Joy was sobbing for help when the door of the cottage was flung open by an enraged James. It was apparent that her younger brother had been drinking heavily, and was in a dangerous mood. Halting in the doorway he stared at Ben Weston in contempt, and in a low, menacing tone said, “Scoundrel!”
Ben used her naked body as a shield. He scrambled to pick up his breeches, and let her go as he struggled to put them on. She ran to a corner of the room, still sobbing and trembling.
Ben advanced to her brother, saying, “James! Be sensible! She came here asking for it!”
“Liar! Damned liar!” James shouted and then he sprang at the half-clad Ben.
The two men rolled on the cottage floor in fierce struggle. Joy reached for some of her torn clothing, and managed to put on a slip and part of her ripped dress, so that she was no longer naked.
James was the stronger and angrier of the two. Ben Weston could not match him. Once the nearly whipped Ben found a nearby chair, and brought it down on the head and shoulders of James. For a moment Joy thought it was over! She screamed in fear! But James only staggered a little, shook his head like a stunned animal, and with a loud cry resumed the grim battle.
It finally ended with Ben Weston stretched out on the floor, his upper body a bleeding messy pulp. His face was battered badly, his nose broken, and his eyes were puffed and nearly closed from cuts around them. Through his broken lips, he begged, “Let me be!”
James had not escaped damage. His cheek was badly cut and one eyes closed. His clothing was torn in many places. “My friend!” he said with disgust. “My trusted friend!” And he kicked Ben’s bleeding torso.
“No more,” Ben Weston whimpered, and squirmed on the floor like an injured serpent.
“I’m taking my sister out of here,” James said. “I’ll give you thirty minutes to gather your things. A carriage will take you to the post road. But only to the post road! What happens to you after that is your own business! If you elect to remain here I swear I’ll come back and kill you!”
Her brother took her by the arm and led her out of the cottage. When they were a distance away, he found his voice and told her, “You must forget all that happened tonight!”
“Yes,” she said weakly, leaning on him for support as they walked.
“Nancy came to me,” he said. “And not a moment too soon. She told me the whole story and how Jenny forced you into going to the cottage.”
“She said he’d harm me if I didn’t go.”
“Jenny will pay for that. She also will not spend another night on the estate! She was sending you to Weston as a sacrifice. I blame myself for bringing him here and exposing you to such evil.”
“What will you tell mother and father?”
“Part of the truth,” he said. “I’ll tell them about Jenny and Weston and their goings-on in the cabin. That is reason enough to send them away. You need not be brought into it.”
“Where is Nancy?” she asked brokenly.
“In the bedroom you share,” her younger brother said. “I will smuggle you up there by the side stairs. No one will see us. Forget all about this evil business and no harm will be done.”
She gave him a grateful look. “Roger has always been my favorite brother. But tonight you have taken his place.”
James had his arm around her. “I’m a poor sort of hero, little sister. I brought this Devil here!” And he saw her into the house and up the side stairs.
Sir Richard pontificated loud and long about the many shortcomings of Ben Weston at breakfast the next morning. Both Joy and Nancy kept their heads down, and concentrated on their porridge as the white-haired man ranted on.
Sir Richard glared at James finally and said, “I blame you for the whole thing!”
James sighed. “I was wrong. I admit it.”
Older brother Roger complained, “Did you have to fight him like some pub brawler? He was our guest. You might have asked him to leave without attacking him.”
James gave Roger a grim look. “He deserved a beating.”
His mother said angrily, “I do not blame you, James. He corrupted Jenny. It is not easy to find a trained servant these days. I spent a deal of time instructing the girl!”
James told her, “Beneath all her veneer she remained common baggage. The house is well rid of her.”
Sir Richard tugged at his white mustache. “From what the coachman said the fellow was barely able to walk to the carriage with his valise. The carriage left him on the post road as you instructed. So he must either have had to wait for a coach to come by or walked to the nearest lodging. He’d never get to the inn at Guildford.”
James said, “I sent Jenny to Guildford. I didn’t want them to meet.”
His father frowned. “I only hope that bounder Weston doesn’t try to launch a lawsuit against us. He was our guest and you attacked him, James. We could have difficulty in the courts trying to prove that Jenny was the innocent you were defending. They’d be much more likely to think her a willing partner to it all.”
James said quietly, “He will not act against us.”
