by Betty Neels
Her nephew had been standing quietly, letting her talk, a little smile around his mouth. Now he said: ‘Oh, dinner at the usual time, I think, that will give us a chance to clean up. If Cornelius comes earlier, he can come up to my room—he’ll stay for dinner of course. Jan can unpack my things and give me a hand and perhaps Miep will take Cassandra to her room.’
Cassandra said ‘Yes, very well,’ in her pleasant voice. She left him then, following Miep’s ample proportions up the carved staircase to the floor above and across the landing to a small archway and two small steps, leading to a narrow passage at the back of the house. The door at its end opened on to a small, delightfully furnished bedroom with a bathroom leading out of it. Her case was already there, so she exchanged smiles with Miep, who sailed majestically away, leaving her to unpack.
No one had told her at what time dinner would be; she was debating the choice of going downstairs to see if there was anyone about, or remaining in her room until she was fetched, when there was a tap on the door and Jan came in.
‘Mijnheer asked me to fetch you, Miss Cassandra,’ he explained. ‘Dinner is at eight o’clock, a little later than usual, but he would like you to come down for a drink first.’
Cassandra gave herself a last anxious look in the mirror and went to the door. ‘Thank you, Jan, I was just wondering what I should do.’ She smiled at him. ‘I wanted to talk to you, just for a minute. I—I wanted you to know that I can’t hope to take your place with Mijnheer van Manfeld—I’m only here for a short time.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘I feel as though I’d taken your job from you—I didn’t intend...’
He interrupted her, his voice kind. ‘You do not need to worry, Miss Cassandra. I would do anything for Mijnheer, anything, but I am glad to be back doing my own job, you understand. Someone had to be with him, to be his eyes and show him where to walk. And now there is the hope that he will see again for himself, but until then I am glad that it is you who is with him. He is anxious and on edge, you understand, not because he is afraid of being blind—he is never afraid, I think, but because he loves his work and life for him without it would be but half a life.’ His black eyes studied hers. He went on slowly, ‘He needs a wife, someone to love him and for him to love.’
Cassandra met the dark stare squarely. ‘Is there anyone, Jan? Someone who could come if we let them know?’
He nodded, and her heart sank with the speed and weight of a stone into her neat suede shoes.
‘There are plenty who would come most willingly, he has never lacked...but not with love, Miss Cassandra, only a love which thrives on good times and money spent upon them, a love which would turn to pity should his tests fail and later to something worse. But you are good for him, you do not listen to him when he shouts in anger, and you make him laugh.’
He was interrupted by his employer’s voice, raised in a subdued roar wishing to know where everyone was. ‘Come, Miss Cassandra,’ Jan said urgently, and as an afterthought, ‘You look pretty in that dress, if you do not mind me saying so.’
‘No, of course I don’t mind, Jan. I can do with plenty of encouragement.’ They smiled at each other like a pair of conspirators and went downstairs.
Mijnheer van Manfeld was standing in the middle of his hall, looking put out. At their approach he turned his head and remarked bitingly:
‘So there you are—what kept you so long? You don’t need to dress up, you know. Tante Beatrix thinks very little of modern fashion, Cornelius is more than middle-aged and I couldn’t care less.’
Cassandra walked up to him, taking no notice of this piece of rudeness, whatever his opinion of her own appearance might be, she saw that he had changed into a superbly cut dark grey suit with a silk shirt and a tie of restrained richness. Quite the dandy.
‘It wouldn’t interest you to know that I dress to please myself.’ She uttered this bare-faced lie in the measured tones of one not to be easily put out by other people’s ill humour. ‘Naturally I changed my dress after travelling for hours on end. I see you’ve done the same.’ She smiled at the dark glasses. ‘You look exactly what people expect a consultant to look like, I’m very tempted to call you sir.’
‘God forbid! May I suggest that you call me Benedict?’
She said composedly, ‘Yes, if you wish, but outside this house I shall address you as Mijnheer van Manfeld.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘As you wish. Shall we have a drink while we wait for Tante Beatrix?’
