The Convenient Wife

by Betty Neels

  He took her hand in his large firm one and held it briefly. All he said was, ‘You needed a holiday.’ He opened the door for her, and she picked up her case and went through it into the long, dark passage to the nurses’ quarters. She didn’t look back, and before she was half-way there she heard the door close.

  It was a good thing the ward was busy when she went on duty the next morning, for she had no time to think about anything other than her work. Staff Nurse Thomas was in a sour mood, too, chivvying her to and fro, finding fault and complaining that she wasn’t going to make a good nurse, not in a month of Sundays. The patients were nice, though. There were several convalescents, busy making Christmas decorations, and those who were too ill to do anything grinned cheerfully and called weakly across the ward to each other, arguing about football and the pools. Venetia nipped to and fro and, whenever she had a moment, stopped to fill in a coupon for someone too ill to hold a pen. Each time the ward door opened she looked round, wishing and at the same time not wishing to see the professor, but he didn’t come. There was no reason for him to do so; there were no head injuries needing his attention.

  There was no sign of him all day, although one of the theatre staff held forth at length over dinner, giving a blow by blow account of a four-hour operation he had done that morning.

  ‘He’s gorgeous,’ she enthused. ‘Never loses his cool, and never shouts like some I could mention. We’ll all miss him…’

  She got up to fetch her pudding and stopped to talk to someone at another table, so Venetia, with not another minute to spare before going back on duty, never discovered why he would be missed. Surely he wasn’t leaving forever? He had said he was going home for Christmas, but that could mean anything. She loitered along the corridors thinking about it, and got back three minutes late, to Staff Nurse Thomas’s nagging reproaches.

  She saw him the next day. He was coming towards her across the entrance hall where she had gone to fetch something for Sister from the lodge. He had Mr Miles with him and two housemen and, although Arthur smiled at her, the professor merely gave her a cold stare. And that same evening she heard that he had gone back to Holland.

  Christmas was almost upon them. The ward had to be decorated; such patients who were able to go had to be discharged, some to return once Christmas was over; the remainder were rearranged so that the ill ones were at one end of the ward in comparative peace and quiet; and, since it was the festive season which brought the inevitable accidents with it, beds were made up in readiness for the expected casualties. Sure enough, in they came, mostly with stab wounds, jagged cuts from broken bottles, and slashed hands and arms, and along with them came a sprinkling of appendixes, gall bladders and gastric ulcers. Venetia was too tired to do much more than go to bed when she got off duty, although she went to several parties in the hospital. Although none of the young doctors found her attractive, they liked her because she was kind and listened when they talked to her. They tended to ask her advice about their love-affairs, too, and she never lacked for someone to talk to. All the same, she was glad when Christmas was over, even though the round of parties and extra work on the wards had given rise to short tempers and a good deal of peevishness. Even Sister Giles was irritable, and Staff Nurse Thomas was in a continuous rage about something or other.

  Venetia, on the way to the dispensary with a rude message from that lady about the non-sending of a drug she had ordered, was glad to get away from the ward for a few minutes. She took the long way round in order to spin out her freedom, and didn’t hurry, so the professor, who was following her, had no difficulty in catching up with her as she went past the boiler-room and slowed her steps to call a cheerful good morning to the engineer there.

  ‘And good morning to you, too, Venetia,’ said the professor in her ear. She whirled round so quickly that he put out an arm to steady her.

  ‘Good morning, sir. You made me jump.’ She retreated a little from him and started walking again, and this time he stayed with her. His voice, cool and so authoritative, halted her again. ‘I wish to talk to you, Nurse. When are you free?’

  ‘I’m on duty all day, sir.’

  ‘In that case I will come to the ward.’

  She forgot whom she was talking to for a moment. ‘Oh, you can’t do that…’

  He turned his dark eyes on her, his eyebrows raised in cold astonishment. ‘I can do as I wish, Nurse. I will see you later.’

  He turned on his heel and walked unhurriedly away, and the engineer, who had been shamelessly eavesdropping, said, ‘Cor, Nurse! What’ve you been up to?’

  A question which she pondered for the rest of the morning; it took away her appetite at dinner. But perhaps he wouldn’t come…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE professor came half-way through the afternoon, stalking through the ward to Sister’s office. Venetia, explaining to an irate Staff Nurse Thomas just why she had gone to fetch old Mr Pike a drink when she was supposed to be taking his temperature, peeped through a gap in the cubicle curtains and her heart sank, for he looked to be at his most formidable. Allowing her senior’s diatribe to flow over her head, she searched her mind for any awful mistakes she might have made, but none came to mind worthy of his august wrath. Besides, she reminded herself hopefully, he had his own department and theatre in the hospital, and she had had nothing to do with any of his patients.

  Her unhappy musings were brought to a halt by the arrival of Sister Giles, requesting her to go to her office where Professor ter Laan-Luitinga was waiting. She gave Venetia an encouraging smile as she spoke, but Venetia still paused by the door before she knocked, and in answer to his ‘Come’ went in.

