Waiting for Deborah

It was four days after young Mrs Vernon had left that her aunt’s fragile foot moved. Deborah watched it and tried not to get over-excited.

‘Your foot—it’s moving, can you feel it doing that? You can? Oh, Mrs Vernon, splendid. Look, I’m going to prop you up a little and then I’m going to let the doctor know. He’ll tell me what to do. Dr Benson is still away but I can phone this other man—he’ll want to see you.’

She went downstairs and shut herself in the drawing-room and phoned Dr Ferguson. Who wasn’t there. ‘He is on his rounds; no idea when he’ll be back.’ The voice was impatient.

‘Has he a car phone? Will you try it please; it’s urgent.’

‘That’s what they all say,’ said the voice. ‘Hang on.’

Deborah hung on, bursting with impatience until the voice told her that there wasn’t an answer. ‘He’s not in his car, is he, then? Lord knows where he is. You’re wasting your time. Try somewhere else or ring 999.’

Deborah replaced the receiver and stood thinking for a moment. Mrs Vernon had a desk in the sitting-room; perhaps there might be a telephone book on it, even a directory. Both were there amidst a litter of letters, bills and catalogues and right on the top was a small pad with a phone number scribbled on it and underneath the words ‘Sir James Marlow’.

Deborah didn’t wait; she made up her mind what to do and dialled the London number and almost at once an elderly voice said, ‘Sir James Marlow’s residence.’

‘Can I speak to him, please? It’s urgent—tell him it’s about Mrs Vernon.’ She added, ‘Tell him it’s Miss Everett.’

His quiet voice sounded in her ear. ‘Miss Everett, how can I help?’

‘Look,’ said Deborah not bothering with the niceties of polite manners, ‘Mrs Vernon’s moving her foot—it began with a twitch but now it’s actually moving and Dr Benson is away and the doctor I’m supposed to get if I need one is out on his rounds—they tried his car phone but of course he’s not in his car. What shall I do?’

‘Are you alone in the house?’

‘No, no—I mean Mrs Dodd is here and so is Cook. Mrs Vernon—young Mrs Vernon—is in London and I don’t know quite where, she said she would telephone. She’s gone for a week or ten days so I expect she’ll ring soon; she’s been there four days.’

‘Go back to your patient, Miss Everett. I will be with you in rather less than three hours. Don’t get too excited.’

‘Of course I’m excited,’ snapped Deborah. ‘Wouldn’t you be if you could move your foot?’

A silly remark and rather rude and deserving of his quelling, ‘Goodbye, Miss Everett.’

She had no time to bother about that now; she sped back to Mrs Vernon, pausing at the door to regain her calm before telling her that Sir James Marlow was coming to see her and since it would be lunchtime by then Mrs Vernon should have her chicken broth a little earlier. ‘And I suppose I should warn Cook—do you think he’ll want lunch?’

She received a wink and, obedient to it, went down to the kitchen and explained to Cook, although she didn’t say why Sir James was coming; time enough for that when he had done.

‘That’ll be nice, Deborah,’ said Cook. ‘You’ll have some company for once. I’ll sit with Mrs Vernon so’s there’s no reason to hurry—you can have a chat with him.’

‘He may prefer to lunch by himself,’ said Deborah doubtfully. ‘I’ll ask him.’

She went back upstairs, armed with more flowers from the garden and, anxious to make a good impression, tied Mrs Vernon’s hair back with a pink ribbon before brushing her own carroty locks.

Mrs Vernon, strengthened by the broth and nicely scented with lavender water, stared up at Sir James’s face as he bent over her. He had arrived quietly, bade Deborah a civil good morning and gone at once to the bedside.

He took the old lady’s hand in his and felt its faint movement. ‘You’re much better,’ he told her, and received a flurry of winks in reply. ‘I’m going to take a look at you if I may, since Dr Benson isn’t here.’

He made an unhurried examination, spending a long time with the foot, testing its reflexes before doing the same with the other foot. Presently he said, ‘Mrs Vernon, it is too early to be certain of anything but I believe that you will regain a good deal of your normal movement, but you must go very slowly. Your hearing is excellent, is it not? Have you tried to speak?’

The old lady grunted.

‘Splendid—your voice is there; it will return. Don’t try and force it. Miss Everett …’ he changed that to Deborah at the two urgent winks ‘… Deborah will continue to massage your arms and legs and you must drink everything which she offers you. If you were in hospital there is a good deal more which could be done for you, but your niece told me that you would be unhappy there so we must do the best we can here.’

He waited until Deborah arranged the bedclothes tidily. ‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ said Deborah, ‘there’s a fire in the dining-room—in case you would like to stay for lunch?’

She went over to the bed and told its occupant that they were going downstairs then and that Mrs Dodd would come up at once. ‘I’ll be up to settle you for your nap presently.’

She led the way downstairs, ushered him into the dining-room and went to the kitchen. ‘If Mrs Dodd wouldn’t mind going up for a little while? Sir James wants to give me some instructions.’

‘What about his lunch?’ asked Cook.

‘I’ll ask him and come and tell you …’

He was at a window looking out on to the garden beyond but he turned round as she went into the room. ‘You were kind enough to invite me to lunch—perhaps we could talk at the same time?’

‘Me too? You want me to have lunch with you? I usually have mine on a tray …’

‘I very much hope that you will keep me company.’

‘Yes, well, if you say so—I’ll tell Cook.’ She whisked herself back to the kitchen to tell her and then rejoined him.

‘I’m so sorry but I don’t know where Mrs Vernon keeps her sherry—and I’m not sure if she would want me to—what I mean is, I’m a servant …’ She went pink under his amused look.

‘I have to drive back to London presently …’

‘Oh, then you won’t mind drinking lemonade or something like that.’

Sir James, who hadn’t drunk lemonade for very many years, agreed that that would be an excellent choice.

Cook, without young Mrs Vernon’s sharp eye upon her, had conjured up a splendid meal: soup, chicken pie with a winter salad, and a steamed pudding, as light as a feather with jam sauce and cream. Deborah enjoyed every morsel, aware that young Mrs Vernon would have been highly indignant at the idea of her aunt’s attendant sitting at the same table as Sir James and eating such an excellent meal.

Over the chicken pie she judged it the time to ask a few questions. ‘Is Mrs Vernon going to get quite better again? And will it take a long time?’

‘Not quite better, I’m afraid, but possibly able to walk with a Zimmer frame, sit in a chair, get around in a wheelchair and have the use of her hands. Probably the left hand will be weaker than the right. As to her speech, it may be indistinct and slow. I see no reason why she should not enjoy life once more, though. When is Mrs Vernon returning?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘And Dr Benson?’

‘I wasn’t told precisely.’ She took a breath, ‘I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing phoning you, Sir James, but I didn’t know what to do.’

He accepted a second helping of pie. ‘You did the right thing, Miss Everett. I shall contact Dr Benson at the earliest opportunity and suggest further treatment. How long are you to remain here?’

‘I’ve no idea. Someone I know is young Mrs Vernon’s aunt, and Mrs Vernon was finding it hard work coping with her aunt—there was only the district nurse coming in each day.’ She hesitated, ‘I needed work and so I came here.’

‘You have no plans at the moment? No intention of marrying?’

‘No, none at all.’ She gave him a questioning look.

‘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

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.

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