Who Needs Mr Willoughby?. Katie Oliver
The next afternoon, as promised, Kit Willoughby returned to Barton Park with a lavish bouquet of wildflowers in hand.
He followed the housekeeper into the drawing room, where Marianne was ensconced on the sofa with her foot resting on a cushion.
“I’ll have you know I spent all morning picking only the best examples of local flora for your bouquet,” he told Marianne as he gave her the flowers.
“They’re beautiful,” she said, and breathed in their scent. “I love wildflowers.”
“And…” he withdrew a slender white box tied with red ribbon from behind his back. “Chocolates, handmade and liberally sprinkled with Malden sea salt.” He smiled and laid the box on a nearby table. “I have it on good authority – my aunt’s – that they’re the best chocolates Carywick has to offer.”
“I’m sure they are.” A smile dimpled her cheeks. “You’re too kind. Thank you so much.” She indicated the chair opposite her and handed the flowers to Mrs Fenwick, who bustled off to put them in water. “Please, sit down.”
He dragged the chair closer and sat. “And how’s my patient this afternoon? Is your foot on the mend?”
“It is. I must’ve twisted it when I fell. It still hurts a bit, but not nearly so much as it did yesterday.” She eyed him. “What about you? Did you get Jasper back to Allenham in that awful storm? Is he all right?”
“Fit as a fiddle. He got extra oats and three carrots when we got back, so he did pretty well, all in all.”
“I’m glad to hear it. And I’m very glad you happened to find me, Mr Willoughby.”
“Not half as glad as me. And please,” he added, his blue eyes meeting hers, “call me Kit.”
“Kit,” she murmured, and blushed. “But you have to call me Marianne.” She paused. “Is Kit your real name, or a nickname?”
“Nickname. I was christened Christopher but almost no one calls me that. I doubt I’d answer if anyone did, I’m so unused to it.”
A smile dimpled Marianne’s cheeks. “You don’t look like a Christopher; Kit definitely suits you better.” She hesitated. “Thank you again, so much. If you hadn’t come along when you did…” her voice trailed away. “It was really stupid of me to try and climb up that old rope.”
“I often ride along the border of the two estates. I was on my way back to Allenham when I heard you scream.” He leaned forward and took up her hand, all traces of prior amusement gone. “I’m glad I found you as well, Miss Holland. Very glad.”
His eyes met hers, and he brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it so tenderly that Marianne found herself blushing more deeply, both charmed and captivated by her gallant rescuer. Was there ever a more handsome or solicitous man in all of Hadleighshire?
No, she decided as he entertained her with amusing anecdotes and jokes and Hadleighshire gossip for the better part of the afternoon, there most certainly was not.
Perhaps, she thought as she smiled over at him, Northumberland wouldn’t prove to be nearly so bad as she’d feared, after all.
On Tuesday morning, Marianne had a cup of coffee and a few bites of toast before heading upstairs to get ready for her interview at the veterinary clinic.
She stood before the cheval mirror in her bedroom and studied her reflection with a critical eye. She smoothed her hands nervously over her skirt. It was a bit prim for her tastes – she felt unlike herself in the pencil skirt and blouse and low heels – but it was the only suitable outfit she’d found in the village clothing store.
And at least she looked professional.
Even better, Marianne reminded herself as she grabbed up her handbag, Kit Willoughby had asked to see her again at the weekend. The thought of it put a spring in her step as she hurried down the stairs to the front door.
“Off for your interview, miss?” the housekeeper asked as she pushed through the baize door that led to the kitchen. She held a tray of tarnished silver in her hands.
Marianne nodded. “I’m taking the estate car. I’ll be back this afternoon. I’ll probably stop and have lunch in Endwhistle.”
“Your mum and sister will be here tomorrow,” Mrs Fenwick reminded her. “At least then you’ll have a bit of company.”
“I know, and I can’t wait. I miss them both so much.”
“Well, I’m sure they miss you just the same. But at least,” she added with a gleam in her eye, “you’ve had your share of excitement, not to mention meeting that handsome Mr Willoughby, since you got here.”
Marianne blushed. “Bye, Mrs Fenwick.”
“Goodbye, lass. And good luck to you.”
***
The veterinary clinic was located two miles outside of Endwhistle. She found it without too much difficulty. A two-storey stone farmhouse, modest but well cared for, stood on the left of the treed property and a smaller, low stone building occupied the right.
“’Endwhistle Small Animal Veterinary Clinic,’” Marianne said out loud as she parked the estate car in the gravel car park and got out. The words were etched in gold script across a wide bay window. A riot of purple-and-white-striped flowers decorated the window boxes.
Her gaze swept from the bright green door to the nearby pet runs and a fenced exercise enclosure, and a flutter of nervousness ran through her. She liked this place already. She wanted – badly – to work here.
Of course, Marianne reminded herself as she approached the door, she didn’t have much experience.
Who am I kidding? she thought. I have none. But how hard could it be to schedule appointments and bandage up a few injured dogs and cats?
Feeling somewhat reassured, she took a deep breath, and pushed the door open.
A tiled floor and the faint scent of disinfectant greeted her as she entered the waiting room. Plastic chairs lined the walls; most were occupied with anxious pet owners and their ailing animals.
Marianne had a quick glance around as she made her way to the reception desk. Despite the bare floor and the institutional green of the walls, the room had a cheery, welcoming feel thanks to the paintings on the walls and bright touches like a vase of roses on the counter and a basket heaped with pet toys in one corner.
“Hello, miss,” a smiling young woman behind the counter said. “May I help you?”
“Yes. I wondered if I might speak to Dr Brandon? My name is Marianne Holland and I’m here to interview for a job at the clinic,” she added.
“Oh. Well, I’m that sorry, but he’s gone out on an emergency call. One of the farmers’ dogs ingested something, and he’s afraid it might be rat poison.”
“Oh, no,” Marianne exclaimed. “How horrible. I do hope the poor dog will be all right.”
“Well, if anyone can help Maddie, Dr Brandon can.” She smiled. “I’ll let him know you stopped by. I can reschedule you for tomorrow morning, if you like?”
“Yes. That’d be perfect. Thank you.”
Marianne waited as the receptionist wrote out an appointment card. A cocker spaniel, a cockatiel, and a crated Siamese cat sat beside their owners, all of them subdued as they waited to be seen.
“Here you are.” The girl – Lynn, according to her nametag – handed her a card with tomorrow’s date and her appointment time written down. “Same time, nine o’clock.”
“I’ll