  He was standing at the window, staring out, his back to her, but when she closed the door behind her he turned round. Since he didn’t speak, and the silence became rather more than she could bear, she said woodenly, ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

  He drew forward the small wooden chair facing Sister’s desk. ‘Do sit down. You are wondering why I wish to speak to you?’

  ‘Well, yes, I am rather…’

  He sat down on the side of the desk, uncaring of the neat stacks of charts and forms waiting for Sister Giles’s attention. He didn’t speak for a minute or more, and Venetia, sitting very still, her hands folded on her aproned lap, wished very much to jump up and rush from the room. Instead she clutched her hands together very tightly and fixed her eyes on the professor’s waistcoat.

  ‘I have been home, as you know,’ he said finally, ‘and I have had time to reflect. I have given the matter considerable thought, and it seems to me that it would be to our mutual advantage if you were to become my wife.’

  Venetia goggled at him. ‘Your wife?’ and then, ‘Your wife? You must be joking…’

  She saw his eyebrows come together in a heavy frown and went on hastily, ‘No, all right, you’re not joking, only it’s so—so unexpected.’ And since he remained silent, ‘What I mean is—it doesn’t seem a very good idea. I’m quite sure that you aren’t—that is…’ she paused, took a breath and went on, rather pink in the face ‘…I don’t think I’m the kind of girl you would fall in love with, and I’ve never had the least…’ She fell silent. Really, she thought crossly, a girl shouldn’t have to explain the matter to a man who had just proposed to her.

  ‘You are labouring under a misapprehension,’ he observed impatiently. ‘I have not mentioned falling in love to you, only that you would make me a suitable wife.’ Venetia opened her mouth to utter and he went on testily, ‘No, don’t keep interrupting. Allow me to explain. You remember that I have a ward, a girl of seventeen, left in my charge by a lifelong friend who died some years ago? She has just left her school in Switzerland, and will live at home with me until she is eighteen, when she is to go to her aunt who lives in the States. Until now I have seen very little of her—there has been a companion at my home who looked after her during her holidays, but this lady has retired. I am unable to remain at home for any length of time because of my work,
and in any case I believe that I am unsuitable for the task of looking after my ward. She has recently become rather wayward in her life-style, so the school authorities tell me, and she needs someone to check her until such time as I can relinquish my guardianship and hand her over to her aunt. I have no family living within a reasonable distance of my home, and it occurs to me that a sensible girl such as yourself, with no ties, could take my ward in charge, entertain my friends and run my household.’

  Venetia’s eyes were like saucers. ‘How about a governess or a housekeeper? I should have thought either one or both would be sensible…?’

  She sensed his impatience. ‘No, Anneta needs a secure, affectionate family background; she also needs someone young enough for her to confide in and who will understand her. At the same time she needs a level-headed parent to guide her—give her an example of a contented, harmonious marriage. In fact, I understand that some of her friends come from homes where divorce is more the rule than the exception.’

  ‘And us? You and me?’ said Venetia. ‘Will we be contented and harmonious?’ She looked around the rather dreary little office wildly. ‘And what about when she goes to this aunt in America? Quite likely by then we shan’t be either of these things.’

  ‘A matter we are surely sensible enough to settle between us when the time comes. I assure you that you will be provided for if you should choose to terminate our marriage.’

  ‘Why me?’

  ‘Have I not made myself clear? You are exactly the kind of young woman Anneta is most likely to listen to. You have no family, no home and no prospect of marrying. I am offering you these things in return, and all I ask is for you to be a guiding light to her, a hostess to my guests, and to fulfil the role of wife and mistress of my home. I think and hope that we may be more than friends in time, but until then we shall remain just that—friends.’

  He smiled suddenly, and just for a moment she glimpsed a quite different man behind his reserve. She said hesitantly, ‘You’re sure you’re not in love with anyone? It would be awful if you married me and fell in love with someone else.’

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind, but I am no longer in my first youth, and I have had my fill of falling in love. I lead a busy life, and my work absorbs my days.’ He got up and walked to the window, peered out and turned his back on the depressing view. ‘But I have a great many friends, and you would not find your life dull. Besides, there will be Anneta.’

  ‘You really mean it?’

  He became all at once aloof. ‘My dear girl, do you suppose that I would waste your time on a pointless discussion? Or mine, for that matter? Of course, I mean it.’

  She studied his face. She liked him, there was no denying that, but she was rather in awe of him, too. She might make the most frightful mess of marrying him, and the bit about being a hostess to his friends was rather intimidating. Anneta, too, was going to be a handful. On the other hand, what did the future hold for her? Very little, as far as she could see. A safe job, to be sure, if she passed her finals, and after that? Years of hospital wards and, if she was lucky enough, a ward sister’s post. The professor was right when he had pointed out that she had no prospects regarding marriage. No one, so far, had ever asked her to marry him, and she thought it unlikely that anyone would. But the professor had…

  ‘My mind is confused. May I think about it?’ she asked him.

  ‘Certainly. Are you free tomorrow evening? Yes? Good. I will be outside at half-past six. We will go home and you may give your answer then.’

  She got to her feet. Sister Giles would be hopping mad by now, and Staff Nurse Thomas would be gibbering with rage. ‘I’d better go…’ She sounded anxious without knowing it, and he went to the door with her. He paused with his hand on it, towering over her, smiling so kindly that she blinked and felt a little rush of warm feeling under her ribs.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ he told her.

