Waiting for Deborah

‘I do not ask out of idle curiosity,’ he told her with a smile. ‘I was anticipating Mrs Vernon’s partial recovery and her need for a companion.’

‘Oh, I see. But I think that if she got better Mrs Vernon might want to look after her again.’

‘Perhaps. We shall see. You have no need to say anything to Mrs Vernon or Dr Benson. I will find the means of communicating with them at the first opportunity.’

They ate their pudding while he talked casually about this and that, interposing a gentle question here and there so that Deborah, off her guard and relaxed, told him a great deal more than she would have wished.

He left presently after another brief visit to the old lady and Deborah, her hand in his large reassuring grasp, wished that they could meet again.

‘You must be daft, my girl,’ she told herself, watching the car disappear down the drive. ‘He’ll not even remember my name in a month’s time.’

Three days went by in which Mrs Vernon’s twitchings and movements became most satisfactorily more frequent. Deborah, eager to tell someone about it, was delighted to see Dr Benson’s car coming up the drive on the fourth morning. He entered the room with a jovial good morning and said, ‘What’s all this I hear from Sir James? He has asked me to go up to London and discuss things with him. Very surprising, I must say, and most gratifying.’

Who for? wondered Deborah under her breath and, at his request, gave a succinct account of Mrs Vernon’s improvement.

‘How delighted your niece will be.’ He addressed himself to his patient, who stared back at him. ‘It is most unfortunate that I do not know exactly where she is staying but Sir James has undertaken to find her. I only trust that she is sufficiently improved in health to come home and resume her special responsibilities.’

Neither of his companions had anything to say to this, Mrs Vernon because she wasn’t capable of doing so, Deborah because she could think of no suitable reply. Instead she asked if she should rearrange the bedclothes so that he might examine his patient.

‘Most satisfactory,’ he remarked when he had finished. ‘Of course we shall know more in a week or so and in the meantime I will go and see Sir James. He finds it a most interesting case.’ He glanced at Deborah. ‘And this is due largely to your care and sharp eyes, Deborah. Mrs Vernon will be delighted when she hears the news.’

She didn’t contradict him but escorted him down to the drawing-room and gave him coffee while she wondered just how Sir James was going to find young Mrs Vernon; perhaps they moved in the same social circle, whatever that meant. She conjured up a picture of Sir James, magnificent in black tie and escorting some elegant beauty to dine at the Savoy or the Ritz and seeing Mrs Vernon, presumably with her husband, seated close by. What would be easier than passing on the good news? She was forced to abandon this colourful fantasy in order to give her full attention to Dr Benson who was reiterating what she must and must not do.

It was three days before young Mrs Vernon, accompanied by her husband, returned home. Deborah had just finished making Mrs Vernon comfortable for the morning when Mrs Dodd came to fetch her. ‘I’m to stay,’ she said breathlessly because she had hurried up the stairs. ‘Mrs Vernon wants to see you. Got here not ten minutes ago. Cook’s in a fine temper, I can tell you, not having been told and nothing much in the house.

She went over to the elderly lady and looked at her. ‘Morning, Mrs Vernon, love. Getting better, are you?’

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ said Deborah and hurried down the back stairs and into the hall.

The drawing-room door was open and young Mrs Vernon was standing in the centre of the room. She turned round as Deborah went in, exclaiming peevishly, ‘What’s all this I hear? I saw Sir James in London; he tells me that my aunt is recovering from her stroke. I must say this is quite unexpected …’

‘Mrs Vernon is moving quite a lot—she is unable to talk but she makes sounds and seems to enjoy her diet. She really is getting better.’

‘What’s this I hear about you telephoning Sir James? The very idea—you appear to have overreached yourself.’

‘Dr Benson was away and his deputy couldn’t be reached; I thought it urgent enough to telephone Sir James who had seen Mrs Vernon and would tell me what to do.’

‘There was absolutely no need for that. My aunt’s improvement is probably a flash in the pan—all this excitement is so bad for me and just as I was beginning to relax. I shall have to speak to my husband. He agrees with me that this is all very upsetting for my aunt …’ She turned sharply as Florrie opened the door. ‘Sir James Marlow, ma’am,’ and stood aside to let him pass.

He glanced from Mrs Vernon’s angry face to Deborah’s pallor. ‘Mrs Vernon, I am on my way to Bristol and have taken the opportunity of calling to see you. I believe that Dr Benson is on his way here? We might perhaps take another look at your aunt together and discuss her future, for, most happily, I believe her to have one.’

He had shaken hands as he spoke and then turned to Deborah. ‘Miss Everett behaved with great good sense in calling me; she is to be commended …’

He smiled at Deborah and added suavely, ‘Your husband is here? We might have a talk presently.’

