The Vicar's Daughter

by Betty Neels

  When she told Gijs he said casually, ‘Well, I expected them to—they are all dying of curiosity. They met you at the hospital the other afternoon; now they want to see us in our new home.’ He looked up from the papers he was studying. ‘The wine will be delivered tomorrow. Leave it in the hall, and I’ll take it down to the cellar when I get home.’ After a few minutes he put down the papers.

  ‘Where is Corinne?’

  ‘Shopping again. She needs to buy so much, and she wanted to go on her own.’

  Gijs smiled. ‘She’ll make Julius bankrupt.’

  A joke, of course. All the same, Corinne had been buying a great many things, and once or twice, when Margo had asked her if her purchases were being delivered since she had come home empty-handed, she had told her light-heartedly that she had arranged to have them sent over to Holland.

  ‘Heaven knows, I’ve enough luggage as it is,’ she’d laughed.

  It was quite late on the evening before the party when the senior consultant surgeon’s wife phoned Margo. Could she possibly bring another guest? she wanted to know. ‘This is unpardonable of me, my dear, but he is leaving England in a day or so and I hate to leave him on his own.’ She added, ‘Actually he is my husband’s nephew.’

  ‘Of course he must come,’ said Margo, rearranging the table in her mind’s eye. ‘We shall be delighted to meet him.’

  She said goodbye and rang off, and since Corinne was in her room and Gijs had been called back to the hospital to give his opinion on a small child who had fallen from a window in a block of flats she went to the kitchen to tell Mattie.

  ‘I hope the professor won’t mind,’ she confided uneasily, ‘although it will be nice for Corinne to meet a new face. There’s plenty of food?’

  ‘More than enough, ma’am. Can I get you anything before I go to bed?’

  ‘No, thank you, Mattie; I dare say the professor will be very late back. There’s coffee keeping warm for him, isn’t there? I think I’ll go to bed in a little while. I’ll stay up a bit, just in case he doesn’t stay.’

  She said goodnight, made sure that Caesar and Plato were comfortable in their baskets, and went back to the drawing room. When the clock struck midnight she put the guard in front of the fire, made sure that the doors and windows were secure and took herself off to bed.

  There was no light under Corinne’s door. She would be tired after her long day—indeed, she seemed over-tired, reflected Margo, her eyes too bright and always talking non-stop. I shall miss her when she goes home, thought Margo, lying in bed wondering what Gijs was doing.

  He was just starting on an operation to try and save the life of the small girl on the operating table, and he wouldn’t be home for hours...

  He was leaving the house as Margo went down to breakfast the next morning. He wished her good morning and she saw how tired he was.

  ‘Have you had any sleep at all?’

  ‘An hour or so.’ He smiled. ‘I’ll catch up on sleep later. I’ll see if I can be home in good time this evening.’

  He was already at the door; it wasn’t the moment to tell him about the extra guest. She told him to be careful in a motherly voice and watched him drive away.

  ‘He works too hard,’ she told Plato, and went to eat her breakfast. Corinne would be down presently, she supposed.

  She appeared five minutes later, bubbling over with chatter, talking about going back home, the clothes she had bought and the people she had met.

  ‘It’s been heavenly, so exciting...’

  ‘Exciting? Well, I don’t know about that,’ observed Margo in her sensible way. ‘We haven’t done much to entertain you, though I dare say you’ve enjoyed all that shopping.’

  Corinne giggled. ‘Oh, the shopping—indeed I have!’

  * * *

  MARGO, IN THE pink dress, was alone in the drawing room when Gijs came home. Their guests were due in half an hour, and after greeting her hurriedly he started for the stairs.

  ‘Gijs.’ She hurried to the door. ‘There hasn’t been a chance to tell you but Lady Colbert phoned late yesterday evening and asked if she might bring her husband’s nephew—he’s staying with them. It has made it rather awkward at the table, but I couldn’t refuse.’

