Grasp a Nettle

by Betty Neels

  ‘But I thought it took weeks…’

  Hans gave her a tolerant smile! ‘It probably does, miss, but if Professor van Draak makes up his mind about something, he doesn’t regard obstacles.’

  ‘Oh—Well, yes. A week or two here and she’ll be as fit as a fiddle, won’t she? Is the pony coming from the same place?’

  ‘No, miss. I understand he is a child’s—what is the word?—mount no longer required by the owner. The Professor intends to buy a second donkey later on.’ He paused to watch Oliver feeding carrots to the donkey. ‘Perhaps Oliver would like a ride?’

  So they all went for an amble round the paddock, until Hans gave it his opinion that the animal would probably be glad of a rest. Oliver slid off her back at once, saying loudly: ‘I shall come here to stay very often, then I can ride…’

  ‘Well, yes, my lamb, but you’ll have to…’ Jenny stopped. How very complicated life would be for Oliver if his mother married Eduard. He wouldn’t need to be invited then, of course, because he would be living at Solendijk. But what about Dimworth? That was, after all, his true home and inheritance.

  ‘Why don’t you finish?’ demanded Oliver.

  ‘Oh, I’ve forgotten what I was going to say—it wasn’t anything important.’ She caught Hans’ eyes upon her and had an uneasy feeling that he had known what she had been thinking and for some reason it amused him—almost as though he knew something she didn’t.

  ‘How about elevenses?’ she asked, ‘and Hans, it’s such a mild day, do you suppose we could have a picnic lunch out here by the pool? I’ll help carry it out.’

  He beamed at her. ‘Of course, Miss Wren, and there’ll be no need for you to do anything.’ His tone was mildly reproving at the suggestion.

  They had eaten the last crumb of the delicious sandwiches which Hennie had made for them and drained the lemonade jug dry as the Panther swished up the drive and stopped before the front door. The Professor got out and went into the house, to come out again almost immediately and bend his steps in their direction. He had a glass of beer in one hand and a sandwich in the other and folded his length on to the lawn beside them with a cheerful: ‘Hullo—have you enjoyed your morning?’

  ‘Smashing!’ declared Oliver. ‘I went for a ride on your donkey and she liked it.’

  ‘Good.’ The Professor took a huge bite. ‘And you, Jenny?’

  ‘Very nice, thank you,’ she told him demurely. ‘Have you been busy?’

  He polished off the rest of the sandwich. ‘Yes. The test results are excellent. Miss Creed is in Amsterdam?’

  Jenny nodded. ‘Yes, but she’ll be back before tea. Which reminds me that I still have a mass of packing to do and I’d better go and finish it.’ She was kneeling beside him, tidying away the remains of their lunch on to a tray, aware that he was watching her. To break the silence she asked: ‘Will Margaret be back before we leave?’ She looked at him quickly and then away again. ‘Should we say goodbye now?’

  He glanced at the paper-thin gold watch on his wrist. ‘Hasn’t she gone yet? No, she won’t be back until after you have left—probably not until tomorrow.’ He drank the last of his beer. ‘Oliver, you had better go and say goodbye to your mother now—she’s to be fetched very shortly.’

  The little boy ran off and Jenny got to her feet, anxious not to be alone with the Professor. ‘I must go…’ she began, but he chose to misunderstand her. ‘Well, Miss Creed will certainly be safer with a companion on the journey.’ He took the tray from her and put it down on the grass again, then tucked a hand under her arm. ‘I have a fancy to stroll through the gardens,’ he observed mildly. ‘I’m sure you’re very quick at packing and there can’t be all that much.’ He glanced down at her. ‘I like that blue dress. Did you throw that flowered thing out of the window?’

  She couldn’t stop her chuckle. ‘Of course not. I’ll give it to someone when I get back, though; I don’t much like it myself.’

  She was being led away from the pool, towards the wide gravel path bordered by early autumn flowers very aware of his hand on her arm.

  ‘Don’t you want to say goodbye to Margaret?’ she asked.

  ‘My dear girl, I shall be seeing her again in a few hours. Tell me, what do you intend to do when you return to Dimworth?’

