Grasp a Nettle

by Betty Neels

‘Some good paintings here,’ she observed, ‘comparable to those at Dimworth—probably better,’ she conceded graciously.

  The Professor was too well mannered to agree. He made a deprecating sound and led the lady towards the double doors to one side of the hall. They were opened from the inside by a short, stout man with a solemn face, whom the Professor addressed as Hans. He bowed with great dignity to the ladies and endeared himself greatly to Jenny by winking at Oliver, who winked back, delighted.

  Tea was all that Aunt Bess could have wished for; thin cucumber sandwiches, a cake as light as air, little sugary biscuits, and tea poured from a silver tea-pot. And their surroundings matched the meal in elegance—a lovely room, long and narrow, furnished with what Jenny described to herself as Dimworth furniture. Only the curtains were a great deal more elaborate; thick brocaded velvet in a rich crimson, swathed and looped and fringed. She liked them, just as she liked the great chairs and dainty little tables and the enormous glass-fronted cabinet between the high, narrow windows.

  ‘Is it open to the public?’ asked Oliver.

  The Professor handed cake to Aunt Bess. ‘No, I’m afraid not. You see, Oliver, I should have to be at home a good deal if I were to do that, and I’m not—I’m at the hospital or my consulting rooms for a long time each day.’

  Very nicely put, decided Jenny; probably the idea of helping out the revenue by charging so much a head to look round his home had never entered the Professor’s head. Probably he was rich—well, he would have to be to live in such a house; large and difficult to heat, she suspected, and certainly needing a number of people to look after it. She longed to see more of it, and the wish was granted when he asked.

  ‘Would you like to see your rooms? Miss Creed, I hope you will feel well enough to come to the hospital in den Haag tomorrow. There are several tests I should like to do—they won’t take long, and it would be a good idea to get them over and done with.’

  ‘Whatever you say, Eduard.’ Aunt Bess sounded gracious and almost meek.

  They went upstairs then, under the guidance of a small round woman, no longer young but very bustling in manner, with a cheerful face and pepper-and-salt hair severely dressed—Hans’ wife, Hennie, the Professor had told them as she smiled a welcome, took Oliver by the hand and led them up the gracefully curved staircase to the floor above.

  Their rooms were at the side of the house, close together, with Jenny’s in the middle, separated from her aunt by a bathroom, and from Oliver by a communicating door. Hennie indicated that she would unpack for Miss Creed, and fussed her gently and not unwillingly into a chair, which left Jenny free to inspect her own room while Oliver ran backwards and forwards, inviting her urgently to look at this and that and the other thing in his own room. She smiled and nodded and said a little absently: ‘Yes, in a moment, dear,’ and went on with her tour of inspection. The room was furnished in a later period than the house had been built—Hepplewhite, with the bed, canopied with muslin, of satinwood, as was the dressing table and mirror upon it and the tallboy against one wall. The chairs were made for comfort, upholstered in pale pink striped silk, matching the curtains. The lamps were a rosy pink too and there were a variety of small silver and china ornaments which exactly suited the pale pastel portraits on the panelled walls. ‘Very nice,’ said Jenny out loud, and kicked off a shoe to feel the thickness of the moss green carpet.

  Oliver returned hopefully to say: ‘Isn’t it super—do you think all the other rooms are like this one? It’s a bit like Dimworth.’

  ‘Yes, my lamb, though I think it’s a good deal older than Dimworth.’

  ‘Wait until I tell Mummy! Is he very rich?’

  ‘And who is he?’ asked Jenny reprovingly. ‘If you mean Professor van Draak, I have no idea, but I should suppose he might be. It’s no business of ours darling.’ She was admiring a delicate porcelain figure she had picked up from a little work-table, and Oliver had gone to look out of the mullioned window.

  ‘You don’t sound as though you want to know Jenny. Mummy does—she said it mattered. Does it matter?’

  She put the figure back carefully and gave him her full attention. ‘Not one little bit, Oliver.’

