The Nightingale Girls

CHAPTER Fifty-Four



HENRY RETTINGHAM WAS well enough to return home. He walked slowly into the house, supported by Seb and Felix the chauffeur on either side. Millie and her grandmother gathered in the drawing room to greet him, waiting patiently as he lowered himself agonisingly slowly into his leather chair.

The doctors had warned that his recovery would be lengthy, but Millie hadn’t realised how difficult it would be for him until she watched him try to lift the tea Patchett the butler brought in for him.

As his cup rattled on the saucer, she sprang forward to help.

‘Here, let me—’

Her father waved her away. ‘No, Amelia, I – I have to learn to do these things for . . . myself,’ he insisted. His voice was slurred, each word dragged out of him with effort. It hurt Millie to hear him struggle so much.

She glanced at Seb for guidance. He smiled and gave her a reassuring nod. It was such a relief having him there, she thought. Somehow she didn’t feel quite so alone.

He had been wonderful, helping to run the estate while her father was recovering. ‘Not that it needs much running,’ he told Millie. ‘Between them, your father and Jackson have got the place going like clockwork.’

They had slipped into a comfortable domestic routine. Once Millie was reassured that her father was getting better, she’d allowed herself to take time away from his bedside at the hospital. She was surprised by how fully occupied her days were. If she wasn’t running the house, discussing dinner plans and laundry lists with the housekeeper Mrs Saunders, she was riding out with Seb to visit the tenants or meeting the estate manager. As August progressed, the itinerant hop pickers began to arrive in vanloads from London for the annual harvest. Millie helped organise them into their teams, and sorted out temporary accommodation for them. With her training in mind, she even brought in the St Francis Mission to set up a mobile medical centre in one of the old barns. She helped out there sometimes, bandaging strained ligaments, bathing sore eyes and administering medicine. It felt good to be busy and useful all day, and to feel the sun on her face as she worked, instead of being stuck in the gloomy wards.

She kept promising herself she would return to London. But as time wore on, she wondered if London was really where she wanted to be.

‘I wonder if I should stay here?’ she mused to Seb one evening at dinner. ‘I’ve missed so much of my training, I might not be able to catch up. And with Daddy still being so ill . . .’

‘Your father is making progress,’ Seb reminded her. ‘And you know he would be absolutely livid with you if you didn’t go back to London.’

‘Would he?’ Millie wasn’t so sure.

In the end it was Henry himself who gave her the answer. She had been sitting with him, going through the accounts, when he suddenly said, ‘You and Sebastian have done an . . . excellent job. I’m sure we shall all miss you when you return to L-London.’

She lifted the ledgers from his lap and placed them carefully on the rug at his feet. ‘Who says I’m going back?’

He frowned at her. ‘I may have had a blow to the . . . head, but I have not forgotten you have your . . . training to finish.’

‘Don’t you want me at Billinghurst?’ she asked lightly.

‘Of course I do. Nothing would make me . . . happier.’ His face twisted with the effort of speaking. ‘But only after you finish your . . . training.’ He put out a shaky hand to her. ‘Nursing is your dream, Millie. Finish your training, and then . . .’

And then what? she thought. He was right, nursing was her dream. But his illness had made her realise that she had other responsibilities, too.

But her father wouldn’t hear of her staying. And so, with a heavy heart, and a great deal of remonstration from her grandmother, she caught the train back to London.

The Dowager Countess was so beside herself with outrage, she took herself off to the Dower House and refused to speak to Millie at all before she left.

‘She’ll get over it,’ Seb laughed as he drove her to the station.

‘You don’t know Granny.’ Millie turned to him, her face anxious. ‘You do think I’m doing the right thing, don’t you? Or am I just being selfish?’

‘We’ve been through all this,’ he said wisely. ‘You don’t need to worry about your father. I’ll stay and keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t do too much. Although the way he’s going, he won’t need me for much longer. I can tell he’s itching to be rid of me!’