  Was he going to meet Margaret, then? Where were they going together? And hadn’t Margaret said that she had to pack an overnight bag? Jenny had no answer to the questions rotating round and round inside her head. She said a little absently: ‘Well, I’ll stay until the house is closed for the winter, then I—I suppose I’ll look for another job. Perhaps Queen’s would take me back…’

  ‘So you have decided not to marry Toby?’

  She tossed her bright head. ‘I decided that years ago.’

  ‘You have no other plans? There must be a number of young men dangling after you.’

  He was very anxious to marry her off, she thought crossly, just because his future was all nicely settled and rosy. She didn’t answer but asked instead, not really meaning to: ‘When are you going to get married?’

  ‘Oh, at the earliest possible moment,’ he assured her suavely. ‘I can’t have a donkey and pony eating their heads off for nothing.’

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘But it would be a year or two…’

  ‘Ah, yes, but Oliver could keep them in practice, could he not?’

  Jenny sighed, a sad little sound she wasn’t aware of. ‘Yes, of course.’ Suddenly being with him wasn’t to be borne a moment longer; he would walk here with Margaret and tell her about his day and talk about the children… She hoped that Margaret would listen intelligently and take an interest in the children, but perhaps he loved her so much that that wouldn’t really matter.

  ‘I must pack,’ she said in a desperate little voice, and turned and ran back to the house.

  Of course he had been right; she could have packed in ten minutes flat if she had needed to. She managed to spin it out until she heard the car which had come to fetch Margaret had driven away, very late, because Margaret hadn’t been ready. She had told Jenny nothing when she had gone to say goodbye, only looked smug and pleased with herself and hinted at a marvellous surprise everyone was going to have very shortly. And when Jenny had tried to persuade her to tell her secret she had shrugged and said in her charming, indolent way: ‘Oh, Jenny—not now can’t you see I’ve got my hair to do? You’ll know soon enough.’

  Jenny wandered over to the window to stare at the lovely gardens spread below her. Well, she knew, didn’t she—there was really no need to ask Margaret. She couldn’t get away fast enough now, away from the lovely old house, its splendid grounds, the excitement of seeing Eduard every day…

  She decided that it would be safe to go downstairs now, as the master of the house would be in his study, Oliver she had seen, his hand in Hans’, crossing the lawn to take another look at the donkey. She would slip out of the side door behind the sitting room and go and look at the vines, so vastly superior to those at Dimworth.

  She had reached the hall when the study door was flung open and the Professor stuck his head out, ‘Packed?’ he wanted to know carelessly. ‘In which case, how about a stroll? We didn’t finish the last one, did we? Miss Creed won’t be back for another hour.’

  Jenny restrained herself from bolting back the way she had come. ‘No—no, thank you, I mean, I’ve still got things to do…’

  ‘Such as?’

  She stared at him helplessly, quite unable to think of any excuse at all. After a long moment he said smoothly: ‘You don’t want to, do you, Jenny?’ His face had become bleak. ‘And you must have a very good idea of what I’m going to say to you.’

  She took a step backwards. ‘Yes, of course—and I don’t want…that is, I’d rather not…’ Her voice trembled. ‘Please, Eduard, not now.’

  His brows rose. ‘Not now? And supposing I should come to Dimworth, would I be allowed to tell you then?’

  ‘I…yes.’ By then she would
be able to smile and congratulate him and wish him happy—Margaret too.

  His smile was small and mocking. ‘I shall remember that.’ He had gone inside and shut the door before she could think of anything to say.

  She didn’t see him to speak to alone after that. Aunt Bess came back very satisfied with herself received the good news of her test results with an air of I-told-you-so, partook of tea and pronounced herself ready to leave. ‘And you, Eduard, what will you do with yourself this evening? Margaret either would not or could not give me any coherent answers to my questions.’

  ‘I have to go back to the hospital presently,’ he told her pleasantly, ‘and I shall be dining with Margaret.’ He looked at Jenny as he spoke, but she pretended not to see.