  She had expected him to be annoyed; she hadn’t expected the anger in his face. ‘Jerome Colbert? Since he is to be our guest I can do nothing about it, but I must ask you and Corinne to have nothing more to do with him than common courtesy dictates.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I haven’t time to explain now. Please accept my advice and do as I ask.’

  ‘Am I to tell Corinne?’

  He was going up the stairs. ‘Yes—and I must add that Julius is of the same opinion as I am.’

  Margo went back to the drawing room, rather shaken by Gijs’s anger, and wondering how to be courteous to someone you had been asked to shun. She looked up as Corinne, a vision in a red silk sheath, came in.

  Margo glanced at the clock; there were barely ten minutes left in which to explain. ‘Listen,’ she said urgently. ‘That nephew of Lady Colbert’s—Gijs says...’

  She relayed his words and was surprised to see Corinne’s look of glee.

  ‘Don’t tell, but I’ve been seeing him every day—just for fun, you know. He’s so amusing. I told him about this evening and he persuaded his aunt.’ She giggled as she sat down.

  ‘But Corinne, Gijs said— What would he say if he knew?’

  ‘Promise you won’t tell.’ Corinne suddenly looked anxious. ‘You must promise, Margo. Gijs’ll be so angry with me, and he’ll tell Julius or make me tell him and Julius will be furious. He’s cross with me as it is.’ She shrugged. ‘You know how it is—we quarrelled and he went off to Sweden on his own. I was only having some fun—nothing serious!’ She got up and went to sit by Margo and caught her hand in hers. ‘Margo, promise—please? Julius will never forgive me, and I know he’s a bit dull, but I do love him.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Margo, and turned a serene face to Gijs as he came into the room.

  The guests arrived and Margo, standing beside Gijs, welcoming them, did her best to dismiss Corinne’s problems from her mind. But she was reminded of them when the Colberts arrived.

  Sir Anthony was elderly, within a few years of retirement, and a distinguished and respected surgeon and firm friend of Gijs. His wife was charming but inclined to dominate the wives in her circle. Luckily for Margo, she had taken a liking to her, and greeted her warmly, admiring her dress and the pleasant little house.

  ‘Here is my nephew whom you so kindly invited.’ She introduced the man Margo had seen talking to Corinne at the tea party and she shook hands, murmuring a welcome, aware that Gijs, standing beside her, nodded at him but didn’t shake hands and his greeting was coolly polite.

  With everyone in the drawing room having drinks, Margo circulated, moving from one group to the next, well versed in the hostess’s job and trying to keep an eye on Corinne. It was a relief to see that she was at the other end of the room to Jerome.

  They were seated at opposite ends of the table too, and as far as she could see they had had no chance to speak to each other apart from a brief greeting. So far so good, thought Margo, counting her chickens before they were hatched.

  It was after dinner, while they were drinking their coffee, that Gijs and Sir Anthony excused themselves to go to the study and look at a paper the elder man wished to see. A minute or two later Margo, caught up in a lengthy conversation with several of the ladies, saw Corinne slip away, and a few minutes later Jerome left the room.

  Short of getting up and leaving her guests in mid-sentence there was nothing Margo could do; all she could hope for was that Corinne and Jerome would return before Gijs. They did and she heaved a sigh of relief. It was short-lived, however, for Corinne caught her eye and gave her a loo
k of panic, instantly hidden by a glittering smile as she joined them. As for Jerome, he was careful not to speak to Corinne again for the rest of the evening.

  Presently their guests went home and Margo went to the kitchen to see if Mattie and her teenage nephew had coped and to thank them.

  ‘A splendid dinner, Mattie,’ she said, ‘and thank you both.’ She went to a drawer and took out some money and paid the youth. ‘We’re grateful that you could come and give a hand,’ she told him. ‘How will you get home?’

  ‘Catch a bus,’ he told her. ‘And thanks for the money. I’ll be off.’

  ‘I’ll be off to my bed, too,’ said Mattie. ‘A first-rate evening, ma’am. How about you having breakfast in bed in the morning?’

  ‘Me? No, thank you, Mattie. I’m not tired and I like to have breakfast with the professor if he’s home.’

