The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,149
have happened if you had married and settled down two years ago. Then we might even have had an heir for Billinghurst by now, instead of facing the prospect of being thrown out of our own home by a stranger.’
Millie stared at her, hot tears stinging her eyes. ‘That isn’t going to happen,’ she said firmly. ‘Daddy is going to get better.’
Her grandmother turned weary eyes to meet hers. ‘I sincerely hope so, child,’ she said. ‘For all our sakes.’
Chapter Forty-Eight
MILLIE LEFT HER grandmother sitting by her father’s bedside and went back to the house to rest and change her clothes. She was still feeling shaken by their argument but didn’t blame her grandmother for her outburst; Lady Rettingham was just as tired and worn out with worry as Millie was.
As they crested the hill above the house, Millie ordered Felix to stop the car so she could get some fresh air. Cooped up inside the hospital, she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed the warmth of the sun on her face, or the scent of air untainted by disinfectant.
She gazed down at the house below her. Billinghurst looked beautiful, its honey-coloured walls burnished gold by the July sunshine. It nestled like a bright jewel on a cushion of rich green velvet, surrounded by fields of crops and orchards heavy with early fruit. Her grandmother was right; Billinghurst needed someone to manage it. She knew her father’s estate manager, Jackson, was an experienced man who could be trusted with the day-to-day decisions. But he acted on the instructions of her father when it came to the overall running of the estate. She certainly couldn’t imagine him taking orders from her, a twenty-year-old girl with little authority or experience.
And what if her father died? As much as her mind shrank from the prospect, it was one they all had to face. As every day passed, his chances of recovery lessened. If he died, the estate would pass to the legal heir, a distant cousin from Northumberland whom none of them had ever met.
She understood her grandmother’s worry and frustration. Once the new Earl of Rettingham took over, there would be no place for either her or Millie. She didn’t expect Cousin Robert would see them penniless on the streets, but their circumstances would be very different. For one thing, Millie would no longer bring with her the Billinghurst estate or the possibility of an earldom for her son. She finally realised why her grandmother had tried so hard to instil in her a sense of urgency about finding a husband. Like it or not, she had a duty to provide the estate with a suitable heir to inherit her father’s title. The stability of so many lives depended on her.
The problem was she had thought her father was immortal. He had always seemed so strong, so indestructible. He was the foundation stone on which she had built her life, the reason she could go off and pursue her selfish dreams. She’d known that one day she would have to come home and settle down, but had somehow imagined that her time was infinite.
Now, too late, she understood how limited it really was.
‘Oh, my lady!’ Polly greeted her in dismay when she arrived home.
‘I know. I look awful, don’t I?’ Millie said ruefully. ‘I feel awful, too. I need a bath and a change of clothes.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ The way Polly looked her up and down, it was clear she felt it would take more than a new dress to put her right. ‘Will you be requiring luncheon?’
‘Just bring me a tray to my room, will you?’ Millie couldn’t face the prospect of sitting alone at the vast dining-room table. She would feel her father’s absence even more acutely if there was no one to talk to or laugh with.
It was bliss to sink into the deep tub. Millie submerged herself luxuriously, feeling her muscles relax in the warm, scented water. How different from the bathrooms at the nurses’ home, where hot water was as rationed as everything else, and pros had to make do with a few tepid inches after the seniors had used it all up.
After her bath Polly helped her dress, and the kitchen maid brought up a silver tray laden with slices of cold ham and chicken, and delicate slivers of bread and butter. Millie thanked her, but even as she looked at the food she knew she couldn’t eat it.