Sir Richard raised his white eyebrows. “I trust your optimism will be justified.”
When breakfast was over the two girls went outside. James was about to take a carriage to London. He paused for a moment to take them aside.
In a sober manner, he said, “I want you two girls to behave! No more spying on people!”
“I promise, James,” Joy said sincerely.
He said. “I might not be able to protect you next time.”
Nancy said, “We’re ever so grateful to you.”
He smiled. “See that you prove it by behaving.” He kissed them both and stepped into the carriage. The girls stood watching after it as it vanished. James had become their hero!
Joy’s life returned to an uneventful pattern. Miss Kendall returned, and paid strict care to instructing her charge in the ways of a demure and socially acceptable young woman. Much of her hoyden ways vanished after her episode with Ben Weston. Joy became serious. Shortly after the family returned to London Joy lost her closest friend, for Nancy was sent to live with an aunt in Scotland. The two tearfully promised to write each other regularly, and for a while they did. Then the letters stopped as each became occupied with new interests and people.
Time passed and Joy became occupied with her studies and learning to become a proper young lady. The experiences in Surrey became less vivid in her mind. London was an exciting place full of new happenings every day. Her brothers were in and out of the mansion at Berkeley Square with stories of the town. There had been insistent rumors that King William was in poor health, but the official bulletins gave no hints.
Then, several months later, came a tragedy. Roger, her older brother, was killed in a riding accident. His proud neck was broken at once in a fall. She and James wept for their lost sibling, and saw their father and mother visibly age. It seemed the family would never recover from the shock.
James, at once, became the only living son and heir to the title. He reformed a great deal. While he occasionally gambled and drank too much, he was no longer the reckless young man he once had been.
Joy’s father turned to her more than in the past. He took her into his study one day to say, “Your mother has a cold manner. She grieves much for Roger, but she still loves you. Believe that. I am an old man to be your father. Now I have only James and you. You have always been my great pride. And that has not changed.”
“Thank you, father,” she said, her arm tenderly around him.
He sighed. “You are high-spirited, like the women of my family. There was one, my cousin, had an affair with Byron. I suppose half the women in England claimed to have affairs with him. But my cousin did love him. It is said that Byron always spoke of her with wistfulness. He mentioned her to a friend of mine shortly before he went to his death in Greece.”
“I’m glad you believe in me, father,” she said.
“I do,” he said. “Because you have the character that females of the Canby line have always shown. Your children will be the hope of my line.”
“Better count on James, too,” she said.
“I do,” he agreed. “But I think you will be the one to plant discipline and be a good influence on James’s children as well as your own.”
She hugged him. “Darling father!”
He coughed embarrassedly. “Don’t tell your mother about this talk!”
“I won’t,” she promised.
He nodded, “Now I must return to my work on the Indian papers. I must doff the role of father to become a crusty old member of the House!”
To everyone’s surprise, Miss Kendall decided to retire. Joy’s father hired a governess. Joy was delighted to discover the woman was a young widow — pretty, with lovely, black hair and eyes, and a command of French. She was only twenty; Joy was seventeen. The two became more like warm friends and companions than student and governess.
The young woman’s name was Hilda Garred, and her husband had been a schoolmaster who died of consumption. It seemed a plague of the illness had hit London. Joy made progress with her studies under the lovely, young widow, and did especially well in her French. Her parents were pleased.
One morning James sent word from London that he was bringing Sir George Nason down to Surrey for a few days of shooting. Sir Richard sputtered at the news, and paced up and down the living room before Lady Susan, and before Joy and Hilda, seated discreetly at the room’s far end.
“I’ll wager James is in the fellow’s debt,” his father said, tugging at his mustache. “The chap comes from good blood, but that’s where it ends. He’s known to be as great a blackguard as exists in London!”
“Surely no worse than that awful Ben Weston,” Lady Susan recalled, reviving Joy’s bitter memories of that long ago event.
Sir Richard said, “He is rather a different type of rotter. Weston was much more common. The trouble is that James is bringing him here at a time when we have most of the county invited here for a party.”
“We’ll simply have to make the best of it,” Lady Susan told him.
Shortly after noon on Friday, a carriage arrived with James and his guest. Hilda and Joy had been out riding, and were still in their riding habits as they greeted the newcomers. James jumped down from the carriage, resplendent in a gray-checked suit and gray tophat. He kissed Joy and said, “I want you to meet my good friend, Sir George Nason.”