  And it didn’t; she would settle most willingly for a completely penniless Professor, and if necessary live in one of those dreadful little modern houses like boxes, wearing last year’s clothes and cooking cheap wholesome meals for him and the happy brood of children they would undoubtedly have. She was so lost in her daydream that she only just heard the little boy say in a small voice: ‘Mummy wants to marry the Professor.’

  Put into words, even a child’s words, it sounded very final, but Jenny made a great effort. ‘Well, dear, your mummy is a very pretty lady, you know, and although she loved your daddy very much, she feels lonely.’

  ‘So do I. Professor van Draak wouldn’t be happy…’

  She went and knelt beside him and put her arms round his small shoulders. ‘Why not, love?’

  ‘Not at Dimworth—he’s a surgeon.’ His voice implied that she had asked a silly question, but Jenny was spared having to answer this awkward but wise remark by the loud barking of a dog, a distraction which sent Oliver to the window again, his worries forgotten. ‘Oh, look—Jenny, it’s two dogs and a cat, and the Professor’s with them. May I go down?’

  She went to look as she had been bidden. The grounds stretched away below them, turf with herbaceous borders leading to more open ground, well shrubbed and with trees in the distance as well as the gleam of water. The Professor was strolling across the grass, a great Dane treading beside him while a dog of extremely mixed parentage gavotted round them, while bringing up the rear was a very ordinary tabby cat.

  ‘Very well, dear, but ask the Professor if you may go with him, don’t just attach yourself to him.’

  ‘He won’t mind,’ declared Oliver, making for the door. ‘He likes boys, he said so, he’s been a boy himself.’

  Jenny turned her back on the window and unpacked before going to see how her aunt fared. ‘I shall change for dinner,’ declared that lady. ‘You will go and tell Eduard so, Jenny, and come back in half an hour to help me with my hair before you dress.’

  Jenny eyed her aunt doubtfully. ‘Perhaps the Professor doesn’t bother to change when he’s home,’ she offered, to be met with a positive: ‘He has guests and will behave accordingly, Janet.’

  She went slowly downstairs and out of the house door. The Professor, Oliver and the animals were already some distance away, making for the water—presumably a pond. Jenny reached them as they came to a halt at its edge to watch the ducks upon it, and they all turned round to look at her.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he wanted to know, and she had the feeling that he hadn’t wanted her there. It made her say with a touch of haughtiness: ‘Perfectly, thank you. Aunt Bess asked me to let you know that she intends dressing for dinner.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘How thoughtful of her—but hardly necessary.’

  Jenny went pink. ‘No—well, she didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that she’s a little set in her ways.’

  She waited uncertainly while he dug a hand into a pocket and handed Oliver a crust of bread. ‘There you are, boy, and don’t fall in.’

  Oliver lifted adoring eyes to the big man’s face. ‘You do think of everything, don’t you?’ He started towards the reeds where the ducks were and then came back. ‘Do I have to have my supper with you?’

  His host smiled. ‘No, I think not. Hennie will give you your supper when she gets back to the house and see you safely to bed. She’s very kind.’

  ‘Have you any more servants?’ Oliver wanted to know, and Jenny said: ‘Hush, my lamb, that’s rude!’

  But the Professor answered, just as though she hadn’t said anything: ‘Oh, yes, several, but Hennie is my old friend as well as my housekeeper and she will look after you especially well.’

  Oliver nodded and wandered off happily, leaving Jenny to apologise for his lack of manners.
‘But he’s only six,’ she explained.

  Her companion had stooped to pick up the cat. ‘I wasn’t aware that I had complained about the boy,’ he observed blandly. ‘I expect you have things to do—I’ll bring him back to the house presently.’

  She wanted very much to burst into tears; he was rude and arrogant and quite unfeeling, and she hated him! No, hate was too good a word, she loathed him. She said in an icy voice: ‘You don’t have to take it out on me just because I’m here and Margaret isn’t. I didn’t ask to come, and now I wish I hadn’t…’

  She flounced off, using considerable self-control in not looking back, and having gained her room, spent a few minutes thinking up all the awful things she would like to happen to him. Considerably cheered by this exercise, she made her way to Aunt Bess’s room, where she performed all the small tasks demanded of her and then went back to her own room once more, to dress herself carelessly in the first thing that came to hand, sweep her glowing hair into a severe knot, slap powder on to her pretty nose and put on the wrong lipstick. ‘Who cares?’ she asked her reflection ferociously, and went next door to see if Oliver was in bed.