Mrs Vernon had pulled herself together. ‘How very good of you to call, Sir James. We should be most grateful if you would take a look at my aunt.’ She smiled at Deborah, her eyes like flint. ‘And of course we are indebted to Deborah for her splendid care.’

Mr Vernon and Dr Benson came in together and Mrs Vernon said, ‘You may go, Deborah. Send Mrs Dodd downstairs at once and tell her to bring the coffee.’

Deborah went without saying anything, her quiet face showing nothing of her feelings, only her eyes were quite startlingly blue; Sir James, opening the door for her, noticed that.

Later they all came upstairs and young Mrs Vernon fluttered around the bed, tugging the bedclothes and twitching the pillow under her aunt’s head until Sir James asked her quietly if she would allow him to examine her aunt. Mr Vernon went away then and his wife stayed only long enough to watch the return of mobility in her aunt. One side, Sir James pointed out, had much stronger reflexes than the other but that was to be expected; only time would tell how great the improvement would be.

‘Yes, well—perhaps you will join us downstairs when you are ready, Sir James.’ She went away leaving the two doctors to nod and murmur and move their wise heads while Deborah moved quite quietly out of earshot. She would dearly have loved to know what they were saying.

Presently Sir James addressed himself to his patient. ‘Dr Benson and I are of the opinion that a period of rest is all that is required for you, Mrs Vernon, preferably somewhere where you can sit out of doors whenever possible. You will need the services of the physiotherapist and someone to look after you but life must be quiet and without worry of any kind. Dr Benson and I are going downstairs now to discuss this with your niece and her husband so I will wish you goodbye. Dr Benson will inform you if I am needed again.’

He smiled at Deborah as he went and she watched his enormous back disappear out of the door with a feeling of despair. They would send the old lady to some kind of home and she would be out of a job but, more than that, she would never know if old Mrs Vernon fulfilled the doctor’s hopes. Her niece didn’t like her and would take the first opportunity to dismiss her. She composed her troubled face into serenity and went to sit by the old lady to gossip brightly about the future.

In the drawing-room Sir James, with guile, charm and an iron determination, was getting his own way. On their way downstairs Dr Benson had mentioned that the old lady owned a cottage: ‘A charming place but rather far away on the estuary near Kingsbridge—secluded but near enough for the usual medical services.’

An ideal solution to the problem of Mrs Vernon’s future, said Sir James blandly, a few months in peaceful surroundings and she stood a good chance of taking up some kind of life again. And in the meantime Mrs Vernon would be able to have the chance to recover from her weeks of nursing and anxiety. Her present attendant could continue with her since she was accustomed to her and arrangements could be made for the local doctor to attend her and for her to have physiotherapy.

Mrs Vernon opened her mouth to refuse, caught her husband’s eye and closed it again. ‘It could be arranged,’ said Mr Vernon, middle-aged and anxious to have the tiresome affair settled. His aunt had money of her own, a substantial fortune which he would inherit, and since it seemed likely that she wouldn’t live for many more years it would be very convenient to have her out of the house. Her will was safely in the hands of his solicitor and since she was unable to write he saw no danger there. The girl Deborah might prove a nuisance, coaxing money from the old lady, but he could soon put a stop to that …

Sir James watched his face and guessed what he was thinking. ‘Of course, your aunt could remain here; it would mean moving her to a downstairs room so that later on she could be wheeled into the garden.’ A remark which served to make up Mrs Vernon’s mind for her.

‘She shall go to the cottage,’ she declared. ‘It will be a great nuisance arranging her removal but if it is for my aunt’s benefit then nothing is too much trouble.’

Sir James’s eyes gleamed beneath their lids but all he said was, ‘I shall be glad to consult with Dr Benson when he considers Mrs Vernon fit to be moved.’ He then made his goodbyes gravely and drove himself away. He had done what he could for Mrs Vernon and for the carroty-haired girl; he had no doubt that they would both be a great deal happier in the cottage than they were shut away in that upstairs room.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_b249f108-ba11-5be6-9af2-dcfd2626803f)

A MONTH passed before Dr Benson judged it was time to consult Sir James again. Mrs Vernon was sitting propped up in bed now with quite a lot of movement in her arms and hands and dangling her legs over the side of the bed under Deborah’s anxious eye. There had been talk of a physiotherapist coming twice a week, but it had come to nothing, so she had followed Dr Benson’s instructions and massaged and rubbed and encouraged the old lady. Her speech was returning too, slurred and almost unintelligible, and each day she laboriously wrote little messages in a shaky hand, and all these little miracles were ignored by her niece, who visited her each morning, asked how she was and went away again.

Deborah, asking for a half-day so that she might go to Lechlade and do some necessary shopping, had been treated to a tirade concerning the pleasant life she led with almost nothing to do, her tiresome habit of asking for this and that that the old lady needed when everyone knew that they were quite unnecessary, but she stuck to her guns in her quiet way and got her afternoon off.