Sir George Nason descended from the carriage and smiled at her. He was handsome, but a bit too pretty for a man. He wore a brown outfit, and now he doffed his brown tophat and bowed, “Lady Joy. I have heard much about you. But reality outdoes the descriptions!”
She laughed. “You are well practiced in flattery, Sir George.”
James said, “May I also introduce Hilda Garred, friend and companion to my sister.”
George smiled and extended his hand to Hilda. “Friend and companion! A delightful companion. Your beauty is only outshone by Lady Joy’s.”
Hilda’s black eyes twinkled. “Has it not been said that beauty lies in behaviour rather than appearance?”
George took this in good part. “I see you have a keen wit, Mrs. Garred.”
James said, “I told George so much about you both he insisted on coming down this weekend.”
Joy said, “I have heard much about you, Sir George.”
“All scandalous lies!” he assured her. “You’ve been riding? Is it a favorite sport?”
“Yes,” she said. “Hilda and I go out every morning.”
“Excellent,” the young man said. “Perhaps James can fit me with clothes and I can join you one morning.”
“I can manage that easily,” James said. And he told the visitor, “Now you must come and meet my parents. Then you can go to your room and freshen up.”
With George and James safely inside, the two girls went for a stroll in the gardens. Hilda idly swung her riding crop and asked, “What’s your opinion of him?”
Joy said, “He’s handsome, charming, and corrupt.”
“I agree on all three points. But his features are a bit fine for a male. I can’t say I like the way his eyes devoured you.”
“I can manage him.”
“I won’t be able to help much if he really sets out to woo you,” the young widow warned her.
“I’ll do my best to keep the overwhelming Sir George busy on the dance floor.”
“That would be the safe thing,” Hilda agreed.
Joy and Hilda dressed for the party. Already the lively fiddles could be heard far below in the ballroom. Hilda snapped up the back of the blue silk gown with a revealing bosom which Joy was wearing. Hilda had a darker dress of purple, with a less daring neckline. Joy had her hair coiled at the ears, and some tiny blue flowers in the coils.
Hilda stood back. “You look too pretty!”
Joy tapped her with her fan. “I shall depend on you to dance with George at least a few times.”
“I can’t unless he asks me!”
“I’ll see to that,” she promised.
The two went downstairs. Sir Richard had not exaggerated. Half the county was indeed attending the party. Carriages drew up in a long line at the door of the mansion, and ladies and gentlemen in their finery stepped out of the vehicles, and went to the doorway to be greeted by Sir Richard, Lady Susan, Lady Joy, and James.
At the first opportunity James asked her, “Where is Hilda?”
Joy waved a white-gloved hand. “I left her to come to the receiving line. She’s somewhere about.”
James looked worried. “I hope she isn’t avoiding me.
“Nonsense,” she said.
Lord and Lady Dever came down the line. They were both elderly, horsey types, and they were only interested in the estate’s newest stallion. They halted to ask Joy some polite questions about her riding and then moved on.
In the following moment James said, “I still see no sign of Hilda.”
“She’s likely in the other room,” Joy told him.
More guests arrived, the males in colorful jackets, and the ladies in evening dresses cut as low as fashion would allow. There were people of all ages, and from every section of the county. The orchestra played, and soon those who had passed through the line were dancing in the big ballroom.
Joy thought the flow of people would never end. She was weary of smiling and shaking hands. She couldn’t help wondering where Hilda was — had she sought out Sir George, and managed to dance with him?
The reception line ended at last and James turned to her and said, “I demand the first dance, little sister!”
It was a waltz, and Sir Richard and Lady Susan became the object of much attention as they led the swirling couples under the softly-lit glass chandeliers. Waiters served drinks to those watching.
As they danced, James said, “I want you to be nice to Sir George. But don’t become too friendly.”
“That is strange advice,” she told him.
James said, “You must understand. Flirt with him if you like but have no serious intentions.”
“What about him?”
James, resplendent in a pale, green jacket and white breeches, laughed as he whirled her around. “You need not worry about George. He has never been sincere in his life!”
Their dance ended, and as James escorted her off the floor George stood waiting for her. She was a trifle breathless from the strenuous waltzing.
George bowed. “You made a lovely figure with your brother in that dance. You looked a fully grown young woman.”
