Posh Doc Claims His Bride. Anne Fraser
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Perhaps here she could at last really begin to put the past behind her.
Hearing a car’s engine, Meagan looked around and watched a battered Land Rover making its way down the track to the house. The car pulled up and a tall, elegant woman wearing faded jeans and wellingtons got out.
The woman eyed Meagan for a moment before extending a hand.
‘Hi, you must be Dr Galbraith,’ she said. ‘I’m Rachel—from Grimsay House.’ She indicated an imposing building on the top of the hill with a nod of her head.
She was one of the most beautiful women Meagan had ever seen. Long blonde hair hung to her shoulders, framing high cheekbones and sculpted lips. Violet eyes were accentuated with thick dark lashes that looked as if they owed nothing to mascara. Beside her, Meagan felt plain if not downright dowdy.
‘Pleased to meet you.’ Meagan took the proffered hand, aware of the briefest pressure before her hand was relinquished.
‘I’m sorry to impose on your day off but Jessie—the cook—her daughter’s not feeling well and she wanted Cameron to have a look at her. Unfortunately he’s tied up with another patient. He asked us to ring you instead, but I thought I may as well pop down in person and give you a lift. If you’re free, that is?’ Cool eyes regarded Meagan steadily. Meagan surmised that this was a woman who expected people to do as she asked.
‘I’d be happy to see her. If you could give me a moment, I’ll get my bag.’
Uninvited, Rachel followed her inside the house.
‘Its years since I was in here,’ she said. ‘I’d forgotten how tiny it is. It used to be a staff cottage.’
‘I think its lovely,’ Meagan said, collecting her bag from the sitting room. ‘Absolutely perfect.’ Inexplicably Meagan felt defensive about her new home. ‘Shall we go?’
The journey took just a few minutes. There was only enough time for Rachel to point a few landmarks out to Meagan before they were at their destination.
As Rachel swung the Land Rover into the large gravel car park of Grimsay House, Meagan marvelled at the majestic building before her. To describe it as a house was rather like referring to Mount Vesuvius as a steaming kettle. Two elegant stone columns framed wide stone steps leading up to a beautiful oak door at the entrance. Honey-coloured stonework hinted at the imposing age of the building. Meagan noted gentle puffs of smoke emanating from the large gable chimneys at either end of the house, which was framed by a breathtaking tangle of trees, shrubs and wildflowers. Dragging her eyes away, Meagan gathered up her medical bag as she followed Rachel inside the house and into the flag-stoned entrance hall.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Meagan said, taking in the elegant furniture and ornate framed portraits that graced the walls.
‘I suppose,’ Rachel said dismissively. ‘Can’t say I notice it much any more. Jessie and Effie are up here.’
Meagan followed Rachel up two flights of stairs into a bedroom that led off a narrow hall. The bedroom was light and airy and pleasantly furnished. On the large bed covered with a pink quilt on which elephants and rabbits gambolled, lay a small, pale child of around seven. Sitting next to the child, holding a book, sat a woman in her twenties who Meagan took to be Effie’s mother.
‘This is Jessie and her daughter Effie. Jessie, Effie—Dr Galbraith,’ Rachel made the introductions. She then strode towards the window and looked out, turning her back on the proceedings.
Jessie stood up. ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ Jessie said. ‘Effie’s been complaining of stomach ache since the early hours of this morning. I’ve given her paracetamol but it hasn’t helped. Now she’s being sick.’ Jessie spoke quickly, clearly anxious. She turned to her daughter, who was watching Meagan with solemn eyes. ‘Effie, Dr Galbraith is here to see if we can make you better,’ Jessie continued.
Meagan approached the bed and smiled warmly at the young girl. Crouching next to her, she reached over to stroke the large pink cuddly toy the child was clutching.
‘A girl after my own heart, I see,’ she said soothingly. ‘You know, I had a bunny rabbit just like that when I was your age.’
Effie peeked out at Meagan from behind the rabbit. ‘My tummy hurts,’ she said plaintively, ‘and I’ve been sick. Four times,’ she added proudly.
‘Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that. If you lie down flat, I’d like to feel your tummy.’
Uncertainly, Effie looked towards Jessie.
‘Go on, mo ghaol,’ Jessie encouraged.
The child responded, sliding down in bed and pulling up her pyjama top for Meagan.
Meagan examined her, gently feeling for any abdominal tenderness and looking down the child’s throat for signs of inflammation. She was unable to find any abnormality and when she checked the child’s pulse and temperature she was pleased to find both normal.
‘OK, Effie, that’s you. I don’t think there is anything to worry about, but I’m going to ask your mummy to keep you in bed for the rest of the day and maybe tomorrow. Don’t try and eat anything but take small sips of water whenever you can manage it and I’ll pop back tomorrow to see how you are.’
Turning towards Jessie, Meagan signalled to her to step outside with her.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about—probably a bug that’s going around. I’ll leave you my telephone numbers. Please, don’t hesitate to call if there’s any change in Effie’s condition. But I suspect in a day or two she’ll be as right as rain.’
Jessie sighed with relief. ‘Oh, thank goodness. I know it’s silly to worry, but she’s all I’ve got.’
‘Just keep her in bed and let her sleep,’ Meagan said. ‘I’ll be surprised if she’s not back to her usual self by tomorrow.’
As Meagan turned to go, Jessie said, ‘Do you have time for a cup of tea? I know I could do with one! I’ll just check with Rachel that she’s happy to sit with Effie for a bit,’ she said, popping her head back round the door.
Apparently reassured that her presence wasn’t needed, she led Meagan back downstairs.
‘Don’t worry about tea,’ Meagan said. ‘I’m sure you have plenty to be getting on with.’
‘I could do with a cup. I’ve been up most of the night.’ She yawned. ‘Really, you’d be doing me a favour. A chat would stop me conking out. I’ve still got Sunday lunch to prepare.’
Following Jessie into the kitchen at the back of the house, Meagan took a seat at the large oak table that dominated the centre of the room. Black and white tiles patterned the floor and at centre stage stood a double-oven Aga. Meagan waited silently as Jessie bustled about the kitchen, spooning tea into a pot and setting cups out onto a tray. Now that anxiety no longer furrowed her face, Meagan could see that she was very pretty, her curly auburn hair framing a delicate face with large, gentle green eyes.
‘The house is gorgeous. I gather from Rachel you are the cook here.’
Jessie nodded, placing a china cup in front of Meagan and pushing the sugar bowl and milk jug towards her. ‘Effie and I love it. It’s been in the family for generations—and it’s hardly a house, more like a manor really. But the late laird never liked anyone to refer to it as such. He didn’t want the locals to think he thought himself or anyone else in his family above them. Unfortunately, when he died inheritance tax took a fair chunk of the family fortune, and it’s been a bit of a struggle for them to keep the estate running. But it’s a labour of love for Cameron and Simon, rather than a millstone around their necks.’ Her tone softened. ‘Their mother died years ago, when the children were very young, poor souls. So apart from them, there’s myself and Mrs McLeod, the housekeeper—she looks after your cottage too. The rest of the staff come in on a daily basis.’
Meagan was confused. What did