Part 36 (1/2)
Old Marthe Pettersen, who had been housekeeper to Old Nick for nearly thirty years, had taken pneumonia and died a fortnight after Christmas; she had at least chosen a convenient time, having made all culinary preparations for the festival beforehand.
Old Nick was inconsolable, for Selma Rordam, whom he had got in as a temporary help, was hopelessly incapable; either the cod would be unsalted and insipid or she would serve it up in a liquor approaching brine, not to speak of throwing away the best parts, and boiling the roe to nothing. And last Sunday's joint of beef had been so tough that he had seriously considered sending it in to the Society for Preservation of Ancient Relics. His breakfast eggs were constantly hard boiled, despite his ironic inquiries as to whether she thought he wanted them for billiard b.a.l.l.s. And as for sewing on b.u.t.tons--for the past fourteen days he had been reduced to boring holes in the waist of his trousers and fastening them with bits of wood.
Everything was going wrong all round.
”Very inconvenient, yes,” said Nachmann, called in to discuss the situation. ”But you'll see it'll come all right in time. Now you take my advice and advertise in the papers for someone; she's sure to come along: 'Wanted, an ideal woman, to restore domestic bliss.'” The pair sat down accordingly to draft out an advertis.e.m.e.nt, each to write one out of his own head.
Nachmann's, when completed, ran as follows:
”MATRIMONIAL.
”Bachelor, middle-aged, no children, would like to make acquaintance of an educated lady of suitable age--widow not objected to. Must be accustomed to domestic duties and of bright and cheerful temperament. Private means not so essential as amiability. Reply to 'Earnest,' office of this paper.”
Old Nick tore up this effusion, and inserted his own, which said:
”HOUSEKEEPER.
”Lady, middle-aged, thoroughly capable cook and housekeeper, wanted for elderly gentleman's house in seaport town.
Remuneration by arrangement; ability and pleasant companions.h.i.+p most essential. Particulars to 'Cookery,' c/o this paper.”
During the week that followed Old Nick was positively inundated with applications. There were cook-maids, hot and cold, with years of experience at first-cla.s.s hotels; reliable women from outlying country districts; widows from small towns.h.i.+ps up and down the coast; while a ”clergyman's daughter, aged twenty-three,” who already considered herself middle-aged, gave Old Nick some food for thought.
Among all these various doc.u.ments, some large, and small, and bold, others timidly small, was a little pink envelope addressed in a delicate hand. The letter contained, ran as follows:
”DEAR SIR,--In reply to your advertis.e.m.e.nt in to-day's paper I venture to offer my services as housekeeper. I am a widow without enc.u.mbrance, age thirty-seven, with long experience of keeping house, and able to undertake any reasonable work desired.
”I am of a bright and cheerful temper, with many interests, musical, good reader, and would do my utmost to make your home pleasant and comfortable in every way.
”Trusting to be favoured with a reply, when further particulars can be forwarded.--I beg to remain, yours very truly,
”EMILIE RANTZAU.”
Old Nick sat for a long while staring thoughtfully before him.
”Widow, thirty-seven, long experience of keeping house, bright and cheerful temper.... I tell you what, Nachmann, this looks like what we want.”
”Heavens, man, but she's musical--what do you want with that sort of thing in the house? No, no, my friend; the devil take that widow for his housekeeper--not you. She'd play you out of house and home in no time, my boy.”
”Well, you know, really, I was getting a bit sick of old Marthe. Felt the lack of refined womanly influence now and again. And I must say this--what's her name--Emilie Rantzau rather appeals to me. There's something, I don't know what to call it, about her letter. Sort of ladylike, you know.”
”Yes, and perfumed too, lovely, m-m-m. Patchouli!” said Nachmann, holding the envelope to Nickelsen's nose.
After some further deliberation Old Nick wrote to Mrs. Emilie Rantzau, and learned that she was the widow of a Danish artist, had spent many years abroad, and wished now to find a position in some small town where she could live a quiet, retired life, occupied solely with her duties.
Her letters were so frank and sincere, that they made quite an impression on Old Nick, and he decided to engage her. She was to come on Sat.u.r.day, and on the Friday before, Nickelsen did not go to his office at all, but stayed at home, going about dusting the rooms with an old handkerchief.
Thinking the place looked rather bare, he obtained a big palm and an indiarubber plant to brighten things up a little.
He was queerly nervous and ill at ease every day, with a feeling as if some misfortune were on the way. What would she be like, he wondered? If the experiment turned out a failure, there would be an end of his domestic peace. Perhaps after all he would have done better to stick to the Marthe type....
They were seated at dinner, and her fine dark eyes played over his face.