. Busy, are you?’
The doctor, who had been up all night with a premature baby, replied that no, he wasn’t unduly so.
‘Probably a good deal easier than a city practice,’ said Sir William, blithely unaware that the doctor’s practice extended for miles in every direction. Some of the outlying farms were well off the main roads, and the lanes leading to them were, as often as not, churned into muddy ruts.
Downstairs Lady Crosby was waiting for them in the drawing room, looking anxious.
‘Fetch the coffee, Leonora; Nanny has it ready. Come and sit down, Doctor, and tell me if Sir William is ill or if it’s just a bad cold.’
‘Flu, Lady Crosby. He will need to keep to his bed for a few days and take the antibiotic I have prescribed. He should be perfectly all right within a week, provided he keeps warm and quiet; he isn’t as young as he was.’
He smiled at her and she smiled back. ‘Sixty-one— I’m a good deal younger.’ Lady Crosby, who had been a very pretty girl, wasn’t averse to a little admiration and her smile invited it.
She was disappointed and a little put out; she had been spoilt and pampered for most of her life, only during the last difficult years she had had to forgo the comforts and luxuries she had taken for granted. She loved her husband and daughter, but took their care and attention as her right. The expected compliment from the doctor wasn’t forthcoming. All he said was, ‘I’m going to Bath; perhaps your daughter might come with me and get the prescription I have written up for Sir William. I shall be returning within the hour and will give her a lift back.’
Leonora, coming in with the coffee, heard the last part of this and said, in her matter-of-fact way, ‘Oh, there is no need for that. I can take the car—I might hold you up.’
‘Nonsense, dear,’ said her mother. ‘Why take the car when you can get a lift? Dr Galbraith is coming back to the village. You’ll probably have time to pop into that wool shop and see if you can match my embroidery silks…’
She poured the coffee. ‘Have you taken a tray up to your father, dear? I dare say he would like a hot drink.’ She smiled charmingly at the doctor. ‘We shall take the greatest care of him, Doctor.’
He glanced from mother to daughter; Leonora had inherited her mother’s good looks on a more generous scale; he fancied she had inherited her father’s forthright and strong-willed nature. It was no life for a girl such as she—living with elderly parents and, he suspected, bearing the burden of the household management in the down-at-heel, still beautiful house. Still, he remembered, she was engaged; presumably she would marry shortly. Not that he had liked the man.
Leonora, wrapped up against the weather, got into the car presently. He was glad to see that she had found a decent hat and her gloves and handbag were beyond reproach. Not that he cared in the least about her appearance, but with her striking looks she deserved the right clothes.
Glancing at her profile, he set himself out to be pleasant and had the satisfaction of seeing her relax. Gradually he led the conversation round to more personal matters, putting a quiet question here and there so casually that she answered freely, unaware that she was talking about things that she had kept tucked away at the back of her head because neither her mother nor her father would want to hear about them, and nor would Tony: small niggling doubts, little worries, plans she had little hope of putting into effect.
They were on the outskirts of Bath when she said abruptly, ‘I’m sorry, I must be boring you. I expect you get enough moaning from your patients.’
‘No, no, talking never bores me, unless it is the kind of chat you encounter at parties. I’m going to park at the Royal National Hospital. There are several chemists in Milsom Street; fetch the prescription and come back to the car. There’s a quiet restaurant by the abbey—I hope you’ll take pity on me and have lunch.’ When she opened her mouth to refuse he said, ‘No, don’t say that you have to go home at once; you would be too late for lunch anyway, and I promise you I’ll get you home within the next hour or so.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I have an afternoon surgery…’
‘Well, that would be nice; thank you. I don’t like to be away from home for very long because of Father…’
He had stopped the car by the hospital and got out to open her door. ‘I’ll be fifteen minutes. If I’m longer than that, go and wait in the entrance hall…’
He watched her walk away. She was just as nice to look at from the back as from the front. He smiled a little as he went into the hospital.
When she got back he was there, waiting for her. ‘We’ll leave the car here; it’s only a few minutes’ walk. You know Bath well?’
The restaurant was small, quiet, and the food was excellent. Leonora, savouring a perfectly grilled sole, thought she must remember to tell Tony about it; it was a long time since they had been out together for a meal—he was happy to stay at home with her, he always told her, and she spent hours in the kitchen conjuring up a meal he would like from as little of the housekeeping money as possible.
She wished that he were sitting opposite her now instead of Dr Galbraith and despised herself for the mean thought. After all, he had no reason to give her lunch and she had to admit he was a pleasant companion. All the same, she had the sneaking feeling that behind that bland face there was a man she wouldn’t care to cross swords with.
They talked as they ate, exchanging views on Bath, Pont Magna and its inhabitants, and the various houses in it.
‘I used to go to Buntings when I was a little girl,’ Leonora told him. ‘It’s a lovely old house. Are you happy there?’
‘Yes. It is the kind of place where you feel instantly at home. I expect you feel that about your own home?’
