A New York Haunting: Pt. 04

"Of course, sir." Anders' fingertips pressed against his thighs. Was this the moment to confess his own detective work, or should he pretend innocence?

"Her name is Ondine Van der Veen, née Cornelissen. Have you heard of the Cornelissen family?"

"Erm --- they donated money to the medical school."

Schuller nodded. "Yes. All the more reason for discretion." At Anders' nod, he continued, "Mrs. Van der Veen is nineteen years old. With the tragic death of her parents five years ago, she became the ward of her aunt and uncle. Last year, immediately after her debut in Society, she married Peter Van der Veen, a wealthy man of whose character the family was skeptical. Most unexpectedly, he died at the wedding reception. An autopsy subsequently revealed an underlying heart defect which was felt to be aggravated by the alcohol and excitement of the occasion."

Anders' face conveyed suitable surprise. "In what regard was the family concerned about the man's character?"

"My understanding is that from a life in the slums, the man rose in circumstances and founded a munitions firm --- an enterprise in which he amassed a fortune. I believe he became acquainted with the girl through her brother who is an army surgeon. Evidently Van der Veen's firm was contracted to supply firearms for the unit's Philippines engagement."

As far as Anders could tell, the primary objection to Peter Van der Veen was the lack of a sterling pedigree, for most people would consider his financial success to be a mark in his favor. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

"In her appointment last week, Mrs. Van der Veen at last disclosed the source of her distress. She claims that her late husband visits her at night when she is asleep and commands her to never marry again."

Anders blinked. "A dream, you mean."

"Naturally, a dream. Or rather, a recurring dream, for she states that it happens two or three times a week. However, the lady insists it is not a dream."

Anders listened intently.

Dr. Schuller twisted the cap of his gold pen. "She describes it as unlike any dream she has ever experienced. It is too vivid, too frightening. Her husband chokes her, she claims. And when she wakes in the morning, her heart is racing. The agitation persists for several hours. The symptoms are indeed unusual; thus, I also considered the possibility of hallucinations."

Frowning, Anders wondered aloud, "Can she connect these occurrences with any specific activity or food ingested the preceding evening?"

"By the technique of free association, she can identify no provoking factors. But here is where I require your assistance. I proposed to Mrs. Van der Veen that we attempt hypnosis to delve further into these unusual dreams." The doctor uncapped and recapped his pen with a pensive expression. "The girl was reluctant, but eventually conceded. Her two stipulations were that it happen at her home, and that someone else be present --- not her aunt, of course."

Anders had a sudden inkling of what Dr. Schuller's request would be. "Did she specify anyone in particular?"

"No. If I had a partner in my practice, I would doubtless appeal to him. Mrs. Lunsford is an excellent nurse, of course, but I feel the delicacy of the matter demands it be a medical practitioner. Thus, I'm asking if you will attend the appointment."

"Of course, sir. I would be honored to assist in any manner."

"Thank you, Mr. Røkke. We shall go to the Cornelissen house after clinic tomorrow."

*****

The following afternoon, they walked between the stone lions guarding the Cornelissen residence. Anders tugged his suit jacket straight, feeling awkward alongside the dignified Dr. Schuller --- what with his calm demeanor, elegant suit, kid-leather gloves, and gold-headed walking stick. The de rigueur gentleman's accessory had always struck Anders as more of an encumbrance than it was worth --- if not actually needed to steady one's gait. His friend Fulton sometimes carried one, lauding its potential use as a weapon if need be. Nonetheless, Anders could not imagine embracing the affectation, even if someday he should have the money for such niceties.

He had only a moment to take in the towering façade of the palatial mansion before the tall carved door swung open. Inhaling and squaring his shoulders, he followed Schuller in, warning himself against any wayward glances at the subject of his fascination.

A uniformed butler ushered them into a grand, marble-columned entry hall, took their hats, then led them to an equally stately drawing room. Ondine and her aunt rose from a velvet sofa. Mrs. Cornelissen was attired in her usual finery, while her niece wore a dark blue gown that covered her from neck to wrist to toe with minimal adornment. Her shining dark hair was arranged atop her head, and neither veil nor hat nor goggles obstructed his hungry, surreptitious appreciation of her lovely face.

"Dr. Schuller, thank you for indulging our request for a private house-call," Mrs. Cornelissen said, shaking his hand.

