by Betty Neels
‘Don’t you want to know how much I’ve spent?’
‘No. I’ll pay the bills when they arrive and if they’re too wildly extravagant I shall tell you so.’ He smiled across the table. ‘I gave you some idea of how much you might spend but I shan’t cavil at a few hundred more.’
He left the house presently and she took the dogs and Percy into the garden. Beauty had already had an early morning run with Titus and Bassett was happy enough running around, teasing the patient Beauty and chasing an indignant Percy. They all went back indoors presently and Arabella went to the kitchen to talk to Mrs Turner.
‘Will you take me round the house one day?’ she asked. ‘And tell me what the doctor likes and doesn’t like—and I’d love to do the shopping sometimes if you would tell me what to buy.’
‘Lor’ bless you, madam, it’ll be a pleasure to take you round the cupboards and pantry. There’s china and linen and silver you must inspect and the tradesmen’s bills. If you would come each morning we could discuss the meals for the day and make a list of the shopping if it’s needed.’
‘I’m going out now, Mrs Turner; I expect I’ll be gone for quite a while. Would you please look after Beauty, Bassett and Percy?’ She couldn’t resist saying, ‘I’m going to buy clothes.’
Mrs Turner looked positively motherly. ‘And what could be nicer?’ she wanted to know and added, ‘But mind and have lunch, madam—shopping’s tiring.’
Arabella wore the suit and felt hat; they were hardly high fashion but her shoes and gloves would pass muster anywhere. Mindful of Titus’s request that she should take a taxi, she did so, feeling extravagant but it was a nice build-up to her day. She went through Harrods’ elegant doors and began the delightful task of spending money.
By mid-morning she had acquired a winter coat—tobacco-brown cashmere—a brown and cream knitted three-piece, a jersey dress in copper, a beech-brown wool skirt, a cashmere cardigan and several blouses. She had a cup of coffee then, got her second wind, and went to look at dresses.
The choice was endless but she had a very good idea of what she wanted. By lunchtime she had tried on and bought a deep rose-pink dress in crêpe de Chine with a tucked bodice and a gored skirt which floated round her as she walked, a silk velvet dress in forest-green—very simple with a narrow skirt, long tight sleeves and a square neckline and, since she couldn’t resist them, a wide midnight-blue skirt and an evening blouse with long full sleeves and a ruffled neck.
She went to the restaurant and had an omelette and coffee and decided that she had bought enough for one day. She had kept a rough check of the prices and although everything had cost a good deal there was still plenty over. Undies, shoes and a suit, she decided, as she was being taken back to her new home in a taxi loaded down with dress-boxes. It had begun to rain and she prudently added a raincoat to her list.
She had lunched late and Mrs Turner offered her tea as soon as she had got indoors. ‘Well, just a quick cup,’ said Arabella, ‘before I take everything upstairs.’
‘I’ll see they go to your room, madam. Just you sit down and have that tea. Shopping can be tiring.’
So Arabella had her tea and presently, with the animals trailing stealthily behind her, went to her room. Here they arranged themselves tidily in a corner and watched her while she undid her packages and inspected what she had bought. She couldn’t resist trying some of them on; she was twirling round in the pink crêpe de Chine when there was a knock on the door. It would be Mrs Turner, come to remind her that it had gone six o’clock and the doctor would be home presently. Arabella turned a guilty face to the door. ‘Mrs Turner—do come in...’
Only it was Titus. She stopped in mid-twirl. ‘Titus—I forgot the time—I thought it was Mrs Turner, come to tell me to come downstairs. I’m sorry—I did mean to be there, waiting for you...’
‘Sitting with your knitting and the drinks poured?’ He laughed then. ‘My dear girl, you in that pink dress do me much more good than a soberly occupied wife.’
He cast his eyes round the room, strewn with clothes and tissue paper. ‘You’ve made a start,’ he commented drily. ‘Will you wear this on Wednesday?’
