Free Nurse Lang by Jean S. Macleod Page B

brought Kerry to Mellyn and her eyes were deeply troubled when she looked at the man on the far side of the hearth. Whatever Grant had done, Moira thought, Elizabeth understood about that, too, and it had not undermined their friendship. Elizabeth Hillier was as staunch and true in her loyalties as she was sincere and eager about her work of healing, and she felt that Grant had introduced her to Elizabeth so quickly for a purpose. Perhaps he thought that the older woman’s help and friendship might make things a little easier for her at the Priory, that it might offset the tension of living in the house with Serena’s antagonism.
    “I must go up to London to-morrow,” he said as they drove back to the Priory. “Work will be piling up in that quarter, too, and I want to see Archie Rathbone about Philip.”
    “If anyone can give Philip confidence it will be Sir Archibald,” she said as the car turned into Mellyn’s tree-shaded driveway.
    “You know him?” Grant asked, surprised.
    “Not exactly!” she smiled. “I trained at St. Theodore’s and I saw him frequently on the wards.”
    “Of course.” He appeared preoccupied, thinking of something else.
    “This business of confidence,” he added after a pause. “It’s what Philip wants, in a way, but there’s something more. He needs a sheet anchor, someone to turn to in an emergency.”
    “And you think I could help in that respect.”
    “I believe you could—put the past into its true perspective as far as Philip is concerned,” he told her.
    “One can’t exactly force trust,” she said in a stifled whisper. “It will only come naturally, like faith and—love.”
    He brought the car to a standstill at the foot of the steps leading to the front door.
    “You’ve given Philip something of hope and trust when his faith was extinct,” he said. “I can only ask you to continue the good work.” He hesitated, as if he were about to add something more, and then he swung his long legs clear of the steering wheel and came round to open the door for her.
    “Perhaps it will work out,” he said almost stiffly. “Things do, occasionally.”

 
    CHAPTER SIX
    TWO DAYS LATER Sir Archibald Rathbone came to see Philip, driving himself down from London in a decrepit old car which rattled its way up the drive to pull up with a jerk before the front door.
    Moira, in trim white coat and starched headsquare, met him outside Philip’s door. Serena had shown him up and was standing at the head of the stairs, reluctant to relinquish her authority.
    “My cousin had to go across to the hospital,” she explained to Sir Archibald. “There was an emergency, but he will be back before lunch. We hope you will stay and take it with us, of course.”
    “Delighted, my dear lady! Delighted!” the genial old man beamed, turning back to Moira. “We have a very competent-looking nurse here, I see, so I can be getting on with my job.”
    The warm friendliness of his smile put Moira immediately at her ease, in spite of Serena’s disapproving frown, and she turned with him into the room.
    Sir Archibald chatted pleasantly to Philip and gradually he began to relax. The stubborn lines about his mouth were ironed out by a half-reluctant smile, and the surgeon made his examinations afterwards in an atmosphere of slightly reduced tension.
    Moira stood by the window, waiting, and after it was over Philip reached for her hand. She surrendered it instantly, trying to suggest confidence in the pressure of her fingers and the brief smile she gave him. There was nothing to be learned from the surgeon’s expression.
    “How soon do you want to be on your feet again?” he asked.
    Philip’s shocked glance flew to Moira.
    “A great deal will depend on you,” Sir Archibald told him. “Nothing is so retarding as lack of faith.”
    Grant came in then, and Moira marvelled at the control which let him speak to Philip and Sir Archibald about trivialities while all his mind must be centred on the