She smiled. “I consider myself a grown woman. I’m seventeen.”
“Your parents should not let you marry for a while,” he surprised her by saying.
She stared at him. “You feel in a position to give advice?”
“James is my closest friend. He’s told me all about you.”
“Really?”
The orchestra began a lively mazurka. He said, “May I have the pleasure?”
“Of course,” she said mockingly.
He led her out, and joined the fast moving couples — all were caught up in the zest of the Polish dance. They had no chance to talk for the dancing absorbed all their attention. It lasted longer than the waltz, and when it ended she and her partner were breathless and perspiring.
“We must go outside,” George said. “I’m exhausted.”
“So am I,” she said.
They reached the verandah and he apologized, “I have spent so much time at the gaming tables my dancing is rusty.”
Standing under the stars, she gazed at the weakly handsome face. “Is gambling such a compulsion with you?”
“It is one of my compulsions,” he said, with another of his mocking smiles.
“I won’t ask the others,” she said, holding her closed fan.
George looked about them impatiently. “Too many people coming out for fresh air. Isn’t there some spot we can go for a little privacy?”
She laughed. “How about a stroll in the gardens?”
The young man escorted her to the gardens, which were almost empty although you could hear the distant music, and the talking of people on the verandah. George found a marble bench, where they sat.
George stared at her. “In many ways you’re an enigma.”
“How so?”
“James described you as high-spirited and flirtatious. I don’t find you like that.”
“Disappointed?”
“No. Your reserve only whets my desire.”
She said, “I understand you often have desires for young women.”
“You’re telling me that I’m a roué.”
“Perhaps.”
“It’s partly true,” he admitted. “I have loved many women. But now I have a desire to settle down. I have a house in London not far from Berkeley Square.”
“So James said.”
“I live there with my sister and an aunt, plus the usual quota of servants. Unhappily my sister and my aunt are both afflicted. My sister, Rachel, is very ill with consumption. We have traveled in warmer climates, and tried every sort of treatment, but she gradually grows worse. We are close since my parents are dead.”
“And your aunt?”
“Aunt Sada suffered a stroke a few years ago. It afflicted one side of her body. She must use a cane to move about, and even worse, she has lost her speech. She manages to run the household by writing her instructions to the servants.”
“She sounds like a courageous old woman.”
“She is,” he agreed with a sigh. “Perhaps I have become a rake to forget the tragedies which have beset my family.”
“You should have a wife.”
“True,” Sir George said, gazing at her intently. “I need someone with heart and a brilliant mind. Someone like you!”
She smiled wanly. “You flatter me. But I am young and untried. I’m sure you would find an older girl more interesting.”
“I question that,” he said. “You are seventeen, old enough to marry.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I have no plans for marriage.”
“Make plans!” he said.
Joy was startled by his sudden proposal, and the seriousness of his manner. She said, “I’m flattered by your offer. But I’m not ready. I must give the idea thought.”
“You will be mine,” George said, and took her in his arms. He did not break the ardent embrace until sounds of approaching footsteps told of another coming along the path.
A moment later Joy’s father appeared. Sir Richard was alone. He halted by them to say, “I see I’m not alone in wishing to flee the house for some cool air.”
“True, sir,” George said, somewhat embarrassed.
Joy took the opportunity to get away, saying, “I must look for Hilda. I’ll leave you two to talk a little.” And before either of them could reply, she picked up her skirt and hurried back to the house.
She met the dark girl standing by herself, just inside the main entrance to the ballroom. Joy asked her at once, “Did you dance with James?”
“Several times,” Hilda smiled. “He’s just gone to get me a cold drink.”
Joy said shyly, “I’ve been with Sir George Nason.”
“I saw you two leave for the garden,” Hilda said with a knowing twinkle in her black eyes. “I wager you ended in his arms!”
“He wants to marry me.”
Hilda gasped. “He actually proposed to you?”
“Yes.”
“I’d think carefully about it,” her companion said. “He is good looking, but I would never trust him!”
Joy said, “We must stop discussing it! Here comes James!”
James returned with a cold drink for Hilda; and Joy was invited to another waltz with a young noble, who lived in Guildford. The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant and ordinary fashion. The big excitement had ended.
But from that evening, Sir George acted as though she were his betrothed. He proved himself a charming house guest. Once he borrowed a riding habit from James and went out with Joy and Hilda. He was an excellent horseman. They rode along the banks of the river, and passed old Peg’s hovel — Joy was sad to see it was deserted. No doubt the old woman was dead.
