Tangled Autumn. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ that it would get her nowhere. She closed her pretty mouth on the words which bubbled to her lips and was silent for so long that he enquired, still very mild: ‘You wanted me to co-operate, I believe. How?’

      ‘Your mother is anxious to see your sister—Antonia—she feels that you wouldn’t approve because of her studies. Surely it could be arranged for her to come over by air, even for a day or so?’

      He said coldly: ‘Antonia’s schooling is important. She is doing very well—probably she will go on to a university.’

      ‘Oh, fiddle,’ said Sappha rudely and quite out of patience. ‘Surely she can do some extra homework or something—your mother’s peace of mind is much more important.’ She shot him a sharp glance. ‘Your sister will probably marry before she even gets to university.’

      His cold voice became icy. ‘Probably, but as you yourself are aware there is many a slip between the cup and the lip when it comes to marriage.’

      Sappha sat very still, staring at him. She had gone rather white even though she appeared quite composed. She hadn’t realised that the man standing in front of her would know about her and Andrew, but of course Uncle John would have told him. She felt humiliation, so bitter that she could taste it, well up within her. She took her lovely eyes from his face and focused them on the wall above his head, and said quietly: ‘We are discussing your mother, I believe,’ and heard his voice, wonderfully kind and gentle saying: ‘I beg your pardon, that was unforgivable of me. I am afraid I have no excuse, only the unsatisfactory one of always having my own way with my family and taking it for granted that no one will gainsay me.’

      He crossed the space between them and caught her by the shoulders so that she came to her feet, willy-nilly. ‘Forgive me—if you will, I’ll arrange for Tonia to come over whenever you say.’

      Sappha studied his face; his eyes, now that she saw them so close, weren’t black at all but brown, and at that moment they looked warm and friendly. She said uncertainly: ‘I say pretty breastly things myself sometimes—and I forgive you without the bribery—or is it blackmail?’

      ‘Whichever you like, I’ll take the blame for both.’ He smiled at her so that his face changed completely and just for a second she caught a glimpse of someone quite different, but only a glimpse, not enough to stop her saying: ‘It’s rather difficult to put into words, but I think we should understand that…’ she paused so as to get it quite right, ‘some people don’t get on very well—I think perhaps we are all like that.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said blandly, ‘mutual dislike and so forth—is that what you mean? It has been known. Well, in that case, we must conceal our true feelings for each other under the guise of good fellowship, mustn’t we?’ He walked a little away from her. ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult, for I go back to Holland tomorrow and you will have plenty of time to practise a friendly approach before I return. Now, shall we go back to the drawing room? I usually spend half an hour with Mother at this time if you have no objection. I’ll be gone early tomorrow morning, so you won’t need to strain your friendly approach.’

      It wasn’t until they had parted with outward goodwill and she was sitting with the MacFees that she came to the conclusion that he had been laughing silently when he had made that last remark.

      Sappha had expected to spend a wretched night; leaving London had been a wrench, and the peace and quiet she had anticipated in the Highlands had been strangely ruffled by her meeting with Dr van Duyren. She went to bed prepared to lie awake, and promptly slept, to awaken only when Meg, the little daily maid, came in with her morning tea.

      ‘It’s a fine bright day, Miss,’ she observed as she drew the curtains, revealing a glimpse of the sea and the rugged coastline beyond the rooftops. ‘The Baron left with the sun on him.’

      Sappha sat up, tossed her hair over her shoulders and yawned. ‘Baron who?’ she enquired, not quite awake.

      Meg turned a surprised face towards her. ‘Why, miss, the Baron, ye ken, though maybe ye call him the doctor, but here in the village he gets his rightful title.’

      Sappha sipped her tea. ‘Oh, Dr van Duyren, the Baroness’s son.’

      Meg nodded. ‘The Baron,’ she stated simply. ‘Breakfast is at half past eight, I was to tell you.’ She went away, leaving Sappha to ponder this titbit of information. She had never met a baron before; she supposed, after due thought, that he was very like a baron should be—the very name conjured up a swashbuckling, high-handed gentleman, for ever shouting down his inferiors and being charming when it suited him. She got up and dressed rapidly, reminding herself the while of everything about him that annoyed her.

      Her patient was awake after a good night and very ready to talk while Sappha performed the few necessary tasks prior to bringing up her breakfast. Her son, she told Sappha, had left at first light to board a plane at Inverness and she wasn’t at all sure how long it would be before he would be coming again, for as well as running a practice with his two partners, he lectured in Groningen.

      ‘Ah, yes—somewhere in the north of Holland, then,’ said Sappha, shaking down the thermometer, and was taken back when the Baroness said touchily: ‘Not North Holland—our home is in Dokkum, which is in Friesland. Groningen, of course, is not.’

      Sappha begged her pardon, made a mental note to have a look at an atlas when she got downstairs, and besought her patient to open her mouth.

      Uncle John came later that morning and spent a long time examining his patient, and a still longer time talking to Sappha about her. He was pleased with the results of the operation he had performed; the tumour had been removed before it could do lasting damage and the bones were hardening once more with the increased calcium, moreover the renal failure was improving at a heartening rate, but he warned Sappha of the depression which was bound to attack the Baroness from time to time—the aftermath of her rare disease. ‘But we’ll pull her through, I have no doubt’, he said cheerfully, then asked without pause: ‘I suppose Rolf has gone?’

      Sappha gave her uncle a level look. ‘You mean Dr van Duyren—or should I say Baron van Duyren?’

      He returned her look with an innocent one of his own. ‘My dear, how should I know? Everyone around here calls him Rolf—the people in the town address him as Baron, I believe, but I hardly think he would expect you to address him as such. Don’t you like him?’

      Sappha pinkened faintly. She said crossly: ‘How ever should I know, Uncle John? I’ve hardly spoken to him.’ She picked up a batch of forms and went on in a businesslike way: ‘Shall I fill these in for you to sign? I expect you’re taking them with you.’

      Dr McInroy arrived just as her uncle was preparing to leave. He was a sturdy man in his early thirties, of middle height, and with good features and bright blue eyes. After he had greeted the specialist, he turned to Sappha with a warm smile, saying: ‘Miss Devenish—I’ve heard all about you from Gloria and I’m delighted to welcome you to Dialach.’ He sounded so genuinely pleased to meet her that Sappha found herself smiling widely as she shook hands, but even as she did so, she had a fleeting recollection of her meeting with Dr van Duyren, who hadn’t greeted her at all…but there was no time to indulge her own thoughts; the two doctors began to discuss their patient, and as they seemed to take it for granted that she should stay with them, she concentrated upon the subject in hand, so when she was drawn into their conversation from time to time she was able to join in in a manner which caused Dr MacInroy to look at her with something like respect and remark:

      ‘You know a great deal about osteitis fibrosa cystica—have you seen СКАЧАТЬ