Grasp a Nettle Read online

  Jenny wasn’t sure what prompted her to say at once: ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly, Aunt Bess,’ although she was sure as she said it that there was nothing she would like better. For a man she didn’t much like and who didn’t much like her, the Professor loomed with an alarming clarity in her mind. The thought of not seeing him again had been niggling away at the back of her mind in a most unpleasant manner.

  ‘Why not, Janet?’

  ‘Well…’ She sought for an excuse, and came up with: ‘I did want to go back to nursing, you know. I thought I might go to Queen’s and see if they would take me back…’

  ‘If you’re short of money…’ suggested her aunt surprisingly.

  Jenny couldn’t remember Aunt Bess ever asking her that before. ‘I’ve more than enough, thank you. Aunt Bess; it’s not that—I just want to be independent.’ As she uttered the words, the niggle exploded into amazing, solid fact; she had no wish to be independent, it was the last thing she wanted to be. She wanted above all things to be married to the Professor and be completely dependent upon him for the rest of her life. Probably they would quarrel, or rather she would quarrel and he would listen and smile in that annoying way of his, but that wouldn’t matter in the least; she would love him however tiresome he was. Only he didn’t love her. She frowned heavily. That was cold fact and she would have to think about it.

  ‘Well, I expect another few days wouldn’t matter,’ she was surprised to hear that her voice sounded perfectly normal. ‘How long do you intend staying in Holland?’

  ‘Oh—ten days, perhaps. Eduard wants to do some tests.’ Aunt Bess fiddled with a handful of the gold chains she so loved to wear. ‘We might see something of the country while we’re there; as long as I’m back at Dimworth before we close the house to visitors for the winter.’ She dismissed the subject with a wave of the hand. ‘And now go and see if we can hire a car, Jenny. I should like a drive—we are here until tomorrow, aren’t we?’

  Their drive was a rather different one from her trip with the Professor, but Jenny enjoyed it; it passed the morning hours and she had no time to think. Only in the afternoon, while Aunt Bess was resting, could she lie in the sun and think about Eduard van Draak. She would have cheerfully spent her evening doing the same thing, but there was cabaret and dancing and Aunt Bess, feeling festive, insisted that they should join the captain’s party after dinner.

  They went ashore at Las Palmas too, but although the scenery was delightful and shopping for presents to take home was a pleasant occupation, Jenny hardly noticed any of it. She joined in the cheerful groups of passengers, and laughed and danced when she was asked, but none of it mattered. She was impatient to get back now; the sooner they arrived at Dimworth, the sooner they would go to Holland.

  The weather changed as the ship turned for home and Aunt Bess lay in her deckchair in a sheltered corner while Jenny, feeling lost, spent her time in the swimming pool or walked the decks. Now that the Professor was no longer there, the several young men on board were only too anxious to entertain her, but she treated them all with friendly impartiality and gave them no encouragement at all, and when they became too persistent, retired to Aunt Bess’s side with the excuse that she must look after her elderly relative.

  She danced in the evenings, of course, charming her partners with her sweet smile and ready replies to their talk, but all the while her head was full of the Professor. He had told her once, quite casually, that he had never wanted to marry; he had told her too that he had fallen in and out of love times without number, which was all very well. He had shown no sign of wanting to fall in love with her let alone take her to wife. Jenny smiled and murmured her way through the days, while she considered the best way to capture his serious attention—and that in the face of his interest in Margaret. He had wanted her to accompany Aunt Bess to Holland, hadn’t he? and Aunt Bess had refused. Jenny, considering the matter, wondered what he would do next.

  But once the ship had docked at Tilbury she had no leisure for her own thoughts. The business of getting Aunt Bess on to firm ground, as well as her considerable luggage, took all her time and attention, and as they went slowly through Customs and out on to the quay she saw to her vexation that it wasn’t Aunt Bess’s car waiting for them, but Toby in his Rover Metro.

  He greeted them with a complacent smile and a: ‘Thought I’d give you a surprise. I had some business to do in town anyway. Let’s have the luggage, it can go in the boot. There’s plenty of room in the back for you, Miss Creed.’

