The Fever Tree by Jennifer McVeigh Read Free Book Online Page A

begin packing. But she felt defeated by disappointment. Piles of dresses, open drawers, hatboxes, and a muddle of shoes had turned her room into disarray. Two small suitcases gaped open by her bed. How could she possibly decide what to take with her? Her aunt had been very deliberate in her instructions. There wasn’t room in her house for a Society girl. She must keep her belongings to a minimum.
    At five o’clock Lotta knocked at her door.
    “Dr. Matthews to see you, Miss. He is waiting in the morning room.”
    Frances found him standing with his back to her, cap in one hand, looking into the garden. She stood for a second watching him. He was perfectly still; a slight figure in a suit worn thin at the edges and cut too short for the fashion. She took a deep breath and stepped into the room.
    “Dr. Matthews. You are very kind to have come.”
    He turned at the window. “Miss Irvine. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    She nodded and motioned to one of the low chintz chairs pulled up on either side of the cold grate. They sat opposite each other, and he drew his hands into his lap and looked at her intently. His silence felt like scrutiny. She had forgotten his ability to disarm her. Gone was the shy, unsure boy of sixteen. He was no longer her guest, reliant on her father for charity. She needed something from him, and she suspected he knew what it was. The window had been pushed open, letting in a thin stream of cooler air and the gentle grind of traffic from the street.
    “You must be enjoying seeing your family after so long away?”
    “Yes, but I sail tomorrow from Southampton. That is, if the weather holds.”
    She was surprised. “Back to South Africa? So soon?”
    “My plans have changed.” He gave her a tight, compact smile. “And yourself? What will you do now?”
    “My aunt has offered to have me. I am to take the train up to Manchester next week.” She talked to fill the silence. “Truthfully, I am a little scared. She has three children under the age of eight, and I am to be a nurse to all of them. That is until I can find myself a position or a husband.” She blushed, realizing her mistake. “My uncle manufactures soap. So at the very least I shall be clean.”
    He smiled, as if waiting for something. She felt a flush rising up her neck. Then he looked away, stood up, ran his hands through his hair, and walked over to the window. His movements were quick and agile, and she realized his stillness was deceptive. After a few moments he came back and stood by her chair, looking down at her.
    “Shall we have an honest conversation?” He paused, waiting for her approval before going on. “The Cape is a very different place to England. When I saw you last I had just arrived in London. My excitement to be home clouded my judgment. I had forgotten how Society works here, how rigid it can be. I had no reason to expect a different answer to the one you gave me.”
    He crouched down beside her, picked up her hand, and held it lightly in his. His skin was pale, almost translucent. Beads of sweat had broken out on his upper lip. “And yet, I was sick with disappointment. I would like to have you, Frances, as my wife.” He paused. “If circumstances have changed your mind, they have not changed mine. The decision is still yours to make.”
    Frances was silent for a moment, conscious that everything depended on what she said next. In a whisper, embarrassed by the sudden intimacy her answer would throw up between them, she said, “I would like to go with you to South Africa.”
    He pulled her gently towards him, whispering her name. When he kissed her, his lips were unexpectedly cold, and she drew her head sharply away from him, but he stayed crouched awkwardly in front of her, leaning his head into her shoulder and kissing her neck wetly. She hadn’t expected this. He groaned softly and she shivered, gazing over his shoulder towards the window. The sun had passed behind the trees, and she saw a fly, dizzy