by Betty Neels
Arabella, with the excuse that she must do some packing if they were to leave in time for the ferry in the morning, went to bed, declaring that she hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for years. ‘You must all come and stay soon,’ she said. ‘I shall miss you so.’
After she had gone Cressida collected up their mugs. ‘Darling,’ she began, ‘there’s something not quite right...’
‘My love, Arabella and Titus are grown people.’ He smiled. ‘Somehow I don’t think we need to worry. Arabella is no fool, Cressy.’
‘Does that mean that Titus is?’
‘No, no—we men are notoriously blind, love, as you well know.’
She skipped across the kitchen into his arms. ‘I’d like them to be as happy as we are.’
* * *
Titus was at breakfast looking well rested and impeccably turned out. He and Aldrik had been out with the dogs and were in some deep discussion while Arabella and Cressida talked of Christmas and what they planned to do. Presently they went upstairs to see the babies and then it was time to go. The men had joined them in the nursery but time was running out. They made their final goodbyes, got into the car and drove to the Hoek, boarded the ferry and, in due course, landed at Harwich.
They were home that evening to be greeted by Mrs Turner, a great pile of letters for Titus and a number of messages on the answering machine. Titus, coming from his study just before they were to sit down to dinner, came into the drawing-room.
‘I have to go to the hospital—it’s a matter of some urgency. I’m sorry, Arabella. Please don’t wait up if I’m not back. Tell Mrs Turner to lock up; I’ll let myself in.’
‘We’ll leave something for you in the kitchen; it’ll keep hot on the Aga. I hope it’s nothing too serious and that you can put it right.’
He came across the room and bent to kiss her. ‘What a perfect wife you are, Arabella. This does happen from time to time.’
‘Well, it’s bound to, isn’t it?’ she said in a matter-of-fact voice. ‘Be sure and have something when you get back if we are all in bed.’
She listened to the street door closing and went to tell Mrs Turner, reflecting that a doctor’s wife could expect this—and not just once but over and over again.
She ate her solitary dinner, thinking about him. He was everything a girl could wish for and she loved him—two reasons to strengthen her resolve to make him love her. He liked her and perhaps he felt affection for her—but that wouldn’t do. She would have to do something to make him see her with different eyes—not just as a quiet companion, ready at hand to listen when he wanted to talk or walk, but as a girl to take him by surprise so that he really saw her.
He hadn’t returned by eleven o’clock; Mrs Turner had already locked up so Arabella went to bed.
‘Was it all right?’ Arabella asked at breakfast. Titus was already at the table but he got up to pull out her chair. He looked as though he had had a good night’s sleep but her loving eyes could see that he was tired. ‘Were you up all night?’
‘Until just after four o’clock this morning. He’ll pull through.’
‘I’m glad. It must make you feel good.’
He smiled. ‘Yes, it does. I’ll be at my rooms until this afternoon, then the hospital. I expect to be home soon after five o’clock.’
‘Oh, good. Shall we have tea together?’
‘That would be delightful. What are you going to do today?’
‘Well—I thought I’d go to the hairdresser. I wondered if I had my hair cut short and permed—’
He said with surprising sharpness, ‘No, Arabella, I like your hair just as it is—don’t let anyone touch it. Have it washed as often as you like but not an inch of it must be cut off.’
She stared at him round-eyed. ‘All right, Titus, then I won’t. Only I thought it would improve my looks.’
‘Your looks are very nice as they are.’
‘Thank you. I thought you liked short curly hair and I wanted to please you.’
‘Well, I don’t and that reminds me—why in heaven’s name did you ask Geraldine Tulsma to come and see us?’
She looked meek. ‘Titus, I thought you liked her, and she told me that you were old friends. You spent a lot of time together...’
She spoke so artlessly that he sat back and looked at her thoughtfully. He smiled then. ‘So we did. She’s very attractive, isn’t she? Apart from her brilliant brain.’
