The Daughter of the Manor. Бетти Нилс

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