by Betty Neels
‘Your mother?’
‘She and my father live just outside Den Haag now. My father is retired—like me, he was a medical man—and they have a house in the country. We will go and visit them shortly.’
‘Do they know that you married me?’
‘Of course, and they are delighted to welcome you into the family.’
They were now halfway up the staircase, but she paused, her hand on the carved wood balustrade. ‘If I were them,’ she declared, letting grammar go to the winds, ‘I wouldn’t want to welcome me, coming in from nowhere—I might be an adventuress.’
The doctor laughed. ‘An adventuress wouldn’t have carroty hair,’ he told her. ‘Besides, they trust my judgement. Don’t worry about them, Emma; they will like you and I think that you will like them.’
He led her across the gallery to the front of the house, opened a door and urged her inside. The room was large, with two tall windows opening out onto a wrought-iron balcony. A four-poster bed faced them, its coverlet in the same satin chintz as the curtains. There was a mahogany dressing table between the windows, with an elaborate carved framed triple mirror on it, a cabinet chest against one wall and a tallboy facing it. On either side of a small round table there were small tub chairs, and at the foot of the bed a Regency chaise longue. It was a beautiful room, and Emma said so.
‘You must love your home, Roele,’ she said.
‘As you will love it too, Emma. We can go through here…’ He led the way through a bathroom to a smaller room, simply furnished, and then out into the gallery again to open another door.
Emma lost count of the rooms after a time. When they had inspected those opening onto the gallery there were the side passages, leading to even more rooms, and then a staircase to the floor above.
‘The nurseries,’ said the doctor, sweeping her in and out of doors. Children’s bedrooms, more guest rooms. And then up another staircase. ‘Kulk and Katje have rooms here, and Bridgette too, and along here are the attics and a door onto the roof.’
There was a narrow parapet and an iron staircase down to the ground.
‘We keep the door locked but the key hangs above it. Kulk has another key and so have I.’
‘I had no idea…’ began Emma.
He understood her at once. ‘It is a large house, but it is also home—our home, Emma. You will learn to love it as I do.’
They went back downstairs and had drinks and a splendid dinner, and shortly afterwards Roele went to his study to work. Emma spent a blissful few hours in the drawing room, examining everything in it. Percy was with her, but Prince had gone with his master. Presently she was joined by the two cats, who wandered in and settled onto one of the settees with the air of welcome guests. That was what was so delightful about the house, reflected Emma, it was a home as well.
Roele came back then, asked her if there was anything she would like before going to bed and suggested that she might like to go and see Juffrouw Smit on the following day. ‘She would like you to go to her house for lunch. Kulk will drive you in about midday. I shall be at the hospital for most of the day, but I’ll call for you at about half past one and bring you back here.’
He smiled at her. ‘I shall be free at the weekend and we can be together. You’re not too lonely?’
‘No, of course not. There’s such a lot to see. Tomorrow I had thought I’d walk to the village, but now I’m going to Juffrouw Smit, so I’ll go to the village the next day. The days won’t be long enough.’
She sounded so convincing that she almost convinced herself, and tried hard not to mind when he made no effort to keep her after she suggested that she should go to bed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMMA was relieved to see Juffrouw Smit’s severe countenance break into a smile when she arrived for lunch the next day. It could have been an awkward meeting, but somehow her hostess gave the impression that she had expected Dr van Dyke and Emma to marry, and it was something of which she entirely approved.
‘The doctor is coming for you at half past one so we do not have much time for a chat, but perhaps you will come again? I am interested to hear of your wedding and the cottage at Salcombe—as you know, the doctor has very little time to chat. A quiet wedding, I expect?’
So Emma sat down and drank very dry sherry and described her wedding; not that there was much to describe, but she made the most of it, enlarged upon their journey back and the awful weather, and, over lunch, described the cottage in detail.
