The Convenient Wife. Betty Neels
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He put out an arm and drew her close so that her head was on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but the comfort of it started her weeping once more. He let her cry for several minutes and then said, ‘We’ll sort things out tomorrow. I’ll be home after lunch for a couple of hours. I think it will be best if you stay here until I get back, then we can talk about it. It will be easier with two.’
She sniffed into his coat. ‘I’m not usually so silly, but it was all a bit sudden.’
‘And you had no one to turn to,’ he said softly. He disentangled her from his shoulder and undid her seat-belt, then got out to open her door. ‘Mrs Todd will look after you and give you supper.’ He had opened the door with his key, and ushered her inside. The hall was large and square, lit by a crystal chandelier hanging from a plastered ceiling, and a curved staircase rose from one side. There were a number of doors leading from it, and from one of these came a small, round woman with grey hair piled high in elaborate rolls, wearing a neat dark dress.
‘There you are, sir.’ She trotted to meet them. ‘Todd’s laid out your things. And can I get you anything…?’ Her small twinkling eyes studied Venetia.
‘Mrs Todd, I’ve brought Miss Venetia Forbes back here for a couple of nights. Will you see that she has supper? And give her the room overlooking the back garden, will you? Perhaps you would take her there now, and then come back to me.’
Mrs Todd smiled and nodded. ‘Right, sir. If Miss Forbes would like to come upstairs…’
It was a lovely house, thought Venetia, following Mrs Todd obediently. Not only lovely to look at, but it felt…she sought for a word…like home, warm and welcoming and softly lit. She had no doubt, either, that it was run on oiled wheels. She sighed and Mrs Todd turned round to say kindly, ‘You’re tired, miss. I can see that. A nice supper and then bed—there’s nothing like a night’s sleep to get you on your feet again.’
She opened a door on the balcony above the staircase and ushered Venetia inside. The room was quite large, with a large window draped in old rose chintz; the counterpane on the bed matched exactly, and the rose colour was repeated on the small armchair and the bedside lights. The carpet was thick, a rich cream colour which, reflected Venetia, her housewifely instincts aroused, would be quite a problem to keep pristine. She glanced guiltily at her own shoes and then apologetically at Mrs Todd, who only smiled in a cosy way and led her into the adjoining bathroom.
‘You just tidy yourself, miss, and then come downstairs. Todd’ll be there to show you where to go. And just you ask me if there’s anything you need.’
Examining the dressing-table, a dainty affair of maple wood, and then the bathroom, Venetia decided that someone had provided everything a girl could want cosmetic-wise. It would be lovely to use them, but she decided against that; she was only there for a couple of nights, and she supposed that anything used, however sparingly, would have to be replaced. She washed her face and hands, powdered her prosaic features, tidied her hair and went down the stairs.
Todd was waiting for her, a small round man, exactly right for Mrs Todd, but with a great deal of dignity. He bade her good evening, opened a door and silently ushered her into what she supposed was the drawing-room. It extended from the front of the house to the back, its parquet floor strewn with silky rugs, and a number of comfortable armchairs and sofas disposed about it. The professor rose from an outsize chair by the open fire and came to meet her. ‘Ah—just time for us to have a drink before I go out. I made it clear that you are to spend your nights off duty here? You will have a good deal to do during the next few days. It would be satisfactory if you could settle everything before you go back to St Jude’s.’
He handed her a glass of sherry and sat down opposite her chair. ‘I shall be here shortly after two o’clock tomorrow. It would be helpful if you had decided by then exactly what you intend to do with your possessions, so that arrangements can be made.’
She took a sip of sherry and said thoughtfully, ‘You are awfully kind, Professor, but please don’t bother. I’m very grateful for your hospitality, but I’ll manage quite well—’
‘Are you telling me not to interfere?’ His voice was chilly.
‘My goodness me, no. Only I think I’ve been enough bother to you already.’
‘Which is no reason for us to leave things half done.’
A remark which struck her as decidedly indifferent to her feelings, to say the least.
He went away presently with a polite wish that she should enjoy her evening and go to bed at a reasonably early hour, and she in her turn was invited by Todd to accompany him to a pleasant room at the back of the house, where she dined deliciously and in solitary state, and then, not wishing to disrupt the household more than necessary, elected to go to bed.
To her surprise the professor was in the hall, magnificent in a dinner-jacket and looking ill-tempered. He was listening to someone on the telephone, and said curtly, ‘I have been delayed, unavoidably so.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I should with luck be with you in twenty minutes.’ He put down the phone, frowned at her, rumbled something which might have been goodnight, and let himself out of the house.
Venetia stood on the bottom stair and listened to the car being driven away. A staid tabby cat had arranged itself comfortably on one of the high-backed chairs in the hall, and she addressed it for lack of any other audience. ‘Poor man. I am being a nuisance, but he didn’t have to make it quite so obvious, did he? I dare say that was his girlfriend telling him off.’
The cat settled herself just so and began on a meticulous toilet, and Venetia turned and went upstairs. ‘I am lapped in luxury,’ she told herself as she went, ‘so I have no reason to feel lonely.’ But she was.
She spent all of ten minutes wondering about the professor, guessing wildly at his life, wondering, too, whereabouts he lived in Holland. No wife, she decided. Somehow he didn’t strike her as the kind of man to leave his wife at home while he took up residence somewhere else for weeks on end. She was inventing a beautiful blonde sitting opposite him in some exclusive restaurant at the very moment when she fell asleep.
A cheerful girl brought her early-morning tea, wished her a good morning and begged her to stay in bed, since Mrs Todd was even then cooking her breakfast and would bring it up herself.
Which that good lady did, not ten minutes later: scrambled eggs, crisp toast, orange juice and a pot of coffee. ‘And mind you eat every crumb, miss,’ she urged. ‘You could do with a bit more flesh on your bones. A nasty time you’ve been having, by all accounts, and a good lie-in will do you the world of good. There’ll be coffee if you want it when you come downstairs, and I’ll dish up a nice little lunch at half-past twelve sharp, since the professor expects to be home earlier than he thought. Phoned he did, ten minutes ago. He’ll have a sandwich and a glass of beer at the hospital and then come right home.’
Venetia longed to ask questions, there was so much she wanted to know about the professor, but she held her tongue. Mrs Todd was a kind little chatterbox, but she suspected that to chatter about her employer would be the last thing the housekeeper would do.
She ate her breakfast, had a bath—much too hot and lengthy—dressed and went downstairs. Todd, with the cat trailing him, came to meet her in the hall. ‘Good morning, miss. The professor asked me to suggest to you that you should decide which firm you wish to employ to dispose