Who Needs Mr Willoughby?. Katie Oliver

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if you ask me, she sounds like a pillock,” Marianne sniffed, and blew her nose. “How can she expect to help in the surgery if she hasn’t the proper experience?”

      “Exactly my thoughts.” He regarded her without expression. “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page, Miss Holland.”

      Confusion, surprise, and hope warred on her face as she stared at him. His eyes, she noted distractedly, were an odd sort of silvery-grey. “We…we are? But – you don’t mean –?”

      “I mean,” he said, his eyes steady on hers, “you can have Lynn’s job for the summer. If you want it,” he added. “And if you don’t object to answering phones, mopping up dog urine, and filling out an endless lot of forms. Otherwise –” he straightened “I’ll give the job to someone else. I’ve a long waiting list of qualified applicants.”

      “I’m sure you do.” Marianne scrambled out of the car and stood facing him. “I’d be very happy to have the job,” she said, her eyes shining. “Extremely happy. Ecstatic. Thank you, Dr Brandon. So much.”

      He took her hand in a firm grip. “Welcome aboard, Miss Holland. You can start next week and we’ll see how it goes. Lynn can show you the ropes before she leaves.”

      “Is Maddie all right?” she asked suddenly. “Lynn told me all about her yesterday, that you suspected rat poisoning. Poor dog… Did she make it through?”

      “She did. It was touch and go for a bit, but she pulled through the surgery with flying colours. She’s on a course of vitamin K to ensure her blood clots properly. Her family’s overjoyed.” He eyed Marianne. “I’m sure they’d appreciate your concern.”

      “I love animals. I really do. You won’t regret hiring me, Dr Brandon, I promise,” she called out after him as he turned to go.

      He glanced back at her. “Too late. I already do,” he retorted, and returned to the clinic.

      ***

      When Marianne returned to Barton Park, a removal van stood near the front steps and a taxi was just leaving.

      With a racing heart she parked the Peugeot and all but flew out of the car, rushing up the steps and through the opened front door.

      “Mum!” she cried out. “Elinor!”

      She flung herself, laughing and crying all at once, into their arms. There was a flurry of hugging, exclaiming, and more than a few hastily wiped-away tears before Mrs Holland drew back to inspect her youngest daughter. “You’re looking very well, I must say. Northumberland agrees with you.”

      “You won’t believe half the things I’ve been through since I got here,” Marianne told her. “I’ll tell you both all about it over lunch. Why did you take a taxi?”

      “Because someone had the car, that’s why,” Mrs Fenwick retorted. “Bertie couldn’t go and fetch them from the train station.”

      “Oh.” Marianne turned to her mother in dismay. “I’m sorry. That must’ve cost a fortune.”

      “It did, but we managed, and we got here all the same. The housekeeper tells us you had your job interview today?”

      “Yes, that’s why I had to borrow the car. It was meant to be yesterday, but Dr Brandon was on an emergency call and couldn’t see me.”

      “And did you get the job?” Mrs Holland asked.

      “I did.”

      Elinor let out a gasp and hugged her sister. “Well done, you. That’s wonderful news.” She drew back and glanced around the entrance hall. “Where’s Lady Violet? Is she not here?”

      “She’s gone to Edinburgh to stay with a poorly friend. She won’t be back for at least another week.”

      “She’s a trusting woman,” her sister observed with a smirk, “to leave you alone to your own devices in her house.”

      “I’ve been the model of good behaviour, I’ll have you know,” Marianne retorted, and glanced over at the housekeeper. “Haven’t I, Mrs Fenwick?”

      “I won’t answer that as it might incriminate me,” she said, and turned away. “Now if you’d care to follow Bertie upstairs, ladies, he’ll take your luggage up and show you to your rooms. When you’re settled, you can all come back downstairs and have yourselves a lovely lunch.”

      ***

      The dining room rang with chatter as Marianne and her mother and sister took their places at the table to catch up on all of the latest news.

      “So tell us, what have we missed since you arrived here at Barton Park?” Mrs Holland asked.

      “Yes, do please bring us up to speed, Mari,” Elinor agreed. “What’s happened since you left Norland?”

      “Not much, really,” Marianne said airily as she helped herself to one of Mrs Fenwick’s pasties. “Only, Lady Violet’s car was stolen out from under me, and I met the most rude and impossible man – who turned out to be the local veterinarian, Dr Brandon – oh, and I fell from the top of a tree house behind the cottage during a storm and was rescued by a handsome stranger on horseback.”

      “Goodness,” her mother exclaimed, and froze with a forkful of salad halfway to her mouth. “It all sounds like something out of one of Lady Violet’s books. Are you all right?”

      “Fine. I twisted my ankle but it’s mended now. Kit –” she blushed and amended “I mean Mr Willoughby, carried me to the car and brought me back, and he made quite sure I was all right before he left.” She paused as the doorbell rang and her mother half rose. “Do sit down, mum – Mrs Fenwick’ll get it.”

      “Never mind the door,” Elinor said with a trace of impatience, “tell us more about your rescuer. Kit, did you say his name was? How did he find you?”

      “He heard me scream when I fell. Oh, Ellie – it was so romantic. A storm came up out of nowhere, a really bad one, and the wind kicked up, and it got horribly dark. Lightning struck right next to me when I was climbing a rope ladder up to the tree house. I nearly made it to the top, but I was so scared, and the rope was so wet, that I lost my grip, and fell.” She bit into her pasty. “Mr Willoughby came back the next day to visit me, and brought me flowers, and chocolates.”

      “That was very considerate of him,” her sister remarked. “Who is he, this mysterious Mr Willoughby?”

      “He’s Mrs Smyth’s nephew, Christopher,” Marianne answered, “and he’s visiting her at Allenham Court. Her estate’s just next door, not at all far from our house.”

      “And what does this cottage of Lady Violet’s look like?” Mrs Holland asked apprehensively. “I’ve not seen it yet. Is it as poky and small as you feared?”

      “Not at all. It’s really quite lovely, and larger than I expected, with fireplaces and a chandelier and a sweeping stairway in the entrance hallway. It’s the grandest cottage I’ve ever seen.”

      “You’ve been inside the house, then?”

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