The Quiet Professor

by Betty Neels

  ‘Little Megan is thriving,’ he told her. ‘She is out of Intensive Care and gaining weight. The police are trying to trace her mother but there isn’t much hope of that. If no one claims her she will come here in a few weeks—the storm must have been pretty frightening. A good thing that Professor van Belfeld phoned the directrice when he did. He worked out where you would be and found you almost at once, didn’t he? Never at a loss even in a dire emergency. He’s going back to England very shortly, I hear. Any idea when you’re leaving?’

  ‘None; I expect it depends on Mien coming back from Canada. It doesn’t really matter to me, for I shall be going home for a bit.’

  He picked up Lise’s chart and studied her weight. ‘Well, send a postcard, won’t you? We shall all miss you.’

  ‘I shall miss everyone here—I’ve been very happy…’

  ‘You weren’t happy when you came, were you?’

  ‘No.’ She smiled at him. ‘There’s nothing like a pack of infants and children to take one’s mind off oneself.’

  She dressed carefully for her visit to Baroness van Belfeld; a pretty dress in muted pinks and blues in a fine voile with a simple bodice, short sleeves and a wide, softly pleated skirt. She was to be fetched at half-past eleven and she went down to the hall with a minute or two to spare, stopping on the way to tell Annette where she was going.

  ‘Not Mevrouw,’ said Annette severely. ‘You must say Baroness.’

  ‘Oh, must I? I hope I haven’t been impolite…’

  ‘No, no. She will be glad to see you, I think. Now that Professor van Belfeld has gone to England she will be lonely.’

  ‘Gone to England? Oh…’ Megan added a quick, ‘Yes, of course.’

  As she went out of the door she admitted to herself that she had hoped to see the professor; that he might perhaps fetch her in his car. There was a car there, but not his, of course. A beautifully kept and rather out of date Daimler with a youngish man waiting by it.

  He opened the door for her, bade her, ‘Goeden dag,’ and added, ‘I am son of Litman, Dirk.’

  Megan got in beside him. ‘You speak English, how nice. I can’t speak Dutch, only a few words.’

  ‘Very difficult.’ He was a friendly man and they talked about this and that as he drove, using a mixture of both languages and rather enjoying themselves. Megan would have liked to have asked him about the professor but she wouldn’t stoop to that; perhaps his grandmother would tell her if he had gone for good or if he would return. She would be leaving very soon now, within a week perhaps; it depended on a final letter from Mien as to the exact date. She did her best to stop thinking about him and when they reached the house she thanked Dirk and was led by a dignified but welcoming Litman to a small sitting-room where the baroness was waiting.

  The welcome from the old lady was warm. ‘How pretty you look, child,’ she observed. ‘Jake told me that you were twenty-eight but you look ten years younger. You look so much better since you have been at the orphanage. The good sea air and the simple food have done wonders.’

  Megan sat down near her. ‘The children too,’ she pointed out. ‘I’ve loved every minute of it.’

  They drank their coffee from delicate porcelain cups and ate small crisp biscuits and talked about clothes and old furniture and the portraits on the walls and not a word about the professor. It was most frustrating. Megan bent to stroke the ginger cat curled up on the silk Kashan rug and asked with sudden inspiration, ‘Does she get on well with the dogs?’

  ‘Indeed yes, yes, she misses them when they aren’t here. They are out walking with the gardener’s boy—they in their turn miss Jake. I miss him too, just as I shall miss everything here when I go back to den Haag.’

  ‘Oh, I thought you lived here…’

  The old lady shook her head. ‘I have my own apartments in the house of my son and his wife—Jake’s parents. They are in New Zealand visiting his sister, who is married to a surgeon in Wellington. They return shortly and I shall go back with them.’ She studied Megan’s questioning face. ‘You wonder why they do not live here in this large house? They have a patrician house in den Haag. It has been in the family for a long time, just as this one—Jake is the eldest son and it has been the custom in the family for the eldest son, when he becomes twenty-one years of age, to live here, marry and bring up his family and when the time comes his son will take over this house and he in his turn will go to den Haag.’

  Well, thought Megan, I’ve known the professor all these months without discovering anything about him and now his granny has said a good deal of it in one sentence. She said politely, ‘How interesting. Only the professor isn’t married…’

  His grandmother peered at her over her spectacles. ‘Not yet. The van Belfeld men have never hurried to marry but when they finally do so it is for life and beyond, and they marry for love and for no other reason. Jake has said nothing to me but I feel that you have been unhappy—still are. You are perhaps in love? Would you like to talk about it? It does help…’

  Megan said, ‘It’s such a dull little story; I think it must happen all the time. I was engaged to someone, I thought that I loved him and that he loved me—we got on well together and liked each other’s company—but I know now that I didn’t love him, only you see I didn’t know that then because I had never been in love. It’s quite different, isn’t it,’ she looked at her companion, ‘being in love, loving someone so that nothing else matters? He—he met my sister, who’s a darling girl, and they fell in love just like that—so I had to do something about it.’ She hesitated. ‘Professor van Belfeld helped me—he found me a job so that I could get away and when I got here and could see everything from a distance I could see how different it was. So now I’m all right again.’