"Mrs. Cornelissen." Schuller inclined his head. "I am delighted to accommodate you. You'll recall my student doctor, Mr. Røkke."

"Mrs. Cornelissen ... Mrs. Van der Veen." Anders bowed over the hands of each of the ladies in turn.

"Mr. Røkke," Ondine murmured, her small cool hand resting momentarily on his large one. If she noticed his inexpensive apparel, there was no indication in her polite gaze. No sign at all did she evince of their better acquaintance.

"Before you begin the experiment, Dr. Schuller, I do think you should examine Ondine's paintings and drawings," Mrs. Cornelissen said. "They are most disturbing, and perhaps will offer some clues to assist your investigation."

From the corner of his eye, Anders detected a flick of the girl's eyelashes, but whatever expression had passed on her face at her aunt's suggestion was gone when he turned to look at her.

They proceeded from the room, Mrs. Cornelissen and Dr. Schuller walking together in the lead, while Anders found himself walking alongside Ondine, his hand yet savoring the sensation of her brief touch. No glance or word was exchanged between them to hint at their tête-à-tête in the park last week.

As they marched through one opulent room after another, he lost his bearings. At length, Mrs. Cornelissen halted in a chamber and announced, "This is Ondine's sitting room. Her studio, if that is the proper term, is over there in the conservatory." She motioned towards an archway leading into an adjoining space aglow in the late afternoon light.

"If you will please wait momentarily, I need to move some paint jars out of the way," Ondine said, crossing to the archway.

"May I offer you some assistance, Mrs. Van der Veen?" Anders asked.

"Thank you for the offer, Mr. Røkke. But no." She disappeared into the conservatory.

Mrs. Cornelissen addressed Dr. Schuller in a low voice, recounting the many years she had indulged her niece's passion for art --- arranging lessons and instructors.

Anders surveyed the 'sitting room' with interest, knowing it to be Ondine's. The chamber was smaller in proportion and airier in atmosphere than the ostentatious rooms through which they had just passed. In a decor dominated by silver and light blue, he noticed a writing desk with several books and papers upon it. A cabinet with additional books was in one corner. The curved, coved ceiling featured a whimsical mural of Arthurian knights, damsels, minstrels, horses, and waving banners parading around the perimeter of the room.

"The paintings in here are ones my niece purchased," Mrs. Cornelissen said.

"That would appear to be Ulysses and Athena," Dr. Schuller commented. Anders followed the direction of the doctor's gaze and beheld above the fireplace a canvas featuring a man in Greek robes with a helmet and sword. At his side, the goddess in her own helmet and armor pointed out over a windswept seascape.

"And that one, I do not recognize," the psychoanalyst said, turning to the opposite wall where hung a painting with a vertical orientation, almost six feet tall.

"Circe Invidiosa by Waterhouse," came Ondine's matter-of-fact voice from the adjacent room.

"That one she acquired in London." Mrs. Cornelissen's face had a distasteful expression. "I am not an aficionado of this new school of painting."

The subject of this commentary depicted a dark-haired woman clad in a blue-green toga falling off one shoulder, standing barefooted upon the head of a sea monster partially submerged in a dusky, woodland pool. Cradled in her hands at chest level was a wide glass bowl filled with luminous green liquid. An intense, almost malevolent expression suffused her countenance as she poured a single stream of the potion onto the snout of the creature under her.

Anders blinked. He was unfamiliar with the 'new school of painting' but had never previously seen such a darkly compelling image --- the saturated, jewel-like blues and greens imbued the scene with an eerie glow. An involuntary shivering sensation flitted down his spine.

Ondine appeared in the archway.

"May we enter?" asked Dr. Schuller.

At her nod, they filed into the conservatory, Anders following Mrs. Cornelissen and Schuller. Immediately, he realized the room was essentially a modest-sized greenhouse built onto the side of the mansion. With two walls and the ceiling being composed entirely of glass panes set in decorative, scrolled-metal frames, the room was awash in light. A few potted plants by the windows were vestiges of its original purpose; the remainder of space was clearly devoted to Ondine's artistic endeavors.

On one wall was a scarred and paint-spattered oak counter, upon which were sketchbooks, corked bottles of powdered pigments, and jars holding brushes, pencils, and rulers. A large easel stood at the opposite end, and next to it was a small table with a paint-daubed palette, multiple crinkled tubes of paint, and a jar with paintbrushes. A canvas was on the easel and dozens of others were on the floor, leaning against the walls, some stacked several deep. Numerous pencil sketches were affixed to the wall.