  Jenny attempted to thwart this arrangement by declaring that the front seat would be more comfortable for Aunt Bess, but he took no notice and Aunt Bess, strangely enough, raised no objection; indeed she said with some satisfaction: ‘I shall do very well in the back, you two will have plenty to say to each other, anyway.’ She looked a little cunning as she spoke, but Jenny didn’t see that.

  Later, thinking about the drive back, Jenny concluded that it had been Toby who had had a great deal to say, and he said it, repeating himself over and over again, giving her a dozen sound reasons why she should agree to marry him. If only he hadn’t been so complacent about it, she remembered wearily, taking it for granted that marrying him was the best thing that could happen to any girl. He was a nice enough man, but so dull, and he hadn’t contradicted her once when she had argued with him, and even when she told him firmly that she didn’t love him, he hadn’t believed her. If only it had been the Professor…but she couldn’t imagine that gentleman behaving so tamely; he would probably have stopped the car and told her to get out and walk. She sighed and went in search of Oliver; she had promised to read to him before he went to bed.

  He was curled up on a window seat with Florrie’s cat beside him, doing nothing, which for him was unusual, and Jenny said at once: ‘My, you’re sitting there like a mouse—are you tired?’

  He turned to look at her. ‘I’m thinking. Do you think, Jenny?’

  ‘On and off. What about—or is it a secret?’

  ‘Mummy and Aunt Bess have had a row—I heard them because they were in the sitting room and I was on the stairs. Mummy’s cross because Aunt Bess won’t take her to Holland. She says…’ he paused to get it right, ‘she has a right to go because she’s going to marry Eduard.’ He turned blue eyes on to his listener. ‘Who’s he?’

  Jenny answered faintly: ‘Professor van Draak. You shouldn’t listen to other people talking when they don’t know you’re there, Oliver.’

  ‘Well, I did call to Mummy, but she didn’t hear, they were talking so loudly.’ He climbed down off the window seat and held out a hand. ‘Could we go into the gazebo while you read to me? I’m truly glad you’re back, Jenny.’

  She bent to kiss him. ‘So am I, my lamb—I missed you.’

  ‘But if you go to Holland you’ll go away again,’ He was faintly tearful.

  ‘So I shall, but I’ll be back very soon. Aunt Bess will only be there for a few days, you know. Besides you must stay here and look after Dimworth with Mummy.’

  ‘Mummy doesn’t like it here. She only stayed because Professor van Draak was here too.’

  ‘Oh—did she?’ She tried to sound casual. ‘Well perhaps he’ll come and see her.’

  Oliver settled himself beside her in the gazebo, for they had walked as they talked. He said wistfully: ‘I should like to go to Holland.’ He gave her an engaging smile. ‘With you, of course, Jenny.’

  ‘And so you shall one day, when you’re older and able to buy the tickets and look after me,’ she assured him as she opened Winnie the Pooh. ‘Shall I start reading?’

  ‘Yes, please. Jenny, why haven’t you got anyone to look after you? Would Professor van Draak do—if I were to mention it?’

  He would do very nicely. Jenny sighed soundlessly. ‘No, dear, I don’t think so. Now, where were we?’

  She settled back into the Dimworth way of life quickly enough. There was plenty to do, for the weather was still good and there were always plenty of visitors. She took her turn sitt
ing at the table in the hall, selling brochures and postcards, helping with the teas, checking the stocks of tea and sugar and scones, polishing and dusting, keeping an eye on Baxter, who had been looking after the gardens for so long now that he tended to forget that they weren’t his…

  They had been back for the best part of a week when Aunt Bess told her that they would be going to Holland in three days’ time. She offered this piece of news while they were all having tea, and Oliver burst into tears, while Margaret went white and said in a bitter voice: ‘It won’t make any difference—Eduard will come here.’

  ‘What makes you think that he is in love with you?’ asked Aunt Bess forthrightly. ‘Has he actually said to?’

  Margaret made a dramatic gesture. ‘Not in front of the child,’ she remonstrated.

  ‘Pooh, he’s bawling so hard he can’t hear a word. And don’t be dramatic, Margaret. Eduard has had ample opportunity to state his feelings. Personally I am of the opinion that you have imagined the whole thing.’