  She went back to the drawing room and Corinne said at once, ‘It was a lovely evening, Margo—you were marvellous. Now I’m going to bed.’

  She kissed them both and went upstairs.

  ‘A very pleasant evening, Margo. You are a splendid hostess,’ said Gijs. ‘I was glad to see that both you and Corinne managed to keep away from young Colbert.’

  ‘We did our best. Are you going to tell me about him?’

  ‘Yes...’ The phone rang and he picked it up and presently put it down again. ‘I have to go. There’s been a road accident—a baby and a toddler injured. Go to bed, Margo.’

  She saw him out of the house with a quiet goodnight, turned out the lights and went upstairs to her room. She was sitting at her dressing table staring at her reflection when there was a tap on the door and Corinne came in.

  ‘Where’s Gijs?’ she whispered. ‘I must talk to you, Margo.’

  ‘He’s gone to the hospital. Can I help, Corinne?’

  ‘I’ve been silly,’ said Corinne, ‘and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Tell me,’ said Margo.

  Chapter NINE

  CORINNE SETTLED HERSELF on the side of the bed. ‘It all started as fun. You see, I was cross with Julius; we quarrelled and he went off to Sweden on his own, and so I came here.

  ‘And when Jerome got friendly I thought I would pay Julius back for being so tiresome. I didn’t go shopping, you know; I met Jerome every day. I did tell you that this evening, didn’t I? Only now I’m a little frightened.

  ‘Jerome has become quite nasty—he wishes me to have an affair with him, and says if I won’t he will tell Gijs, who I think will kill him if Julius doesn’t kill him first. He insists that I meet him tomorrow afternoon but I do not dare. I will go back home on the first flight I can get in the morning.’

  She turned a tearful gaze on Margo. ‘Dear Margo, will you meet him for me and explain that I wasn’t serious? Make him understand—you are always so serious; he will listen to you.’

  ‘Supposing we go together?’

  ‘That will not do at all, for now he frightens me. I want to go home to my Julius and in a little while I will tell him. He loves me very much so he will forgive me.’ She added eagerly, ‘No one needs to know that you have seen Jerome, and you have promised not to tell anyone. It can be our little secret.’

  ‘Gijs asked me to have nothing to do with Jerome.’

  ‘Darling Margo, he won’t know, and besides, you’re not meeting him because you want to, only to help me.’ Corinne began to weep in earnest. ‘Whatever shall I do if he tells Julius? We love each other very much, you know. You must understand how I feel—supposing you were me and Gijs was Julius?’

  She got up and flung her arms around Margo. ‘You will help me, dear, kind Margo? Just this once?’

  ‘Very well,’ said Margo. ‘Tell me where he will be and at what time.’

  ‘At three o’clock. On the steps of the National Gallery. Now I will phone Heathrow and book a seat on a morning plane.’

  ‘What will you tell Gijs?’

  ‘I will tell him nothing. I will go when he has gone to the hospital and you can explain that Julius phoned and asked if I would go home—said that he was no longer angry.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘It will be. When I am home I am certain that is what he will say. You do not like to tell a fib, I know, but this is such a little one and it hurts no one, Margo.’

  Her next remark clinched the matter.

  ‘I think that I am going to have a baby...’

  * * *

  LONG AFTER CORINNE had booked her morning flight and gone to bed, Margo sat up in bed worrying, until her common sense told her that that would do no good at all. She had promised to help Corinne and that was that, however much she disliked the idea. Getting to sleep was a different matter, though. It was after two o’clock in the morning when she heard Gijs’s quiet tread pass her door, and only then did she sleep.

  When she went down to breakfast it was to find him gone. Which was a good thing, she reflected, for he was the one person she would have gone to for advice. ‘Something I can’t do,’ she told Plato, who was gobbling the toast she couldn’t eat. ‘So it’s a good thing he isn’t here.’

  She wanted him there, though—his vast, calm, reassuring person sitting opposite her, telling her what to do...

