by Betty Neels
But presently she found herself alone with the doctor while the others went to the greenhouses to inspect some plant or other. Juliana had dumped the baby in his lap, where it lay with its legs kicking the air, held fast by one large gentle hand. The two little girls and their brother were on the floor beside Eloise, who, a pack of cards in her hand, had offered to build them a card house, but she paused in her building to look at the doctor. His eyes were closed, his face calm—he really was very good-looking, but it wasn’t his looks she loved, it was him. She was still looking when he opened his eyes a little so that they were mere slits and inquired: ‘Why do you stare at me?’
‘I don’t know.’ And then, her tongue getting the better of her once more: ‘I quite thought that Liske would be here too.’
‘I wonder why?’ He sounded lazily uninterested.
‘Well…’ She glanced at him again very quickly; he was tickling the baby’s chin and making it chuckle. ‘I thought…as you were going to get married…’
‘Am I? What makes you think that, Eloise?’
She snapped with a touch of peevishness: ‘Nothing you’ve told me—you never answer any of my questions. The evidence of my own eyes, I suppose.’
His lids had drooped. ‘You wish to see me married?’
She wouldn’t look at him. ‘Yes, if it made you happy.’
‘I don’t contemplate marrying for any other reason. And with half a dozen children besides?’
She added a card to her house with great care. ‘Yes.’
‘I hardly think that Liske would agree with you there—and it is her you have in mind as my—er—future wife?’
Eloise bit her lip, wondering how best to answer him. His voice had sounded silky and there was a note in it she didn’t quite like. She was saved at the last moment by the return of the other three, who didn’t come right into the room immediately but stood at the french windows, cheerfully arguing among themselves. There was time enough for her to hear the doctor say softly: ‘Do you know, I have very nearly made the biggest mistake of my life, Pineapple Girl. Now I have to put it right.’
It was a pity that she had no time to ponder this remark before the other three joined them.
They stayed to dinner and she didn’t speak to him alone for the rest of the evening, and on the drive back she shared the back of the car with Bluff. And when they reached Mijnheer Pringle’s house, the doctor, although he came in with them, didn’t stay above a couple of minutes and his goodbyes, although friendly, held nothing in them for Eloise alone.
Pieter came the next day and she wondered afresh why such nice people as Cor and Deborah Pringle could have had such a self-opinionated young man for a son. He had a good deal to say about the forthcoming trip, ate an enormous lunch, talking about himself for most of the time, and when later he sought her out and told her that he was taking her out to dinner that evening, she was very inclined to refuse. For one thing he seemed to take it for granted that she would be overwhelmed by his attention, and for another she didn’t relish his company overmuch. But she could see no way of refusing him without hurting his father’s feelings, and beyond an attempt, nipped in the bud, to get Mijnheer Pringle to join them, she could do very little about it.
Father and son wanted to talk after lunch, which left her free to potter in the garden before engaging Mijnheer Pringle in their daily game of chess, although this time she had Pieter breathing down the back of her neck. She knew that he longed to advise her on every move, which made her so reckless that she lost badly. It didn’t help at all when he said heartily: ‘That was bound to happen, Eloise. You should have…’ He launched into a lecture on the basic rules of the game until she was able to escape to her room to dress.
She wasn’t going to wear the grey jersey; Timon had liked her in that. She put on the green dress she had had for the wedding and went back to the sitting room to find the doctor, very much at his ease, standing before the fire. His ‘Hullo, Eloise,’ was briskly friendly and nothing more. He was staying for dinner, she was told, and he showed no signs of disappointment when he learned that she wouldn’t be there; rather, he wished them a hearty goodbye, adding something about young people going out and having fun together, a remark which set her teeth on edge.
Pieter took her to a restaurant in Groningen and almost as soon as they had sat down made a fuss over the wine, so much so that the wine waiter’s face assumed a wooden expression which barely concealed his contempt; it quite spoilt her dinner, although she quickly discovered that she had no need to entertain her host, since he was perfectly content to talk about himself, pausing only long enough for her to utter admiring comments. Eloise, who liked variety in her conversation, began to feel bored, although she strove to take an interest in what he was saying. But however hard she tried, it was Timon who held her thoughts.
He had gone when they got back and after sitting for half an hour with father and son, she thanked the latter prettily for her dinner, and went to bed.