This weekend served the pattern for many others: Sir George Nason became a frequent guest at Canby Hall. Though rumors of his debauched excesses continued to be whispered in London, he always behaved himself well as the guest of the family.
If Sir Richard and Lady Susan did not approve of him, at least they began to tolerate him. He continued to pay the family visits when they moved back to London. He often showed up at the mansion in Berkeley Square with James. James warned Joy several times against his chum. She made neither comment nor denial whenever Sir George spoke of an engagement.
They were in Surrey for a few days when word came from London that William the Fourth was dead. His niece, Victoria, the daughter of the late Duke of Kent would take the throne. The King was dead! Long live the Queen!
There were no guests at the Surrey house this weekend. Sir Richard and Lady Susan invited Joy and Hilda to hear the news in the living room.
Joy’s father said, “We have a new Queen. And she is barely eighteen! Only a few months older than you, Joy. How would you like such responsibility?”
“I would not wish it,” she said.
Sir Richard sighed. “I shall have to go to London at once. The House will be meeting for the coronation must be planned. So we must leave here.”
Joy’s mother looked ecstatic. “London is the place to be! History is being made there!”
“True,” Hilda chimed in. “How nice to have a Queen ruling us again! She may even be as great as Elizabeth.”
Sir Richard smiled. “It is hard to say. I have been told she is a complex yet fascinating young person.”
Lady Susan nodded. “Her mother is a widow. And there has been a good deal of gossip about her.”
“Unfortunately,” Sir Richard said. “This girl has been brought up without any of the pomp one might expect. The late King took no interest in her. Yet they say she is extremely smart, fluent in German and French, and excellent in all her other studies. But the intimate relationship between her mother and a certain Sir John Conroy has outraged her.”
Lady Susan explained, “Sir John Conroy is the Comptroller of the Royal Household, in charge of the business affairs of the family.”
“Many think him unworthy of the job,” Sir Richard went on. “He has been termed unscrupulous. The story goes that he has enjoyed playing the daughter against the mother.”
Joy said, “I understand Victoria is fond of her cousin, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, who is near her own age. Do you think they might marry?”
“I hope not,” her father said. “Not a German Prince! We’ve had enough Germans in the royal family. Well, we must pack and go to London.”
All London was in a festive mood! And the Canby family was soon part of the celebrating. The coronation parade was less exciting than Joy had expected. She and Hilda, with other members of the family, watched it from the balcony of a house on the parade route. The young Queen looked demure and attractive in her open carriage. And the stupendously long parade of soldiers and sailors caught the fancy of everyone. The well trained horses, groomed to startling extravagance, added to the colorful procession.
They cheered the Queen, and then cheered more loudly as the colorful regiments passed by. The cavalry in their fur caps, red and blue uniforms, and yellow trim, captured the enthusiasm of the crowds.
Joy found herself caught in a whirl of social activities which lasted the summer, autumn, and into the winter. London had never known such festivity. The mansion on Berkeley Square was the scene of many great parties.
At one of these, Sir George Nason appeared. He gave most of his attention to her. And when he found the opportunity he took her aside in a shadowed corridor away from the party, and told her, “I’m going to speak to your father about our betrothal.”
She stared at him. “I’d thought you’d forgotten!”
“Never,” he said. “This is a grand party.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
He sighed. “My poor sister, Rachel, has known none of the fun of the coronation parties. She remains bedfast. I wish you would visit her.”
Joy said, “Would she really care to see me?”
“You’re to be her sister-in-law!”
“Please! Do you think she would welcome my visiting her?”
“She is starved for company,” Sir George said. “She has no company but my aunt. And I told you that my Aunt Sada cannot speak.”
“Very well,” Joy said. “I will pay her a call.”
“Let me know in advance and I’ll try to meet you there.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I’d prefer to see her alone.”
“As you like,” he said with a shrug.
Later she told Hilda, and her friend was concerned. “The girl is ill. Are you sure she wants to see you?”
“George says so. I’d like to take her a present.”
Hilda sighed. “If you must go, perhaps some homemade fudge would be a suitable gift.”
Joy made a batch of fudge, and carefully packed and tied it with a bright ribbon. Then she made the journey through the winter streets. Before she reached her destination she wished she had ordered a carriage. She had not realized the weather’s severity.
