A New York Haunting: Pt. 10

Anders blinked. "That's wholly unnecessary. I was honored to assist in any way ---" His reply was truncated by the lady placing in his hand a small cloth pouch closed with a drawstring. "What is this?" he asked, rolling it between his thumb and fingers --- it felt like a considerable stack of weighty coins.

"A thousand dollars. Please accept it as a token of our gratitude."

Anders' eyes widened in astonishment at the enormous sum.

"You can use it to offset the hospital bills incurred by your latest escapade."

He shook his head, extending the money towards her. "Medical students receive free care at hospitals affiliated with Columbia."

Her hands remained folded atop the head of the walking stick. "Then put it towards opening your surgery practice back in Rochester --- or perhaps in Wisconsin."

"Wisconsin?" he said in confusion.

Mrs. Cornelissen smiled blandly. "I understand many of your countrymen have settled there. No doubt it would be a comfort to be among your people again."

He sat open-mouthed, attempting to formulate a reply.

"Naturally, Mr. Cornelissen and I expect absolute discretion on your part --- your lips will be forever sealed on the subject of my niece's care under Dr. Schuller as well as the incident on the tower. Neither in public nor in private will you contradict the account in the Times."

Under her forceful stare, he responded, "Of course, ma'am."

"Seeking to guard your reputation, we took great pains to keep your name out of the papers --- as we did Ondine's."

A pointed pause followed, and Anders found himself mumbling, "Thank you."

She sighed. "We were so fortunate last year to have narrowly escaped a dire connection to Peter Van der Veen --- only to have the unpleasant business dredged up once again, threatening to provoke anew unseemly chatter about my niece."

Her fingers abruptly stirred atop the cane --- Anders' eyes darted down. The tip of the stick shifted an inch or so on the floor between their shoes. Then her fingers stilled upon the handle.

In the dimly lit carriage, her mouth flattened and her cold gaze fixed upon his. "Mr. Cornelissen and I were most surprised and dismayed to learn you had sought to cultivate a connection with our niece outside of the sanctioned auspices of Dr. Schuller, especially after the kindness and trust we extended to you as a guest in our home."

His pulse surged, and he fought the guilty rush of images of naked Ondine in the throes of copulation with the ghost, and of her small, pale, hypnotized hand wrapped around his blood-infused organ.

"We feel it's time you returned your attention to the usual school curriculum. As far as the Cornelissen family is concerned, you can congratulate yourself on having gone above and beyond in discharging your duties as an aspiring doctor. Indeed, your enthusiasm has exceeded the bounds of propriety for even the most dedicated physician."

The heat prickled in his cheeks.

Her disdainful eyes made a deliberate survey of his person. "This continued unsuitable connection not only exposes my niece to unsavory gossip but encourages her morose self-absorption and avoidance of family obligations. Thus, your so-called 'consultation' with her will cease forthwith. After the shocking incident on the tower, Ondine is in complete agreement."

Anders felt his heart thump against his rib cage. "She is?" he said without thinking.

Mrs. Cornelissen smiled. "Yes, she is. Ondine, her uncle, and I are of a like mind. You will importune her no further. If you are unfamiliar with that word, Mr. Røkke, that means you will make no further attempt to communicate with her, neither in person nor by message nor by telephone."

He straightened. "I am quite familiar with that word, Mrs. Cornelissen. But I believe our wishes are more in accord than you seem to think. I only want what's best for your niece. Any --- intrusion I have made into Ondine's life was only done out of concern for her well-being."

The corner of Mrs. Cornelissen's lips curled. "Your skills par excellence at amputating diseased limbs and lancing boils scarcely qualify you to render an opinion on what's best for a young lady of a Society family." Her leather-clad fingers tightened upon the walking stick. "Among the Board of Directors of Columbia University are many whom we count as close friends. If you value your career, you are well advised to stay away from my niece."

His heart was oddly racing --- the provocation of emotion no doubt exaggerated by his anemic state. Anders drew himself up. "Ma'am." With a brief bow of his head, he placed the bag of money on the velvet-upholstered seat next to her and exited the carriage.

*****

Dæven! It could not be so! He refused to accept, based only on Adele Cornelissen's word, that Ondine wished him out of her life. Her aunt had either been lying to discourage him or Ondine had expressed the sentiment to appease her family.

Or it was true.

Then the memory swelled forth of her hand holding his in the ambulance. No. If the girl did truly desire his absence, he needed to hear it from her own lips.

Ironically, nothing in Mrs. Cornelissen's rebuke deviated from his own bouts of self-reproach since meeting Ondine --- any connection was inappropriate because she was a patient, any connection was impossible because they were of different social classes. But as long as Ondine had continued to meet with him, his heart had grasped at a thread of hope --- the dream was not over until there was positive corroboration to that effect.

Yes, he needed to hear it from Ondine herself. That, and whether Schuller's death had brought an end to the haunting. Answers to these two points and the opportunity to thank her for her part in saving his arm would satisfy him. After that, he would no longer 'importune' her --- or so he endeavored to convince himself.

The next day after school, Anders betook himself to Central Park and concealed himself among the trees across the street from the Cornelissen mansion, watching and waiting as twilight deepened. In violation of Mrs. Cornelissen's directive, his pocket contained an envelope with a note to Ondine:

Have the 'nightmares' stopped? Please contact me at school or at the boardinghouse.

He had debated entrusting it to a messenger boy, but after having received no response to his previous message, he decided he had to place it in Braddock's hand directly. Mrs. Cornelissen might have Ondine cowed, but she held no sway over him.

At the hour he recalled dinner being served during his own stay there, he ventured forth and crossed the dark avenue, heading down the side street to the rear of the property. The tall, wrought-iron drive gates were closed, but not locked, and he eased one open to slip inside the shadowed, quiet grounds. Lights were visible in the second story windows of the carriage house. Entering the building, he observed a young man polishing the glossy side of one of the carriages in a long row.

"Good evening," Anders said, approaching.

The fellow's rag paused. "Good evening. How can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Braddock."

He shook his head. "You're out of luck. He was sacked last week."

Anders' eyebrows shot up. He stared wordlessly for several moments as the man resumed his work. "Do you know why?"

"Not a clue."

"Or where he went?"

"Nope."

"What about Hildy? Is she still employed here?"

"Hildy? I don't know. But I only started working here a couple weeks ago --- I don't know everyone's names yet."

Anders thanked him and decamped posthaste from the Cornelissen estate, his mind reeling. Had his last note to Ondine been intercepted by her aunt or uncle? Or had the events at the tower exposed the coachman's loyal abetment of his young mistress's willful, unapproved pursuits? The timing was too coincidental to suppose otherwise, and Anders' remorse and indignation mounted in equal measure.

Crossing the darkened park, he considered attempting to contact Hildy, then abandoned the idea. The possibility of causing trouble to anyone else and potentially costing them their position was untenable. He would need to discover some other means by which to speak to Ondine. A grim line transformed his lips. In his blithe, amorous preoccupation with the girl, he had woefully underestimated her guardian.

Score one for Mrs. Cornelissen.