A Happy Meeting. Бетти Нилс

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      ‘I could get up,’ she suggested, ‘if I had a stick…’

      ‘Nonsense, you’ll do no such thing. That nice doctor who brought you home would be very annoyed if he knew.’

      ‘He doesn’t know,’ said Cressida, and felt a pang of regret because of that. She was a sensible girl, concealing a romantic nature beneath her ordinary appearance; no good would come of wanting something she couldn’t have. She contrived to wash with Moggy’s aid, brushed her hair, which was long and mousy, and plaited it and set about persuading Moggy to bring the silver epergne upstairs. ‘With an old newspaper,’ she urged, ‘and the polish and cloths. I can do it easily and it will keep me occupied.’

      ‘All right,’ Moggy was grudging, ‘but only when you’ve had your breakfast.’

      ‘I’m not hungry…’

      ‘You’ll eat what I bring you,’ said Moggy.

      Dr van der Linus was up early, to walk in the garden with the dogs and enjoy the crisp sunshine of the morning. He had slept soundly but he was aware of uneasiness; although he could barely remember what the girl he had helped on the previous evening looked like, he was unable to shake off the feeling that he ought to do something about her. He hadn’t liked the vague air of disquiet which she and the woman who admitted them had had and he had been puzzled at the bare little room which was surely unsuitable for a daughter of the house. The housekeeper had been anxious for him to leave, too.

      He went indoors to his breakfast. It might be a good idea to get the name of the local doctor and give him a ring; on the other hand, that smacked of officiousness. He sighed and poured himself some more coffee. It would be better if he were to call and enquire. He was to lunch with friends at Castle Cary and need not go much out of his way.

      He went upstairs to his grandmother’s room presently. She was sitting up in bed, her breakfast on a tray before her.

      ‘Come in and finish this toast,’ she begged him. ‘Mrs Wiffin has this passion for feeding me up! Aren’t you going over to Castle Cary to the Colliers’? Is Jenny at home?’

      He smiled slowly. ‘Matchmaking, Grandmother? I don’t know if she’s at home. In any case…’ He paused. ‘It is time I married, but not Jenny.’

      ‘You’ve found the girl?’ asked Lady Merrill eagerly.

      ‘I’m not sure. She’s very suitable. Her name is Nicola van Germert—you’ve met her. The daughter of one of the professors at Leiden University. We know all the same people and share a similar lifestyle.’

      Lady Merrill bit into her toast. ‘Not good reasons for marriage, my dear, but you’re old enough and wise enough to know what you want. Most men want love as well,’ she added drily.

      He got up. ‘Well, I suppose we aren’t all lucky enough to find it. Will you be at home at teatime? We can sit in the garden, if it’s warm enough, and gossip.’ He bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Staying here with you is something I always look forward to.’

      ‘So do I, my dear. But you would be lost without your work. Don’t you miss the hospitals and clinics and patients?’

      ‘Oh, yes, very much. They are the most important things in my life, Grandmother.’

      ‘Part of your life, Aldrik. Now run along and enjoy yourself.’

      At the door he turned. ‘I thought I’d call in on my way and see how that girl is getting on. I must find out about the dog too and let her know.’

      ‘That would be kind.’ Lady Merrill watched his vast back disappear through her door. She looked thoughtful. Considering the girl was so uninteresting that he couldn’t remember what she looked like Aldrik was being very kind. But, of course, he was a kind man.

      He drove away in the Bentley presently. Minton Cracknell wasn’t all that distance away but there was no direct road to it. He needed to go considerably out of his way to reach it but since it was less than ten miles to Castle Cary from there and for most of the way a main road he would have time to make his call.

      The house looked pleasant enough as he got out of the car but the housekeeper’s face bore a look of gloomy indignation. The doctor was used to dealing with every kind of person; his ‘good morning’ was briskly friendly with strong overtones of authority.

      ‘I’ve called to enquire after Miss Preece. I’m on my way to friends and had to pass the door.’

      ‘She’s in bed but that ankle’s that swollen, I don’t like the look of it…’

      ‘The doctor is calling?’

      She shook her head, speaking softly. ‘Mrs Preece says it’s not necessary.’

      ‘Perhaps I might have a word with her? I know it isn’t my business but perhaps I might persuade her.’

      Miss Mogford’s stern visage crumpled. ‘Oh, sir, if you would. I don’t know what to do…’

      She stood aside to allow him to enter and left him in the hall while she went to find Mrs Preece.

      She came back presently. ‘If you’d come this way, sir…’

      Mrs Preece was sitting by a briskly burning fire, a tray of coffee beside her, and she didn’t get out of her chair.

      ‘You must forgive me for not getting up,’ she said in a small plaintive voice. ‘I’m not very strong. I understand that you were so kind as to bring Cressida home yesterday. Do sit down—it is most kind of you to call too.’ She said sharply to Miss Mogford hovering at the door, ‘Bring some more coffee, will you? This is cold…’

      The doctor sat, accepted the coffee when it came, listened with apparent sympathy to his hostess’s light voice describing various aspects of her ill health, put down his cup and said in a gentle voice, ‘I should like to see your stepdaughter’s ankle; just to check on the strapping. She will be going for an X-ray some time today, I expect?’

      Mrs Preece gave a tinkling laugh. ‘Good heavens, no, Doctor, it’s only a sprain. She should be up and about in no time. So vexing that she should have to stay in bed but she has never fainted before, the silly girl. And I have guests for dinner this evening too.’

      ‘But you have no objection to my seeing her?’ asked the doctor, and something in his voice made her shrug her shoulders and give a reluctant consent.

      ‘Do encourage her to get up—she will be much better on her feet, will she not?’ Mrs Preece gave him a charming smile, her head a little on one side. Really, she thought, he was so good-looking and charming that one would agree to anything that he might say.

      ‘No, she would be much worse,’ said Dr van der Linus. He spoke with such calm charm that she didn’t realise that he had contradicted her flatly.

      ‘Well, Miss Mogford shall take you to her room,’ said Mrs Preece, ‘I find the stairs trying—I have to be careful.’

      She sounded wistful and long-suffering and if she expected the doctor to enquire sympathetically as to the reason she was to be disappointed.

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