suppose it's the fashion." He sighed.
"Cor's already asleep--I promised to wake him up when you came in so that he
could say goodnight. Come and sit down."
Georgina, who had been listening to him with her mouth open, closed it slowly
and did as she was told. She sat down gingerly on a small early Victorian
chair opposite his--it was a pretty chair and surprisingly comfortable, but
she remained, bolt upright, on its extreme edge.
The Professor made an ineffectual grab at a handful of papers and allowed
them to fall to the ground to mingle with the others.
"Were you chased or frightened or something?" he enquired mildly.
She undid the buttons of her coat with hands that shook slightly.
"No," she replied baldly.
"Temper?" he asked.
Without looking up from her all-important task, she shook her head, although
she had been angry--furious--imagining him in the drawing room and all the
time he had been here. the relief and delight was almost more than she could
bear. She folded her gloves neatly and looked up briefly to find his eye
upon her.
"Shall I wake Cor?" she asked.
He shook his head, still staring.
"He'll wake presently--he tired himself out playing backgammon. ' Georgina
fixed her gaze on his shoes.
"Oh. Have you been up here long?"
"Since tea-time, with an interval for dinnerI wonder why you want to know?"
She looked up, intending to make some trivial remark, and decided to remain
silent, going slowly pink under his mocking eye. She said finally:
"It was kind of you to sit with Cor."
He agreed equably, adding, "My dear girl, it was no hardship--I happen to
enjoy his company."
She had been put in her place. She got up, and he got up too before she
could do anything at all, and had taken the coat from her shoulders.
"Sit down again," he invited in a friendly voice.
She took a resolute step towards the door of her room.
"No, thank you.
I have some. " she paused.
"Letters to write--washing to do?" he prompted.
"Don't let me keep you, though I hoped that you would help me with this mess."
He had contrived to look both helpless and lonely, which was unfair, for he
was neither. Quite against her better judgement she put her things down
again on the marquetry chest standing against the wall, and walked across to
where he was standing.
He said briskly, "If you will sit down, I'll pick them up and you can sort
them."
He got down on his knees and began passing the sheets of paper to her with an
infuriating slowness. Presently she got down beside him and began piling the
papers with speedy neatness, apostrophizing him rather tartly upon the virtue
of being tidy while she did it, and all the while very conscious of his
nearness. She put the last sheet in place and got to her feet. Professor
Eyffert had risen too; they were standing so close that she took an
involuntary step backwards, only to be caught by a great arm and swung even
closer; his other hand came up to lift her chin so that she was forced to
look at him.
"You see," he murmured to surprise her, 'you're not in uniform. "
She stared up at him, trying to understand what he meant and then not caring
because he was kissing her, and although she had been kissed before, it had
never been like this.
When she drew away from him, he let her go at once and without looking at
him, she went to her room, automatically tidied her hair and then went back
again, not thinking at all; aware only of her pounding heart and a peculiar
floating sensation. Cor had woken up. The Professor was standing by the
bed, wishing him a good night. As she went in, he looked up and said, "Ah,
here is Miss Rodman. I'll leave you to her care. Cor. Good night to you
both."
He went to the door and turned round as he opened it. Georgina's eyes,
bewildered, a little hurt, met his across the room. He smiled and she caught
her breath.
"I'm glad I waited," was all he said.
She stayed awake most of the night, pondering that remark--it was only
towards morning that she slept so that she missed the faint slither of the
Rolls passing below before it was light.
She took pains with her hair in the morning, and still greater pains with her
face. The results were most satisfactory and utterly pointless, she decided.
He would be gone by the time she got downstairs.
It wasn't until she was getting Cor ready for his breakfast that he made the
observation that it would be very dull without Cousin Julius.
"I daresay it will," agreed Georgina, 'but it's not for long, and there's
heaps to do. "
He looked at her indignantly.
"Not long? Two or three weeks is very long--it's ages and ages." He
appeared near to tears, but was startle out of them by her sharp, "Two or
three weeks? Has your guardian gone away?"
Comelis stared at her with his bright blue eyes, blinked rapidly and asked,
"Didn't he tell you?
She adjusted a pulley.
"No. Why should he?" she asked, bordering on the snappish.