She agreed to sherry and watched him make his way across the room to the table between the windows, upon which stood a massive silver tray holding decanters and glasses. They were obviously in a well-remembered order; almost without fumbling he poured her drink, gave himself a whisky and crossed the room again, the drinks balanced in one hand, the stick in the other.
‘How long were you at home before you went to Mull?’ she asked.
‘Three weeks—a little more. Time for me to learn my way around my own house. Not so difficult, for everything was kept in exactly the same place and as I was born and brought up here, it was easy to remember. It wasn’t so easy in the cottage, it was so small.’
She sipped her sherry and found it good. ‘Is it your cottage?’
‘No. Cornelius—my partner—had an English wife—she is dead now—who inherited the place from some Scottish relative. They used to go there a great deal, but now he doesn’t care to. It seemed an ideal place for me to go to.’ He paused as the front door bell rang and a moment later there were voices in the hall. ‘Cornelius,’ said Mijnheer van Manfeld with satisfaction.
The man who came into the room was middle-aged, tall and burly, with a large, rugged face, a blunt nose and grey hair. As he came in he shot a penetrating look at Cassandra and said in excellent English,
‘Benedict—it’s good to see you, jongen!’ He shook the hand his partner held out as he got up.
‘Cassandra,’ said Benedict, ‘this is my partner, Cornelius van Tromp. Cor—Miss Cassandra Darling, and I must warn you not to attempt any jokes about her name.’
Cassandra shook hands, conscious that she was being closely scrutinized. She thought that Mijnheer van Tromp looked a sweetie—she could imagine that they would work very well in partnership.
‘Help yourself to a drink,’ Benedict said, ‘and tell us all your news.’
‘You mean when have I arranged for you to see Viske in Utrecht? Two days’ time—no hope of anything sooner with Sint Nicolaas so close. Nine o’clock at the Sint Paulus Ziekenhuis, then again in the afternoon if it’s thought necessary—X-rays, check up on general health and so on, you know it all. If everything is satisfactory you will be able to throw away those blinkers. Homatrophine drops the night before, but Nurse will see to that.’
He smiled at her as he spoke and asked, ‘May I call you Cassandra? Nurse is so stiff.’
Cassandra smiled gratefully at him. ‘Yes, please do, Mijnheer van Tromp.’ She glanced quickly at Benedict because it was hard not to, and found him faintly smiling. He had sat down in one of the armchairs beside the fire and his partner had taken a chair between them.
‘You’ll spend Sint Nicolaas with us, Cornelius?’ Benedict invited.
‘May I? Some time after tea—that will be delightful.’ He turned to Cassandra. ‘I live close by, you know. Like Benedict I have a consulting room attached to my house, though I do far less surgery than he does, and very little hospital work—I leave that to him. I understand that you have had good experience in theatre?’
She told him swiftly. He nodded when she had finished and said to Benedict, ‘Did I tell you that Lulu is leaving me shortly? She is going to Australia to live with her sister.’
Benedict’s dark glasses exchanged a long thoughtful stare with his partner. ‘No,’ he said at length, ‘you didn’t tell me,’ and changed the subject abruptly.
After d
inner they went back to the sitting-room and the talk was wholly of the forthcoming festivities. ‘A pity we shall be so quiet this year,’ Mijnheer van Manfeld told Cassandra. ‘Usually we have a house full of guests. This year there will be nothing, I’m afraid; it will be the quietest of evenings, for I am under oath to do nothing much until Viske has seen me—he’ll have my head if I don’t.’
Cassandra overcame a strong urge to go to a party with the ogre. ‘Oh well,’ she said comfortably, ‘you can make up for it by having an extra large party next year—think how you will enjoy that.’
‘You consider me a party-loving man, Cassandra?’ His voice was silky and she gave him a suspicious glance; she had heard that tone before.
‘I haven’t considered you at all,’ she answered untruthfully, and saw his faint mocking smile; he was going to bait her... In her most agreeable voice she said: ‘Would you mind if I went to bed? It’s been such an exciting day.’
‘Certainly. Good night, Cassandra. Eight o’clock in the morning in my room, if you please.’
