Grasp a Nettle. Бетти Нилс
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Название: Grasp a Nettle
Автор: Бетти Нилс
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408982396
isbn:
He studied them carefully, grunted his approval and gave them back to Jenny without looking at her. ‘You’re better,’ he told Aunt Bess, ‘well enough for me to explain why you must lie quiet for a little longer.’ And he explained very simply, in a quiet voice before adding: ‘I should like you to go to sleep again now, but if you find that impossible will you lie still and relax, then there will be no need to give you another injection at present. Your niece will prop you up a little more, I think…’
‘Don’t you go to bed either?’ asked Aunt Bess.
‘Oh, certainly.’ He smiled again and strolled to the door. ‘I’ll be in to see you again after breakfast.’ His hand was on the door handle when he said: ‘Miss Wren, will you hand me the charts? There are one or two things I should like to alter. Sister will return them presently.’ He barely glanced at her and she supposed that she deserved it.
Aunt Bess went to sleep after that, remarking with some of her old tartness that Jenny and the Professor didn’t seem to be on the best of terms, and Jenny, sitting in her chair once more, trying to keep awake for the last hours of the night, couldn’t help but agree with her.
She was in bed and asleep very soon after the day staff came on duty, so that she missed Professor van Draak’s visits in the morning, and in the afternoon he brought Sister with him, just as though Jenny were a visitor, and waited pointedly until she had gone out of the room before he examined her aunt. However, he joined her presently in the corridor, reassured her as to her aunt’s condition, gave it as his opinion that she was now out of danger, and suggested that there was no need for Jenny to stay the night. ‘I shall be passing Dimworth as I return to Doctor Toms,’ he remarked without much warmth. ‘I could give you a lift.’
It would have been nice to have refused him, but she hadn’t much choice; there would be no one free at Dimworth to fetch her and she had no intention of telephoning Toby. She thanked him with a chilliness to equal his own and went back to sit with Aunt Bess.
Her aunt didn’t seem to mind her going—indeed, she began to give a great number of messages, repeated several times in a muddled fashion, and added a list as long as her arm of tasks to be done at Dimworth, falling asleep in the middle of it. Jenny kissed the tired, still determined face and went out to where the Professor would be waiting for her. He got out and opened the car door for her and she had barely settled in her seat before he was driving away.
Jenny, having difficulty with her safety belt, said crossly: ‘You don’t like me at all, do you, Professor?’ and was furious at his laugh.
It was a nasty laugh, full of mockery and the wrong kind of amusement, and his: ‘My dear girl, you flatter yourself, and me too—I have no interest in you at all, although to be quite honest I must admit that I haven’t much time for tart young women with red hair.’
‘I expect you pride yourself on being plain-spoken,’ said Jenny sweetly. ‘I call it rude. Just by way of interest, what kind of girl do you like?’
He allowed the car to slow and shot a sidelong glance at her. ‘Tall, calm, sweet-tempered—with good looks, of course; fair hair, blue eyes, a pleasant voice…’
‘A cardboard creature,’ cried Jenny, ‘and even if you did find her, she’d be a dead bore as a wife.’A thought struck her. ‘Have you found her? Perhaps you’re married.’
‘What an impertinent girl you are.’ He spoke quite pleasantly. ‘No, I am not married. When do you intend to visit your aunt again?’
A neat snub, if ever there was one. ‘I’ll drive over after breakfast. When do you return to Holland?’
‘Wishful thinking?’ he enquired. ‘When your aunt is recovered.’
Jenny shifted in her seat, uncomfortably aware that she hadn’t expressed nearly enough gratitude. ‘Oh no…well, I’d like to thank you for what you’ve done for Aunt Bess. I know you saved her life and I’m deeply grateful—I hope it hasn’t spoilt your holiday here.’
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