  They left a little later, after at least half an hour of loading luggage on to the car, installing Aunt Bess on to the back seat, finding Oliver, who had gone to say goodbye to the donkey, and finally taking a farewell of the Professor. He stood outside his front door, large and placid, saying all the right things. The last Jenny saw of him was his huge frame outlined against his lovely home, and she didn’t see him very clearly for the tears in her eyes.

  Their journey home held no hindrances. How the Professor had managed to get them cabins at such short notice was something Jenny didn’t worry about; he was a man who would always get what he wanted. Margaret, for instance.

  Back at Dimworth life settled into its old pattern once more; everyone was glad to see them back home and Aunt Bess, almost her former self, found fault with everyone, upset Mrs Thorpe, declared that it was a good thing that she was once more able to hold the reins because the household bills were shocking, and then toured the house, picking holes in everything and everyone. Just like old times, thought Jenny. No mention was made of Margaret and surprisingly she neither wrote nor telephoned for several days. When she did do so it was one morning when Jenny was dusting the doll collection. Aunt Bess took the call and presently swept along to where Jenny was carefully rearranging the exhibits.

  ‘Well, she’s done it!’ declared Miss Creed in trumpet-like tones. ‘Oliver is to have a new father.’

  Jenny dropped her feather duster. ‘Oh. I’m glad—when are they to be married?’

  ‘As soon as it can be arranged. Presumably they have made some arrangement regarding Oliver—this is, after all, his home, or will be when he’s a man.’ Aunt Bess allowed herself a snort. ‘Not that Margaret has made much effort to make it home for him. However, that must be gone into later, I suppose. He sounds a sensible type, and since they’ve known each other in their youth, he understands the situation.’

  ‘Their youth?’ asked Jenny, quite at sea.

  ‘Well, yes, child. This Dirk van something or other was in Scotland for several years—he knew Margaret long before she met Oliver and married him. Now they have met again and have decided to marry. It seems a splendid arrangement.’

  ‘Where did they meet? I mean, for the second time.’ Jenny’s voice was almost a whisper so that Aunt Bess begged her to speak up.

  ‘He’s a friend of Eduard, strangely enough. Eduard discovered that they knew each other and arranged to take Margaret to see Dirk what’s-his-name. They practically fell into each other’s arms.’ She marched to the door. ‘Don’t forget the clock,’ she said severely as she went out.

  Jenny ignored the clock and the remainder of the dolls, too. So Eduard hadn’t been in love with Margaret at all—so what had he wanted to tell her? She remembered how she had run away and begged him not to say any more. She picked up an exact replica of Queen Victoria and gave her a perfunctory dust. ‘Fool fool,’ she told herself loudly, ‘he thinks you don’t give a damn—I let him think that, and how on earth am I ever going to find out if it was me?’ Her muddled thoughts gave way to several wild ideas, none of them feasible. She could of course go to Holland, but she would have to have a reason…’ And I’ll find one!’ she cried fiercely, flung down her duster and flew upstairs to her room, where she locked the door and cried her eyes red.

  There were plenty of visitors that afternoon. Jenny watched them straggle through the gatehouse, up the broad path to the entrance and went to take her seat behind the big table, loaded with a fresh batch of jam, postcards and brochures. There was a school party, she noted, which meant that Florrie’s niece would have to act as guide. The teacher in charge wasn’t able to keep them an in order; ever since the time they had discovered a small boy sitting in a priceless William and Mary chair, eating a cheese sandwich, they had had to be careful.

  The first few visitors appeared, making straight for the table, as they nearly always did, then armed with a brochure and a bag of sweets, they would wander off to look around them. There was, of course, a hard core of those who didn’t know what they wanted, and for that matter, didn’t know why they had come in the first place. Jenny pushed her hair off her forehead with a weary hand and opened the petty cash box as the first visitor picked up a handful of cards. One more week, she reflected, then the house would be closed and revert to its glorious winter peace, and she would be free to find a job—or go in search of Eduard. She handed change and wondered just what she would say to him.

  An hour later she was still doing a fair trade, although the spate had spent itself and become a steady trickle. She handed a bag of fudge to a small, grubby boy with an engaging grin and gave him back his change with a warm smile and a souvenir pencil for free, and looked up at the next customer.