  Margaret rose to her feet. ‘I did not—how can you be so unkind? Just because men like me…and he doesn’t like Jenny and she doesn’t like him. They’ll both hate it…’

  Jenny had remained silent, but now she said in a colourless little voice: ‘You forget that it’s a professional visit, Margaret; nothing to do with who likes whom, and if you went, the Professor might be distracted from his work.’

  Aunt Bess snorted fiercely, ‘Rubbish!’ and went on ruthlessly: ‘Margaret, you will be good enough to remain here and look after Dimworth while we are away—it will do you good to bestir yourself. Go to Holland when we get back by all means—that is no concern of mine, although the mind boggles at the difficulties you will need to surmount. Do you really believe that Eduard will give up his work to come here and live as your consort—because that’s what would be. However, that’s your concern, as I’ve already said.’ She glanced at Oliver, sitting, beside Jenny blowing his small nose resolutely on the hanky she had offered him. ‘We shall take Oliver with us. I enjoy his company.’

  ‘But…’ Margaret began furiously, then paused and Jenny knew exactly why. Aunt Bess had money, a great deal of it; she had indicated that when she died she would, provided nothing had occurred to annoy her in the meantime, leave most of it to Oliver. Dimworth was by no means a large estate, but it took a good deal of money to run it, and although there was enough for that purpose, her handsome fortune would be a splendid thing for Oliver when he took over his property, and in the meantime his mother would have charge of it. And Margaret liked money.

  ‘Exactly,’ nodded Aunt Bess, looking quite wicked and braced herself to receive the rapturous onslaught of her great-nephew.

  They left Dimworth in some style. Miss Creed liked to travel in comfort; the Rover Sterling with Dobbs at the wheel would convey them to Holland, and they would stay a night on the way at the small, exclusive hotel in Mayfair where she had always stayed when visiting London before boarding the Hovercraft to take them across the channel. Oliver, sitting in front with Dobbs, was speechless with delight, and Jenny, beside her aunt on the back seat, felt exactly the same. Fortunately for her, Aunt Bess dozed for the greater part of the journey, so that she was able to give full rein to her thoughts. About the Professor, of course; she had at last discovered where he lived. North of den Haag, where he had beds in two hospitals, and not too far from Amsterdam, it seemed, for he held a teaching post at the medical school there. Aunt Bess had been annoyingly vague, though—somewhere close to the sea, she had hazarded, and when Jenny had asked where they were to stay she had been even more vague. ‘Oh, Eduard has arranged all that,’ Jenny was told.

  Jenny frowned and hoped that she had brought the right clothes with her. The jersey dress and jacket would do very well for their necessary trips to the hospital and any sightseeing they might do, and she had packed slacks and tops in case there was a chance to take Oliver to the beach. She had added a couple of pretty evening dresses too; presumably they would be staying in an hotel and as Aunt Bess refused to alter her way of life, no matter where she was, Jenny guessed that it would be the kind of place where one dressed for dinner. She reflected rather unhappily that probably she would see almost nothing of the Professor, which was perhaps a good thing, for the more she saw of him the harder it would be to go on pretending that she didn’t like him. On the other hand, she couldn’t wait to see him again…

  Safely across the Dutch frontier, Dobbs increased his pace. They would arrive in time for tea; Jenny calculated that while she looked about her at the flat, tranquil countryside. Aunt Bess was dozing again and Oliver, with the faithful Dobbs to answer his whispered questions was fully occupied. Fortunately Dobbs had been in Holland during the second world war and was ready with his answers. At least one member of the party was having a lovely time thought Jenny, smiling at the small coppery head in front of her. Oliver had been delighted at the prospect of spending hours in Dobbs’ company while Jenny and Aunt Bess were at the hospital. For one thing he told him stories about the father he could barely remember, and for another he had an unending supply of toffees. She had no doubt that Oliver would be as well looked after as the Crown Jewels.

  The country had become wooded and the road they were now on ran straight between trees. There were occasional glimpses of houses on either side, solid villas half hidden behind trees, and every so often a small neat village. It was hard to believe that den Haag and Amsterdam were neither of them far away. Dobbs was looking for signposts now, and presently he turned off into a country road with dense undergrowth on either side and Oliver turned round to Jenny, his face alight with excitement. ‘Dobbs says we’re there,’ he whispered importantly, and pointed.

