“I’m by no means amazed,” Hannah said. “I’ve a kind of idea that a little of Miss Claire Brown goes a long way, and that despite her ravishing appearance she is not everything the doctor ordered for our patient. In fact, when she comes again I shall have, I’m afraid, to make it clear to her that for the time being Mr. Tremarth is not nearly strong enough to receive visitors for longer than about ten minutes at a time.” Charlotte went over to the old-fashioned kitchen range and started stirring a saucepan that was simmering on the top of it. She was debating whether or not to take Hannah more fully into her confidence… And suddenly she decided that as Hannah was virtually in charge of
Tremarth and responsible for his recovery she had better know the truth. Especially as it involved Miss Brown, and any visits she might think fit to make to the house.
“As a matter of fact,” she said slowly, stirring the contents of the saucepan, “it isn’t going to be entirely up to us whether or not any visitors are allowed – one visitor, anyway. Upstairs just now, while I was making him comfortable in the big chair near the window, Mr. Tremarth made an admission to me. He says that he and Miss Brown are engaged to be married! ”
The admission she did not make was that the revelation had affected her in rather a curious way, actually having a strange numbing effect on her sensibilities and slowing down her reactions, so that she felt peculiarly clumsy as she stood beside the stove and sought to prevent the brew inside the saucepan from burning as it came to the boil. She stirred mechanically, and mentally reminded herself of all the things she had to do before lunch time, but the will to do them with anything like her normal expertise seemed to have vanished. She felt as if someone had given her a thump on the head and she hadn’t quite recovered from the blow.
“Married?” Hannah moved nearer to her, and sniffed the burning saucepan even while she expressed herself as intrigued. “You mean he actually told you himself that he’s engaged to Miss Brown?”
“Yes.” Charlotte turned empty eyes towards her, and her whole tone was extremely flat. “Of course, I was fairly certain that there was something____________________”
“Yes, I think she rather indicated as much herself, didn’t she?” But Hannah wore the air of one who was really extremely surprised, and even in view of what she had just been told by no means convinced. “Was it,” she asked, “a sudden admission that Richard made to you? I mean, did he seem to want to get it off his chest, or did he kind of take you into his confidence? And above all,” with emphasis, “has he the least idea who she is?”
“What do you mean?” Charlotte stared at her, the emptiness still in her eyes. “Of course he must know who she is if he’s going to marry her – ”
“But only a short while ago we were agreed that he was completely safe from feminine machinations because he’s lost his memory,” Hannah reminded her. “Are you trying to tell me that in addition to announcing his engagement he has also recovered his memory?”
“No. No____________________” Charlotte looked startled, and the contents of the saucepan boiled over and she whipped it hastily off the stove. “At least
– that is… I don’t think so,” she concluded uncertainly.
Hannah shook her head at her.
“You mean to say you accepted it that he’s going to marry a woman who is a complete stranger to him, and as a result, of course, he’s wildly, deliriously happy?”
Charlotte looked completely bewildered, and much more uncertain than before. She also looked as if a faint thread of hope lightened her darkness.
“I didn’t say anything about him being wildly, deliriously happy,” she said huskily. “As a matter of fact – ”
“Yes?”
“I don’t think he’s at all happy! ”
“What a novel state of mind in which to contemplate marriage.”
“But it’s true that he – he thinks he ought to marry her – ”
“You make the whole thing sound more wildly romantic than ever, and I think it’s high time I went up and had a few words with our patient.” She regarded Charlotte in a very alert manner. “Can you recall the exact words Richard used to you when he told you he was going to marry Claire Brown?”
“Yes. He said, ‘I understand I’m engaged to be married, Charlotte!’ Apparently the wedding is all fixed! ”
“That settles it,” Hannah exclaimed, and bustled in a brisk, white-aproned, businesslike way over to the door. “I really shall have to have a few words with Mr. Tremarth!”
CHAPTER VII
BUT whether the result of the few words Hannah had with Richard Tremarth was of any particular value to anyone Charlotte was unable to tell, for Hannah was surprisingly uncommunicative about the brief quarter of an hour or so she spent closeted with her patient in connection with a matter that had nothing to do with his health. It seemed to Charlotte that her lips were a little tightened when she emerged from his room to supervise the laying of his lunch tray, and she did say something about maintaining a careful vigilance when he had anyone to visit him.
Charlotte, who had known him to have only one visitor so far, considered this a trifle ambiguous. But as the private concerns of their patient were really nothing to do with either of them, she said nothing further on the subject. Only awaited with a rather curious sensation of rising prickles under her skin the next appearance of Miss Brown.
For forty-eight hours they saw nothing of Claire, and then she arrived in an enchanting all-white outfit, and carrying a large basket of fruit and a supply of magazines and paperbacks. By that time Richard had grown more accustomed to descending the stairs, and he was sitting on the terrace when she arrived. The way in which they welcomed one another was not observed by anyone, for Charlotte was upstairs at the time dusting the bedrooms, and Hannah was in her own room writing letters. Charlotte, when she emerged on to the terrace with Waterloo walking beside her, found them engrossed in conversation… Or rather,
Claire appeared to be talking earnestly, and Richard was listening with the by now customary well- marked frown between his brows.
Apart from that frown he looked much better and more like himself, if rather thin and fine-drawn… And in fact, his fine-drawnness often brought a little ache to Charlotte’s heart.
When her footsteps sounded on the terrace behind his chair he looked round quickly, and even seemed relieved by the sight of Waterloo, who was always most friendly and welcoming whenever he saw him. Miss Brown, puffing a trifle agitatedly at a cigarette, threw it away and crushed it out beneath the heel of her immaculate white shoe, and also looked up frowningly at Charlotte.
“I hope it will be convenient for me to stay to lunch to-day,” she remarked.
“Perfectly convenient,” Charlotte answered.
Claire continued to frown.
“What do you think of him?” she asked, as if the patient was not capable of overhearing. “Is he really making progress? I’m a bit worried, because he still seems to find it difficult to remember anything that happened in his very recent past at all clearly – ”
“You mustn’t forget that I’m suffering from amnesia,” the patient himself remarked with a curious air of being perfectly complacent about his affliction.
Claire bit her lip in obvious exasperation. “Yes, I know, darling… But it is a bit trying sometimes,” she confessed, as if she really found it extremely trying. “I shall have to have a word with your doctor myself, and if he expresses any anxiety about you I shall insist on getting a man down from London to see what he can do for you. After all, if there is any brain injury you should be having treatment -” “Brain injury?” Charlotte sounded shocked and alarmed. “But of course Mr. Tremarth has no brain injury,” she protested, “or any other serious form of injury.