‘Nonsense, he loves having you at Billinghurst. You’re like the son he never had.’ Millie sent Seb a sidelong look. ‘I’m very grateful for your help.’

‘Grateful?’ He laughed. ‘I’d sort of hoped you’d feel more for me than that by now.’

She stared ahead of her at the winding country lane in silence. Neither of them had referred to their kiss since it had happened, although she knew it was playing on his mind as much as it was on hers.

Millie still felt wretchedly confused. She knew she had relied on him too much, gone far beyond the bounds of friendship. He had every right to think their relationship had changed. But was she ready for that?

‘You don’t have to stay until the train comes,’ she said as Seb helped her on to the platform with her luggage.

‘Why do you keep trying to send me away when all I want is to be with you?’ Their eyes met. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t say these things to you. I know it’s not what you want to hear.’ He smiled bracingly. ‘We’re just friends, that’s all. I know that, and I’ve accepted it. I mean, it would be idiotic of me to say I wasn’t bitterly disappointed, but I’m sure in time I’ll learn to—’ He pulled a wry face. ‘Do you think I should shut up now?’

‘I think that would be a good idea.’

There were a few other people on the platform. Further down, a young couple not much older than them were saying a passionate goodbye. Millie tried hard not to stare as they clung to each other fiercely, neither of them wanting to let go. What did it feel like to be that much in love? she wondered.

She glanced at Seb from under the brim of her hat. He was watching the couple too, his face envious.

Darling Seb. When she’d told him she was grateful, she’d meant so much more than that. She simply couldn’t have got through the past couple of weeks without him. The relief when she saw him that day, standing in the hall, dressed in his shooting tweeds, having driven all the way down from Scotland just to be with her. From that moment she’d felt as if she could breathe again, as if everything would be all right simply because he was with her.

And he had been with her ever since. His reassuring presence was always at her side as she sat with her father. He had held her when she’d cried tears of despair during the darkest moments, and he was the one who made her laugh when she’d desperately needed cheering up. Somehow he always knew what she was thinking, and the right thing to say to make it better.

She looked across at his finely drawn profile as he gazed down the line, waiting for the train, committing to memory the long, straight line of his nose, the curve of his lips and the sharp angle of his chin. As if he knew he was being observed, he turned to look at her with a puzzled smile, his fair brows drawn over warm grey eyes.

She suddenly realised how much she’d miss that smile, miss him. That was the real reason she had been so reluctant to go back to London. It wasn’t the thought of saying goodbye to Billinghurst that upset her, or even of leaving her father. It was the thought of going through a whole day without seeing Seb.

‘What is it?’ he said.

‘Nothing, I just—’ Millie struggled to find the right words. Oh, God, why had she left it until now to realise how she felt? It was so typical of her, always the last to catch on, as Dora would say.

And now she’d left it too late. The train was approaching, the tracks rumbling. All along the platform the passengers were starting to galvanise themselves.

‘Seb,’ she started to say, but he was already gathering up her cases.

‘What will you do when you get to London?’ he asked. ‘You will take a taxi, won’t you? You can’t possibly struggle on the bus with all this luggage.’

‘Seb—’

‘Do you think you’ll be able to telephone when you get back to the hospital? I know your father will be worried about you, even if he says he isn’t.’

‘Seb, listen . . .’ Her words were drowned out by the hiss of the train’s brakes as it rumbled to a halt. People were starting to move, doors opening and banging shut, porters busy with luggage. Seb loaded her cases on to the train, not looking at her, as if he were determined to keep himself busy and detached.

‘Seb!’ Everything suddenly seemed to go very quiet as Millie screamed out his name.

He turned to face her. ‘Yes?’

‘Would you mind awfully doing something for me?’

‘What’s that?’ He smiled at her, his kind, handsome face squinting in the sun.

‘Shut up and kiss me,’ she said.