by Betty Neels
‘Where did Marcia catch it?’ asked Julia quickly.
‘At a party to which Ivo took her. She did not wish to go because it was to be gay with dancing, but he persuaded her, and it was after that that she became ill.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘So when she is able to leave hospital she asks that she may come and stay with us until she is strong enough to travel, and because Ivo is not here and we do not know how he feels about her, we agree. But six months is a long time and I think—I know that Ivo does not wish to marry her, but she pretends to him that she loves him very dearly, so he is kind to her, for she is ill and perhaps he thinks that in his absence her feelings will change and everything will arrange itself. But you see how she behaves towards him, Julia; she will marry him, although she does not love him, and I shall not forgive her.’
‘Can’t you tell her—I mean how Ivo feels?’ hazarded Julia. ‘No—he wouldn’t stand for that, would he? Can’t he tell her?’
‘Not Ivo. You see, he thinks that she loves him and she pretends—you think that she pretends too?’
‘Yes, she doesn’t care a row of buttons for him,’ said Julia vehemently, and then had to pause to explain about the row of buttons. ‘She’s in love—as far as she can be—with that awful de Winter man.’
‘Then why doesn’t she tell Ivo that she doesn’t love him?’
Julia thought about this and then said slowly, ‘I’m not sure,’ although she was almost certain she was. Marcia had been flattered by Ivo’s attention—who wouldn’t have been? Probably she had decided to marry him within a few weeks of meeting him, but was far too clever to let him see that. When she became ill she had made the most of Ivo’s pity and concern for her; possibly she had written him letters calculated to keep that concern alive while he was away—and then August de Winter had come along and in her odd way, she had fallen in love with him, but because she was uncertain of him she had refused to let Ivo go, and now, although she didn’t want him any more, she was going to keep up her deception until Julia had returned to England and there was no likelihood of Ivo falling in love with her…because he had fallen in love with her, she wasn’t sure how much, and it seemed unlikely that she would ever know. She could of course go to Ivo and tell him about Marcia and August de Winter, and he would despise her for it. She sighed and said, ‘Marcia is a very clever woman and there’s nothing we can do about it. He’ll have to find out for himself and let’s hope it won’t be too late when he does.’
Jorina surveyed her narrowly, her nice blue eyes thoughtful. ‘Is it not strange,’ she said, ‘that we are unable to say to each other what we would wish to say? One day, perhaps. What shall we do? I had thought of telling Ivo, but I cannot—I suppose you would not?’
Julia gave her a horrified look. ‘Me? Heavens, no! Not for all the tea in China.’
She had to explain that too, she was still doing so when Doctor van den Werff came in and asked with some surprise if they didn’t intend to change. ‘I know it’s still early, but I daresay you’ll take a long time, and we shall need a drink before everyone arrives.’
He smiled at them both and went away again and Julia got up to go.
‘I don’t take long to change, actually, but Marcia will need help.’
Her patient dressed with more eagerness than Julia had expected, and it was while she was zipping the dreary purple up its back that Marcia said coolly, ‘I telephoned Mijnheer de Winter while you were downstairs and asked him to come on my own account. Since Ivo disregarded my wishes I was forced to take matters into my own hands.’
Julia fastened the little hook at the top of the zip. ‘To dinner?’ she asked with admirable calm. ‘There are guests, that will make the numbers wrong. And he’s not one of the family.’
Miss Jason admired herself in the pier glass. ‘Nor are you, nurse,’ her voice was spiteful, ‘and Ivo should have thought of that—he must learn to have some regard for my wishes.’
Julia tried again. ‘But, Miss Jason, it’s not your party—you’re a guest in the house.’
Marcia turned round to face her, without, Julia noticed mechanically, any difficulty. ‘And what business is that of yours? Perhaps you’re afraid you’ll be asked to dine in your room in order to make the numbers right.’ She turned back again and smiled slowly at her reflection. ‘This colour suits me—I’ll rest now if you want to go.’
Julia went. If she changed very quickly she would have time to go and tell Jorina so that something could be done about dinner. She raced through her bath and was about to put on her dress when she decided to find Jorina at that very moment and not wait any longer. She flung on her dressing gown and with her feet thrust into slippers and her hair streaming blackly down her back, she ran across to Jorina’s room, tapped on the door and went in. Jorina was there, also in her dressing gown, and Ivo, still in his dark grey suit, was sitting on the end of her bed.