‘Oh, yes. It’s badly in need of repairs, though. Some rich American wanted to buy it last year, but Father wouldn’t hear of it. His family have lived in it for a very long time. It would break his heart to leave.’
‘I can understand that. It is a delightful house. Rather large to look after, though.’
‘Yes, but quite a few rooms are shut and Nanny and I can manage the rest.’
She frowned and he said smoothly, ‘Nannies are marvellous, aren’t they? Shall we go? I must get you back before someone wonders where you are.’
Less than an hour later he stopped the car at her home, got out to open her door and waited until she had gone inside. He had beautiful manners, she thought, and hoped that she had thanked him with sufficient warmth.
Her mother was in the drawing room. ‘There you are, dear. Have you got those pills for your father? He’s rather peevish so I came down here to have a little rest—I find looking after someone ill so very tiring. We’ll have tea soon, shall we? Perhaps Nanny could make a few scones.’
Leonora said, ‘Yes, Mother,’ and went to look for Nanny.
In the kitchen Nanny asked, ‘Have you had some lunch, Miss Leonora? There’s plenty of that corned beef—’
‘Dr Galbraith gave me lunch, Nanny—a rather splendid one too. Mother wants tea a bit earlier—and scones? I’ll come and make them, but first I must go and see about Father.’
Sir William, back in his bed, was glad to see her.
‘I’ve got your pills and you can start them straight away,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘And how about a cup of tea and some of that thin bread and butter Nanny cuts so beautifully?’
She sat down on the side of the bed. ‘I don’t suppose you feel like sausages for supper. How about scrambled eggs and creamed potato and jelly for pudding?’
‘That sounds good.’ Her father smiled at her. ‘We shall be lost without you when you marry, my dear.’ He paused to cough. ‘You are quite sure, aren’t you? Tony is a successful young man—he’ll want to live in London.’
She shook her head. ‘Not all the time—he was talking about coming down here whenever we could. He loves this house, you know.’
Her father said drily, ‘It is a gold-mine for anyone with enough money to put it in order. As it is, it’s mouldering away. At least it will be yours one day, Leonora.’
‘Not for years, Father.’ She got up and fetched a glass of water and watched him while he swallowed his pill. ‘Every four hours,’ she warned him. ‘Now I’m going to get your tea.’
She dropped a kiss on his head and went down to the kitchen, where, since Nanny was making the scones, she got her father’s tea-tray ready and presently bore it upstairs.
Back in the drawing room with her mother, she drew a chair closer to the fire. ‘I must say that Dr Galbraith seems to be a very pleasant man. Charming manners, too. We must invite him to dinner one evening, Leonora—remind me to make a list of guests. We must think of something delicious to give them.’
Leonora said, ‘Yes, Mother,’ and bit into a scone. ‘I dare say Father will enjoy that once he’s feeling better.’
Her mother said vaguely, ‘Oh, yes, of course, dear. What did you have for lunch? So kind of the doctor to give you a meal.’
When Leonora had told her she added, ‘Ah, yes, I know the restaurant you mention. The food there is good but expensive. I dare say that, being a single man, he can afford such places. I’m surprised that he isn’t married, but I expect he is merely waiting until he is settled in at Buntings. A doctor, especially one with a country practice, needs a wife.’
Leonora murmured an agreement, and wondered why he should need one more than a GP with a town practice.
‘He would have done very well for you,’ went on Lady Crosby, ‘but of course you’ve already got a fiancé in Tony. Most suitable and such a charming man.’
Leonora thought about Tony. He was charming and fun to be with. He teased her a good deal, told her that she was old-fashioned and strait-laced. ‘I’ll forgive you that,’ he had told her, laughing. ‘You’ll change once I get you up to town.’
She had pointed out that she didn’t want to change. ‘I wouldn’t be me,’ she’d told him, aware that she had irritated him. The next moment, however, he had been laughing again; perhaps she had mistaken the look on his face. They would be happy together, she felt sure; she looked at the diamond on her finger and told herself how happy she was at that very moment just thinking about him.
That night she dreamt of Dr Galbraith, and the dream persisted in staying in her head all next day. She did her best to dispel it by writing a long letter to Tony.
Her father was feeling a little better, although he was still coughing a good deal and looked tired. She wondered uneasily what would be done if the antibiotic didn’t do its good work; Dr Galbraith hadn’t said that he would call again…
He came the next morning and, since she was upstairs with the Hoover, it was her mother who opened the door to him.
‘Dr Galbraith—how kind of you to call again. Just in time for coffee. I’ll get Leonora or Nanny to bring it to the drawing room.’ She smiled her charming smile. ‘I do hate having it by myself…’
Any opinion the doctor might have had about this remark he kept to himself.
‘I called to see Sir William and, much though I would enjoy a cup of coffee, I can’t spare the time— I have quite a few visits to make this morning.’ He smiled in his turn. ‘If I might go up?’