‘Perhaps you would like to stay there when you have a holiday? It is a charming little town and the people are friendly—besides, your English is so good.’ She added impulsively, ‘You were so kind to me when I came here to work for the doctor, and I never thanked you for that. But I do now. I’m glad I did work here, even in such a humble capacity, because now I can understand how hard Roele works.’
‘You will be a good wife to him,’ pronounced Juffrouw Smit. ‘Now, we will have coffee here at the table, for the doctor will be here very shortly and I must go back to work. But you will come again, I hope?’
‘Yes, please. There is such a lot I need to know—about the shops and all the everyday things one takes for granted in one’s own country.’
Roele was punctual and she was glad that she was ready for him for, although he was his usual quiet self, she sensed that he was impatient to be back at work. So she shook hands with Juffrouw Smit, thanked her for her lunch without lingering and got into the car.
‘I could have found my own way home,’ she told him as they drove off.
‘So you could, and I’ll tell you how best to do that some time.’ He smiled at her, thinking that she had called his house home quite unconsciously; they had been married for only a day or so and she was already fitting into his life as though it had been made for her. ‘I’ll be home earlier today,’ he told her. ‘We will have tea together and then take the dogs to the village.’
It was a short walk to the village. He took her to see the church, which was small and austere outside but the interior held high carved wood pews and a magnificent pulpit and its walls were covered by black and white marble plaques, many of them from Roele’s family. And underfoot there were ancient gravestones, inscribed in flowery Latin. He showed her the front pew under the pulpit, with its red velvet cushions and hassocks. ‘This is where we come on Sundays,’ he told her.
The village was small, its little houses and cottages having shining windows and spotless paintwork. Here and there were larger houses, set haphazardly between the cottages. There was a small shop too, selling, as far as Emma could see, absolutely everything.
‘And yet the village is so close to Amsterdam…’
‘Yes, but off the beaten track, and a good many of the people living here are elderly and don’t want the hassle of a bus ride to the shops. Come and meet Mevrouw Twist.’
The shop was dark inside, and it smelled of onions and of the smoked sausages hanging from the ceiling, with a whiff of furniture polish and washing powder. The doctor introduced her, bought dog biscuits and listened courteously to Mevrouw Twist’s gossip, then shook hands, waited while Emma did the same, and then they went back into the small square.
‘Tomorrow we have been asked to the dominee’s house so that I may introduce you to him and his wife. In the evening at about six o’clock. We shall drink home made wine and stay for an hour.’ He tucked her arm in his. ‘You see, I lead two lives, Emma. I know everyone in the village but I have friends in Amsterdam, too.’
They were walking up the drive to the house, the dogs running ahead.
‘Bear with me for a few more days and then we will go shopping. You always look nice, but you will need warm clothes and some pretty dresses…’
The following evening they walked to the dominee’s house arm-in-arm, talking of everyday ordinary events, and Emma realised that she felt like a wife…
The dominee was tall and thin and rather earnest, while his wife was blonde, wholesomely good-looking and frie
ndly. She took Emma away to see the baby—a boy, lying sleeping in his cot. ‘Roele is his godfather,’ she told Emma. She led the way into an adjoining room. ‘Anna, Sophia and Marijke,’ she said and waved towards the three small girls sitting at the table, schoolbooks spread around them.
Emma said hello, and their mother blew them a kiss then took Emma back to the men. The dominee gave her a glass of wine, saying, ‘My wife is clever; she makes the wine. This is from rhubarb.’
He came and sat beside her. ‘I am sorry to hear that you have had a good deal of unhappiness, but now you are married to Roele you will be happy again.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Emma, and knew that that was true.
Walking back presently, she told Roele, ‘I liked the dominee and his wife, and the baby and the little girls. Have you known them for a long time?’
‘Years and years. He and I were at school together. Jette is an old friend too.’
Towards the end of the week Roele told her over dinner, ‘I’ll be free until the evening tomorrow. Shall we go shopping?’
Emma, heartily sick of the few clothes she had brought with her, agreed with enthusiasm.
