A Happy Meeting. Betty Neels
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the door opened and Dr van der Linus walked in.
His greeting was genial. ‘I had to have a word with someone here and thought I would call and see how you are getting on. I hear you’re going home?’
‘Yes. I’m waiting for transport. I’m quite better again.’ She gave him a steady smile. ‘I’m most grateful for everything you did for me.’
‘Think nothing of it. I’m going past your home; I’ll take you if you’re ready to go. Just let me have a word with Sister…’ He had gone before she could answer.
On the way back he told her that he was going to London on the following day and then back to Holland. ‘I don’t expect to be back here for some time,’ he told her, and then casually, ‘Have you any plans for your future?’
‘No, none,’ said Cressida bleakly. Her look was sad. ‘At least not for some time.’
‘Ah, well,’ said the doctor easily, ‘I dare say you have your reasons for staying at home.’
‘Yes, I have. What will happen to the dog while you’re in London?’
He accepted the change of subject without demur. ‘He’s to stay at the vet’s. I will collect him when I leave England. He looks quite handsome, you know, although I’m not quite sure what he is. He’s young still, about six months, and still going to grow.’
‘You’ll have room for him at your home?’
‘Oh, yes.’ He stopped in front of her house and got out to help her.
‘Thank you very much,’ she said. ‘Would you like to come in and see my stepmother?’
The doctor smiled a little; it was obvious that she hoped that he would refuse. ‘Why not?’ he said cheerfully, and took her arm. ‘Use your stick,’ he counselled her, and, ‘Put your weight on your good foot and for heaven’s sake don’t stand about; sit when you can and keep your foot up.’
Miss Mogford had been on the watch for Cressida’s return. She opened the door wide, and her severe features softened into a smile. ‘There, that’s better. My goodness, a couple of days in hospital have done you a power of good, Miss Cressy—I swear you’ve put on a pound or two.’
‘Is my stepmother in?’ asked Cressida. ‘I’m sure Dr van der Linus—’
The rest of her words were lost in Mrs Preece’s voice, ‘Is that you, Cressida? And about time too. All this rubbish I’ve been hearing about this ankle of yours…’ A half-open door was thrust open and she came into the hall, caught sight of the doctor’s vast person and went on smoothly, ‘You poor child, have you had a lot of pain? I didn’t come to visit you for you know how sensitive I am about illness.’ She smiled at Dr van der Linus. ‘My nerves, you know—I’m a martyr to them.’ She turned to Cressida. ‘Run along upstairs, dear, I dare say you would like a rest. Miss Mogford shall bring you your tea presently.’
She turned her back on Cressida, ‘Tea is just made,’ she said to the doctor. ‘Do have a cup with me. I see so few people and you must tell me about Cressida’s ankle.’
He refused with a charm as smooth as her own. ‘I have an evening appointment and have still some distance to drive. Miss Preece should be all right now—a week or two keeping off the ankle and plenty of rest. But, of course, you will know what to do.’
He shook hands again and then turned to Cressida standing so quietly close by. ‘I am sure that Dr Braddock will be over to see you shortly. I’m glad that the damage wasn’t worse. I’ll take care of the dog.’
She smiled. ‘I’m sure you will and it’s very kind of you to have him. I hope you have a good journey home.’
He stared down at her—such a plain little face but such beautiful eyes, and despite her smile she was unhappy. Not surprisingly, he considered; he had a poor view of Mrs Preece.
Sitting opposite his grandmother that evening, he voiced his vague disquiet about Cressida. ‘The girl seems sensible enough,’ he observed, ‘and really one hardly expects the modern young woman to behave like Cinderella. Mrs Preece is someone that anyone with an ounce of good sense would get away from as quickly as possible.’
‘Then there must be a good reason for the girl to remain there. Have you any idea what it might be?’
‘None.’ He added, ‘I suppose there is no way of finding out?’
‘Well, of course there is; ask her.’
‘Perhaps I will. I must go up to town tomorrow but I’ll come down to say goodbye before I go over to Holland, my dear, and I’ll make time to see her then.’ He frowned. ‘Do you think I’m making a mountain out of a molehill? Probably I shall get short shrift…’
‘In that case you need do no more about it. On the other hand she may be longing to confide in someone.’
It was a week later when he came back to Lady Merrill’s and on a sudden impulse turned off the main road to go to Minton Cracknell. He was within half a mile of the village when he saw Cressida, walking awkwardly with a stick, going in the same direction as he was. He drew up beside her, and opened the door. His ‘Hello, can I give you a lift?’ was casually uttered and when she turned to look at him he was careful to stay casual. She had been crying, although she smiled now and thanked him politely.
‘That’s kind of you, but I walk a little way each day, you know—it’s good for me.’
The doctor said, ‘Get in, Cressida,’ in a gentle voice which none the less she felt compelled to obey. She got in.
‘Is your stepmother at home?’
She shook her head. ‘No. She goes to Bath to have her hair done. Did you want to see her?’
‘No. Why have you been crying, Cressida?’ He leaned across her and closed the door. ‘Supposing you tell me what is wrong? And I must beg you not to tell me that there is nothing wrong, because that is merely wasting time. Possibly you do not wish to confide in a friend but since we are unlikely to meet again you can safely unburden yourself to me.’
‘I don’t think,’ began Cressida doubtfully, ‘actually, that it would be of any interest to you.’
‘You are politely telling me that it is none of my business. Quite right, and all the more reason to talk to me. Since it is none of my business I shall give you no advice, nor shall I read you a lecture or tell you that none of it matters.’ He laid a great arm along the seat behind her shoulders. ‘Now let’s have it…’
It was hard to start, it had been all bottled up for so long, but once started Cressida was unable to stop. It all came pouring out. ‘It’s Moggy, you see,’ she explained. ‘If she leaves before she’s sixty she can’t have Father’s legacy and she depends on that for her old age…’
‘Have you seen the will…?’
‘No. Mr Tims, the solicitor, read it out to us but it was full of heretofores and those long words they use.’
‘Just supposing that there had been a misunderstanding about the terms of the legacy, Miss Mogford would be able to leave, would she not? And you would be free to leave home, knowing that her future was secure.’
Cressida gave a great sniff and he glanced at her. She hardly looked her best, her hair was all over the place, as far as he could judge she had no make-up on and her clothes were deplorable. He said very kindly, ‘It is likely that Miss Mogford hasn’t understood the conditions of the legacy. If that could be looked into she might find herself free to leave before she is sixty. Who exactly told her of this condition?’
‘My stepmother.’
The doctor frowned. Tiresome woman, and how on earth had he come to get involved in the business? All the same it seemed to him that he was the only one with a pair of scissors to cut the tangle. A pity that he would be leaving the country so soon…
‘Feel