her with his intensely dark eyes. ‘I wondered whether you would be permitted to join us.’
Rebecca’s first instinct was to make some excuse and move away from him, but to do so would be tantamount to admitting her nervousness of him, so instead she said: ‘Miss St. Cloud insisted. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to choose.’
His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Why do you persist in behaving so childishly?’ he enquired, in a low tone. ‘It is not becoming.’
Rebecca looked across at Adele who looked up at that moment and said: ‘Shall we have a drink? Rebecca, will you get them? By the way, Yvonne, this is my nurse, Rebecca Lindsay. Rebecca, Mademoiselle Dupuis and I were at school together.’
Adele’s tone was so light and pleasant, that Rebecca had no choice but to go and shake hands with the French woman and then ask her what she would like to drink. At the cocktail cabinet, her fingers were all thumbs, and after she had dropped a small bottle of dry ginger with a disturbing clatter on the glass surface, she felt Piers join her, and take the offending bottle out of her hands.
Deftly, and without spilling a drop, Piers dealt with their individual requests, and after handing Rebecca the bitter lemon she had insisted upon having, he poured himself rather a stiff measure of brandy.
‘Cognac, mademoiselle,’ he remarked, as Rebecca watched him swirling the amber-coloured liquid round in its balloon glass. ‘If ever I need it, it restores my—what would you say—equilibre?’
‘Equilibrium,’ said Rebecca, rather flatly, looking down into her own glass.
‘Ah, oui, equilibrium!’ He half smiled. ‘You understand?’
Rebecca compressed her lips. ‘I would not have thought anything would disturb your—equilibrium,’ she replied. ‘You seem superbly confident to me.’
His eyes searched her face, lingering disturbingly on her mouth for a long moment. ‘But then—you do not know me very well—yet,’ he commented softly.
Rebecca turned away. She would not listen to him, and as luck would have it Rosa came in at that moment to announce that dinner was served. Piers took charge of Adele’s chair, making her laugh as they walked ahead of Rebecca and the French woman into the dining room.
The meal was silent for Rebecca. Round a table it was so much easier for Adele to talk equally to both her guests and in consequence Rebecca was left to herself. She didn’t mind. Indeed, it was easier that way, but she longed to escape from all of them.
Coffee was served in the lounge, and the windows were thrust wide to let in the cool evening air. Mesh screens prevented the hundreds of moths and insects from penetrating to the attraction of the lamplight, and it was very pleasant to relax there. But after drinking her coffee, Rebecca rose and said:
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll leave you now. I—I have some reports to attend to. And I have rather a headache, too.’
Adele frowned. ‘Now, Rebecca,’ she said impatiently, ‘no report is that urgent. And as for your headache, I should think a walk round the garden would cure that. I’m sure Monsieur St. Clair would accompany you.’ Her gaze rested momentarily on Piers who had risen too.
Rebecca coloured brilliantly. What was Adele trying to do? Why should she suggest that Piers St. Clair should accompany her on a walk round the garden? She had never shown any interest in her nurse’s welfare before.
‘Thank you, but—–’ she began, when Piers said: ‘Adele is right. The night air would do you more good than sitting in your room. I’m sure Yvonne and Adele can find plenty to talk about.’
Yvonne leaned forward and put her hand on his arm, attracting his attention. ‘Let Nurse Lindsay decide for herself, chéri,’ she murmured insinuatively. ‘She may be tired.’
Rebecca watched that interchange with reluctance. Exactly what relationship did Yvonne Dupuis have with him? From the intimacy of her expression, Rebecca could only think the worst. Seizing upon Yvonne’s words, she nodded vigorously.
‘Yes, that’s it,’ she asserted. ‘I—I am tired. I’d like to go to bed.’
Adele’s expression was hard. ‘And what about me, young woman? You forget—your duties are not yet over for the evening.’
Rebecca hesitated. ‘I’m sure Rosa wouldn’t mind helping you—as she has done on those evenings when I have been out.’ Only twice had she been out in the evening, and that was when Dr. Manson’s wife had invited her for dinner.
Short of appearing a fractious employer, there was nothing Adele could do, and ignoring Piers’ contemptuous gaze, Rebecca wished them all goodnight, and sought the comparative sanctuary of her room. She knew Adele would make her pay for thwarting her in this manner, but right now she couldn’t have cared less …
THE following morning Rebecca did not go down to swim as usual. In the early hours she was awakened by Adele calling weakly for her and throwing on her dressing gown she hurried to her employer’s room.
Adele was lying across the bed. She had obviously been to the bathroom but had collapsed on her way back and was now panting for breath, pressing a hand to her chest as though to break the pain which seemed to be tearing her apart.
Rebecca helped her on to the bed properly, and then hurried to the bathroom cabinet. A few minutes later, with the aid of a drug, and Rebecca’s soothing presence, Adele began to look more normal, and Rebecca ran to telephone for Dr. Manson.
When the elderly doctor arrived he endorsed everything Rebecca had done and chided Adele for behaving so recklessly the day before. ‘You should know by now that you cannot spend the whole day in a state of excitement, my dear,’ he told her, shaking his head reprovingly. ‘And then to eat the kind of rich food Rebecca tells me you have eaten …’ He sighed. ‘It’s lucky you have Rebecca here. I don’t know what might have happened …’
Adele, gradually recovering from the paralysing attack, gave her nurse an impatient look. ‘I’m all right,’ she said ungraciously. ‘There was no need to call you at all. Rebecca coped with everything that was needed. She only wanted to let you know that I’d been disobedient. God! I wish I was free of this—this—dependence!’
Dr. Manson looked at her compassionately. ‘Now you know as well as I do that you’ll never be free,’ he said quietly, ‘and it’s something you’ve got to live with, it’s something you’ve got to accept and take into account at all times. You’ve lived with it long enough to know that.’
Adele’s expression was bitter. ‘I’ve lived with it all my life!’ she exclaimed, in a tortured voice.
Dr. Manson turned away, looking helplessly at Rebecca, and Rebecca gave an imperceptible nod of her head. They were both aware of the dangers of the depression Adele was sinking into now that the attack was over.
After the doctor had gone, Rebecca gave Adele a sedative. The older woman objected, but Rebecca used the hypodermic and presently Adele closed her eyes and gave in to the inertia that was creeping over her. After she was asleep, Rebecca cleared the room, tidying away the garments
