by Betty Neels
‘I’m glad,’ said Julius over his shoulder. ‘We live half a mile further on, down a lane.’
Georgina turned to look at Letitia. ‘Jason has a house a mile from us,’ she offered in her soft voice. ‘He works mostly in Utrecht, you know, that’s where his consulting rooms are. I expect we’ll see something of him.’
She turned away again and Letitia was glad she had. She wasn’t sure what expression her face wore, but inside her there had been a kind of explosion, happiness and surprise and a kind of panic at the idea of seeing Jason once more. She sat very still, taking the deep breaths she had so often urged her patients to take when they were agitated—it made no difference at all, she felt as though she were about to explode, perhaps if she were to shut her eyes…but when she did, there was Jason beneath the lids, so she opened them again, just in time to see the iron gates which guarded Bergenstijn from the outside world.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE HOUSE stood at the end of a straight drive, square and solid, its large windows aligned precisely about its massive front door. Letitia, ushered inside amidst a little chorus of welcome, looked around her with curiosity and then remembered to mind her manners in time to shake hands with the elderly man who had opened the door to them.
‘Hans,’ Julius enlightened her, ‘our friend and steward—and he speaks English.’
Letitia smiled widely and murmured suitably, then with Polly toddling beside her, went with Georgina into what was referred to as the little room, although it seemed remarkably large to her, but then as far as she could see, the house was large—Dalmers Place was large too, but in quite a different way, with a great deal of panelling and any number of small rooms, odd stairs and narrow passages. Here, she guessed, there would be plenty of space, and she was right, for presently, with Polly safely in Julius’s keeping and Ivo sleeping in his basket, Georgina took her round the house, ending with the nurseries, two rooms at the end of the wide back landing on the first floor. Her own room was between them, with a bathroom of its own and every comfort which she had ever dreamed of. Being nanny in the Effert household must be rather super; Letitia was quite astonished when Georgina apologized for putting her in Nanny’s bedroom.
‘But it’s beautiful!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve never seen such a pretty room, and it’s got everything anyone could possibly want—besides, I shall be close to Polly and Ivo. I like it.’
‘Oh, good. Let’s go down and have coffee, shall we? Then we can take the children in the garden until lunchtime. Polly sleeps in the afternoon and Ivo wakes up to be fed.’
Letitia went to take another look at the nursery. ‘Then may I sit up here and write some letters after lunch—I can keep an eye on them at the same time.’
‘You don’t mind? Everyone will be coming before dinner—Karel will bring the children with him—we haven’t heard from Phena yet, perhaps she won’t be coming just yet.’ They started down the staircase. ‘We’ll work out some sort of timetable over coffee, shall we?’
It seemed to Letitia that she was being given too much free time, and she said so. ‘I shan’t know what to do with myself,’ she protested, not much liking the idea of having too much time to think, knowing that her thoughts were bound to be of Jason.
It was Julius who said easily: ‘Don’t worry on that score, Tishy—have you forgotten that my young cousins will be here? I doubt if you get a minute to yourself.’
They arrived late in the afternoon, laughing and talking and hugging first Georgina and then Letitia, talking Dutch and English as the mood took them, rushing to the kitchen to see Hans and Lenie, the housekeeper, tossing Polly into the air and going to admire baby Ivo. Even the dogs, Flip and little Schippershond and Andersen, the Great Dane, came in for their share of the excitement; the old house was alive with sound. Letitia, undressing and bathing Polly while Georgina saw to Ivo, was interrupted by the steady stream of visitors to the nursery—it was obvious that Julius’s young relations loved Georgina dearly, while he could do no wrong in their eyes. A happy family; the sight of them together was heartwarming, although it made her feel lonely too.
They went to bed early, for they had all had a long journey of one sort or the other; it wasn’t until Letitia was curled up in bed, the door open so that she would hear the slightest sound from the children in the next room, that she allowed herself to think about Jason, so close and yet so very far away. She was bound to meet him. She was still trying to decide how she would behave towards him when she fell asleep.
