The Language of Love

by Saunders, Jean

  Annette hoped her smile wasn’t too wooden as Elena opened her car door and got out, leaving her to follow. With every word Elena spoke, it pointed to one thing: Helga considered herself Pieter’s girl and had every intention of marrying him. And it sounded as if the more Elena objected, the more Pieter dug his heels in. Was Helga “his girl” after all? And if she was, then he had no right to pursue Annette the way he did – phoning her in England and calling her his beautiful one, and last night...Annette caught her breath. If he and Helga had an understanding between them, then he had no right at all to take her to his private suite and make love to her so sensuously, or to make her believe that he was in love with her. Elena’s chatty conversation had suddenly made a mockery of everything.

  As she followed Elena up the steps of the gown shop, she hoped the Dutch girl wouldn’t notice her sudden preoccupation and silence. But all the while she was being introduced to Madame Gilbert, the Frenchwoman who owned the shop, one thought burned through Annette’s brain. Was she after all, no more than a challenge to Pieter Van Ness? Was she just a seemingly unattainable woman, who had proved only too vulnerable when he had lured her so lovingly into his bed?

  “Oh, I like that one, Annette.” Elena’s voice came and went, and she forced herself to study the vision in the long mirror in front of her. Deep lilac, to complement the little girls’ dresses, in a style that was almost medieval, with deep square neck and high waist, and wide floating sleeves.

  “It suits Mademoiselle very well,” Madame Gilbert was saying. “It brings out the color in her beautiful eyes.”

  How would Pieter react when he saw her wearing it? The thought was there before Annette could stop it. She made herself study the dress. It really was lovely, and could be worn again as an evening dress. She let her eyes blur a little, and imagined herself with the two small girls behind her. It was perfect.

  Her own bridesmaids had worn pale blue... The image in the mirror changed imperceptibly, and she saw the ghost of herself in misty white... She swallowed hard.

  “I love it,” she said huskily, and when she had changed back into her trouser suit, the dress was carefully packed by one of Madame’s assistants. They were then led into the lingerie department and shown an exquisite display of nightwear and underwear, in handmade silk and satin and trimmed with the finest lace. “Honeymoon wear!” Elena exclaimed over first one and another of the designs, hardly able to make up her mind, and in the end choosing very few items, a beautiful nightgown in palest aqua, with a matching negligee, both with trailing ribbons and long, ultra-romantic floating skirts.

  It hadn’t occurred to Annette that it would feel poignant to be shopping for someone else’s honeymoon wear. Why should it? People were married every day. But she was suddenly too personally involved in this marriage, and it was bringing back the days of Tony and herself. She was glad when they stepped outside the shop into the watery sunlight again.

  After they’d put their purchases in the car, they took a stroll through the busy city streets toward Damrak, the main tourist thoroughfare with its tourist offices, gift shops, little cafes, and the sleek glass-topped canal boats awaiting customers on the other side of the street. The impressive facade of the railway station looked more like a red-brick palace with its ornate turrets and clock faces than a working building. Nearby too was the bus and tram station, with the long yellow trams which added a splash of vivid color to the day as they crisscrossed the street on their maze of tram lines. They were scenes Annette had quickly grown to love.

  “What will happen to your lovely house here when you and Nels are settled in The Hague?” she asked Elena when they found a coffee shop to their taste and had been served with the frothy espresso coffee, rich with cream. “Will Pieter decide to move back into it, do you think?”

  “I hope so.” Elena’s face was thoughtful. “Neither of us could bear to sell it, since it’s been in our family for generations. But that was another little thing that bothered me. I couldn’t imagine Luykens taking kindly to Helga queening it there if she and Pieter were married – and neither did I like the idea of Helga moving in for her own sake. She’s not the right one for Pieter. I think he must see it for himself now, but he can be very stubborn and single-minded, Annette, as you may discover when you get to know him better.”