‘Oh, lord,’ said Julia helplessly, and turned to go, to be stopped by Ivo’s half-laughing: ‘Don’t run away, Julia—it’s not the first time I’ve seen you in a dressing gown with your hair dripping round your shoulders. What’s the matter? Or have you come to borrow something feminine I’m not supposed to know about?’
Julia advanced into the room. ‘Look,’ she said urgently, ‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but since you’re here—and you’ll know soon enough anyway—Marcia has just told me she’s invited Mijnheer de Winter to dinner and I feel mean telling you because I’m sure she didn’t mean me to.’ She ignored Ivo’s laugh and went on, ‘But you had to know, because that’ll make thirteen at table and that would never do—I’ll have dinner in my room, it’s such a good idea and no one will be any the wiser. Actually I didn’t think of it, Marcia did…’
‘The devil she did,’ said Ivo, and then seriously, ‘There’s no question of you not coming to dinner,’ and she realised then that he was indeed very angry. ‘I’ll telephone someone—we’ll sit down fourteen. There’s no need to tell Marcia, for there’s no point in arguing about it at this late hour. Thank you for telling us, dear girl—no one need know, just we three, and Bep of course, but she’s a tower of silence!’ He smiled suddenly and Julia felt her heart slide away into a spiralling pulse. ‘Hadn’t you better finish dressing, dear Miss Pennyfeather? You look sensational as you are, but no one would eat anything if you appeared at table like that.’
He accompanied her to the door and opened it and as she went past him murmured wickedly, ‘If you need any help I’d be delighted.’
She cast him a withering glance and flew down the passage and heard his laugh as she shut her door.
As she dressed it occurred to her that he hadn’t been much upset by Marcia’s conduct; she had been prepared to be sympathetic, but now it seemed that sympathy was wasted on him.
She put on the new pink dress, piled her hair elegantly and scented her person with ‘Femme’ before studying herself in the long mirror on the wall. The dress suited her with its high neck and long sleeves and the simplicity of its cut. She went along to Marcia’s room to remind her that it was time to join the family downstairs and tried not to notice the inimical look in Marcia’s eyes as they lighted upon her. Miss Jason, although ready, was unwilling to go down.
‘Kindly go and fetch Ivo,’ she said. ‘I should like him to help me downstairs.’
It was on the tip of Julia’s tongue to tell her that she needed no help, but there was no point in spoiling what she hoped was to be a delightful evening. She went downstairs and had reached the bottom step as Ivo came out of his study. She stammered a little as she spoke to him because he looked handsomer than ever in his dinner jacket, as well as a little remote, but there was nothing remote about his greeting. He walked across the hall towards her and took her hands, held her arms wide and studied her with cool leisure. ‘Delightful,’ he pronounced, and for a moment she thought that he was going to say something else, but he didn’t, so she gave him Marcia’s message, standing there, still holding hands, and was a little surprised when
he said lightly,
‘Ah, yes—this is Marcia’s great night, isn’t it?’
‘Because she’s going to dance?’
She didn’t understand why he smiled. ‘That among other things,’ he said in a teasing voice, and led her across the hall to the sitting room where the rest of the dinner party were gathering, and handed her over to his father before he went upstairs, to return very soon with Marcia clinging to his arm. Hard on their heels came August de Winter, looking nervous, and Julia, who disliked him very much, found it in her heart to pity him because of the perfect and icy politeness, with which he was greeted by Ivo and his father; anyone with a thinner skin might have turned tail and left the party on some trumped-up excuse, but he seated himself on a sofa beside Marcia and began a low-voiced conversation with her, while Ivo, looking too bland for Julia’s peace of mind, turned to greet the last and fourteenth guest. And no wonder he had looked so bland, she thought, and was thankful that she had wasted no sympathy on him, as he obviously needed none. The girl who came in was small and blonde and very pretty with laughing blue eyes and a gaiety which was infectious. She was wearing the sort of dress most girls long to wear and dared not, and she greeted Ivo with a disturbing familiarity which troubled Julia a little, and the rest of the company with charm, and then, as if drawn by a magnet, fastened like a leech upon Mijnheer de Winter, who was, willy-nilly, prised from Marcia with a neatness which could only earn Julia’s wholehearted approbation. She felt almost sorry for the man struggling to withstand the laughing blue eyes of this dolly, against whom he had no chance, and at the same time retain his dignity in Marcia’s eyes. He gave up the struggle very soon and was led away, leaving her on the sofa where she was immediately joined by Doctor van den Werff, who, disregarding her discomfiture, broke at once into easy conversation.
