POVERTY'S PRIDE

CHAPTER TEN (Part One)

                                                          CHAPTER TEN (Part One)

Although the doctor remained at Cliff House, on a retainer by Mr Cedric, so Maggie informed her, to be called upon at any time, Rosalind waited anxiously for the arrival of the nurse.

                She found the small hours of the night the most fraught in her care of Jonathan Trevellian, but now she would have someone capable of understanding any crisis and dealing with it. She would willingly give her charge into professional hands and be content to take in the role of skivvy if need be. Anything, rather then return to Cliff House.

               It was early evening that Cedric Trevellian arrived back fromSwansea. Rosalind had been on the lookout for him for hours and so her sharp ears heard him come along the path from the woods. She went swiftly to open the door and he strode in still wearing his heavy travelling cape.

             Behind him a figure shuffled in his wake. The woman was short and stout, but what made Rosalind stare in some consternation was her rather unkempt appearance. Greying hair straggled down untidily from under a black shapeless hat. Her black calf-length jacket which had certainly seen better days was badly stained on one lapel while the hem of her skirts, brushing against her dusty boots was bedraggled. There was altogether a slovenly look about her.

                Rosalind turned her gaze to Cedric with a question in her eyes. His glance slid away.

‘This is Mrs Phipps, Rosalind. I’ve engaged her to nurse my brother.’

Rosalind noticed immediately that the woman wore no wedding ring. She looked into Mrs Phipps’ rather mournful gaze and blinked. The grey eyes were slightly blood-shot and somewhat bleary and her suspicions were roused. If she was not mistaken Mrs Phipps was a gin-drinker. She had seen that look before on villagers back home. Why on earth had Mr Cedric engaged such a women?

Mrs Phipps carried a large shabby carpet bag which she now dumped unceremoniously on the floor. It clanked ominously.

‘Where’s the privy?’ she asked in a hoarse voice.

‘Out behind the cottage,’ Rosalind said.

‘Right you are! When I return I’ll want to see my charge. Best to know the worst straight away.’

Mrs Phipps turn and shuffled rather unsteadily out of the cottage.

Rosalind turned to Cedric in astonishment. Before she could speak he forestalled her.

‘She’s the best the agency could offer,’ he said in agitation. ‘In fact, the only one. No other candidate was willing to come so far west.’

‘Is she competent?’ Rosalind asked.

‘She’s highly recommended by the agency.’

They looked at each other for a moment and then Cedric’s gaze fell on the carpet bag.

‘Gin bottles, do you think?’

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘I was desperate, Rosalind,’ he said as though apologizing. ‘I could not come back empty-handed and let you toil on alone here.’

‘Well, nothing can be done this evening,’ Rosalind said. ‘And perhaps we should not prejudge her.’

‘Keep an eye on her, Rosalind,’ Cedric said. ‘I wish I could let you have one of the maids to help, but my father is relentless in his animosity towards Jonathan.’

‘You don’t bear him malice,’ Rosalind ventured to say. ‘Even after what he did to you.’

‘He’s my brother, flesh and blood.’ His gaze dropped. ‘It pains me to say this but my wife was equally to blame. Country life this far west bored her. She regretted being away from the hurly-burly of the town. Her family are fromCardiff.’