Only by Chance - Бетти Нилс

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for they had lived there all their lives, inheriting it from ancestors and managing somehow to preserve it for their children by opening the house and grounds to the public on several days of the week.

      Their youngest daughter had just become engaged, and the dinner was to be a black-tie affair in her honour. When he arrived there he found the sweep in front of the house already full of parked cars.

      He was too old a friend to stand on ceremony, greeting their elderly butler with a gentle slap on his shoulder and going straight to the drawing room.

      Lady Hensen put up her cheek for his kiss. ‘Adam, how nice to see you—Peter’s at the other end of the room with Felicity and Tony. I suppose you’re up to your eyes in work; we don’t see enough of you. It’s time you found a wife; I’m longing to dance at your wedding.’ She laughed up at him, still a pretty woman, with kind eyes and a serene manner.

      He found Sir Peter, congratulated Felicity and her fiancé, and then wandered around greeting other friends. He was well-known and popular, and Lady Hensen had seen to it that he was seated between two of the prettiest girls there. They were intelligent and amusing as well as pretty, and he enjoyed his dinner.

      It was some time later that he found himself with Lady Hensen. She patted the sofa beside her. ‘Sit down for a while, Adam; here is a chance to talk, for probably we shan’t see you again for weeks. Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself, other than bending over the operating table.’

      ‘Very little, I’m afraid. I quite often need to stay in town overnight, and it’s difficult to arrange anything in case I’m wanted. When I’m here there is the garden to see to and Watson to take for walks.’ He smiled. ‘I think I must be solitary by nature.’

      ‘Only until you find the right girl. Did you know that we are planning to open on five days of the week instead of four? We did quite well last year and hope to do even better. Of course, the difficulty is finding people to work for us. Not everyone is keen to be buried in the country...’

      ‘What kind of people?’ he asked idly.

      ‘A girl Friday! Isn’t that what they are called? Someone who will turn her hand to anything, and I mean just that. The young just don’t want to know; they want bright lights and discos and money to buy clothes, and the wages we offer are paltry.’

      Mr Ross-Pitt turned a suddenly thoughtful face to her. ‘She would live in and get her food and so on?’

      ‘Well, of course. She’d have to share one of the lodges, but we certainly feed our employees...’

      ‘In that case, Lady Hensen, I believe I know of just the right person.’

      CHAPTER THREE

      LADY HENSEN gazed at him. ‘You mean you actually know of someone who might like a job? A girl?’

      ‘Let me explain...’ Which he did, giving her the facts in an impersonal voice. ‘She is normally a healthy girl, surprisingly tough. Used to hard work and looking after people.’

      He hesitated. ‘I suppose she is that old-fashioned thing—a lady fallen on bad times, I imagine. There is one problem; she has a cat and kitten.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I’ve got them at present—there was nowhere else for them to go. She is to be discharged from hospital in a few days’ time and has nowhere to go.’

      ‘The poor child. I’ll speak to Peter, and if he agrees she can come here and see how she gets on. A week’s notice on either side and she’s welcome to bring the cat and kitten. She can have a room in the south lodge with Mrs Pettifer. She will have to work hard—make her understand that.’ She paused. ‘Not physical hard work so much as being at everyone’s beck and call...in a nice kind of way.’

      ‘You are very kind; I’m sure she will be delighted to have work and a roof over her head. Also away from London.’

      ‘She doesn’t like town?’

      ‘Not that part of town where she is living at present—or rather was living. You would wish to see her before you employ her?’

      ‘No. No, Adam—you vouch for the girl; that’s good enough for us. As I said, let her come and see how she gets on. Will she be fit to start work in a week’s time?’

      ‘As far as I know, yes.’

      ‘Then I’ll speak to Peter this evening. Shall she find her own way here?’

      ‘I’ll bring her.’

      He went back home with the pleasant feeling that everything had been nicely settled. He would have to find out when Henrietta was to be discharged. If that was to be before the week was out he would have to arrange for her to stay somewhere. Tiresome, he thought with impatience, but the last of the obstacles before she could be settled and hopefully become a vague memory.

      He told Mrs Patch his plans the next day. ‘We shall have to keep Dickens and Ollie for another few days. I’ll bring Miss Cowper with me once everything is arranged, and we can collect them on the way to Lady Hensen’s.’

      ‘When will that be, sir?’

      ‘Oh, within the week, I hope. If she is discharged before then I’ll get my secretary to find her lodgings for a couple of days.’

      Which was exactly what happened.

      Four days later, Henrietta, warned that she was to be discharged on the following day, was swallowing sudden panic when Sister said, ‘You’re to go to the manager’s office; he’ll explain things.’

      She was a busy woman, so Henrietta didn’t waste time asking questions but presented herself before a bad-tempered-looking girl who looked up from her computer long enough to say, ‘Through that door.’

      The man on the other side of the door looked just as bad-tempered. ‘Miss Cowper? You’re leaving us, I’m told. Here’s your back pay, and you can apply for a reference if you should need one.’

      ‘Leaving?’ Henrietta drew a breath and willed her voice to remain steady. ‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it.’

      He looked uncomfortable. ‘Lack of communication somewhere. The chief told me that Mrs Carter had said you had family who wanted you home again. I sup- pose no one told you since you weren’t well... Is there somewhere...? You’re going home now?’

      She gave him a steady look. ‘Yes, I’m going home now.’ She even smiled. ‘Good afternoon.’

      She went back to the ward and found Sister. ‘Will it be all right if I go home now?’ she wanted to know. ‘It would be much more convenient for my family if I went today. I’ll get a taxi...’

      Sister looked doubtful. ‘We did say tomorrow. On the other hand I do need your bed. You’ll be all right? There will be someone there when you get home?’

      Henrietta thought of Mrs Gregg—she was someone, wasn’t she? So she wasn’t fibbing, just being a bit misleading, perhaps, but Sister wanted her bed anyway. ‘Yes, there’ll be someone there. I’ll be in nice time for tea.’

      Sister, picturing a happy family reunion round the tea-table, gave her permission. Henrietta didn’t waste time; she said hurried goodbyes to her fellow patients, thanked the sister and took herself off. She had two weeks’ pay in her purse, but she wasn’t going to squander any of it on a taxi. She joined the queue and stood at the bus stop.

      Mr Ross-Pitt, a satisfactory afternoon’s work behind him, remembered that Henrietta was to be discharged on the following day. He would have to go and see her and arrange to pick her up and take her to the respectable boarding-house that his secretary had found for him. In two days’ time he would collect her once again—hopefully for the last time, he reflected—and take her to Lady Hensen’s.

      He should have gone to see her and explained that there was a job waiting for her, that Mrs Gregg had let her room and that she had got the sack from Mrs Carter, he thought, but he had had

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