Dinner was fun, at least for Julia, who had Ivo’s other brother, Pieter, on one side of her and an uncle on the other—the uncle was, as was to be expected, a doctor too. They talked lightheartedly and made her laugh a great deal as they ate their way through oyster soup, filet of beef Meurice and gateau St Honoré, washed down with a variety of wines which certainly contributed, as far as she was concerned, to a delightful meal. It was a leisurely one too; by the time they had all repaired to the drawing room, they were joined almost at once by the first of the guests, and when someone started a CD player, everyone took to the floor. Julia, partnered by yet another cousin who begged her to call him Bill, watched Marcia rise to her feet and circle the room slowly with Ivo, an action made all the more conspicuous because they were doing the foxtrot while everyone else was gyrating in a more up-to-date fashion. Her partner watched them too and observed,
‘Is that the young lady who was stricken by polio? A marvellous recovery—in fact she looks as though she’s been recovered for some time.’
‘Are you a doctor?’ asked Julia suspiciously.
He smiled at her charmingly. She thought he was rather nice, not young any more, but possessed of a friendly manner and a pair of twinkling eyes which could, she suspected, be keen as well.
‘Yes, my dear young lady; married, with three children, otherwise I would be sitting out with you on the stairs. Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?’
‘Yes,’ said Julia tranquilly, ‘they have, but thank you just the same. What made you say that about Miss Jason?’
She was right about the eyes; they became keen on the instant. ‘Nothing, my dear, nothing—only it seems to me that she’s been here a very long time. In my experience fairly mild cases—fairly severe ones too—respond well to modern treatment and—pull their weight once they are on their feet. I should have thought she would have wanted to go home. Has she no family?’
‘Oh, yes—her father’s a solicitor in England, somewhere in the Midlands.’
He made an amused face. ‘I don’t like your Midlands. I also would not wish to return there. What do you think of Lise?’
‘She’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen for weeks,’ Julia said sincerely.
They were joined then by more people and almost at once Julia was asked to dance again; this time her partner was young, and although his English wasn’t good, they carried on an animated conversation, understanding each other very well, laughing a good deal as they danced. She had a number of partners after that and would doubtless have danced all night if she hadn’t caught sight of Marcia, sitting between two great-uncles, and looking discontented. Julia, who had no idea of the time, and didn’t really care, deduced that Marcia had had enough of the party; she slipped between the dancers and joined the little group.
‘I wondered if you were tired, Miss Jason,’ she began, although Miss Jason didn’t look tired, only cross which, Julia thought sympathetically, was natural enough, for there was no sign of Ivo and none of August de Winter. ‘I thought you danced beautifully,’ she went on. ‘What a triumph after all those months.’
‘I fail to see what triumph there is in dancing round a room, Nurse Pennyfeather. I shall go to bed in half an hour, if you could remember I shall be glad of your help.’
‘I’ll remember,’ said Julia, and smiled at the two old gentlemen as she slipped away. If she had only half an hour of the evening left, it would be nice to dance until the last moment of it. She was passing the open door to the hall when Ivo’s arm shot out and caught her gently.
‘There you are,’ he said pleasantly. ‘We haven’t danced, dear Miss Pennyfeather.’ He swung her into the crowd. ‘Having a good time?’
‘Super. Marcia wants to go to bed in half an hour though, and I shall go up with her. I—I saw her dancing. She was marvellous.’
She looked up at him and he returned her look with a half smile.
‘I think August de Winter has enjoyed himself too,’ he remarked silkily.
Julia was stricken by a sudden thought. ‘Did you do it on purpose, Ivo?’
