Read Online Nurse for the Doctor by Averil Ives - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Averil Ives
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meant to go on, even though at the moment there was no one who could be described as “extremely distinguished” within the white walls of the villa, apart, that was, from the marquis and his sister. Somehow Miss Sylvia Petersen, in spite of the aura of exclusiveness and expensiveness that clung to her, had not struck Josie as a distinguished product. She was undoubtedly lovely, and had all the charm of youth, and careful grooming ... but there was no suggestion of a very high top drawer about her. Unless it was because she was American, for even very rich Americans carried the flavor of their “new-world” ideas about with them.
When she had finished her own meal Josie sat for a while without switching on any of her lights, listening to the subdued murmur that rose up from the main body of the house. Once or twice she thought she heard laughter—feminine laughter—and the smooth murmur of masculine voices, and then a couple of cars swept up to the front of the house and deposited some dinner guests on the broad open space beneath the stars. But it was too dark for Josie, leaning discreetly over her balcony, to catch any real glimpses of them, apart from the shimmer of a dress that looked like the pale wings of a moth in the gloom, and the fiery flash of a jewel that adorned an unseen throat or wrist.
She was glad now that Mrs. Duveen had saved her from going downstairs, for she couldn’t possibly have competed with any of the women who would take their places at the long oak dining table in the splendidly appointed room where they had lunched that day. She had only two evening dresses, and neither of those would have even begun to stand up to comparison with the type of dresses the marquis’s genuine guests would be boosting their feminine charms by wearing.
But Josie didn’t want to spend the entire evening, before it was time to go to bed, in her room, and she decided to make her way out unseen to the garden, where she could at least walk the paths, and get rid of a little of the restlessness she felt most unreasonably possessed of.
She judged that the others would spend a good deal of time in the patio, sipping their aperitifs , and helping themselves to the contents of the many little dishes that accompanied these appetizers in Spain. The main meal was not the important thing—or, at any rate, it was not anything to be rushed upon, as if body and soul could no longer hang together, and when everyone did go in to dinner they might linger over it for a very long time.
Therefore Josie felt safe, wandering the paths like a lonely lost soul in her grey dress, with the velvety, star-pricked sky above her, and a warm wind coming at her face. She found a little arbour smothered in a white-flowering vine and sat there until she started to shiver a little, and decided that she would have to return to the house, even if only to fetch a wrap.
But as she drew near to the villa she decided that she would go straight to bed, and thinking of the superbly comfortable-looking half-tester bed in which she would shortly relax her suddenly weary limbs, the idea wasn’t at all distasteful. She wasn’t used to late nights, and since coming to Spain she had spent hours on her hotel balcony at nights, watching the splendour of the stars, and feeling loath to desert so much magic for the confinement of a mere bedroom. Now all at once weariness looked out of her face, coupled with disillusion because of what had happened to her the night before.
And tonight Michael had Dona Maria’s grey eyes to gaze into...
Her face looked small and pale and blurred when the marquis stepped into her path and looked down at her.
“ Senorita ,” he said, “it is a little unwise to wander about at this hour without a wrap. You should always remember that we are very close to the sea, and even in Spain the sea introduces a nip into the air when the sun is long past its setting.”
She looked up at him vaguely.
“I’m sorry...” She began
When she had finished her own meal Josie sat for a while without switching on any of her lights, listening to the subdued murmur that rose up from the main body of the house. Once or twice she thought she heard laughter—feminine laughter—and the smooth murmur of masculine voices, and then a couple of cars swept up to the front of the house and deposited some dinner guests on the broad open space beneath the stars. But it was too dark for Josie, leaning discreetly over her balcony, to catch any real glimpses of them, apart from the shimmer of a dress that looked like the pale wings of a moth in the gloom, and the fiery flash of a jewel that adorned an unseen throat or wrist.
She was glad now that Mrs. Duveen had saved her from going downstairs, for she couldn’t possibly have competed with any of the women who would take their places at the long oak dining table in the splendidly appointed room where they had lunched that day. She had only two evening dresses, and neither of those would have even begun to stand up to comparison with the type of dresses the marquis’s genuine guests would be boosting their feminine charms by wearing.
But Josie didn’t want to spend the entire evening, before it was time to go to bed, in her room, and she decided to make her way out unseen to the garden, where she could at least walk the paths, and get rid of a little of the restlessness she felt most unreasonably possessed of.
She judged that the others would spend a good deal of time in the patio, sipping their aperitifs , and helping themselves to the contents of the many little dishes that accompanied these appetizers in Spain. The main meal was not the important thing—or, at any rate, it was not anything to be rushed upon, as if body and soul could no longer hang together, and when everyone did go in to dinner they might linger over it for a very long time.
Therefore Josie felt safe, wandering the paths like a lonely lost soul in her grey dress, with the velvety, star-pricked sky above her, and a warm wind coming at her face. She found a little arbour smothered in a white-flowering vine and sat there until she started to shiver a little, and decided that she would have to return to the house, even if only to fetch a wrap.
But as she drew near to the villa she decided that she would go straight to bed, and thinking of the superbly comfortable-looking half-tester bed in which she would shortly relax her suddenly weary limbs, the idea wasn’t at all distasteful. She wasn’t used to late nights, and since coming to Spain she had spent hours on her hotel balcony at nights, watching the splendour of the stars, and feeling loath to desert so much magic for the confinement of a mere bedroom. Now all at once weariness looked out of her face, coupled with disillusion because of what had happened to her the night before.
And tonight Michael had Dona Maria’s grey eyes to gaze into...
Her face looked small and pale and blurred when the marquis stepped into her path and looked down at her.
“ Senorita ,” he said, “it is a little unwise to wander about at this hour without a wrap. You should always remember that we are very close to the sea, and even in Spain the sea introduces a nip into the air when the sun is long past its setting.”
She looked up at him vaguely.
“I’m sorry...” She began
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