  He wasn’t exactly in bed, but at least he was pottering happily around his room with Hennie in loving attendance. Jenny wrung a promise from him that he would be in bed in exactly ten minutes and went downstairs to join the others. She found them in the drawing room, chatting amiably, and because she was well brought up, she chatted too, seething beneath the bodice of her flowered silk dress. She ate her dinner too with every appearance of enjoyment, only her eyes flashed temper at her host when he addressed her, even though she schooled her tongue to utter platitudes by way of answer.

  They sat a long while over their meal, round a mahogany table decked with silver and crystal and spotless white linen. The room was square and of a good size, and Jenny, peeping round her whenever she had the opportunity, loved its rich amber curtains and needlework carpet and the dark panelling of the walls. The Professor lived in comfort—not that he deserved it. She scowled at the idea and looked up to find his eyes upon her. His smile, knowing and mocking, made her scowl even fiercer.

  It was when they had gone to the drawing room and had taken their coffee in a leisurely fashion, that the Professor had suggested to his patient that perhaps an early night might be of benefit to her, doing it in such a way that she was unaware that he had made the suggestion in the first place, only remarking that she considered it high time that they were all in bed as she rose to her feet. He got up too, walking unhurriedly to the door with her, crossing the hall, still talking casually before bidding her goodnight at the foot of the staircase. Jenny behind them, made to go upstairs too, but he caught her firmly as she passed him so that she was forced to stand still.

  ‘I will settle the details about your visit to the hospital with Jenny, Miss Creed,’ he suggested smoothly. ‘I’m sure you won’t wish to be bothered with them.’

  ‘Very considerate,’ agreed Aunt Bess, turning to look at them from halfway up the staircase. ‘And don’t keep Eduard up unnecessarily, Jenny; he has had a busy day. I’m sure.’ She went on her stately way and turned once more to remark: ‘A delicious dinner, Eduard. Goodnight.’

  Her majestic back disappeared from sight and the Professor’s hold slackened. ‘We can’t talk here, shall we go back to the drawing room?’

  Jenny went with him, saying nothing at all. If he wanted to give her some instructions, let him do so, she couldn’t stop him. But when they were once more sitting facing each her he asked: ‘What exactly did you mean about Margaret?’

  ‘What I said. And if that’s all you want to talk about, I think I will go to bed.’

  ‘Carved from an ice block,’ he mused, ‘with your “Yes, Professor, no, Professor” as meek as you like, and your eyes killing me. Tell me, Jenny, do you really dislike me so much? Oh, I tease you deliberately just to see you get angry, but is that sufficient reason for you to treat me as though I had the plague?’

  He crossed to her chair and pulled her to her feet, holding her hands fast in his, and turned her round so that the lamplight shone on to her face. ‘Well—Do you dislike me?’

  She must have been made to have supposed that she loathed him—hated him, even disliked him—how could that be possible when she loved him so much? He was the only man she would ever want to marry, she knew that for certain, and if he married Margaret her heart would break, but he mustn’t be allowed to even guess at that. She said stonily: ‘No, I don’t like you, Professor van Draak,’ because there was nothing else she could have said. And it couldn’t matter to him in the least what she thought of him if he were in love with Margaret. Supposing she said ‘I love you very much’, what would he do? she wondered miserably. Despite his mocking smile and his nasty remarks he was a kind man, she was sure of that, and he would feel badly if she let him see that she had a tendresse for him.