She felt shy. ‘If you would like me to. There are other dresses—I’ve bought an awful lot.’
‘Splendid. I wondered where Beauty had got to. One of an admiring audience, I see.’
‘Do you mind? I mean that they came upstairs with me? They were glad to see me.’
He crossed the room and took her hand. ‘I’m glad to see you too, Arabella.’ He kissed her briefly. ‘Come down and have a drink before dinner. I’ll take these three into the garden for a few minutes.’
He went away, whistling to the animals, who trooped after him, leaving her to get out of the pink dress and into the jersey dress, do her hair and do things to her face in a perfunctory way.
Dressed and ready on the Wednesday evening, she took stock of her person in the pier glass. The pink dress certainly gave an illusion of prettiness and between bouts of shopping on the previous day she had found time to buy the very best of face creams and powders and have her hair shampooed and cut. Indeed, fired by enthusiasm, she had tried out various new hairstyles but none of them seemed right. She ended up pinning her mousy locks on top of her head as she had done for years.
Perhaps it was the pink dress which made the evening such a success, although hardly a romantic one. Titus had had a busy day and she was a good listener. A good deal of their dinner was taken up with his comments and observations on treatments, medicines and the art of the physician as opposed to that of the surgeon. Arabella listened with interest, filing away some of the longer words she had never heard before so that she could look them up later and know what he was talking about next time.
The waiter had come to offer them coffee when Titus asked, ‘Would you like to dance? It seems a pity not to display that pretty dress.’
She got up at once, making some cheerful remark about the band while under the pink bodice she seethed with a sudden ill-temper. He might have made some pleasant remark about her person, never mind if it wasn’t true. She was no beauty but she was aware that she looked attractive against the luxurious surroundings. Never mind the lack of looks, she told herself, you know how to dance...
She certainly did. She was light on her feet, as pliant as a reed and a graceful dancer. Titus, a good dancer himself, after the first few moments bent his head to say quietly in her ear, ‘It’s like dancing with a moonbeam! What a treasure I have married—not only a first-rate plumber but a delightful dancer. We must do this more often before I get too middle-aged!’
She looked up at that. ‘Middle-aged? Of course you’re not. Aren’t you supposed to be in your prime?’
‘Why, thank you, Arabella, you encourage me to fend off the encroaching years.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Do you know you’re attracting a great many admiring glances?’
‘Oh, no, I didn’t.’ She had gone pink. ‘I expect its the dress...’
He stared down at the top of her neat head, smiling a little. He found her company delightful; she was so very natural, so unassuming, so ready to fall in with his plans and wishes. She made no effort to attract him either, and that, after the scheming young ladies he had from time to time considered himself in love with, was something that he was already appreciating.
They went down to the manor at the weekend and, since it was cold clear weather, they walked for miles with Beauty and Duke bounding ahead and Bassett doing his small best to keep up with them. Arabella, scooping him up, said, ‘Perhaps we should have left him with Percy—he’s still so very small.’
‘He has the heart of a lion. Let me have him; he can sit inside my jacket.’ He slowed his stride so that she could keep up. ‘We go to Holland on Thursday. I think it might be a good idea if we brought this lot down before we go. Butter can look after them and Mrs Butt
er dotes on Percy. Are you looking forward to going?’
‘Yes, I am. Will you be away all day?’
‘Most of it, but I’m sure you’ll get on with Cressida. I’ve known Aldrik since we were students. Leiden isn’t a large place but there are some good shops and plenty to see. You will be invited to the dinner which marks the end of the seminar—black ties and long dresses.’
‘But everyone will be Dutch...’
‘Well, I’m not, for a start. Besides, everyone there will speak English.’
‘I think it might be fun.’
Titus, looking at her glowing face, found rather to his surprise that he agreed with her.