  Annette thought she had already discovered it for herself. How had this conversation gotten around to Helga again? she wondered uneasily. But, her own situation apart, she agreed with Elena. Helga Jansen was not the type of woman who would fill the Van Ness house with grace, elegance and the warmth of femininity. Annette was pleased that Elena felt the same way, but the pleasure quickly faded, because it was obvious that there was some substance in Elena’s anxiety. And that meant that Pieter had had no right to pretend such an intense interest in Annette, no right to pretend he loved her.

  By the time she met him for dinner at the Van Ness house that evening, Annette’s nerves were decidedly prickly. She was glad of Elena’s presence, knowing she was a buffer between herself and Pieter, who could hardly make any advances toward her while his sister was around. All through dinner the conversation was light and superficial, and as usual, once the meal was over, Elena went to her bedroom for her nightly telephone call to Nels, excusing herself with the arch comment that she was sure the other two could find things to talk about over coffee in the lounge.

  “That’s as good as an order, Annette.” Pieter smiled across the dinner table and then came around to move her chair back for her. She felt the tension inside her as his hands slipped onto her shoulders, but she made herself speak quietly with as much dignity as possible.

  “I’m very happy to be here, Pieter, and more than pleased to stay with Elena at this special time for her. I’ve said I’ll help with your Van Ness float for the flower festival, and I won’t go back on my word. But that’s all. I came here intending to divide my time between sharing Elena’s wedding preparations and working with Gerrit Campen, and I don’t like taking orders. I especially don’t like to be made a fool of, nor do I like someone going behind my back and arranging my life for me as you did this morning. Please don’t do it again.”

  She hadn’t been facing him while she spoke, still sitting rigidly in her chair, but now she rose as if to leave the room. As she did so, Pieter’s fingers gripped her shoulders more firmly, and he twisted her around to look at him. She could see the anger in his gray eyes, cold as chips of steel now, and something else too – incredulity. She guessed that he was thinking of last night, when she certainly hadn’t been thinking of anything but him. She felt the color run up her face as she tried to keep her expression blank.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said in a deliberate voice. “How can a warm and passionate woman change so quickly?”

  “Please don’t...” she began, not wanting to be reminded of her own abandoned response to his love-making, knowing too well how his caresses had brought her to life as if she had been asleep all these years until now. She didn’t want to think of it. She stared into his eyes, afraid to lower her own in case he thought she was weakening. And she wasn’t weak. She was strong...or always had been. Annette was thankful she had the dining table to lean against, because her legs felt as if they’d suddenly turned to jelly.

  “I never took you for a tease, Annette,” he went on. “But perhaps I was wrong about you all along. I thought you were a mature, warm-hearted woman and that last night had been as meaningful to you as it was to me. All this talk of being faithful to your one and only was very touching. Now I begin to wonder how many others there have been in the meantime, discarded the way you’re apparently discarding me.”

  “How dare you talk to me like that?” Her voice shook with indignation.

  Suddenly his arms went around her, and she willed herself not to move a muscle. She could hear his harsh breathing, feel the beating of his heart. She knew that if he kissed her it would be beyond her not to respond.

  “Are you telling me last night m
eant nothing at all to you?” he said roughly.

  She wanted to say that it hadn’t, but she couldn’t make herself say the words when his mouth was so close to hers.

  “Only an automaton could say that,” she said stiffly. “What I’m saying is that I don’t want it to happen again. If it did...I just couldn’t stay in Amsterdam, Pieter. I’d have to leave at once, and believe me, I would.”

  She could see the conflict in his eyes now. It had been an ultimatum and he knew it. And for the sake of his sister, she was telling him he’d better stay in line. It was a trump card she hadn’t realized she held until the words left her lips. If he tried to seduce her again, she’d return to London, and Elena’s wedding would be ruined. Whether she’d actually have the courage to go through with it, Annette doubted completely. But she had to make Pieter believe it. He let go of her so quickly she gave a small gasp.