‘Very well. Good night, Mevrouw van Manfeld and Mijnheer van Tromp.’ She shook hands with them because they seemed to expect it, perhaps it was a Dutch custom, although Benedict made no move to do so, merely stood. In two days he would be able to see her. She wondered, briefly, what he would say, and as she left the room and crossed the hall, she longed for a fairy godmother who would wave her wand and turn her into a beauty of such magnificence that Benedict would be struck speechless.
She was up betimes in the morning, and at exactly eight o’clock made her way across the landing to her patient’s room which Jan had thoughtfully pointed out to her on the previous evening. She looked neat in her white uniform, her slim waist encircled by the dark blue belt with its elaborate silver buckle, not a hair out of place beneath the old-fashioned cap with its starched streamers. The room she entered after a brisk knock was darkened by the heavy curtains at its windows, the bed empty. Benedict was sitting in an armchair with its back to any light which might creep in from the early morning outside. Despite the gloom she thought the room must, in a proper light, be a very fine one, several times larger than her own and furnished with furniture massive enough to suit the occupier. He sat very still, looking, even in the dimness, quite different without his glasses; more approachable, much more to be loved. She brushed aside the thought, wished him a friendly good morning and on his quiet instructions, went to the adjoining bathroom, shutting the door carefully first before putting on the light. His eye-drops were on the bathroom shelf. Cassandra read the label carefully, picked up the kidney dish, the towel, the pipette, the undine and the sterile water, turned off the light and went back into the bedroom. It pleased her that he hadn’t questioned her at all—offered no doubt as to whether she had the correct bottle and everything which went with it; at least he trusted her.
His voice was quiet. ‘Wait—I’ll need another chair so that you can get at me. There’s a small straight one by the writing table.’
She hadn’t expected him to be a good patient, she had thought he would be impatient of the finicky little business of washing out his eyes, putting in the drops; but he sat very still, his fine head tilted backwards while she performed her task meticulously. It was unnerving to look down, even in that gloom, into his eyes, even though she knew that he could see her only as a shadowy figure, in the even more shadowed room. When she had finished she gave him his dark glasses and asked:
‘Shall I fetch Jan?’
‘Please, and thank you, Cassandra. We shall meet at breakfast.’ It was gentle dismissal; presumably she cleared up her paraphernalia when he had dressed.
They were half-way through breakfast when he told her, ‘I should like to go shopping, and you will accompany me, if you please. Jan will drive. Have you a cloak? No matter, there is one in my surgery, my nurse left hers and she won’t be back until the New Year.’ He turned his head and called, ‘Jan?’ and when he came spoke to him in Dutch and presently he came back to tell her that the cloak was in her bedroom.
She was glad to find that it was exactly like her own hospital cloak had been, navy blue with a warm scarlet lining. She put it on and went downstairs to find the master of the house.
She guided him through the door and outside to where Jan was waiting with the car—not the Aston Martin, she noted with surprise, but a Daimler Sovereign. Jan opened the door for her and she got in, and Benedict, after a few words with Jan, got in beside her.
When he had settled himself he remarked affably, ‘I can hear you wondering.’
‘Then you can tell me without waiting for me to ask,’ she added, ‘Mijnheer van Manfeld,’ a little coldly.
He grinned. ‘And what have I done that we should suddenly be on such frigid terms?’ he wanted to know. ‘I thought I was Benedict.’
‘Well, Benedict, then. I expected the Aston Martin, that was all.’
‘And with commendable restraint, made no comment upon your expectations. I find this car better in the town—besides, it’s most suitable for my profession, don’t you think?’
He was making fun of her, and when he laughed she laughed too and conceded, ‘It’s a lovely car. Where are we going?’
‘Just to the shops in Rhenen—only a minute or so’s drive. Jan has a list of things he has written down and I want you to buy them.’
‘Me?’ She was appalled. ‘I can’t buy anything, I can’t understand a word!’
‘You won’t need to. Just go inside the shops and hand over the list and pay with the money I shall give you. It will be an excellent exercise for you.’