The young artist stood aside with her arms crossed as she observed the self-invited guests inspect her studio.

Mrs. Cornelissen led them to the easel where the faint odor of turpentine became perceptible. Here they examined the painting in progress. With its cacophony of bold brushstrokes and vibrant hues, it took Anders a moment to recognize the statue atop the fountain at Bethesda Terrace; he recalled her agitated sketching the first day he had followed her. But she had not painted it true to life --- instead of a calm, beneficent gaze, the angel's tormented face was raised to the heavens and her wings were tensely angled over her head in a shielding arch.

Dr. Schuller and Mrs. Cornelissen exchanged glances before moving on to the paintings leaning against the wall. "Mr. Røkke, would you mind?" the doctor said, motioning towards the stacked canvases. Anders squatted and tilted one canvas after another forward on Schuller's cue so that they could view each painting in succession.

"No doubt you can appreciate the difference between her works before the wedding and after," Mrs. Cornelissen said.

The paintings at the front of the stacks were similar in style to that on the easel --- dramatic brushstrokes and discordant colors. As he flipped through them, Anders struggled to identify the subjects: a stormy sky, a rearing horse, a blood-dripping rose, two men fighting, a ruby vase overflowing with water, an overfilled hot air balloon wrenching against the ropes tethering it down, a swollen droplet hanging from a faucet tip, the straining laces of a corset, a locomotive with steam shooting from the driveshaft and piston. His eyebrows lifted at another canvas which appeared to be the Egyptian obelisk in Central Park, distorted and bathed in a sinister greenish vapor.

And then, further back in the stacks, there were pieces with an entirely different aura --- serene landscapes with wildflowers and perceptive, lifelike portraits --- a woman knitting, an older man buckling a bridle on a horse, a young man cleaning a pistol, a child holding a cat. The details of the faces, hands, and animals were meticulously rendered --- a testimony to an innate skill, excellent instruction, or both.

And the distinguishing factor between these two very different collections, according to her aunt, was whether they were composed before or after her wedding to Peter Van der Veen.

Anders stole a glance at Ondine. Still standing with her arms crossed over her chest, the girl's toe tapped a restless staccato on the floor, and her eyes were slightly narrowed. A sense of chagrin possessed him at this intrusion into her private visions, equal to that previously elicited by following her. Reminding himself of the distressing dreams of which she had complained, he hoped the ends --- relieving her of these nightmares --- would justify the means.

The psychoanalyst noticed Ondine's agitation as well and discreetly signaled Anders to desist sorting through the canvases. "Yes, very well. A fascinating evolution in the technique of an accomplished artist," Schuller murmured. "Perhaps we should now proceed with the proposed exercise?"

In the same configuration as before, they left the conservatory and again trooped through a series of stately rooms. Once more, Ondine maintained an impassive mien as she walked by his side. Presently, Mrs. Cornelissen halted and waved a graceful hand at a large chamber. "Will this do?"

"Most admirably, madam," the doctor said.

To Anders, the room appeared to be another drawing room. He was in ignorance as to the specific name it might have in this enormous house, or what differentiated it from the other seven rooms through which they had passed.

"Then, sir, I shall be in the next room." Mrs. Cornelissen withdrew into the adjacent chamber, closing the carved-paneled double doors behind her.

Dr. Schuller surveyed the room then turned to the girl. "Mrs. Van der Veen, I intend to employ a standard procedure for hypnotism as follows: you will make yourself comfortable on the chaise lounge, and I shall take a chair beside you. Mr. Røkke will be nearby. I will guide you through the induction --- a process that promotes relaxation and entry into the trance state. Once this is achieved, I shall ask you questions on a variety of points related to your reported dreams." His eyes queried her face. "Do you have any questions?"

Ondine shook her head, a businesslike expression upon her countenance. Crossing to the chaise lounge, she seated herself. "Shall we proceed?"

Schuller nodded. "Please lie down and assure yourself of your comfort." He pulled a brocade-covered, gilded-frame chair alongside the chaise and sat down facing her. "Mr. Røkke, if you will draw the drapes --- more subdued lighting assists with relaxation. Then place yourself there." He indicated a spot on the opposite side of the chaise, further away.