  He let her hands go and smiled a little. ‘One of the nastiest stings the nettle has given me so far,’ he declared lightly, ‘but it’s best to clear the air, isn’t it?’ He moved a little away and pulled the great dane’s ears gently and went on pleasantly: ‘Will you come with your aunt tomorrow? It may make things easier for her. There isn’t a great deal to do—a sample of blood and I should like to do a scan…one or two tests…they should take two or three hours, no more. Hans will drive you there and bring you back, that will leave Dobbs free to stay with Oliver. I was going to suggest that you both came with me in the morning, but I think now that it would be better if Hans takes you. I should like Miss Creed to rest when she comes back here; there will be several more tests and I don’t want her to get tired. Three days should suffice, for I don’t intend to overtax her strength.’

  He smiled down at her, so kindly that Jenny only just prevented herself from putting out a hand to catch his sleeve and tell him what her true feelings were. But that would never do; she agreed politely, promised to have her aunt ready at the required hour and wished him goodnight. He didn’t walk with her to the door and she didn’t look back as she went out of the room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JENNY FOUND the next three days difficult even though they were interesting. The Professor treated her with the courtesy of a good host, but as he confined his conversations with her to her aunt’s condition, suggestions as to times of appointments and similar dull topics; even if she had wanted to retract every word she had said on that first evening, it would have been impossible to get through the invisible but none the less solid barrier he had erected between them. After all, before, despite their disagreements, there had been a certain camaraderie between them, now there was nothing at all.

  But if she was unhappy, Oliver was in the seventh heaven; with Dobbs as an ever-watchful companion, he had gone sightseeing; to the Maduradam at den Haag, to a number of castles in the vicinity and to the coast to see the sea and play on the sands. And when he wasn’t at one or other of these places, he was pottering in a small rowboat on the pond, learning to use the oars under Hans’ guidance, or eating the satisfying meals Hennie prepared for him. Life for him, at least, was bliss.

  Aunt Bess seemed content enough too. True, her days were largely taken up with visits to the hospital and the rather wearisome hours there, and there were occasional visits to the Professor’s consulting rooms too, but as these were organised with an eye to her comfort and convenience, she bore them with an equanimity which Jenny found nothing short of astonishing.

  On their first visit to the hospital, driven there by Hans very shortly after breakfast, they had been met in the entrance hall by an elderly Sister whose English, although heavily accented, was more than adequate. She had whisked them away to the Surgical Floor and installed them in a waiting room, and Aunt Bess had barely had the time to complain at being kept waiting before a nurse came to usher them into the Professor’s own sanctum.

  It was much like any other consulting room. Jenny decided that if it hadn’t been for some books on the shelves with pond
erous-looking Dutch titles, it might have been in England, and indeed, when she looked more closely, there were a great many books with English titles, too, as well as French and German.

  The Professor had risen from behind his desk to greet them and it was at once obvious that was no longer Eduard but Professor van Draak, about to examine his patient. Aunt Bess, ever one to speak her mind, had remarked upon this immediately with a: ‘Ah—professional treatment, is it? I must remember not to call you Eduard. Jenny, take my jacket, I can’t think why I brought it with me in the first place. Now, what am I to do first?’

  The examination had progressed satisfactorily; from time to time Aunt Bess had demurred about something or other, but only because she felt bound to do so, and she was easily overborne by the Professor, suavely having his own way. Jenny, sitting silently close by, getting up and doing what she was required to do in her usual sensible fashion, couldn’t help but admire the ease with which he managed his patient. At the same time she deplored the fact that he took absolutely no notice of herself. But that was her own fault.

  Hans took them back to Kasteel te Solendijk afterwards, to a late lunch without the Professor, before Jenny settled her aunt for a nap. Having done which she felt free to do whatever she liked until teatime.

  On that first afternoon she had toured the house with Hennie, and come to the conclusion that although it was vastly different from Dimworth, it was just as lovely, and certainly its contents were a good deal older, as was the house itself. She had remarked this at dinner that evening and the Professor had thanked her gravely without offering any further comment. This had the effect of making her feel peevish, so that she was glad when her aunt decided to go to bed very shortly after they had had their coffee and she was able to make her own excuses. Of course, if their host had even so much as hinted that he would enjoy her society for the evening, she would have changed her mind on the instant, but he did no such thing, only wished her a formal goodnight, which had the unhappy effect of rendering her sleepless.