‘You will need a winter coat and a good raincoat—get yourself whatever you wear in the winter, and some pretty dresses for the evening and anything else you need.’
‘Thank you, but how much may I spend?’
‘You can use my account at some of the shops, but at the smaller shops I’ll settle the bills as we go. I’ll arrange for you to have an allowance as soon as possible, but in the meantime leave the paying to me.’
In bed that night, Emma thought uneasily that she needed a great deal, and that perhaps Roele hadn’t realised how much even a basic wardrobe would cost him. But she had stayed awake worrying about that to no purpose; the next morning he drove her to Amsterdam, parked the car and walked her briskly to a street of small fashionable shops. The kind of shop, she saw, which displayed one or two mouthwatering garments in its narrow window with no price ticket in sight.
The doctor stopped before an elegant shop window. ‘My sisters go here,’ he observed, and ushered her into its dove-grey interior.
The elegant woman who glided towards them took in Emma’s out-of-date but expertly tailored suit, the well polished equally out-of-date shoes and handbag, and recognised a good customer.
‘Dr van Dyke—you were here with your sister some time ago.’
‘Indeed I was. My wife would like some dresses. We shall be entertaining, so something for dinner parties.’
‘I have the very thing for mevrouw, and so fortunate that a consignment of delightfully pretty outfits arrived only this week. If mevrouw will come with me?’
So Emma went behind elegant brocade curtains and had her useful suit and sweater taken from her and replaced by a dark green velvet dress, very plain, with long sleeves and a high neck, and a skirt which just skimmed her knees and showed off her shapely legs to great advantage.
She showed herself rather shyly to Roele, sitting comfortably in a gilt chair reading a newspaper.
‘Very nice. Have it.’
‘But I’m sure it’s very expensive,’ hissed Emma.
‘Just right for dinner parties; get another one…blue…’
The saleslady had splendid hearing; she had a blue crêpe dress with short sleeves, a low square neck and a wide pleated skirt ready to slip over Emma’s head.
When she went back to Roele again, he nodded. ‘Very nice, have it, and get a couple of warm dresses…’
Emma, slightly light-headed, allowed herself to be fitted into a soft brown cashmere dress, and then a green jersey dress, a two-piece, and, since Roele approved of them both, she added them to the others. Once more in her old suit, she waited while Roele paid for everything and arranged for them to be sent round to his consulting rooms.
‘We will pick them up before we go home,’ he told her. ‘Now, if I remember rightly there is a place here where they stock Burberry…’
With a short pause for coffee, Emma acquired a raincoat and hat, two tweed skirts she’d admired, a couple of cashmere sweaters and a handful of silk blouses. By then it was time for lunch.
Over lobster thermidor at Thysse and Dikker, she pointed out that she now had a splendid wardrobe—and shouldn’t they go home?
‘We are by no means finished,’ the doctor pointed out. ‘You need shoes, a couple of evening dresses, a wrap of some kind for the evening, a winter coat, a hat—for church—and undies. There’s a small shop where my sisters always go, not too far away.’
Emma stopped worrying about the cost of everything, for it was obvious that Roele was unmoved by the bills. She bought shoes and slippers and boots, and a brown cashmere coat, and, after much searching, a plain, elegant felt hat with a narrow brim which she set at an angle on her carroty hair—the effect of which made the doctor stare so hard at her that she blushed and asked him if he didn’t like it.
‘Charming—quite charming!’ he told her, and thought how beautiful she looked.
As for the undies, he left her for half an hour, and when he returned the saleswoman handed him a bag the size of which was evidence of her success in finding what she wanted.
He took her to an elegant little café for tea, and then presently drove to his consulting rooms, stowed her shopping in the boot and then drove home. Emma sat beside him, rehearsing the thank-you speech she intended to make once they were indoors. It had been a wonderful day, she reflected, and Roele appeared to have enjoyed it as much as she had. Let there be more days like this one, she prayed silently, doing things together…
She went to her room once they had reached the house, leaving Kulk to bring in the parcels while Roele stood in the hall, looking through the letters on the tray on the console table.
‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ she told him, and flew upstairs to throw off her coat and tidy her hair, add a little lipstick and powder her nose. She was less than five minutes, and when she got downstairs again the doctor was still in his coat, talking to Kulk, who, when he saw her, tactfully slid away.
‘Roele, thank you for a lovely day’—began Emma, to be interrupted.
‘Delightful, wasn’t it? I won’t be in for dinner and don’t wait up; I shall be late home. I’m glad you enjoyed the day; we must do it again some time.’ He crossed the hall to her and bent and kissed her cheek. ‘I won’t be home until early morning; we can have breakfast together. Sleep well, Emma.’
She conjured up a smile and watched him go, her lovely day in shreds around her; he had probably hated every minute of it, but his beautiful manners had prevented him from showing his wish for the tiresome day to be over. And where was he going now, and with whom?
Emma felt a sudden and unexpected surge of resentment. And she felt ashamed of that, for he had been very patient with her and spent a great deal of money.
She went to find Katje and ask if she might have dinner a little earlier, so that she had time to spend the evening unpacking her clothes and trying them on before she went to bed. She even tried to explain what a splendid day she had had, and Katje nodded encouragingly and Kulk said what a pity it was that the doctor should have to spend the evening out of the house.
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But of course it is his work, mevrouw.’
So what right had she to feel so disgruntled? She told herself that she was becoming selfish and thoughtless.
After dinner she told Kulk that she would go to her room and would need nothing further that evening. ‘The doctor told me that he would be very late back. Do you usually wait up for him?’
‘No, mevrouw. Coffee and sandwiches are left ready for him and he lets himself into the house. I’ll take Prince and Percy out for their final run, but the doctor doesn’t like me to stay up later than midnight.’
Unpacking her new clothes and trying everything on took a long time. Emma was surprised to find that it was midnight by the time the last garment had been carefully hung away. She bathed and got ready for
bed and then, on an impulse, went quietly down the stairs. The stoel clock in the hall chimed one as she reached it, dimly lit by a wall-light above the console table. She stood for a moment, listening. Perhaps Roele was in his study or the kitchen. But he was in neither. Only Prince and Percy, curled up together, lifted sleepy heads as she went into the kitchen.
There was coffee on the stove and a covered plate on the table. Sandwiches—slivers of ham between thin buttered slices of bread. Emma took one and sat down by the Aga to eat it. She was wearing her new dressing gown, pale pink quilted silk, her feet thrust into matching slippers, and she admired them as she ate. She wasn’t sure why she had come down to the kitchen, but it was warm and comfortable and Roele might be glad of company when he got home. She took another bite of sandwich and turned round at the faint sound behind her.
Roele was standing in the doorway. He looked tired, but he was smiling.
‘What a delightful surprise to find you here, Emma, eating my sandwiches…’
He came into the kitchen, acknowledging the dogs’ sleepy greeting, and sat down opposite her.
‘You don’t mind? I don’t know why I came down. Well, I suppose it was because I thought you might want to talk to someone. But I’ll go back to bed if you don’t want company.’
‘My dear Emma, I am delighted to have company. But are you not tired?’
She was pouring coffee into two mugs and had put the sandwiches within his reach.
‘Not a bit.’ She sat down and added quietly, ‘It was so kind of you to waste a whole day shopping with me. I enjoyed it, but all the while you must have been thinking about your patients and the hospital and wanting to be there.’ Before he could speak she added, ‘I want to thank you for everything, Roele. All my lovely clothes, and showing me the shops, and lunch and tea…’
It was tempting to tell her then that the day had been a delight for him too, that buying all the clothes she wanted had given him the greatest delight, and that if it were possible he would buy her the most splendid jewels he could find. But it was too soon; she was at ease with him, trusted him, but that was all. It was a strange situation, wooing Emma with a courtship after they were married, but he had no doubt of its success, provided he could possess his soul in patience.