She still hadn’t decided by the time she was getting Polly ready for bed the following day—it had been a busy one, but pleasant, for everyone had given a hand with the children so that Letitia had found ample time to talk to Karel, ask Beatrix and Cor about school and listen to the more serious Franz outlining his hopes of being a great surgeon later on. She had found time for a swim in the pool at the end of the garden, and taken Polly to admire the waterlilies in the lake. A lovely day, she decided as she obligingly turned herself into a horse so that Polly might ride her across the nursery floor. Half-way across it, they rolled over together, giggling and squirming, while Polly tugged the pins out of Letitia’s hair the better to use it as reins.
‘Ouch!’ said Letitia, and rolled over to escape the small hands, narrowly missing a pair of large feet, expensively shod. Jason. She lifted a startled face to meet his amused eyes and felt Polly plucked from her shoulders, then with the moppet tucked under one arm, he swung her to her feet too, rather as though she had been a rag doll.
She was breathless, and not only because she had been romping with Polly. ‘Bedtime games,’ she managed. ‘I’m a horse.’
He set Polly on a broad shoulder. ‘You look like a girl to me. I asked where you were and was told that you were putting this moppet to bed—I imagined you going about your duties with no thought of horse riding, and what do I find? You, dear girl, looking every bit as old as Polly.’
‘Well, really!’ She was struggling with her hair and trying to look dignified. She hadn’t imagined meeting him again like this; vague ideas of seeing him across a dinner table, with her in the green dress, looking serene, or failing that, coming—gracefully, of course—down the staircase with Jason looking up at her from the hall below. She frowned; things never turned out as she wished them to. ‘Little children like a bedtime romp,’ she pointed out coldly. ‘Polly is going to have her supper now, and then I shall put her to bed.’
‘No, Letitia, I shall give the brat her supper while you go and tidy yourself. Georgina will come and tuck her up as she always does, and the entire family will watch over both your charges while you, I hope, spend the evening with me.’
‘Why?’
He chuckled. ‘Shall we say that Georgina is concerned because you have had the children for most of the day and she thinks you should have a little time in which to enjoy yourself. You do enjoy yourself with me, dear girl?’ His voice was blandly inquiring.
‘Yes, thank you. But I came here to help with the babies…’
‘Listen, Letitia, you’re hardly expected to sit and brood over them once they’re asleep—and anyway, the house is full of people.’ He smiled with such charm that she found herself smiling back. ‘That’s better. Fetch the hot mash or whatever revolting mess this infant eats, and I’ll stuff it into her. I told Georgina we would be ten minutes, so leap to it, girl.’
Letitia, leapt, unheeding of her resolutions about being serene and cool.
Twenty minutes later, dressed in the green, her hair immaculate, her face nicely made up, Letitia presented herself once more in the nursery. Jason had fed his goddaughter the supper she had fetched, now he was lolling against the wall watching Julius tuck his small daughter in for the night. Georgina was there too, with Ivo over her shoulder, half asleep and hicupping after his feed. A domestic scene, and it had apparently struck Jason in the same light, for he greeted her with: ‘Ah, here you are. I’ve done my stint, I’m merely filling in time watching the experts.’
&nbs
p; ‘And very good practice it is for you too,’ said Georgina firmly. ‘Now away with you both!’ She smiled at them in a motherly fashion and Julius said something in Dutch to Jason which made him laugh as he swept Letitia out of the door and down the stairs.
In the hall she hesitated. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘Do I look all right? It isn’t anywhere grand?’
He turned her round slowly, his head on one side. ‘You look charming, and where we’re going isn’t grand at all, at least I don’t consider it so,’ They called good night to the others as they went through the hall and out into the warm evening. There was an Iso Lele coupé parked on the sweep and Letitia paused so that she might have a good look. ‘What a car!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ll feel like a million in it—is it yours?’
