by Betty Neels
He didn’t say why he needed to go but they both nodded and when he had gone to his study Mies said, ‘It’ll be that nice English miss he brought here...’
Wester nodded. ‘He brought her to Janslum, a deftig young lady.’
It was midnight of the third day when the doctor opened his house door content that he had done everything he had planned to do. Now he was free to go to Friesland. Too late tonight, he reflected, but first thing in the morning...
He and Wester and the dogs set off before it was light, sent on their way by a cosily wrapped Mies. Halfway there, he said, ‘Phone Tyske, will you, Wester, and ask her to have breakfast for us—in about an hour’s time?’
It was a cold morning, inclined to drizzle from a lowering sky, and it was no better by the time they had breakfasted. The doctor took the dogs for a brisk walk and then got into his car and drove rather too fast to the ter Beemstras’ house. It was mid morning now and he judged that Cressida would be available.
It was Beatrix ter Beemstra who came to greet him when he was admitted. ‘How nice to see you, have you had a good trip? You have been away for too long—were the lectures successful?’
Aldrik was a man of monumental patience; he even spent several minutes discussing the weather, enquiring after the children and Anna’s leg before asking to see Cressida.
‘She’s not here—you didn’t know? No, of course you didn’t. She went back to England six days ago. Her old housekeeper telephoned—she was in some kind of trouble and Cressida said that she would have to go and help her.’ Beatrix glanced at the deceptively calm face before her. ‘I think she was glad to go—indeed, she said that she needed to get away. She didn’t say why and I didn’t ask her. She is a dear girl and she would not have wished that unless her reasons were very real.’
‘You have her address?’
‘Well, I’m afraid not—when she went she went within a day, you know, and there was so much to arrange. Charity will know, however. We miss her very much—such a gentle girl.’
The doctor stayed for a few minutes longer, making polite small talk, and then he got into the Bentley again and drove to Charity’s house.
Here he had no need to stand on ceremony. He gave her a friendly hug and she kissed his cheek and then stood back to look at him.
‘Before I take you to see your godson, Aldrik, Cressy’s either with this Miss Mogford or at her stepmother’s. I’ll tell you about it and you’ll know what to do. Please come and see the infant Tyco first, then we’ll have coffee and I’ll tell you as much as I know.’
The baby was asleep. Charity hung over the cot. ‘The spitting image of his dad,’ she said proudly. ‘Next time when you come perhaps he’ll be awake.’
‘He’s a splendid fellow and you are right, he is just like Tyco. Do the girls like him?’
‘When they are at home I have to fight my way to get at him—we’re all so happy...’ She stopped and went pink. ‘And you’re not, are you? But you will be. Come downstairs and we’ll talk.’
Over coffee she explained about Nicola’s visit. ‘I knew it wasn’t true but she had made it all seem as though it were and it was unforgivable of her to tell Cressy those lies about you being afraid that she was getting fond of you. No wonder she couldn’t wait to get back to England. Poor old Miss Mogford’s troubles came at just the right time.’
She peeped at Aldrik’s face. It looked quite frighteningly grim.
‘I can catch the night ferry,’ he said at once, ‘and be there during the morning. Have you Miss Mogford’s address?’
‘Yes, I’ve written it down for you, but she may be at her stepmother’s house. I’d go there first. Will you go to Lady Merrill’s?’
He nodded. ‘I can call in at Cressy’s home on the way.’ He got to his feet, ‘My dear, you’ve been a real friend.’ He bent to kiss her. ‘Tell Tyco I’ll see him when we get back and be sure and take care of that son of yours.’
When he got back home he told Wester to pack a bag and book a berth on the night ferry from the Hoek and then he took the dogs for a long walk. The time had to be filled in before he could leave for England.
He drove away from Harwich on a dismal grey morning, he had had breakfast on board and he didn’t intend to stop until he reached Cressy’s home, he had studied the map and took the road through Hatfield, Watford and Slough, cutting out London entirely, to join the M3 and later on the A303. He drove steadily, keeping to the maximum speed, and the further west he went, the better the weather. When at last he stopped in the drive before Cressida’s home the sun was shining.
Mrs Preece was coming downstairs as the maid admitted him. She recognised him at once and came forward, smiling archly. ‘Doctor—how delightful to see you again. You are on your way to see Lady Merrill? Too late for coffee, but do have a drink and tell me all your news.’
‘You are very kind, but I can’t stop. I came to see if Cressida is here?’
The smile became fixed. ‘Certainly not. She walked out of this house and she can stay out of it.’
‘But has she been here recently?’
‘Why do you want to know?’ and when he didn’t answer, and just stood there looking at her, she said, ‘She came here two days ago, if you must know.’ She added sulkily, ‘She wanted to borrow money to buy Miss Mogford’s sister’s cottage, if you please. I sent her packing.’
‘Back to Miss Mogford’s?’ The doctor’s voice was very quiet.