  “I didn’t think you’d stoop to that kind of blackmail,” he stated. “But since you have, I assure you it’ll be business only between us – at least, for the time being. But I don’t give up that easily, Annette.”

  During the following week, Annette discovered that “business only” between Pieter and herself didn’t exclude him from flattering her and seeking her company, and making it plain to her and his sister that he found her attractive. The only difference in his manner was that he didn’t try to get her alone in his private suite for a repetition of that fateful night – the night she couldn’t forget, no matter how much she tried. It wasn’t fair of him to continue being so charming, so charismatic and so unforgettable, she fumed. But without appearing to snub him in front of Elena, there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  She’d come here to sort out her feelings, she reminded herself, and so far she had only succeeded in becoming more confused than ever. But as had happened once before, the work she loved proved a panacea when her nerves were fraught. Upon arriving at Gerrit’s establishment a little awkwardly on Wednesday morning, she was immediately drawn into his warm circle of staff, who were all eager to work with and learn from her.

  “I hope Pieter didn’t give you the wrong impression on Monday morning,” she said quickly. “I had every intention of coming here, then –”

  “My dear girl, I know from your reputation that you work very hard. A little time off is good for you, and you are to come and go as you please. I would not presume to treat you as an ordinary employee, Annette!”

  He really was a dear, Annette thought. She spent a happy day in the large workroom at the back of the shop with Karole, Gerrit’s senior assistant, a large, cheerful Dutch girl, preparing the flowers for an occasion that evening, wiring and forming the bouquets and corsages that had been ordered. Each one bore the tiny silver tag of “Annette” on its ribbon, and by the end of the day Annette was amused to see the insertions in the shop windows that stated that Campen’s now had the temporary pleasure of “Annette of London” on its staff.

  Work was the therapy she needed, she decided. It had helped her out of the abyss of despair when Tony died. Now, when she needed time to think, it would come to her rescue again. Using her skills and creative talents, she could relax among the flowers, her hands busy while she gave all her professional expertise to the job at hand.

  It disturbed her to think that after eight years of building herself up into the mature, successful woman she’d become, one man had the power to make her question what she wanted out of life. Always, at the back of her mind, had been the idea that one day she would find a new love. She had admitted to herself that she would welcome it when it came, yet now that it had, she was unsure, vulnerable, and amazed at herself for the unreasoning jealousy she felt whenever Helga’s name was mentioned. She hardly knew herself any more.

  “Karole and I will deliver the creations after six o’clock,” Gerrit broke into her dreaming. “If you wish to accompany us in the van, Annette, we can deliver you also, to Pieter’s home. It is on our way.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled. It was nice not to feel the final anxiety of delivering the flowers, and praying that they all arrived safely without being jarred in the van by unforeseen accidents. She had intended walking home, since the weather was good, but she didn’t refuse Gerrit’s offer. She helped fill the van with the floral creations: the low copper dishes in which the spring flowers were fashioned expertly into spongy material to keep them moist, held rigidly in stiff cardboard containers; the corsages resting carefully in tissue in long cardboard boxes. It was at once familiar and like a breath of home to be doing the same actions. It was only then she realized she had thought of Pieter’s house as home.

  “Have you known Pieter long, Gerrit?” she asked as they worked.

  “Oh, a very long time, and his father before him. He was a charming man too. They’re very much alike, my dear. All the Van Ness men have strong, warm personalities. Very appealing to the ladies, of course,” he finished archly.

  Annette smiled politely, refusing to be drawn into comment. In other words, the Van Ness men are ladies’ men, she thought cynically, giving a different meaning to the one Gerrit Campen had intended. She could have added a few more adjectives to describe him! Forceful, determined...and very sexy. He didn’t even seem to go out of his way to exploit his appeal, she thought helplessly. But perhaps that was all it was between them after all, this strong physical attraction, and she’d effectively denied him that by her so-called blackmail. If she made it through her time in Amsterdam as she intended, with no more assaults on her vulnerability, and was able to go back to London with her heart intact, she’d know for certain that was all it was.