She reached Sir George’s house. His father had been a prominent newspaper publisher, but it was said all that was left of the family wealth was this old mansion, and it heavily mortgaged. She walked up the steps to a heavy oaken door with stone pillars on either side of it. She used the knocker, and after a moment the door was opened by a severe and elderly woman, who ushered her into the living room. There, an old lady sat in an easy chair before a blazing fireplace.
The thin, old lady wore a white dust cap with a black ribbon, and stared at Joy without speaking. The cane at her side told Joy this was Aunt Sada.
The housekeeper explained, “She is not deaf. No need to shout at her.” And she left the room.
Joy nodded and clutching her gift, she turned to the old lady, smiled weakly, and said, “I am Lady Joy Canby, a friend of Sir George. He asked me to visit Rachel. I have a gift for her.”
Aunt Sada nodded, and reached for a pad and pencil. She wrote swiftly, and then with a smile on her wrinkled face handed a slip of paper to Joy. On it was written: “Rachel is in her bedroom at the head of the stairway. You may go to her.”
Joy said, “Thank you!”
The old woman wrote again, and handed another slip to her. It read: “Do not overtax her. She is desperately ill!” And the old woman settled back in her chair, showing no further interest in Joy.
Joy left the room and went upstairs. The sound of a dry, hacking cough came to Joy as she reached the dark landing. She found her way to an open door. In a corner of this bedroom near a window lay the sick girl. One look at her wan, wasted face, which bore a startling likeness to her brother’s, showed that unhappy Rachel was indeed very ill.
Joy went to her and said, “I’m Joy Canby. George told me I might call on you.”
The sick girl brightened and in a weak voice, she said, “Of course! Do sit down! Take off your coat! You mustn’t get a chill when you go out again.”
Joy sat by the girl’s bedside, and glancing at a framed photograph of two young people, saw that it was George and Rachel. She said, “What a lovely study of you and your brother.”
“The tintype,” Rachel said with a wan smile. “We were so happy then. No sickness, our parents alive, no worry about bills and angry tradesmen! Do you know we have been short of coal, and it was only today the coal merchant grudgingly sent us a scant supply.”
Joy said, “This room should be warmer.”
The girl in bed coughed, and held a cloth to her mouth. After the spell she glanced sadly at Joy, and said, “The doctor said my room mustn’t be too warm.”
“Nor too cold either.”
“Did Aunt Sada offer you hot tea?” the sick girl worried.
“I don’t want any,” she said. “I can only stay for a little.” She passed the box of fudge to the girl. “Here is a small gift for you.”
Rachel was like a child. She opened the fudge and sampled it and insisted that Joy share it with her. She said, “My brother and James are close friends, aren’t they?” And before Joy could reply she coughed again. She covered her mouth with the cloth, and when she removed it Joy was shocked by the sight of blood on it. The sick girl was coughing blood! She had heard of these dread cases of consumption, but never been so close to one before.
Rachel gasped and said, “Close the door a moment.”
“Of course,” she said.
When she returned to Rachel’s bedside, the girl said, “You are more beautiful than George told me. You know he wants to marry you.”
“I haven’t taken it seriously.”
The sick girl spoke earnestly. “You can believe me when I say he truly loves you! Marry him, Joy. I’m sure he can be saved, and you can do it.”
Joy said, “I’m too young for someone of his experience.”
“You are his last chance,” Rachel told her urgently. “He loves you. There is good in him!”
Joy was embarrassed. She said, “No doubt George and I will discuss this later.”
“I cannot live much longer,” the girl went on. “I’m afraid for George. That he’ll end in the gutter!”
“I’m sure he won’t,” she protested.
Rachel said, “He has a chance to save himself. The new owners of the newspaper company have offered him a job. Father ran the paper successfully, and they feel George’s name on the masthead will be an asset. They also think he has writing ability. But unless he marries and settles down, they’ll not risk hiring him.”
“He should take the position,” Joy agreed.
Rachel said huskily, “I would kiss you but I dare not. You know the dangers of my illness. The doctor has warned me.”
“Yes, I know.”
She remained with the girl a few minutes longer, then said goodbye. As she reached the reception hall at the foot of the stairway, she found herself face to face with a young man in a skimpy, brown coat carrying a black bag. She at once guessed he was the doctor, come to call on the sick girl.
