LITMIR.BIZ

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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.

      Miss Mogford, summoned, led him up the stairs in silence. Only at Cressida’s door she paused to look at him. She still said nothing, though she tapped on the door and opened it for him to go into the room.

      Cressida was sitting up in bed, her small person surrounded by sheets of newspaper upon which rested the silver epergne which she was polishing. There was nothing beautiful about her; her hair hung in its long plait over one shoulder, her face, un-made-up, shone with her exertions, and she had a smear on one cheek and both hands were grimed with silver polish. The doctor, a kind man, eyed her with much the same feelings which he would have displayed if he had encountered a kitten or a puppy in need of help.

      His, ‘Good morning, Miss Preece,’ was uttered with impersonal courtesy, and, since she was staring at him, open-mouthed, he said, ‘I happened to be passing and felt that the least I could do was to enquire about your ankle.’

      Cressida shut her mouth with a snap. She said politely, ‘How kind of you. I’m fine, thank you.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘Isn’t it a lovely morning?’

      ‘Splendid. May I look at your ankle? It is of course, none of my business, but I feel that it should be X-rayed.’

      ‘Well, I’m not sure,’ began Cressida, to be told by Moggy to hush.

      ‘The doctor knows best,’ said that lady sternly. ‘Just you lie still, Miss Cressida, and let him take a look.’

      The doctor bent his great height and examined the ankle. When he had looked his fill he straightened up again. ‘I’m not your doctor so I can do very little to help you, but I will do my best to advise your stepmother to allow the doctor to see you. It is a nasty sprain. It will get better quickly enough, though, provided it receives the right treatment.’

      ‘And if it doesn’t?’ asked Cressida in a matter-of-fact voice.

      ‘You will hobble around for a long time—a painful time too.’

      ‘Well, thank you. It was very kind of you to come. I suppose you don’t know what happened to that poor dog?’

      ‘He needs only good food and rest and good care.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I shall take him back with me when I go to Holland.’

      Her ordinary face was transformed by delight. ‘Oh, how absolutely super! I’m sure he’ll be a very handsome beast when he’s fully grown.’

      The doctor concealed his doubts admirably. ‘I have no doubt of that.’

      He put out a hand and engulfed hers in its firm grasp.

      ‘You’ll have to wash your hand,’ said Cressida in her sensible way, ‘it’s covered in polish.’ And then she added, ‘I hope you have a good journey home.’

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