‘Yes.’ He stood half smiling, saying nothing more, and after a minute she said: ‘Well, I like the BMW too.’ And when he still didn’t speak she got in when he invited her and settled herself in its comfort, although this was a waste of time as it turned out, for it was barely five minutes before he turned the car between two stone pillars, the gates between them wide open, and raced up the straight tree-lined drive. There was a wall at its end with a wide open archway in its centre. Without slackening speed, Jason drove through and pulled up with smooth exactness before a nail-studded door set in the side of what appeared to her to be a miniature castle. It was of red brick, with curved walls and a number of turrets, with a steep roof rising to gables at either end, and although the sweep before the door was large, Letitia glimpsed a high wall and water to one side of it.
‘Whatever is this?’ she wanted to know as Jason got out, opened her door and held out a hand.
‘Niehof—my home.’ He had tucked her hand under his arm and was walking her towards the door.
‘Your home—it can’t be!’ She knew that sounded foolish as she spoke, and added even more foolishly: ‘It’s a castle.’
‘Well, it began as a castle—I hope we’ve managed to give it a few mod cons since then.’ He opened the door and propelled her, very gently, inside.
The hall was a little dim, but pleasantly so, with the black and white tiled floor which she had expected in such an old building. The walls were panelled in some dark wood, with brass sconces set between a great many paintings. There was a magnificent medallion cupboard against one wall and facing it, a painted chest, richly decorated. Letitia didn’t know much about furniture, but her discerning eye could see that they were very old, beautifully cared for and probably very valuable. She would have lingered to study the strapwork on the ceiling and admire the gilt-bronze chandelier hanging from it, but she was urged towards a double door beyond the cupboard.
‘Come and meet my mother,’ Jason invited.
She tugged at the large hand holding her so firmly so that he stopped to look down at her. ‘Now what dear girl?’ he inquired blandly.
‘You might have said…I had no idea…rushing me out like this without a word!’ Her voice rose peevishly.
‘I distinctly remember inviting you to spend the evening with me.’
‘Yes, I know, but you didn’t say where.’
‘You don’t wish to meet my mother?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, of course I do.’
He bent suddenly and kissed her on her surprised mouth. ‘Dear girl, correct me if I’m wrong, but is there any point in this conversation?’
He had the door open and was ushering her in through it before she could frame an answer which would have done justice to the occasion. The room was light and airy compared with the cool dimness of the hall, with a circular bay window at one side, and two french windows at one end. And here the ceiling was elaborately decorated with fruit and flowers and cherubs painted in delicate colours, and these same colours had been repeated in the furnishings—the curtains, carpet and chair covers—they all reflected the ceiling above them. The furniture was dark oak, polished with age and endless care, and everything seemed very large—and that, Letitia discovered, included the lady who had risen from a chair by the window and was advancing to meet them. An elderly lady, not far short of six feet tall and built to match, but so regal in her walk that her size seemed unimportant. She was flanked on either side by two hefty Alsatian dogs, who at Jason’s low whistle trotted across the room to greet him.
‘Ah, Mama,’ exclaimed Jason pleasantly, ‘may I introduce Miss Letitia Marsden to you—I don’t need to say more than that, do I, for you already know a great deal about her.’
His mother smiled, softening her handsome features into motherliness as she extended a welcoming hand. ‘Letitia,’ she said in a surprisingly youthful voice, ‘I have been looking forward to meeting you, for I have been told endless tales of you by Katrina. Come and sit down, my dear, and Jason shall get us all a drink.’
Letitia sat, aware of bitter disappointment because it was Katrina who had talked about her and not Jason, and her hostess went on: ‘The child had such a delightful holiday with your parents. It was kind of them to invite her, and she has made a good friend in Paula, who I hope will visit us in a little while.’ The charming voice ceased for a minute, and eyes as blue as her son’s smiled into hers. ‘Your mother and I have much in common,’ she went on kindly, ‘for we both have large families.’ She accepted a glass from the doctor. ‘I do not live here, you know, but with so many children to visit I stay with each of them for a week or two at a time and then go back to my own home. I lived here when my husband was alive, of course.’