‘How should I know? The old woman’s got all she deserves anyway, leaving me in the lurch—it’s impossible to get servants nowadays.’
‘I’m sorry to have disturbed your morning,’ said Aldrik smoothly and bade her goodbye. His poor little Cressida, he thought, getting into his car and taking the road to his grandmother’s house. While he had been with Mrs Preece he had been thinking; contacting Mr Tims might be the best thing to do. It wasn’t much use seeing Cressida unless he knew exactly how matters stood.
Lady Merrill was delighted to see him. ‘Lunch,’ she told him briskly, ‘you’re worn out. Why are you here? Something to do with Cressida, I’ll be bound.’
He told her over lunch. ‘I think I’d better get hold of Tims,’ he finished, ‘now.’
Mr Tims made everything plain in a few dry-as-dust sentences.
‘Can I buy the place?’ asked the doctor. ‘Will this man sell?’
‘If the price is attractive, yes.’
‘Will you phone him, ask him what price he wants, and buy it?’
Mr Tims was shocked. ‘My dear Aldrik, aren’t you being a bit hasty? A little bargaining...’
‘Will you hasten and phone him now and ring me back?—I’ll be here for the next hour or so.’
‘Very well. You’re throwing money away...’
Mr Tims hung up and began to dial another number. He had always been impressed by Aldrik’s calm manner and good sense but he had sounded very unlike himself. Half an hour later he phoned Lady Merrill’s house.
‘Well, you have your cottage,’ he told the doctor, ‘and you’ve paid double its worth.’ He sounded faintly disapproving but Aldrik took no notice. ‘Splendid, and thank you—now there’s one thing more...’ He began to speak and Mr Tims, listening, permitted himself a smile.
Cressida was putting on the kettle for a cup of tea—Moggy liked her tea sharp at four o’clock—when the knocker was thumped and a small boy handed her an envelope. It was addressed to her and she turned it over in a useless sort of way while he waited. His fidgeting roused her, though; she found her purse and gave him twenty pence and went back to the kitchen where she opened it. It was from Mr Tims asking her to go to the office; if she would go to Brown’s Garage a car would take her. He would expect her within the next half hour.
Cressida read it twice, roused Moggy from her nap and read it to her and then went to get her ou
tdoor things. ‘That nephew of your sister’s has changed his mind,’ she declared. ‘I dare say he’s at Mr Tims’s office now. But I wonder why it’s just me he wants?’
‘I dare say you’ll understand what’s being said better than me,’ said Moggy. ‘Don’t you waste a moment, Miss Cressy; ’e’d never ’ave a taxi for you if it weren’t important.’
Mr Tims’s office was in a side-street, its windows discreetly curtained and the doorknocker splendidly polished. Cressida beat a tattoo on it and was admitted by a clerk and told to go upstairs to Mr Tims’s room. Outside the door she took a deep breath and knocked, and, requested to enter, did so.
Mr Tims was sitting behind his desk and the doctor was lounging against the window, his large person obscuring most of the light of a fading day.
‘Oh,’ said Cressida inadequately, but since she had lost her breath for a moment it would have to do.
‘Hello, Cressy,’ said the doctor in a voice of such tenderness that she lost her breath again, which gave Mr Tims the chance to speak.
‘I have asked you to come here at Dr van der Linus’s request. He has purchased the cottage in which Miss Mogford is at present living so that she may stay there for the rest of her life.’
He glanced up. Neither of the two people with him were listening, or so it seemed to him, they were looking at each other in a manner which suggested that they were unaware of him, or anything else for that matter.
‘The doctor will explain,’ he said in his dry voice, and went out of the room.
‘I’ll explain later,’ said Aldrik and crossed the room in two strides to wrap Cressy in his great arms, ‘and we’ll have no more of this, you’ll marry me so that I know where you are and what you are doing. You’ve been disrupting my whole life—I have never met such a girl.’
He kissed her very hard and then again, gently this time. ‘My darling tiresome girl, I love you.’ He smiled down at her. ‘Will you marry me?’
She smiled, her ordinary face suddenly beautiful. ‘Well, yes, I should like that very much, but first shouldn’t you explain?’
‘A waste of time,’ said the doctor testily, ‘there are other things more important.’
‘If you say so, dear Aldrik.’ She sounded meek but her eyes sparkled.
The doctor studied her face with great satisfaction. ‘My beautiful girl,’ he said, and fell to kissing her once more.
It was nice to be called beautiful, reflected Cressida, kissing him back with goodwill, even though it wasn’t true, and, anyway, she felt beautiful. With what breath she had left she said, ‘Aldrik...’
‘“For God’s sake hold your tongue, and let me love”,’ growled the doctor, and meant every word; John
Donne’s age-old plea seemed exactly right for the occasion.
* * * * *
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ISBN: 9781459245037
Copyright © 1992 by Betty Neels
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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