‘She’s almost beautiful and it must be nice to be able to talk about things and know the person you’re talking to understands exactly what you’re saying.’ She took a breath. ‘She would have made you a splendid wife, Titus—if I’d known about her...’
‘An interesting thought, my dear.’ He got up, patted her on the shoulder in what she felt was an avuncular fashion and said, ‘I must be off. See you this evening.’
She telephoned the manor when he had gone and talked for a long time to old Mrs Tavener and then spoke to Butter, who assured her that the dogs and Percy were fine and that Bess and Jerry were full of spirit. ‘Looking forward to seeing you, ma’am—coming for the weekend, I hope?’
‘I do hope so, but I don’t know if the doctor will be free. I want to talk about Christmas with Mrs Butter...’
‘We’ll hope to see you, ma’am.’
It would be nice to be at the manor again, she thought, and went to put on her outdoor things. She hadn’t thought about Christmas presents—it might be a good idea to look round the shops and decide on what to buy. It would have been fun to have had Titus with her.
When he got home he asked her what she had been doing.
‘Looking at the shop windows, trying to decide what to buy for Christmas presents,’ she told him.
‘I’ll give myself a half-day tomorrow—in fact I had arranged it some time ago. We’ll go shopping together.’
‘Oh, Titus, how lovely. I’ve made a list...’
* * *
She didn’t think she would ever forget their afternoon together. He parked the car in the forecourt of a hospital near Brompton Road and walked her to Harrods to embark on the kind of shopping spree every woman would dream of. There were gloves for Miss Baird, a crimson dressing-gown for Mrs Turner, a charming tea-service for the Butters, a fine woollen stole for Miss Welling in rose-pink—to give her some colour, as Arabella said—the latest novels for Cressida, teething-rings for the twins, a hamper for Mr Flinn and a beautiful vase for the Marshalls.
‘That takes care of the bulk,’ said Titus. ‘We give the nurses a bottle of wine and a cheque and the same for the maids and the gardener at the manor.’
‘And the boy who helps in the garden?’
He smiled down at her. ‘I happen to know that he wants football boots—he’s in the village team. The men who come up to help had better have cash. Now we have to find something for Grandmother.’
The jeweller’s shop was like an Aladdin’s cave. ‘What do you suppose she would like?’ asked Titus.
‘Something she can put on easily,’ said Arabella very sensibly. ‘And something she can wear each day if she wants to. A chain perhaps?’
They had looked at chains of all types and chosen a fairly long one of gold links with a gold tassel. It was a beautiful thing and just right for the old lady. While it was being wrapped up Arabella went from showcase to showcase, admiring their contents, but only to herself. Titus was a generous man—if she evinced a desire for a diamond necklace she had no doubt that he would buy it for her. That wasn’t what she wanted, though. She would rather have a bag of apples he had bought for her without any hint on her part.
They went home presently and piled the parcels on the sitting-room table. ‘I’ll leave you to wrap them up,’ said Titus easily. ‘I’m sure you’ll do it beautifully. They will keep you occupied tomorrow—I’m going to Birmingham t
o a consultation; I may stay the night.’
He looked at her as he spoke and she quickly arranged her features to an expression of interested concern. ‘Would you like me to pack a bag for you? You’ll drive there?’
‘Yes—you won’t be lonely?’
‘Good gracious, no.’ She had spoken too quickly and added, ‘Not with all those presents to wrap up. Besides, I’ve still a few more presents to buy and what about the Christmas cards?’
They had chosen them and ordered them to be printed but she had no idea to whom they should be sent when they arrived.
‘There is a list in the top right drawer of my desk in the study; you can safely send a card to each address on it. I usually get Miss Baird to do them but it would be much nicer if you were to sign them yourself for us both.’
‘Very well. You will be free to go to the manor for Christmas?’
‘Yes, unless something very urgent crops up. We’ll go down next Saturday too, shall we?’