  She looked obediently in the direction of his finger. She could see no hotel, only an open gateway leading to a drive bordered by a rose hedge, meticulously tended, but round the first corner she had her first glimpse of it; an austere, almost mediaeval place built of small red bricks, with narrow windows, a pepperpot tower at either end of its front and a very grand entrance. Old, thought, Jenny, and not in the least like an hotel—probably the owners had had to sell it in order to pay death duties. It would suit Aunt Bess exactly, though—the Professor had chosen well. She roused her aunt gently, set the toque she always wore—just like Aunt Bess’s dear queen—straight on the elegantly dressed head, and prepared to alight.

  Oliver was already standing on the gravel sweep, gazing up at the forbidding walls, his small mouth open, while Dobbs opened the car door ready to assist Miss Creed. It was left for Jenny to collect handbags, scarves and all the small paraphernalia with which Aunt Bess travelled, and then get out herself. She did so from the door furthest from the house, so that for the moment she couldn’t see the entrance, hidden by the car’s substantial bulk, but she heard the Professor’s voice and stood still for a moment, catching her surprised breath. She had been looking forward to seeing him with her whole heart, but this was unexpected and she hadn’t expected to feel quite like this when she did. It was like jumping off a high diving board, or finding oneself at the top of a mountain—her breath had been taken from her and her heart had shot up into her throat. She swallowed that organ back to where it belonged, steadied her breathing and walked round the back of the car.

  He was standing with Aunt Bess, a hand on Oliver’s small shoulder, giving some instructions to Dobbs about the luggage and when he saw Jenny he came to meet her. He showed no sign of pleasure at the sight of her—perhaps he had been expecting Margaret—but his greeting was pleasant if a little cool. ‘You had a pleasant journey?’ he wanted to know. ‘I expect you would like a cup of tea before you do any thing else. Shall we go in?’

  The handsome door opened into a square hall of some size, with an enormous hooded fireplace to one side of it, flanked by massive armchairs. The table in the centre was massive too, with a great bowl of flowers on it. The walls held a great many paintings and a variety of weapons; Jenny eyed them as she looked round for the re
ception desk. There wasn’t one, which seemed strange for an hotel—perhaps they didn’t have them in Holland. She asked: ‘Our rooms are booked, aren’t they? I can’t see anyone to ask—it’s very quiet…’

  The Professor smiled with quite odious mockery. ‘It had better be—I dislike noise in my home.’

  ‘Your home…?’ She goggled at him. ‘I thought—that is, Aunt Bess said…’

  He answered her blandly. ‘A little forgetful, perhaps.’

  Jenny gave him a puzzled look. ‘Well, yes—perhaps she is. Did you know that Oliver would be with us?’

  ‘Indeed I did.’ He was staring at her rather hard. ‘A pity that Margaret was unable to come.’

  She looked away, studying a nearby portrait of some bygone van Draak te Solendijk; he might have been the Professor with a ruff and a neat little beard… She said soberly: ‘I’m sorry about that, truly I am.’ She frowned in thought. ‘You know, once Aunt Bess is dealt with there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go back to Dimworth and she could come here…’

  ‘My dear Jenny, I had no idea that you had such a kind heart—as far as I’m concerned, that is. I’m sure it does you credit.’

  She glanced to where Aunt Bess and Oliver were absorbed in a vast painting of some sea battle or other. ‘You have no need to be nasty,’ she observed coldly, ‘just because it’s me here instead of Margaret. I didn’t want to come,’ she added with a complete lack of truth.

  ‘I? Nasty? My dear girl, you are mistaken—I merely protect myself. Your poet Aaron Hill wrote something a long time ago—let me see—“Tender-handed stroke a nettle and it stings you for your pains; grasp it like a man of mettle and it soft as silk remains.” Er—I daresay you can be as soft as silk, Jenny—you certainly sting.’

  ‘What a perfectly beastly…’ She was interrupted by Aunt Bess, her compelling voice uplifted.