  ‘And none the worse for it,’ observed the baroness briskly, ‘but tell me, why are you sad—there is something—someone else?’

  It was tempting to confide in her companion but Megan stopped just in time. Her denial was so vigorous that she very nearly believed it herself.

  Even if the old lady hadn’t had a pretty good idea of the situation, Megan gave herself away by asking in an over-casual manner, ‘Has the professor gone back to England?’

  ‘Yes, unexpectedly. Some urgent matter and it seems that he is expert in whatever it is and no one else would do. They would like him to take a post in the United States—a very tempting offer.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Megan had uttered it so fiercely that she tried at once to make it sound different. ‘What I mean is, he would be missed here and in London, too, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Indeed. Fortunately, he has no need to consider financial gain, as he has a sufficient income. Now, do tell me something of your plans, Megan.’

  Megan would have liked to have gone on talking about the professor but her companion had spoken briskly, shutting the door on the topic of her grandson.

  ‘Well, they are rather vague at the moment. I’m not quite sure when I’m leaving the orphanage although it will be very soon, I think. I shall go home for a little while…’

  ‘You don’t mean to return to Regent’s Hospital?’

  ‘No, oh, no. I’d like to go right away. Scotland perhaps. I—I haven’t decided yet.’

  The baroness began to talk about the storm and the damage it had done and presently Litman came in with a tray of sherry, and, after a suitable interval, announced lunch.

  They went to the dining-room, the baroness holding on to Megan’s arm and using a stick and at t
he same time contriving to walk with dignity, and they lunched off cold lettuce soup, chicken breasts in a delicate cheese sauce, accompanied by a green salad and followed by strawberry tarts.

  ‘We will have coffee in the drawing-room,’ observed the baroness, ‘and then you shall have a pleasant walk in the gardens while I take my nap.’

  So Megan found herself wandering among the flowerbeds and presently found her way to the kitchen garden, exquisitely laid out in neat rows of peas and beans, lettuce and spinach, onions and carrots, its red-brick walls clad with espaliered fruit trees. There was an arched wooden door in the wall, and she opened it and peered through. Beyond there was a paddock and then water meadows and a glimpse of water in the distance. Lovely for the dogs, she thought, and saw them, racing to meet her with Litman’s son behind them. It was hardly a race; Swift had reached her long before Rosie lolloped up to join them.

  When Dirk reached her, Megan asked, ‘Is this also belonging to the—the baron?’

  Dirk waved an arm. ‘To the water—he has much land.’

  They walked back to the house together, the dogs running to and fro until they parted, Dirk to take the dogs through the kitchen door and she to go quietly through the french window into the drawing-room where she had left the old lady resting on one of the sofas.

  The baroness had wakened, and, much refreshed, embarked on a rambling history of the house and gardens. Megan listened avidly, for anything to do with the professor compelled her full attention. The old lady was only brought to a halt by the arrival of the tea tray.

  ‘A pleasant English habit,’ remarked the old lady happily. ‘Assam tea which Jake has sent from Fortnum and Mason, made in the English manner with milk.’

  Megan sat for another half-hour before suggesting that it was time for her to leave, and once again the car was brought round to the front door and she was ushered into it by Dirk. The baroness wished her goodbye cheerfully enough and offered an elderly cheek for her kiss. ‘I am quite sure you have a very happy future, my dear,’ she said as they parted.

  The next day the directrice sent for Megan; Mien would be back in two days’ time and Megan would be free to leave. ‘I would be grateful if you could remain with us for one more day,’ said the directrice, ‘so that you may hand over to Mien. You are on the afternoon shift, are you not? Will you come on duty as usual tomorrow and on the following day take the seven o’clock duty? Mien will be with us late tomorrow evening so that you can work together until noon. That will give you ample time to get to Amsterdam and catch the evening boat train for the Hoek. You will return by boat?’

  They had discussed her departure on several occasions and Megan had told the directrice that she would prefer to go back by the night ferry.

  ‘Very well, you may make your arrangements now if you wish while you have help in the nursery. Let me know if there is anything I can do or if you cannot get a reservation. You know that you are welcome to stay if necessary until there is a free berth.’

  There was a berth; Megan checked the trains and the time of the night sailing and then went back to the nursery. She would phone her mother in the morning and pack then, her mind busy with all the small chores to be done before she left. She should be feeling happy at the idea of going home, she reflected, but all she could think of was the fact that she wasn’t going to see the professor again.

  The next day she was walking up and down the balcony with a peevish Jantje cradled in her arms when the professor trod silently into the nursery and fetched up beside her.

  Megan, conscious of a wild delight at the sight of him, said in a small voice, ‘Oh, I thought you were in England.’

  ‘I am just this morning returned from there.’

  ‘Oh—oh, well. I’m glad you came. I’m going home tomorrow. I thought I wouldn’t see you again—I was going to write…’

  ‘What about?’ His voice was quiet yet compelling.