She said, “You are Rachel’s doctor?”
“Yes, he said. “I have been looking after her since Dr. Duff’s sudden death.” He had a pronounced Scottish accent, and his stern, pleasant face was decorated with heavy, sandy sideburns.
“I have just come from her. The room is very cold.”
He frowned. “I told her brother there should be a small fire in the grate at all times.”
“There was none just now.”
The young doctor shook his head. “The aunt is not well and forgets easily. But the brother knows better. It seems I shall have to seek him out in some gaming room and discuss this with him!”
She was impressed by the young doctor’s annoyance. “I hope you can do something. If I see him I’ll talk to him myself. My name is Joy Canby. This is my first visit here. Rachel is so ill!”
“Yes,” the doctor said. “My name is John Hastings. I fear the girl’s time may be short.”
“I’m glad she has you to look after her,” Joy found herself saying.
“Thank you,” he said. “You may be certain I’ll do my best.”
She left the old mansion, and braved the wind and cold again. Walking swiftly, she wondered if Sir George paid the young doctor as he should. It would not surprise her to learn he avoided paying the poor, young doctor’s fees. Obviously, Dr. John Hastings was not wealthy.
The next morning, Joy spoke to her brother. “George is neglecting his ill sister. I think you should lecture him about it.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” James said, refusing to promise too much. “George is not easy to reason with. And he’s especially difficult when he’s been drinking!”
Joy said, “Have him come by. I want to talk to him.”
James sighed. “I’ll tell him. But I’d rather you didn’t see him too often.”
Sir George called several nights later. He remained for dinner, and was his usual, charming, dapper self. She waited until dinner was finished, and took him aside for a talk.
“I saw Rachel,” she said in a low voice. “I’m shocked at your neglect of her.”
“I deny that I have done any such thing!”
“You have! You are lax in paying your bills, and the coal merchant cut off fuel. The doctor was angry that there was no fire in the fireplace in her room.”
His eyebrows raised. “I didn’t know! I can’t depend on Aunt Sada. I think she is a little mad as a result of the stroke. I told her there must always be a fire in the grate.”
“Will you promise to look after this?”
“I promise,” he said. “Rachel was so pleased with your gift. She was delighted by your call.”
“I’m going to visit her again and that room had better be comfortable,” she warned.
“Don’t worry about it,” George said, a sincere look on his weakly handsome face.
“What about the newspaper position you’ve been offered?”
“Why should I work there as a flunkey? The paper should be mine!”
“That is poor thinking. Take the job and show these people your ability.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “All right. I will if you keep your bargain with me.”
“I made no bargain with you,” she protested.
“You agreed to be my betrothed.”
She said, “That is not so. But I might consider it if you showed me you meant to change your way of life. That could make a great difference with me.”
“All right,” he said quietly. “I’ll go to the newspaper tomorrow.”
“I shall be interested to hear what happens,” she said with a smile.
Then she moved back to join the others. Her mother was playing the pianoforte. Hilda stood near her. She saw that the dark-haired girl was concerned by this private talk with Sir George. Like James, her companion feared she was becoming too friendly with the reckless, young man.
Joy continued to visit the ailing Rachel. She realized the world was full of suffering people, and not many were interested in their plight. There were some good results of her visits. Coals were always glowing in the grate of the sick girl’s room. And Sir George had been accepted by the newspaper owners, and began work in his new post.
On one of her visits Rachel told her, “Your coming has made all the difference. You have helped George and you have helped me. We need you so!”
Dr. John Hastings came by several times while Joy was with Rachel. The young Scotsman showed pleasure at her being there. He mentioned that conditions in the house had improved.
He told Rachel, “You’ll not slip away from us if the room is properly warm and you take your medicine.”
Rachel smiled, “I really want to live now!”
“And so you shall,” he promised.
One day, as Joy was seeing the doctor out, she paused in the hall to ask him in a low voice, “May I visit you at your office, Dr. Hastings?”
He stared at her. “If you like. I’m there in the afternoons.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow,” she said.
“Very well, Lady Canby, I’ll be expecting you,” the stern, young man said, and went down the stairs — his brown derby in one hand, and his bag in the other.
She watched him vanish, and told herself she was going to see him only on Rachel’s behalf. Yet in the depth of her heart she knew better. She also wanted to learn more about him.