"Well, you're friends, aren't you?" observed Cor reasonably. She didn't
answer and after a minute he went on, "He's gone to Holland to lecture-and to
Germany and Belgium. He's clever," he concluded, rather boastfully, 'he
speaks French and German. " He looked at her from under small arched brows
which gave him a distinct likeness to his guardian.
"Very clever indeed," said Georgina.
"And handsome."
"Handsome too," she agreed woodenly. During this conversation she had been
sternly banishing the vague dreams and speculations which had been the cause
other wakeful night. They had been absurd in the first place; now she
realised just how absurd. He thought so little of her that he hadn't even
bothered to tell her that he would be going away. his kiss had meant nothing
at all; no more than giving money to a beggar, or cutting a slice of cake he
particularly fancied, or sparing five minutes to talk to old Legg. all
trivialities in his day, and all forgotten.
"Are you going to cry?" enquired Cor in an interested voice.
"Are you sad? You look watery."
She picked up a comb and parted his hair with great neatness. The?
Cry? Good heavens, no! I was just thinking--what a marvelous chance for us
to get the decorations made for Christmas without having to hide everything
away. "
It was a red herring par excellence--by the time he had enlarged upon the
interesting subject, and Beatrix had joined them and added her own very
definite opinions on the subject, Georgina was her usual cheerful self again,
and remained so throughout breakfast, which they shared with Karel and Franz.
Karel was going back to Cambridge and giving Franz a lift at the same time.
There was a great deal of talk about their guardian, with a number of
references to someone called Madame LeFabre. The remarks were guarded,
rather as though the speakers expected their big cousin to appear in the room
with them at any minute and they didn't wish to vex him. She longed to ask
questions and dared not, consoling herself with the thought that it was
better for her own peace of mind if she didn't know too much about Professor
Eyffert's private life. They had risen from the table and were about to go
their separate ways when Karel exclaimed:
"I almost forgot, Georgina. Julius asked me to give you this before I went.
Last-minute instructions or something of the sort, I suppose."
Georgina took the letter he was holding out to her, and said in a
matter-of-fact voice, "Thank you, Karel. I daresay that's what it is," and
opened it. She would have liked to wait until she was alone, but that would
it contained. It began, inevitably. Dear Miss Rodman, and ended with
nothing but his initials. It was as Karel had suggested; the Professor
informed her, in his atrocious, crabbed writing, that as he would be away for
some time she would be expected to arrange the children's lessons at a time
suitable to herself and them, beginning on the following day, and that should
she require money she had only to contact Karel, who would advance her any
reasonable sum.
Finally, she was enjoined to take the off-duty due to her. She read it
through, and then, oblivious of the watching faces around her; read it
through again, very slowly. Any faint romantic ideas she might have still
been cherishing were squashed as effectively as though he had taken a hammer
to them.
She saw their expectant faces then, and told them the contents of the letter
and asked Karel lightly what reasonable sum he was prepared to advance. She
had meant it as a joke, but evidently he took her seriously, for he told her
the amount Julius had recommended, but that she could have more 'if it was
for something really vital'.
She goggled at him.
"What should I want with all that money?"
He shrugged, and then laughed.
"I haven't the faintest idea--I expect Julius didn't want you to pay for
anything out of your own pocket."
She nodded agreement, and wondered what it would be like to have even half
that sum in her pocket. It would be better not to pursue the subject any
further, especially as she had no intention of taking any money from the
Professor. She put the letter in her pocket, with the unspoken thought that
presently, when she was alone, she would tear it up into very small pieces
indeed, and consign it to the waste paper basket, but it was surprising what
a number of good reasons for not doing this occurred during the day. It
seemed expedient, when she went to bed that night, to put it under her pillow.
CHAPTER SIX
the next few days slipped by, each one a simple routine of nursing chores,
lessons and massage, interspersed by the excitements of preparing for
Christmas. Georgina had been to the village shop and brought back crepe
paper and glue, drawing paper and Indian ink, and from the children's point
of view, the days were never long enough.
Dimphena with unexpected artistry, drew holly and Father Christmases and
angels on the cards Georgina cut from the paper, and Cor and Beatrix spent
contented hours painting them. Even Franz, after hanging back for the first
day or two, consented to help with the paper chains.