He made no pretence of not knowing what she meant. ‘Of course, dear girl, surely you know by now how disagreeable I can be?’ He smiled again, his blue eyes fierce, and then said in quite a different voice,
‘Has anyone told you that you look beautiful this evening? You do. I like that demure pink thing—you put every other woman here in the shade, Julia.’
‘Who’s Lise?’ asked Julia, who had been longing to know all the evening.
‘Pretty, isn’t she? She’s theatre sister at Tilburg hospital. Jealous, dear girl?’
Julia went pink. She said much too quickly, ‘Of course not, how ridiculous,’ and knew that she was, wildly jealous. ‘Anyway, why ask me? Is that why you invited her?’ she went on, following her own train of thought. She gave him a severe look which he ignored.
‘She can’t hold a candle to you, Julia. James must be mad to let you out of his sight.’
‘Oh, James—pooh,’ said Julia impatiently. ‘I shan’t marry him.’
‘No, I know that. Why do you keep looking at the clock?’
She reminded him about Marcia and said hesitantly, ‘Would you like to dance with her once more, or—or talk to her before she goes to bed?’
For answer he drew her through the door they were passing. The hall was dimly lighted and empty as they walked over to the fire burning in the steel grate at the back of the hall.
‘You’re going to miss the rest of the party,’ he said kindly. ‘Come down again even if everyone has gone. I want to wish you a Happy Christmas before we go to bed.’
They went back together through the babel of laughter and talk and when they reached Marcia, Ivo helped her to her feet and in the little silence which had fallen, said pleasantly, ‘I’m sure you’re all glad to see what a marvellous recovery Marcia has made. She’s going to her room now, but don’t think that that signals the end of the evening.’
He smiled, his face calm, but when he would have gone to the door with her, Marcia held back, shaking her head playfully at him in a manner which Julia found quite nauseating. ‘You’re all so kind,’ she said, ‘and I am so
happy. I should say—we are so happy.’ She looked up at Ivo who, Julia was relieved to see, wore a polite, impersonal air of friendliness; if he loved Marcia, then he was hiding it most successfully, and now would have been a wonderful time to have announced his intention to marry—if he was going to marry. With a sudden uplift of spirits she realised that he wasn’t going to do anything of the sort, but equally, he wasn’t going to humiliate Marcia either. It was the cousin from Utrecht who said exactly the right thing.
‘Well, of course we’re all happy,’ he remarked loudly. ‘You’re cured, Marcia, which means you’re happy because you’re the patient, and Ivo’s happy because he’s the doctor, and we’re all happy because you have been able to enjoy the party. Let’s drink a toast to that.’
The toast was drunk and Julia, watching Marcia, could see that she was furiously angry.
As she had expected, her patient took a long time to undress, she complained in a low, pained voice as each garment was removed and avowed that permanent damage had been done by reason of the exercise she had been persuaded, against her will, to take. ‘I should never have danced,’ she stated in the brave, resigned voice she affected when she wished to draw attention to herself. ‘But of course, Ivo insisted.’
‘There was no reason why you shouldn’t,’ observed Julia cheerfully, determined to be nice despite her opinion of Marcia’s behaviour at the party. ‘I know you’ve been ill a long time, but you’re as good as new again, you know. You can’t stay an invalid all your life.’
Miss Jason had nothing to say to this, instead she complained once again, this time about the ache in her legs.
‘Only your muscles—time they were used a little more,’ said Julia reassuringly, but despite her strong feelings, her hands were gentle as, without any show of impatience, she began to massage her patient’s legs. By the time she had finished and Marcia had declared herself ready to sleep, they could hear the last of the cars driving away; the guests had gone, the party was over. All the same, Julia, when she found herself free, did as she had promised and went downstairs to a house strangely quiet after the cheerful hubbub of the evening. The fire in the hall was dying down; its heat had brought out the scent of the flowers in a great bowl on one of the console tables and she sniffed appreciatively as she passed it on the way to the drawing room. The drawing room was empty, but when she went into the sitting room it was to find Doctor van den Werff, his three sons, his daughter-in-law and Jorina and Klaas clustered round the fire, a tray of coffee in the middle and the whisky decanter to hand.