‘Yes, please. It will be nice to see the animals again. Butter says they’re all very well and happy and I talked to your grandmother—she was hoping you’d be free next weekend.’
He nodded. ‘I’ve some work to do now—could dinner be put back for half an hour or so?’
‘Of course. I’ll go along and see Mrs Turner.’ As they crossed the hall she said, ‘It was a lovely afternoon, Titus, thank you for taking me.’
‘I enjoyed it too.’ He sounded remote.
In his study he didn’t pick up the telephone immediately. It was quite true, he had enjoyed himself—perhaps because Arabella had been so obviously delighted with everything she saw. Her ordinary face under her charming hat had glowed with pleasure. She was, he decided, really a pretty girl and her new clothes had made no difference to her; she was still forthright and sensible and undemanding. A most agreeable person to live with and one he would miss—the very thought of that made him frown. Really he was getting quite fond of her.
His work forgotten, he allowed his thoughts to wander.
* * *
Arabella’s thoughts were wandering too as she changed into one of her new dresses, but they wandered to some good purpose. Sternly suppressing her more loving thoughts of Titus, she concentrated them on the best way in which to encourage him to fall in love with her. Perhaps she was too much the taken-for-granted friend, rather like a favourite pair of comfortable shoes—hardly noticed but always there. A little coolness perhaps, a slight show of independence—although she had no idea how to set about that. Beyond his remarks that she looked nice from time to time, her beautiful new clothes hadn’t had much effect upon him. It was a pity she couldn’t alter her face. In the privacy of her room she had tried out various make-ups and decided that all of them made her look peculiar, and he had sounded annoyed when she had suggested that she should have her hair cut off.
‘Oh, well,’ said Arabella. ‘I must leave Fate to take a hand.’ She gave her hair a final pat and went down to the drawing-room.
Titus was still in his study but he joined her for dinner presently and spent the evening with her, talking idly about their plans for Christmas. There was an annual party for the children in the village, he explained, and they should attend. The carol singers would come early on Christmas Eve and be invited into the manor—a long-held custom.
Arabella nodded. ‘Mince pies and hot drinks. Shall we have a Christmas tree?’
‘Of course—Butter sees to that. There will be one or two of the family there.’ When she looked up in surprise, for he had told her that his parents had been dead for some years, he said, ‘An aunt or so—and a couple of cousins and their children. And a great-uncle to keep Grandmother amused...’ He added gently, ‘I didn’t tell you before—I didn’t want you to worry about meeting a number of strangers, but they are family; we meet seldom, but Christmas is a long-standing custom I don’t care to break.’
‘A house full of guests is lovely for Christmas,’ said Arabella. ‘It will be delightful to meet your family. If you’ll give me a list of their names I’ll look for presents...’
‘Will you? I’m afraid I shan’t have the time. We’re not doing anything for the rest of the weekend, are we?’
‘Just Dr and Mrs Marshall coming to dinner the day after tomorrow.’
‘Ah, yes, of course.’ He stretched out his long legs and picked up the newspaper.
‘The week after next,’ said Arabella in a no-nonsense voice, ‘we are invited to a party at Mrs Lamb’s. You told me to accept.’
‘Oh, lord, I’d forgotten.’ He looked at her over the paper. ‘An indefatigable matchmaker on my behalf—she knew my mother well and seemed to think that it was her duty to find me a wife.’
‘Oh, dear. Need I go? I could have a headache...’
‘My dear girl, my main purpose in marrying you was to put a stop to Mrs Lamb’s efforts to introduce me to those ladies whom she considered suitable.’
If that was meant as a compliment, thought Arabella, it had been rather ineptly put. She sighed. Not only had she to contend with Geraldine, the enemy, now there was Mrs Lamb too. She said merely, ‘Is it a dress-up party?’
‘Very much so. Black tie and long frocks. Buy something for it—you always look very nice.’
Who wants to look nice? thought Arabella and smiled sweetly at him.