  Still she wondered if she’d ever completely dismiss the wild sweet emotions that had raged through her that night, emotions so beautiful it could still make her dizzy to remember them. He must have found her very easy after all, and the idea that he had pursued her with such ruthless determination while there was still the little matter of Helga was enough to send the memories scattering from her mind.

  Pieter was already home when Annette arrived. He and Elena were drinking sherry, and he handed her a glass of the clear golden liquid at once. It was very good sherry, fiery and warming, as she would have expected from the Van Ness household.

  “How did it go today, Annette?” Elena said at once. “Gerrit’s a love, isn’t he?”

  “It was super,” she said honestly. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a lady of leisure, and it was lovely to be working.”

  Pieter laughed. “Careful, darling. Don’t forget that’s just what my sister will be after she’s married!”

  “Oh, you know I didn’t mean to be disparaging!” Annette colored at once. “Elena will have a very busy life as Nels’s wife, and there are plenty of career girls who’d exchange their lives for being wives and mothers!”

  “I hope that includes you, Annette.” He raised his sherry glass toward her.

  Once, she’d have accused him of being insensitive and forgetting that that was what she’d hoped to be. Now she knew his words meant something different, that he saw her career as merely a stopgap until she found love and marriage. There hadn’t been any mention of marriage from him, for all his whispered words of love at his hotel suite. Her hand shook a little as she sipped her sherry, wondering if it would have made any difference.

  “Pieter wants to discuss work with you, anyway, Annette,” Elena was saying now, and she looked at him inquiringly.

  “The Van Ness float,’’ he prompted. “I have a few vague ideas I’d like to discuss with you, and perhaps we could make some rough sketches. Then on Saturday I thought we might drive to Volendam, which is about twenty miles or so from here. If you agree to my ideas and can work on them, you might like to see the national dress the girls wear there – partly as a tourist gimmick now, I’m afraid. But Volendam girls are reputedly the prettiest in Holland, so we can both enjoy ourselves!”

  He would have to add that, of course, just as Annette was getting interested. If he hoped to see a flas
h of jealousy in her eyes, she wouldn’t show it!

  “What did you have in mind, Pieter?” she said evenly.

  He took some rough sketches from his briefcase. “I’m no artist, but I wondered if we had several of the girls on the float, and fashioned the flowers in a similar arrangement to their costumes...It may be impossible – what do you think?”

  Her imagination was caught at once. He had a photo of a Volendam costume: long blue-and-white vertical-striped skirt; short-sleeved black bodice with a square white inset at the neck that was lace-edged and brilliantly flower-appliquéd. A double strand of red beads was clasped at the neck by a gilt fastening, choker-style, and on the head was a large, pretty starched white bonnet. And on the feet, handmade wooden clogs.

  “It’s intriguing, but I’d like to look at the real thing first,” she commented. “I’m not saying it can’t be done as you suggest, but in the actual village we may find sudden inspiration.”

  “I hoped you’d say that,” he agreed readily. “We’ll leave around ten o’clock on Saturday morning, then.”

  “And Elena...?”

  “I shall be meeting Nels, so you needn’t worry about me,” Elena said at once. Annette had that odd feeling of being moved smoothly and gently along on a current, with Pieter firmly in control.

  He gave a short laugh. “You’re past being treated like a visitor, Annette! You’re part of the household now, and we all come and go as we please. That means no playing third wheel.”

  “Pieter, don’t be silly,” Elena protested, but Annette knew he was being reasonable in his own way. Elena and Nels wouldn’t want her around all the time, and if it left her with time on her hands that Pieter wanted to fill, at least they could be friends. And she mentally crossed her fingers at the thought, pushing aside the idea that between them there had to be more than friendship. They had to get along, if only for Elena’s sake, and they had a project together that was effectively going to keep Pieter’s mind on business and away from personalities.