  Eduard. She trembled a little at the sight of him and was furious with herself for it.

  ‘I want to talk to you.’ He didn’t bother to lower his voice. ‘Will you come out from behind that table, Jenny?’

  ‘No.’ It would have been little to have said more than that, but she had no breath.

  ‘Then I shall come and sit beside you,’ he said blandly, ‘and we can talk here.’

  ‘No, certainly not—of course we can’t…’ She gave him a quick glance and saw that he had meant what he had said. Two or three people were approaching, intent on buying postcards; she pressed the floor bell under her foot and hoped that whoever it was detailed to relieve her would come quickly, and watched the door, not looking at him. It was Mrs Thorpe who came bustling in, still wearing the best summer hat, her two-piece covered by a serviceable apron. ‘Trouble, dear?’ she wanted to know in her penetrating voice.

  Jenny avoided answering that. ‘I should be glad if you could take over for a little while, Mrs Thorpe—there’s something I have to attend to.’

  Mrs Thorpe’s rather prominent eye had discovered the Professor. ‘Why, doctor,’ she cried archly and erroneously, ‘how delightful to meet you again. No trouble, I hope?’

  Jenny admired his suavity as he dealt with the question and added: ‘Don’t let me keep you from your post, Mrs Thorpe.’ His eyes took in the small queue which had formed behind him, but he didn’t budge, only looked at Jenny. He wasn’t going to move until she went with him and people were beginning to prick up interested ears. She got to her feet and walked round the table and started towards the small arched doorway marked private, and found him right beside her.

  She stepped past him as he opened the door and then closed it behind him. The lobby was very small with the circular staircase spiralling up from its centre. Jenny, between staircase and Professor, had no room at all. All the same she asked in a dignified voice, addressing his top waistcoat button: ‘What do you want?’

  The Professor, probably with an eye to making more room, put his arms around her. ‘You, my darling girl, you ridiculous, nettlesome creature, getting silly ideas into your head, taking everything for granted in your usual hoity-toity fashion. You said that if I came to see you here, you would listen to me, so I have come.’

  ‘Well, I can’t do anything else, can I?’ she pointed out, glad that her voice was so nice and steady although she was very much afraid that in that confined space he would be able to hear her heart beating like a mad thing. And he must have done, for she was caug
ht in a tight embrace and kissed in a purposeful fashion which left her in no doubt whatsoever as to his feelings.

  ‘My dearest dear,’ said the Professor lovingly to the top of her head, ‘surely you knew that I loved you? Oh, not at once, I must admit, you’re bossy and prickly to a fault and everlastingly managing to keep me on tenterhooks—and you’re adorable…I’m a good deal older than you are, my love, bad-tempered and arrogant too. I shall have to learn to be a good husband, and I will. I promise you, for nothing I have is of any worth unless I have you.’

  He bent to kiss her, gently this time. ‘And why in heaven’s name you should concoct that fairy tale about Margaret and me…’

  ‘I didn’t! She told Oliver that she wanted to marry you, and you were always hanging round her…’ She felt the Professor’s enormous chest heave with silent amusement and went on indignantly: ‘Well, you were—how was I to know? You see, you would have done very well for her—rich and living the kind of life she likes, and Oliver likes you…’

  ‘He shall come and stay with us, my dearest. As I have already told you, someone must exercise those animals until our children are old enough to do it for themselves. But Dirk—Aunt Bess told you about him?—will see that Oliver has his fair share of living here. You haven’t said that you will marry me, Jenny.’

  Her voice was very quiet. ‘I’m waiting to be asked.’

  She felt his chest heave again and heard a rumble of laughter. ‘Jenny soft as silk at last! Will you marry me?’

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. ‘I couldn’t bear it if I didn’t.’ She was kissed at some length until she said: ‘Eduard, just a minute—why didn’t you tell me? I mean, at Solendijk—you see, it seemed as if you and Margaret…and yet in Alkmaar I almost… You did mean all those things you said in Alkmaar?’