She would find something to make him open his eyes—black velvet perhaps, with a tight skirt slit all the way up and a plunging neckline. She couldn’t hope to compete with Geraldine but she had some nice curves.
* * *
Of course she didn’t buy the black velvet, but a lengthy prowl at Harrods the next day brought to light the very dress she knew would be right for the occasion. Silver-grey chiffon over a satin slip, cunningly fashioned to emphasise and make the most of the curves. She studied herself in the long mirror in the fitting-room and nodded with satisfaction. It concealed what it revealed—or should that be the other way round? Anyway, it was a masterpiece and never mind the price.
Leaving the shop, the dress box in her hand, she felt guilty at spending money—so much money—when there were so many people who needed it so badly. She opened her purse and gave an elderly man selling cheap cigarettes and lighters its entire contents. She had to walk all the way home after that but at least she had made someone happy.
The cards had come and she went to Titus’s study to look for the list he had told her to use. There was another list there too—charities, a dozen or more. She read it and felt a surge of love for him. He might have wealth but he was generous too. She sat down at his desk, in his big chair, and began on the Christmas cards.
The Marshalls came on Sunday evening. She and Mrs Turner had planned a special menu and she had set the table with lace mats and the silver and crystal and arranged a low bowl of holly and Christmas roses with silver candelabra on either side. They were to have watercress soup, rack of lamb and a mince tart with syllabub to follow. Arabella had itched to do the cooking but Mrs Turner’s feelings would have been hurt. Besides, she was an excellent cook. Arabella went upstairs to shower and get into the silk jersey dress, well pleased with her preparations. Before she went downstairs she opened the closet door and took another look at the grey dress. It gave her a thrill just to look at it; she hoped that Titus would get a thrill too.
The evening was very successful; the Marshalls were good company and dinner was as good as she had hoped it would be. They had their coffee, idly gossiping in the drawing-room until the men went away to Titus’s study to discuss a case, leaving Arabella and Mrs Marshall by the fire.
Mrs Marshall had known Titus for some years and had frequently urged him to marry. Now, sitting opposite his wife, she felt satisfied that Arabella was the right girl for him. No looks, of course, but charm and a pretty voice, a good figure and lovely eyes. They were easy in each other’s company
too, almost like very old friends. There were none of those sidelong loving glances she would have expected from newlyweds, although of course Titus wasn’t a man to show his feelings and she didn’t think Arabella would either. She began to talk about Mrs Lamb’s party, an annual event which was always a success. ‘You’ll enjoy every minute of it,’ she assured Arabella, happily unaware how wildly awry this statement would prove to be.
* * *
Arabella and Titus drove down to the manor on the following Saturday morning. It was a cold grey day but the house looked welcoming and as he stopped the car the door was opened by Butter and all three dogs came pelting out to greet them. Percy, more prudent and disliking the cold weather, had stationed himself in the hall and Arabella, making much of all four of them, turned a beaming face to Titus.
‘Oh, it is nice to be home.’ She paused. ‘What I mean is, London’s home too, but this is different, isn’t it?’
‘I know what you mean. Let Butter have your things, we’ll go and see Grandmother, shall we?’
Mrs Tavener was in her room, sitting very upright beside the fire while Miss Welling read to her. She looked round as they came in, Percy in Arabella’s arms, the dogs at their heels.
‘My dears—how delightful to see you. Miss Welling, fetch the sherry—we must all drink to this happy meeting.’
Which they did, while they told her about Leiden—Arabella doing most of the talking while Titus sat, watching her, putting in a word here and there. The day went too fast after that and so did Sunday. They got into the car after tea, this time with Beauty and Bassett—Percy was to stay at the manor since he and Duke had become firm friends.
‘We will be down again next weekend,’ said Titus, eyeing her downcast face. ‘If you would like to do so, there is no reason why you shouldn’t stay for a week or two after Christmas.’
She spoke without thinking. ‘And leave you alone in London? I couldn’t do that.’
He turned to look at her but she was gazing out of the window.