They had tea with Mrs Tavener before they went back to London. The old lady, with Miss Welling in close attendance, wanted a blow-by-blow account of their life there. ‘It is a great deal more healthy here than in your London house,’ she declared. ‘Arabella’s looks have improved a great deal since you arrived yesterday.’ She broke off to take stock of Arabella, who blushed and looked into her teacup and thus missed Titus’s long thoughtful stare. ‘Of course,’ went on the old lady, ‘once the children come along, you will have to spend more time here; they’ll thrive in the country air.’
Arabella went on looking into her teacup, while wishing it could give her a suitable answer. It was Titus who said easily, ‘You are quite right, Grandmother, small children are happiest in the country. I hated leaving here when I was first sent to boarding-school.’ A successful red herring which led the old lady to reminisce until it was time for them to leave.
If he even mentions it, thought Arabella, sitting silently beside him in the car, I’ll throw something at him.
He never mentioned it, but talked easily of this and that so that by the time they were back at Little Venice she had managed to forget about it. All the same, she wished that they could have said something about it, laughed over it together, made a joke of it. It was the first time, she reflected, that they had avoided talking about something and she felt awkward about it. It was a good thing that Titus appeared to have forgotten about it, but perhaps he hadn’t felt anything other than an amused interest in his grandmother’s remarks.
* * *
They left early in the morning on Thursday to take the dogs and Percy to the manor, had a quick lunch there and then, after Arabella had raced down to the stables to make sure that the pony and the donkey were safe and well, they drove to catch the night ferry from Harwich. It was a long journey but Arabella, snug in her winter coat, her feet encased in fashionable boots, enjoyed it. They sped smoothly along the motorway until they reached the turning and circled round London to Watford, and then on to Hatfield, where they stopped for a late tea. It was a small café cosily lit and chintzy with very ladylike waitresses in flowered aprons; the tea was hot and plentiful and the buttered crumpets were delicious. Arabella sank her splendid teeth into them with a contented sigh.
‘This is fun,’ she said.
Titus found himself agreeing with her, reflecting that when he was with her he felt ten years younger.
They drove on presently and went on board the ferry. After dinner Arabella went to her cabin and despite the rough crossing slept soundly. Titus, watching her enjoying an early breakfast of rolls and coffee, smiled to himself. Their marriage was going to be a success; she was not only a good companion, she was sensible—accepting situations without fuss, undemanding of his attention and time and, he had to admit, really quite pretty now that she had new clothes. He studied her from lowered lids as she buttered a roll. What was more, she was dressed exactly as he would like to see her...
Leiden was less than half an hour’s drive away. Arabella got glimpses of it as Titus drove through the town and presently turned into a narrow street lined with gabled houses, old and beautifully maintained. He helped her out, took her arm and urged her across the narrow cobbled pavement and pulled the wrought-iron bellpull beside an elegant front door. It was opened by an elderly rather bony-faced woman and a very large St Bernard dog, accompanied by a small insignificant beast. The woman smiled and the doctor said, ‘Mies, how nice to see you again.’ He patted the dogs’ heads and added, ‘Arabella, this is Mies—Cressida’s housekeeper.’
She shook hands and was ushered inside as a small young woman came racing down the staircase. ‘Titus—I should have been on the doorstep!’ She lifted her face for his kiss and turned to Arabella. ‘I’m Cressida—I’m so glad to meet you, Arabella.’ She beamed happily, her lovely eyes sparkling from a very ordinary face. ‘Aldrik has had to go to the hospital but he’ll be back before lunch. Come on in and have some coffee. Titus, do go into the drawing-room—I’m going to take Arabella upstairs.’
Arabella followed her hostess upstairs, relieved at finding her so friendly. She had been a little worried that Cressida could have been a statuesque blonde and talked down to her. Instead here was this nice girl the same size as herself and certainly no beauty, although she looked so happy that she could have passed as beautiful.
‘Titus said he would be late back each evening—seminars and things,’ Cressida said vaguely, ‘so I’ve put you in here and there’s a dressing-room next door so that he needn’t disturb you if it’s the small hours.’