‘How could you bear to leave it?’ asked Letitia, and wondered if she had sounded rude. Apparently not.
‘When the children were quite small, I told Jason’s father that if he were to die first, I wished to have a house of my own so that Jason, who inherited this place, would feel free to lead his own life, so I have a very pleasant house a mile or so away—far enough, in fact, for him to feel that he need not study my wishes about each and every small thing. It works very well.’
She smiled at her son, stretched out in an armchair facing them both, and turned back to Letitia. ‘And you, my dear, you lead a busy life, I understand, and you are also a friend of Georgina?’
Letitia, recovered from her initial surprise and fortified by the excellent sherry, agreed to both remarks, adding the rider that Georgina was one of the nicest people she knew.
‘Indeed, yes, and such a perfect wife for Julius; they are ideally suited.’ The talk turned to the children and became general, with Jason saying very little, and once or twice when Letitia looked up and caught his eye she found herself forcefully reminded of his kiss in the hall; she went a little pink, remembering it, and saw him smile.
They dined in another splendid room, panelled just as the hall was, and with a similar ceiling, and here the furniture was of a later period; an oval table of walnut, with Chippendale chairs and a long, gracefully shaped sideboard. The meal was delicious and served by an elderly man who reminded her of Hans and was introduced as Jacobus; as old and trusted a friend and steward as Hans, that was obvious. Letitia, sitting between the doctor and his mother, wondered how many servants there were in the house, and if it was difficult to get them in such a rural area, and as though her hostess had read her mind, she offered the information that as well as Jacobus, Jason enjoyed the services of an excellent cook and two maids besides, as well as a full time gardener.
‘Only because,’ explained Jason, ‘the people who worked for my father married and either lived in the house or settled close by, and now that their children are grown, they take it for granted that they should work here, taking over from their parents—a pleasant arrangement and an enviable one, I admit. Julius is in like case; you see, there isn’t a great deal of work locally and few of them care to make the journey to Utrecht each day. Certainly they don’t want to live there.’
They began to talk of other things, and Letitia, full of curiosity about the enchanting castle she was in, had to bottle up the question she was longing to ask. She might
have asked them if she hadn’t been uneasily aware that Jason guessed at her curiosity and was amused by it. She avoided his eye as much as possible for the rest of dinner, and afterwards, when they were having their coffee in the drawing room, she concentrated upon her hostess, answering him readily enough when he addressed her, but making no attempt to attract his attention.
Letitia had hoped that she might be taken on a tour of the house, but no one suggested it. The two rooms she had seen had whetted her appetite to see the remainder, but she was, after all, only a guest for an evening, and a not very intimate one at that. She studied the ceiling with its enchanting paintings whenever she had the opportunity, and tried to imagine what the rest of the house was like, and with a careful eye on the clock, made her excuses at the correct time, dogged by the memory of guests who had come to dinner with her parents and stayed for hours afterwards, while she and her mother fumed silently, thinking of the washing up which would have to be done before they could go to bed—not that Jason and his mother would need to do that. All the same, she made her farewells without lingering, thanked her hostess for a delightful evening, murmured suitably in reply to Mevrouw Mourik van Nie’s hope that they would meet again, and walked to the door with Jason, who had shown a disappointing calm when she had suggested that she should leave, and over and above that, had made no effort to prolong her visit.
There was, of course, no reason why he should, her common sense told her, but common sense could be tiresome at times and held no comfort; nor did Jason’s manner—detached and pleasant and nothing else. The unpleasant little doubt crept into Letitia’s mind that perhaps he had asked her to his home as a kind of gesture; his share of entertaining her during her stay in Holland, a doubt which wasn’t dispelled during the short journey back to Bergenstijn, for he talked about nothing in particular and never once hinted that they might meet again while she was there. As a consequence, she was unreasonably cross by the time they reached the house, although common sense again warned her that it was absurd to imagine, even for a moment, that just because he had kissed her—and very thoroughly too—and invited her to meet his mother and dine at his home, he was being anything more than commonly courteous.