Felicity bit back the angry words which rose to her lips and with a composure she was far from feeling, opened the door. She couldn't wait a moment longer, one more word from Alaine Jason and she felt sure that she'd shed her last vestige of control. It was outrageous, she told herself, as burning with resentment she hurried away from the room. Alaine might be outspoken but there were limits and she had certainly passed those with her absurd insinuations.
Half an hour later, Alaine, emerging from Brenton's room, accosted Felicity in the corridor. "I'm just leaving, it was lovely seeing Guy again, and he's so much better too." Her tone was normal and she appeared to have no inkling of having caused Felicity any annoyance. "He still seems a bit weak but I suppose that's only natural."
"Yes," Felicity agreed shortly. She wasn't finding it easy to disguise her recent resentment and had no wish whatever to prolong the discussion.
"What's the matter? You've gone all starchy suddenly!" Alaine's completely disingenuous attitude was more than Felicity could stand, and throwing discretion to the winds, she turned directly to face her questioner.
"I resented your reference to Mr. Elver. He works here. I have frequent contact with him, he is my friend and nothing more." There was a quiet dignity in Felicity's tone which obviously had its effect.
"I didn't mean any harm, I really didn't! When I came on you two that day I saw him drop his arm quickly from your shoulder, it seemed perfectly natural to me to assume he was your boy friend. I wouldn't have said a thing to hurt your feelings." Her large eyes expressed regret. "In my crowd we make a joke of that sort of thing. You take everything so very seriously, I realize, that now. Please do forgive me, I didn't mean it." Her voice and whole bearing were so apologetic that Felicity could not fail to respond.
"It's all right, I suppose we look on things from totally different angles, one has to be pretty circumspect in a community such as this."
"Guy ticked me off too," Alaine admitted ruefully. "He warned me that I had annoyed you, he said you went pink to the ears." Alaine laughed with an infectious lilt. "I may as well tell you he also said you were the only girl he knew who looked quite bewitching when she blushed!"
"Then he is certainly missing a bewitching sight now!" Felicity retorted as the warm colour flooded her cheeks. Her emotions were so confused that she hardly knew whether to be angry or amused, but she had to acknowledge that Alaine Jason had a most disarming manner and an incredible ability for getting round people and for turning every situation to her own advantage.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Although Felicity had always been happy in her work, for some indefinable reason the days which followed Guy Brenton's admission to John Mason Ward were the most satisfying she had ever known. She felt a justifiable pride in the fact that she was responsible for his welfare and was, acceptedly, in complete charge of his case. Sister Robinson seemed only too glad to entrust her with the important perhaps subconsciously realizing that this was Guy Brenton's choice.
It was a disappointment to her that his progress had been so discouragingly slow, it seemed at times that it must be an underlying dread that he might never regain the use of his hand for the surgical work which was the basis of his career, that was thwarting the incentive towards recovery.
Apart from the flesh wound on his shoulder which obstinately refused to heal, his general condition had made normal progress. He had been up for an hour or so for the past several days; but even that step forward on the road to recovery left him apathetic and disinterested. So often Felicity had longed for the opportunity of closer understanding of this apathy but any attempt she had made to break down his natural reticence had proved unavailing.
This morning, she tried to persuade herself, he really appeared brighter but as she laid aside his practically untouched breakfast tray her momentary optimism left her and with a smothered sigh she turned to address him. "Will you be getting up for a little this morning, or do you prefer to wait until after lunch?"
"The sooner the better, I've had quite enough of bed." Pulling himself up on his pillows, he continued: "Enough of this room, too, I must speak to MacFarlayne about clearing out and getting away for a week or so."
The suggestion caught Felicity off guard; it had never occurred to her that he would not remain at St. Edwin's a moment longer than necessary. She was glad that, having turned away to collect dressing-gown and slippers, her expression of surprise would escape notice. It was more than surprise, impossible to disguise the fact that dismay and disappointment were uppermost. It was quite unreasonable, she told herself firmly; why should she care? His departure would lighten her work and it would be a relief to return to her normal routine. It would also remove those disturbing visits of Alaine Jason, those visits which still seemed to leave her patient exhausted, sometimes to a point of irritability which Felicity was left to cope with. He still required a tremendous amount of attention. His right arm, swathed in plaster, was useless and to her deep consternation-and she knew only too well to his too-his fingers remained powerless.
Felicity placed dressing-gown and slippers on the chair, then in a subconscious effort to prolong the moment before she need turn round, she busied herself freshening up a bowl of spring flowers on a side table. The long-stemmed tulips and golden daffodils brought a note of gaiety to the austerity of the room and as she bent above them the sweet scent perfumed the air.
"What do you think of those? Travelled well, didn't they? They came by post this morning from my home in Buckinghamshire. My father is very keen on the garden and takes a tremendous pride in his flowers."
"They are wonderful." Felicity spoke with feeling. "These red-tipped tulips, and those ragged-edged petals, I've never seen anything like them before, they must be very rare."
"I expect they are, they've probably some long unpronounceable name, but my father excels in any horticultural freak."
No longer able to occupy herself with the flowers, Felicity was forced to turn again to her patient. Even as she helped to place the dressing-gown over his shoulders and assisted him to the arm-chair, her thoughts reverted to his unexpected decision. Where would he go, and who would look after him? She steadied him while he lowered himself into the chair, then carefully placed a blanket over his knees. She had learned to anticipate his needs and before turning away to remake the bed, she arranged newspapers, books and ash-tray within reach. Snapping open his cigarette case she handed him a cigarette, then held a match until the tip of the cigarette glowed.
"I must refill my lighter, it's easier to manage with one hand," Guy Brenton remarked as, with a nod of thanks, he settled back in his chair.
The purely mechanical task of bedmaking allowed Felicity full rein for her thoughts. Why on earth should she worry what plans he cared to make? Patients were coming and going every day of the week, it was all part of the routine of hospital, one did one's best for each one, then they passed on to other hands, perhaps cured, perhaps convalescent but usually forgotten. Although a member of the staff, Guy Brenton was only a patient more exacting than most and demanding more of her attention, and although his visitors had, on the whole, been few, Miss Jason had well balanced that little credit!
"This is the best time of year in the country. Do you know Buckinghamshire at all? My home is at Weir, it's only a short run from town but it's ideally placed in the Chilterns."
Guy Brenton's unexpected opening broke into the train of Felicity's thoughts. It was rarely that he made any direct effort at conversation, and it was certainly the first time he had ever touched upon anything personal.
"I don't know it at all, I was brought up in the West Country but I imagine that any place would be preferable to London at this time of year." She smoothed the bedspread, then crossed to the window and pulled aside the white linen curtain. "It's a lovely morning, yet if I open the window wider, you will only get smoke and soot and noise, it's better as it is."
"I quite agree." He held the unopened newspaper on his knee and went on speaking. "I get down to Weir Court as much as I can, I usually manage week-ends, and during the summer I sometimes snatch a night or two during the week." He paused and although his eyes were directed at Felicity as she stood beside the window, it was as if he was scarcely aware of her presence. "It's been our family home for years, it's much too big and very lonely for my father, he is an old man now, entirely dependent upon my visits for company. I want him to sell it, it's only a responsibility and once I'm married I shall be able to spend less time than ever with him."