Following instructions, Anders drew the heavy drapes together save for a small gap that directed a single beam of light upon the doctor. The low illumination was sufficient for the patient to see the doctor, and vice versa. Anders found a second chair and slid it to the designated position, almost tripping over the snarling head of a tiger skin rug. Dr. Schuller waited for him to take his seat, then commenced the proceedings.

"Are you comfortable, Mrs. Van der Veen?"

"Yes." She lay supine on the chaise lounge, her upper body elevated on the upholstered slope with her head upon a pillow. Her small, pale hands rested lightly upon her abdomen, and her legs were crossed at the ankle. Below the dark blue hem of her gown, low-heeled boots showed amidst white petticoats. The doctor sat on her right side, while Anders was on her left.

"Now, I want you to fix your gaze upon my pen." Between his thumb and forefinger, Dr. Schuller held a capped pen in a vertical orientation --- the ray of sunlight illuminated the golden barrel. "Focus your full your attention upon the pen and banish all other thoughts from your mind." The doctor spoke in a slow, gentle voice.

Ondine stared at the pen.

"Gaze upon the pen ... breathe slowly in and out ... in and out ... deep breaths as your body relaxes and the thoughts recede from your mind. The golden glow is so warm and so soothing ..." The psychoanalyst began to move the pen back and forth before her eyes, maintaining its vertical orientation.

In rapt attention, Anders observed the girl's hazel eyes follow the steady side to side excursions of the object, her pupils dilated with the dim lighting. Her upper chest rose and fell with her breaths, although the remainder of her slim torso was motionless ... the telltale of the constricting corset underneath. He wondered if it was even possible to relax and feel comfortable in such a contraption.

For several minutes, the calm words rolled out. "As you follow the golden glow, you will find yourself growing more and more relaxed ... breathe in ... and ... out ... in ... and ... out." His voice was now a murmur. "You find yourself growing very relaxed and sleepy."

Ondine's lids quivered lower as her eyes followed the back-and-forth motions of the pen.

"You find yourself becoming so very relaxed and sleepy ... your eyelids are growing heavy ... so very heavy ..."

Lush, dark lashes came to rest upon her cheeks, and her head drooped slightly sideways on the pillow, her face turning towards Anders. As Dr. Schuller continued the mesmeric chant, Anders stared fascinated at the hypnotized patient.

A sudden motion captured his attention. Ondine's eye that was closest to him opened and met his gaze. Then she winked --- a quick flick of long lashes over a luminous iris. With her face averted, the gesture was hidden from Schuller. Anders' mouth fell open and his eyes darted to the doctor.

The next moment, she opened both eyes and sat up. "I'm sorry, Dr. Schuller. I'm trying as hard as I can to cooperate, but I do not believe I am in a trance."

The psychoanalyst blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then he chuckled. "Mrs. Van der Veen, you are a dear young lady to attempt to spare my ego, however it is you who is the subject of concern. If this exercise is not succeeding, then we must reevaluate." He motioned towards the window. "Mr. Røkke, if you will open the drapes again --- let us shed some light on the matter."

When Anders returned from the window, Ondine was sitting on the edge of the chaise with her hands folded in her lap.

"There is no blame to be ascribed on either side," Dr. Schuller reassured her. "Hypnosis is not universally successful. Some subjects are simply not suggestible."

"Is it worth attempting again?" Ondine asked.

"Possibly. I wouldn't venture it again immediately --- another time maybe, perhaps a different setting." The doctor rose to his feet, and the patient followed suit. "And now, let us inform your aunt of the situation." He glanced at Anders. "I think at this juncture, we can release Mr. Røkke to his normal evening pursuits."

The girl nodded and crossed to a bell pull.

"Thank you, Mr. Røkke for your assistance," Schuller said.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Røkke," echoed Ondine, meeting his eyes.

The butler appeared at the hall door, escorted Anders to the entryway, and handed him his hat. A minute later, he was standing once more upon the sidewalk on Fifth Avenue.

Chapter 17. BEDSIDE OBSERVATIONS

For the remainder of the evening and following morning, Anders contemplated the events at the Cornelissen mansion. He thought about the girl's sitting room and studio --- and the tense, ominous compositions of her recent paintings. What a striking difference they presented from her pre-marriage pieces! Had she loved Peter Van der Veen so dearly that his death had cast her into a state of profound melancholia? Or had her bridegroom done something to provoke her disturbed state and the distressing dreams?