  Corinne joined her presently, quite recovered from her frightened outburst about Jerome. She kissed Margo, informed her cheerfully that her bags were packed and asked if she could phone for a taxi to take her to Heathrow.

  Margo saw her off during the morning. ‘You will go and see Jerome?’ asked Corinne anxiously. ‘And you won’t tell anyone?’

  ‘No, I won’t tell. I only hope I can make him understand. He’s bound to be angry.’

  ‘Oh, dear—but only for a little while,’ said Corinne airily, and smiled brilliantly. ‘You have no idea how happy I am to have the whole silly business settled.’

  To which Margo said nothing, choking back what her father would have described as her baser feelings.

  It was a relief when, after a half-eaten lunch, she could get ready for her rendezvous. It was a cold day, and she buttoned herself into her cashmere coat, chose a felt hat which she hoped added dignity to her appearance, told Mattie that she would be back for tea and set out.

  She prudently stopped the taxi on the far side of Trafalgar Square and walked unhurriedly to the National Gallery, aware that if Jerome was already there he would be able to see her.

  He was there, all right, halfway up the steps and looking in the opposite direction, so that he turned with surprise when she said quietly, ‘Good afternoon, Jerome.’

  ‘Mrs van Kessel—Margo. This is unexpected—I mean, I hardly expected to see you here...’ He was flustered, and that gave her heart.

  ‘Well, no, you expected Corinne, didn’t you? I’ve come instead...’

  ‘She’s ill?’

  ‘No, she has gone back to Holland. She asked me to come here and explain to you...’

  When he would have spoken she said, ‘No, let me finish. She asked me to tell you that she is sorry to have misled you—it was light-hearted fun on her part, a game until she returned home to her husband.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he blustered. ‘She said—I was led to believe...’

  ‘Never mind that now, and anyway you should have known better than to flirt with her.’

  ‘Flirt!’ His sneer was ugly. ‘What do you know about flirting? I don’t suppose any man has bothered to look at you more than once.’

  ‘Probably not,’ agreed Margo calmly. ‘But rudeness won’t help you, will it? Corinne intends to tell her husband how foolish she has been.’ She added severely, ‘It was very wrong of you to encourage her.’

  He gobbled with rage. ‘Really? And who are you to tell me what I may and may not do? Corinne egged me on.’

  ‘Don
’t make matters worse with excuses. You should mend your ways.’ She nodded a brisk goodbye. ‘I don’t expect to meet you again.’

  She went back down the steps and hailed a taxi, feeling pleased with herself.

  * * *

  FORTUNATELY FOR HER peace of mind she was unaware that Gijs, caught up in a traffic jam in Trafalgar Square, was a surprised and angry witness to her meeting with Jerome. Glancing idly round, he had seen her at once. What was more, he could see that she and Jerome were apparently deep in an interesting talk, and when Jerome put his hands on Margo’s shoulders he had difficulty in preventing himself from jumping out of his car and throttling the man. It was a pity he wasn’t near enough to hear Margo’s icy, ‘Take your hands off me!’

  The traffic untangled itself then, and he was forced to drive on. He was already late for his clinic for Down’s Syndrome babies and toddlers, and somehow he managed to erase Margo from his mind so that by the time he reached the clinic he appeared his usual kindly self, listening patiently to anxious parents, examining the little ones gently, giving advice and offering hope.

  When the last small patient had been borne away he had tea with Sister, giving no sign of haste, before getting into his car and driving back to his rooms to go over his appointments book with his secretary. Finally, he drove himself home.

  * * *

  MARGO WAS IN the drawing room with Caesar and Plato, and, despite the fact that she had told herself over and over again that she had no need to feel guilty for she had done nothing wrong, she heard Gijs’s steps in the hall with a nasty sinking feeling.

  He came quietly into the room, greeted her in his usual quiet voice and went over to the table by the window to pour their drinks.

  Margo got to her feet, spilling an indignant Caesar onto the floor. ‘Have you had a good day?’ she asked, and then, unable to put it off, began, ‘Corinne...’

  He turned to look at her. ‘Yes?’