  He had a great deal of authority, although he seldom showed it; his few words of explanation had the effect of silencing any remarks Staff Nurse Thomas had been bottling up, and Sister Giles, beyond requesting her to get on with her work as quickly as possible, had nothing to say. Only Staff Nurse Thomas, as they were going to their dinners, muttered, ‘Gave you a good telling off, did he? You’d better look out, Nurse Forbes, or you’ll find yourself looking for another way of life.’

  Venetia forbore to tell her that she didn’t need to look, it had been offered to her.

  She spent the rest of the day vacillating between agreeing to the professor’s proposal and turning it down flat. Indeed, she rehearsed a number of suitable and dignified speeches in which she thanked him nicely for his offer and explained why it would be impossible for her to accept it. She was vague as to her reasons for refusing, and the possibility of his querying them was something she ignored. She still wasn’t quite sure that he had actually meant what he had said. On the other hand, from time to time, when Staff Nurse Thomas was particularly nasty, she viewed the idea of marriage to the professor as decidedly the lesser of two evils. She went to bed with her head in a splendid muddle, sure that she would lie awake and worry all night. She went to sleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

  Since it was take-in week there was no opportunity to give the matter further thought during the following day. Tired out after a day of being at her senior’s beck and call, and with her insides rumbling in protest at hurried meals snatched when a few minutes could be spared, she went off duty half an hour later, her one desire to have her supper and go to bed after a lengthy bath. If she had known how to get hold of the professor and back out of their evening together she would have done so, but she hadn’t seen him all day, and she balked at asking anyone. There was nothing for it but to shower and change and go and meet him. At least she was sure that she would have a lovely supper. She only hoped she wouldn’t drop off over it…

  It was, she felt, a special occasion, and merited a certain amount of extra care with her appearance. There was a wool dress at the back of her wardrobe; it had been expensive when she had bought it at least two years ago, and it had been chosen with the intention of wearing it for years to come. It was grey, a useful colour, she had considered at the time, but it had never suited her, and now it did even less than that. She peered at her reflection without enthusiasm, brushed her hair from its tidy chignon and allowed it to frame her face, powdered her pale face and put on lipstick. Surely the professor would change his mind when she appeared? A more unsuitable candidate for the honour of being a well-known surgeon’s wife would surely be hard to find? She got into her coat, stuck her feet into her only pair of court shoes, and went down to the front entrance.

  The professor was standing just inside the doors, talking to Arthur Miles. He watched Venetia coming towards them, appraising her appearance with a knowledgeable eye. Neat and unspectacular, he decided, listening with half an ear to his companion. She would repay dressing, and she had a pleasantly unselfconscious air about her. She would be entirely suitable as his wife; she was undemanding and intelligent and a good companion—indeed, he had enjoyed her companionship, aware that there was nothing about her to distract him from his work. And she would be good for Anneta, who was proving to be a problem which was beyond the powers of even the most brilliant of surgeons…

  He said briefly, ‘Here’s Venetia,’ and went to meet her with Arthur beside him. They talked for a few minutes—about Lottie and the cottage—and presently Arthur went away and they went out to the car. The professor had nothing much to say as he drove to Hampstead, and Venetia was far too occupied rehearsing her speech to notice.

  Todd opened the door to them and Mrs Todd took her away to tidy herself before she joined the professor in his drawing-room. The cat was sitting before the fire and Venetia, glad of a topic of conversation, said, ‘Oh, hello. Does she belong to you?’

  The professor got up and ushered her to a chair near the fire. ‘Orthia—let us say rather that she attached herself to my household
some months ago under the impression that we belong to her.’

  Venetia thought for a moment. ‘A Greek name, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes—or if you prefer Artemis or Diana…’

  ‘She hunts.’ Venetia bent to stroke the furry head. ‘This cat looks much too cosy to do more than drink a saucer of milk.’

  He got up to pour her a drink and then began a gentle conversation which required very little effort on her part, and presently Todd came to announce that dinner was ready, and they crossed the hall to the dining-room. She hadn’t been in it before; it was elegantly furnished and softly lit and the table gleamed with silver and crystal. As she took her seat opposite her host she reflected that it wasn’t quite fair to eat a splendid dinner under false pretences, for she could so easily have told him that she had made up her mind to refuse him. This thought was expunged by the sensible one that, since she was here, she might as well enjoy the delicious food which was offered to her.

  And it was delicious; Tarte Valentinoise followed by grilled trout with pepper sauce, rissole potatoes, braised chicory and a purée of carrots. They drank a white wine, but when Todd had served a chestnut soufflé he set fresh glasses on the table and opened a bottle of champagne.

  Venetia, who had enjoyed every morsel and carried on quite successful small talk while doing so, had a sudden suspicious thought as the cork popped, but the professor’s face was, as usual, bland and slightly withdrawn, and he continued to talk about the books they had been discussing. Only when the champagne had been poured did he say casually, ‘A toast to you, Venetia, either in celebration of our engagement or a means by which I may drown my disappointment.’