Cassandra was doubtful, but it worked better than she had anticipated. She spoke no word, merely handed over the slip of paper, received the packages and paid with the notes Benedict gave her. She even began to enjoy herself, and when she came out of the third shop, her arms full of gaily wrapped packages, she observed, ‘I wish I knew what I was buying, it would be so much more fun.’
‘Certainly you are not to know. That’s the lot, I think.’
She was standing at the car’s door ready to get in again when she became aware that there was someone behind her, and a charming voice, speaking Dutch with the faintest trace of a lisp, addressed Benedict. Cassandra looked round; the owner of the voice certainly had a fairy godmother; no one else could have given her such bright blue eyes with such curling lashes, such a small straight nose and lovely mouth. Her hair, cropped short under a pert little fur cap, was the colour of corn at harvest time and she was as tall as Cassandra, who looked quickly at Benedict and for one brief second was sure that he wasn’t in the least pleased at the advent of this beautiful creature—but she must have imagined it, for his rather sternly set mouth broke into a smile and he turned his face towards her voice with every appearance of pleasure. The girl said something else and this time Benedict spoke in English.
‘Nurse, if you would be so good as to sit in front, this young lady will be coming back to the house with us.’
For the short journey back, Cassandra tried to make up her mind who the girl could be. An old friend, for he had recognized her voice at once—a girl-friend—the girl-friend, perhaps. It was bound to happen, she had known that, but it didn’t make it any easier now that it had. She got out at the house and was immediately arrested by Benedict’s voice asking her quite sharply to go with him to the sitting-room. She helped him into the house as unobtrusively as possible, considerably hampered by the fair beauty who hovered round them in a useless fashion, getting in the way in her efforts to stay close to Benedict. Once in the sitting-room, Jan took his master’s coat and disappeared and Cassandra, with a muttered, ‘You won’t want me for a little while, Mijnheer van Manfeld,’ made for the door, to be halted by his bland request to remain where she was.
‘You must meet my nurse,’ he told his visitor, ‘Miss Cassandra Darling, and this, Cassandra, is an old frien
d, Juffrouw van der Plas.’
There was nothing in his voice to indicate his feelings, but Cassandra felt sure that he must be in love with the silly lovely creature, and she couldn’t blame him if he was. She shook hands with the girl and stayed by the door until Benedict turned his head and said irritably, ‘You’re still waiting to go, then?’ In Mull she would have answered him back, but not now. She went to the kitchen to talk to Jan.
Jan was arranging his parcels neatly on the kitchen table, and although he gave her a surprised look, he didn’t speak, so that she felt forced to say, ‘Jan, should I have stayed? She seemed such a—a close friend.’ She added defiantly as though he had argued with her, ‘He didn’t want me to.’
He gave her one of his dark looks. ‘Oh, yes, he did, Miss Cassandra, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To be his dragon and keep his well-meaning friends at arm’s length. It was bad luck meeting Juffrouw van der Plas like that—the last we heard of her, she was in America.’
‘Oh—is she, was she...I had the impression that they knew each other rather well.’
Jan smiled briefly. ‘I’m not one to gossip, Miss Cassandra, but seeing that it’s you—this young lady has had her elegant claws in Mijnheer for quite a time, with no good result, I can tell you that. Perhaps at first he liked her, she’s pretty enough if you like the vapid type, but Mijnheer has never had serious thought about her, you understand.’
Cassandra had listened quietly. ‘All right, Jan, I’ll go back. I’ll think of some excuse...you’re sure?’
She could hear Juffrouw van der Plas’ pretty voice prattling away as she crossed the hall again; she seemed to have a lot to say and she was laughing a great deal too. Cassandra opened the double doors and said the first thing which entered her head in as convincing a tone as she could manage.
‘Your eye treatment, Mijnheer van Manfeld.’ She spoke severely. ‘It’s due now. I’m sorry to interrupt...’ Her voice sounded as starched as her uniform. Impossible to read the expression on that spectacled face turned towards her—fury, relief, amusement? She would soon know. She waited quietly while he explained in his own incomprehensible language, while good-byes were said, while his lovely visitor went to the great mirror over the wall table and adjusted her jaunty cap to a still jauntier angle and at last went away with Jan, who had appeared silently to open the front door.