  ‘To thank you. You were right, I did need to go away—and look at everything from a distance. I had no idea…I didn’t know what being in love—loving someone—was, did I? It isn’t enough just to be fond of someone and enjoy their company, it’s your whole life…’

  ‘And you have discovered that, Megan?’ He spoke softly and she responded, forgetting caution.

  ‘Yes.’ She looked into his calm face. ‘I shan’t see you again, shall I? I’m going to take a job as far away from London as possible. Besides, someone told me that you were planning to live more here than in London.’ When he nodded she went on, ‘Perhaps you won’t want to know this but I think I owe it to you—you see I discovered that I had never been in love with Oscar because I’m in love with you. I didn’t know that, of course; I liked you and I trusted you, but it wasn’t until you brought me here and left me without saying anything that I discovered that it was you.’ She paused. ‘I watched the back of you walking away and I felt—I don’t think there’s a word.’

  Her eyes were on his face. ‘That’s all I wanted to say,’ she said baldly. ‘I hope you aren’t…’ She was interrupted by two things: Dr Timuss advancing towards them and the look of concentration on Jantje’s face, slowly crimsoning with effort. ‘Oh, the lamb, he needs changing.’ She bore him away and the professor gave a crack of laughter as he turned to greet the other man. When Megan got back into the nursery both men had gone and when she went down for her tea break and peered out of the window there was no sign of the professor’s car.

  She gave a great sigh of relief, red in the face at the memory of the things she had said to him. She must have been mad, she reflected; she hadn’t meant to have said what she had, only somehow he was a man she could confide in and once she had started it had been impossible to stop.

  She met Mien that evening when she at last got off duty. A stout, round-faced girl with pale hair and a pair of bright blue eyes. Her English was good and she had a great deal to say about Canada. ‘All the same,’ she declared, ‘it is nice to be back here. You are sorry to go, Megan?’

  ‘Yes!’ said Megan. ‘I’ve enjoyed every minute, only I must get back and find a job in England.’

  They met again at seven o’clock the next morning and spent several hours working together until it was time for Megan to say goodbye to the babies and Mien and eat a hasty lunch before getting out of her overall for the last time and dressing in the little grey jacket and its matching skirt. The day was overcast and probably it would be raining in England. She went around saying goodbye to everyone, ending with the directrice, and everyone crowded to the door to see her off. A car would take her to Castricum station, the directrice had told her, and there was a general chorus of well wishers as she went outside.

  The Rolls-Royce was there with the professor leaning against it. He had nothing to say, and, without giving her time to utter, he opened the door and popped her into the front seat, put her case in the boot and got in beside her.

  ‘There’s a car,’ began Megan faintly. ‘I’m catching a train at Castricum,’ and when he took no notice at all she said, ‘I’m going to England,’ with something of a snap.

  ‘All in good time.’ He waved to the group standing in the entrance and she waved and smiled too, feeling as though she had been hit on the head.

  ‘Are you going to England?’ she asked urgently as he drove out on to the road.

  ‘Yes,’ and when she began, ‘But why…?’ he said,

  ‘Hush, later.’

  She hushed for all of a minute and then said, ‘I don’t know
what you are doing or why. I shall miss my train.’ When he didn’t reply she asked, ‘Are we going all the way to the Hoek?’

  ‘No.’

  She sat up very straight. ‘If it’s because of what I said yesterday then please forget it. I—I was a bit upset.’

  ‘You didn’t mean a word of it?’ She remained silent and he said softly, ‘Answer me, Megan.’

  She turned a shoulder to him, looking unseeingly out of the window. ‘Of course I meant it,’ she mumbled. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked presently in a small voice.

  ‘Home.’

  He wasn’t going to tell her anything; she sat silently exploring all the reasons for his strange behaviour. Perhaps he had another job for her? Or his granny might have expressed a wish to see her again, in which case she would certainly miss her train and the ferry as well. Perhaps he just wanted to give her a lecture on the lack of wisdom in letting her feelings take over from common sense and decent pride. It would be, she decided, the last.

  ‘You haven’t any right,’ she began, speaking her thoughts out loud, to be silenced by his,

  ‘Oh, yes, I have, and here we are.’

  She got out of the car silently when he opened the door and stood uncertainly. There was no sign of Litman; the house door remained closed as the professor propelled her briskly across the lawn, down the path to the kitchen garden through the little wooden door to the paddock beyond.

  ‘Why?’ began Megan, quite bewildered.

  ‘Because we are quite alone here, my darling, and I have no wish to propose to you with an audience, however discreet, breathing down our necks. I was beginning to think that you would never discover that you loved me. I have been very patient, have I not? Waiting for you to get over Oscar and then waiting for you to fall in love with me. I am a patient man, dear love, but I have loved you for a while now, indeed I fell in love with you the first time I set eyes on you months ago. I have been sorely tempted to tell you at times, but you needed time, and after all we shall have the rest of our lives together.’