Karel came on Saturday, and obligingly took Georgina over to Thaxted in the
afternoon, so that she could make a few purchases. She returned to his
Morgan 8-plus with her arms full of parcels and he took them from her with
ill-concealed astonishment and dumped them in the back, then enquired
anxiously if she had finished her shopping.
"No," she said composedly.
"I want some plaster of Paris."
Karel grinned at her.
"Have you found some poor chap with a broken bone that needs plastering?
You're not in Casualty now, you know."
"Don't be silly--it's for something we're making for Christmas. I promised
the children I'd get it today. The shop's not far..."
Stephens was earring up tea when they got back.
They filled their with parcels and hurried upstairs to Cor's room.
"I've got everything," Georgina announced breathlessly.
"I'll put it all in my room."
She flung off her coat and scarf and went back to pour the tea. There would
be time enough to change into uniform afterwards; the Professor wasn't there
to object anyway. Everyone was arguing hotly as she went back into the room,
and Karel broke off what he was saying to ask her, "Are you using your own
money for all this Christmas job, Georgina?
She frowned.
"Look," she said reasonably, "I'm not your guardian's ward--I do as I like
with my own money. If I wish to spend it in a certain way, I really can't
see what concern it is of his."
They all stared at her as though she had uttered some dire heresy, so that
she made haste to add, "I don't mean to be horrid."
Karel said at once, "No, of course not, Georgina dear." He smiled warmly at
her.
"I daresay you think that Julius keeps us all under his thumb."
She was annoyed to feel her cheeks grow warm, "No, never that. He must be a
wonderful guardian to you all..." She got no further, for the wonderful
guardian chose that moment to telephone the children, and she got up and went
to her room to change into uniform. The Professor would be at least a
quarter of an hour--his telephone bill would be astronomical, but apparently
that didn't matter. She was putting on her cuffs when Beatrix came to tell
her that she was wanted.
"Hurry, George, please--it's Cousin Julius; he wants to talk to you."
She answered serenely, "Very well, I'll come," and looked at her reflection
in the mirror. It gazed back at her, unruffled and placid, giving no hint of
the furious thumping of her heart, or her sudden want of breath. She walked
unhurriedly to the telephone which Cor was holding out to her, telling
herself that he only wanted a report on her patient. She was wrong. His
voice, its faint accent more marked over the wire, said casually:
"I hear you have been shopping. Miss Rodman."
She cast an indignant look at Karel, who shrugged his shoulders and grinned,
and replied, "Yes, Professor Eyffert, in a prime voice.
"You are not, I hope, incurring expenses other than those on your own
account. Nurse?"
She sorted this out.
"No. At least..." she frowned heavily at the pleasant scene around her
without really seeing it. How tiresome he was! She drew an exasperated
breath and let it out noisily when his voice, quiet in her ear, said,
"Tiresome, aren't I?"
She was a truthful girl.
"Yes, you are; Professor. It's all very secret, you see."
He chuckled.
"I'll not utter another word about it--my ear tingles from the warmth of your
feelings. Now give me a report, please."
She complied, and added the information that Mr. Sawbridge would be coming
early on Monday morning, to be told in the smoothest possible fashion that he
had already contracted that ge
ntleman and had himself arranged for the visit.
He went on to enquire about Cor's state of mind and she answered briefly,
"Skyhigh," whereupon he laughed softly;
and said, "I imagined he would be." He went on more briskly.
"Now listen carefully, please. There is some N
thing I wish you to do for me. In five days' time it is the Feast of St.
Nicholaas in Holland. The children, as all Dutch children do, will put their
shoes out to be filled with presents. I want you to go to my room as late as
possible on St. Nicholaas' Eve. You will find some packages in the top
drawer of the tallboy. Be good enough to distribute them while the children
are sleeping. " He didn't wait for her to reply, but said goodbye briefly
and hung up.
The next day she was free. She went over to the cottage in the Mini and
spent the morning answering Aunt Polly's questions, only to find that when
the vicar and his wife came to tea that afternoon, that she was forced to
answer the same questions all over again. Most of them concerned the
Professor; it seemed to her that she had been talking about him all day. It
had been foolish of her to suppose that, once away from Dalmers Place, she