Susan Barrie - Return To Tremarth

Miss Brown, who was occupying the most comfortable chair the room contained and sitting very close beside the bed, was laughing in an attractive way when Charlotte entered the room, and she was still laughing as she stood up to acknowledge the presence of the owner of the house. Her wood-nymph blue eyes had a bright sparkle of pure gaiety in them, under her fluttering brown eyelashes, and there was a glow like a peach in her smooth, firm cheeks. She said as she held out a hand to Charlotte, and tossed back the spun-gold hair from her shoulders:

“You must be Miss Woodford, because Richard said you had red hair! As a matter of fact, he said you had the reddest head of hair he’d ever seen on a woman, and I’m afraid he kind of suspects it’s an indication of your temperament. But I’m sure you are behaving like a ministering angel to him at the moment, and even if he isn’t he ought to be profoundly grateful to you! I know I am, because he’s so obviously being marvellously looked after! ”

Charlotte could not immediately think of any suitable reply to this, but she took Miss Brown’s hand and murmured something about doing the best they could – by which she meant that, she and Hannah were doing the best they could, and of course Dr. Mackay, whose bill she hoped would later be settled by Richard Tremarth. The remark about her hair did not predispose her to take a tremendous fancy to Miss Brown… particularly as the wood-violet eyes had sparkled with rather unkind humour as she made it.

“I gather that you’re Mr. Tremarth’s secretary,” she observed. “I hope he recognised you?” she added, without any deliberate intention of sounding drily sceptical.

Miss Brown looked downcast for a moment.

“Well, no,” she had to admit. “I was horribly shocked because when I first walked into the room he just looked at me as if I was an absolute stranger. However, we’ve had a talk since then, and I honestly feel I’ve helped to jog his memory a little…She turned and bent gracefully over the bed, smiling warmly and encouragingly at the patient while she smoothed his top sheet in a womanly way with pretty and dexterous hands. “Haven’t I, Richard darling?” she enquired softly. “You’re not quite as woolly as when I arrived! ”

An expression of dry humour appeared in Tremarth’s eyes, and he even smiled a trifle whimsically.

“If you mean that I’m rather woollier than when you arrived, then I’m quite ready to agree with you,” he replied, while he seated himself more comfortably against his pillows, and seemed fascinated by the evening light as it stole across Charlotte’s hair. “In my experience secretaries do not normally address their employers as ‘darling’, but perhaps you’re not an ordinary secretary?”

Claire looked back at him quite unabashed, and continued to smile. “Well, shall we say I’m not a – frightfully ordinary secretary?” she suggested. “I manage to combine other qualities as well! ”

Charlotte said hurriedly that she had been shopping in Truro and had bought him some grapes. She held them out to him in their paper bag, adding that she would bring a fruit dish up from the kitchen on which they could repose together with the peaches she had also bought him when she went downstairs again.

“I – I hope you’re fond of fruit,” she said a little lamely, and received the curious impression that the invalid’s eyes actually warmed as he thanked her.

“You’re being embarrassingly good to me! ” “That’s what I said,” Claire Brown chipped in. “When one stops to consider that it must have been frightfully inconvenient taking you in and turning this nice house into a kind of nursing-home-’ ’

“Oh, rubbish!” Charlotte exclaimed. She looked at Miss Brown as if she could never really take to her, and then enquired rather more breathlessly of the invalid whether he liked fish.

“I bought you some Dover sole and some smoked salmon – ” “Good heavens! ” Miss Brown exclaimed. “You are determined to spoil him! ”

Charlotte ignored her.

“I hope you’ll feel like a little of the sole to-night,” she said, still sounding a little as if she had hurried up several flights of stairs without pausing for breath, “because I’ve discovered a new way to cook it-a very digestible way! There’s a wonderful book of invalid cookery downstairs amongst my aunt’s books, and I’ve been looking various dishes up____________________ I hope I’ll be able to tempt you when you get your appetite back! ”

“Thank you,” he murmured, very, very gently, “you really are a ministering angel! ” “I’m not much of a cook, but – but I’ll do my best!” she promised, sinking down on to the side of the bed and automatically straightening the sheet that had already been straightened by Miss Brown.

The latter walked over to the big window and started tugging apart one of the tightly- packed vases of flowers that had been placed there by Hannah.