She sat down on the bed. ‘This was my room—I mean when Aldrik brought me back here—just for a night, then he took me to Friesland to a friend’s house to look after some children.’ She smiled gently. ‘He’s nice—I do hope you’ll like him. We think Titus is a dear too.’
Arabella had been poking at her hair and was sitting at the dressing-table, not saying much.
‘Come and see the twins before we go downstairs. They’re two months old—one of each. We are lucky, aren’t we? A splendid start to the family.’
They were asleep—the little girl with mousy hair like her mother, the boy very fair. ‘They’re very good,’ said their proud mother, ‘and we’ve a wonderful nanny—my old housekeeper’s niece.’
She led the way downstairs and into the drawing-room. ‘Forgive me for talking so much, but I’m so glad to meet you. I’ve English friends, of course, but most of them live in Friesland—we’ve another house there...’
The room was warm and bright, with a brisk open fire and furnished with a nice mixture of antique furniture and comfortable chairs.
Titus got up as they came in, and the two dogs with him, staying politely on their feet until the three of them were seated and then collapsing into contented furry heaps before the fire. They talked over their coffee. It seemed that Titus knew many of the van der Linuses’ friends and there was cheerful talk about St Nicolaas. ‘I wish you could be here for that,’ said Cressida. ‘It’s such fun for the children.’ She jumped to her feet. ‘Here’s Aldrik...’
Arabella took to him at once. He was a year or two younger than Titus and his hair was already flecked with grey, but he was a handsome man—very tall and broad. He kissed his wife, then shook Titus’s hand and smiled down at Arabella. ‘I’m only sorry this is to be such a short visit,’ he told her. ‘Titus must bring you over for a week or two and come up to Friesland. That is our real home.’
Arabella thought privately that the one they were in now would do very nicely. ‘Don’t you work here?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but not all the time. Have you seen the twins?’
‘Yes, they’re adorable.’
He gave his wife a loving glance. ‘We think so.’ He went to sit down by Titus. ‘There’s a paper being read on asthma this afternoon. Do you care to come?’
They didn’t linger over lunch and the men went away as soon as it was finished so, since it was a fine cold afternoon, the babies were wrapped up warmly, tucked into their pram and taken for a walk. They had been fed and played with and now they slept while the two girls gossiped. It struck Arabella that she had missed that during the last few months—cheerful chatter about clothes
and husbands and babies, all of it light-hearted. They went back to tea and then to the nursery to help Nanny bathe the twins, feed them once more and tuck them up in their cots. The men came home then, to pay a visit to the babies, which meant lifting them out of their cots while Nanny clucked her disapproval. Not that they minded—they made small contented noises into their father’s broad shoulder and had no objection when they were passed to Titus.
Arabella, changing for dinner, hummed a little tune as she dressed. This was a happy household and the babies were delightful. It would be nice... She wasn’t going to think about that, she told herself resolutely, and went downstairs to drink her sherry and enjoy the roast pheasant and red cabbage, game chips and roasted parsnips. It was beautfully cooked and served in the splendour of starched linen and silver, delicate china and crystal glasses.
The seminar started at eight o’clock in the morning and although they all breakfasted together the two men wasted no time over it. Aldrik gave his wife a lingering kiss and Titus pecked Arabella’s cheek with a cheerful, ‘See you later, Arabella.’
Cressida noticed that out of the corner of her eye and checked a small doubt. It was obvious that Titus and Arabella got on well together, were at ease with each other, but there was something missing...
‘After I’ve fed the babies at ten o’clock would you like to come into the town and see the shops? They are not bad at all although I go to den Haag for my clothes. I do like that suit...’
It was as they were having their lunch that Aldrik phoned to say that he was bringing Dr Tulsma to dinner. ‘She met Titus last time he was over here, darling, and shares his interest in long-term medication. I’m sorry—I know you don’t like her but she more or less invited herself and Titus seemed quite enthusiastic. It’s a subject dear to him, you know.’