“I bought these in London,” the donor declared somewhat sharply, “and I don’t want them to fade too soon! If Richard is to have the pleasure of them I’m afraid they’ll have to be arranged rather more loosely than this! Do you think I could have another vase?” barely glancing over her shoulder at Charlotte. “And if you’ll tell me where the nearest bathroom is I’ll do them without making a mess of your carpet! ”

“That won’t be necessary,” Charlotte replied quietly, going across to her and taking possession of the vase. “I expect Hannah was in a hurry when she crammed them in like this, and in any case there are far too many of them for a sick room. “If you don’t mind, a few of them could go downstairs -”

“I’d prefer it if they remained where they are,” Claire returned in an inflexible voice. “Well… outside in the corridor, perhaps?” “Not unless Richard finds the scent too overpowering?”

She glanced at Richard, and he looked slightly exhausted, as if rather more than the heady perfume of the flowers was overpowering him. Charlotte immediately experienced a sensation of guilt, and was annoyed with herself for entering into an argument about the flowers simply and solely because she hadn’t bought him any herself, and this fantastically attractive visitor of his had brought the contents of a florist’s shop all the way from London. She moved anxiously to the bedside and asked him whether he was feeling very tired.

“Not a bit.” He smiled at her, however, in rather a bleak, wan way. “Why should I be when I do nothing but lie in bed? And I seem to be causing a certain amount of dissension -” “You’re not,” she assured him warmly, once more tucking in his sheet. “It’s just that people have different views on how many flowers – particularly hot-house ones!

– should be allowed into a sick-room. Would you like me to draw the curtains together?” she enquired, as he blinked in the bright glare from off the sea that was filling his white-walled room. “It’s a bit trying – so much sun… ”

“No, leave them.” But he slid down in the bed and turned his face wearily towards the opposite wall. “Do you mind if I go to sleep?”

“No, of course not. And later on I’ll bring you some supper.”

“I’ll be in to see you to-morrow morning, darling,” Claire Brown said softly to him, as she, too, returned to the bed and bent over it. “I’m staying at the local inn – where you were staying until you had your accident – and I’ve booked in for a week, at least. I’ll come up every day, and we’ll have some nice, quiet chats – that might help you to get back your memory! ”

Tremarth looked up at her. He seemed to be trying to get her into perspective.

“Chats?” he echoed. And then, accompanying the words with a groan: “I wish I was a little more clear about things – ”

Hannah appeared in the open doorway.

“I think the patient can do with a little peace and quiet,” she said. She frowned severely at the visitor, and she also seemed to frown at

Charlotte. “If you don’t mind removing yourselves, you two?” she said. And then she pounced on the flowers, “And we’ll have these out for the night! ”

Downstairs Charlotte telephoned for the village taxi for Claire, and while they waited for it the two girls wandered aimlessly up and down the terrace outside. Miss Brown condescended to observe that her employer had come to grief in a very delightful spot, and she seemed to think the view over the sea from the terrace was rather staggering. Her slim brows crinkled as she turned to look rather curiously at the other girl.

“Is this the place Richard was thinking of buying?” she asked. “And are you the young woman who refused to part with it?”

Charlotte answered coolly:

“There was never any question of Mr. Tremarth buying Tremarth. “It’s not up for sale.” Claire Brown smiled in an amused way.

“You don’t know Richard,” she said “The fact that it’s not up for sale would mean little or nothing to him. If he wants something he – well, he just suddenly possesses himself of it!”

“I don’t think he is in the least likely to possess himself of Tremarth,” the other informed her coldly.

Miss Brown climbed gracefully into the taxi when it arrived, and she reiterated her intention of visiting the invalid the following day. With a cool wave of her white-gloved hand she called:

“I shall spend the day with Richard. I think it might do him good! ”

HANNAH declined to allow Charlotte to visit the invalid’s room again that night, and as he seemed so much better, and even enjoyed a little of the specially cooked sole when it was prepared for him – after a sleep of nearly a couple of hours following the departure of his secretary – decided against sitting up with him that night, and simply set the alarm clock in her bedroom to awaken her every few hours.

Charlotte felt a little annoyed because her offer to sit with Richard for a few hours during the night was firmly rejected by her friend, and when Hannah expressed the opinion that young women were not good for Tremarth in his present state very noticeably elevated her eyebrows.