It was two days before she saw the doctor again. She and Mijnheer Pringle had paid more visits, driven round the countryside, and enjoyed a visit to Franeker in order to view the planetarium. She had enjoyed that, listened carefully to the guide’s careful explanation in his almost perfect English and then gone up the little staircase to study the cogs and wheels above the ceiling. It proved a good source of conversation all the way home and Mijnheer Pringle admitted that he had enjoyed it so much, they must plan another expedition as quickly as possible.
They were in fact discussing this over their dinner that evening when Doctor van Zeilst walked in. He had been out to a patient, he explained, and was on his way back to the hospital to confer with his Registrar there. He looked tired and remote, but when Mijnheer Pringle offered him coffee and something to eat, he accepted with alacrity.
The conversation was casual while he devoured soup, an omelette and the remains of one of Juffrouw Blot’s desserts, but presently he sat back with a sigh while Eloise poured his coffee. ‘When did you last have a meal?’ she wanted to know.
‘Oh, I’ve had a busy day—there was an accident on one of the farms very early this morning and I had a teaching round at the hospital; besides, it’s the time of year when the waiting room is always full.’
‘Your partners?’ she prompted.
‘Both away for a couple of days.’
‘So when did you last have a meal?’ she persisted.
‘Er—an early breakfast, Eloise.’ He passed his cup for more coffee spooned in sugar lavishly and drank it with enjoyment. ‘And don’t look so concerned. Bart and Mevrouw Metz will be hovering with bowls of hot soup and heaven knows what else the moment I put my key in the lock.’
‘I am not in the least concerned,’ Eloise told him coldly, but he only grinned and began to discuss his host’s trip, now only three days away. ‘I’ll give you a check up before you leave, Cor,’ he suggested. ‘You’ve had all the jabs you need, haven’t you? Going in the afternoon are you? And you?’ He had turned suddenly on Eloise. ‘When do you go?’
The very thought of it made her feel sick. ‘On the same day as Mijnheer Pringle—in the morning.’ She left it at that.
‘Plans all made? job settled?’
‘No.’
‘Holidays, perhaps?’
‘No.’
His eyes gleamed. ‘Being inquisitive and not minding my own business, aren’t I?’
She looked up from the coffee cup she had been studying with all the rapt attention of one who had discovered a priceless treasure. For lack of anything more suitable, she said ‘No,’ once again.
‘It’s like trying to open a tin with a knitting needle,’ he informed the room at large, and continued cheerfully: ‘You must come over and say goodbye to Bart and Mevrouw Metz—Bluff as well. Let me see…not tomorrow, I think, I have a date with Liske. The day after; I’ll come for you before dinner. You too, of course, Cor.’
Mijnheer Pringle smiled faintly, watching them both. ‘Of course, we
shall be delighted, shan’t we, Eloise? Shall we have an opportunity of seeing Liske?’
Timon was at his most bland. ‘I think it unlikely, but I’ll convey your good wishes.’ He added: ‘From you both, naturally.’
He went soon after that, leaving Eloise a prey to all kinds of surmise. Why, for instance, didn’t he want her to meet Liske again? It must have been apparent by now that she and Liske didn’t get on, but that didn’t mean to say that they couldn’t spend an evening in each other’s company without saying a word out of turn. Perhaps Liske didn’t want to meet her again and had told him so. In a way, she decided, it was a relief to know that she had seen the last of the girl.
But that wasn’t to be the case. She and Mijnheer Pringle spent the whole of the next day in the north of Groningen, lunching with the Potters and then going back home at their leisure to dine early so that Mijnheer Pringle could do his packing. He was remarkably cheerful, she was pleased to note; his lassitude and lack of interest in life around him were almost gone. True, he was an unhappy man and would be for a long time yet, but he was coming to terms with that life once more and had even talked once or twice of going back to his work as soon as he returned from Curaao. Eloise watched him go upstairs and with a motherly injunction to call her if he needed help, took herself off to the sitting room.
She was sitting doing absolutely nothing when she heard the front door bell and Juffrouw Blot’s rather heavy tread in the hall, and despite herself, she couldn’t resist turning round to look at the door; there was no reason why it should be Timon. Had he not made a point about going to see Liske? All the same, her heart bounced as the door opened.
It wasn’t Timon, it was Liske. She came quickly into the room and without a word of greeting demanded: ‘You are alone? I wish to speak to you.’
‘I’m quite alone,’ said Eloise in a steady voice, and waited to hear what would come next.
Liske threw off her splendid fur coat, revealing an elegant wool dress exactly the blue of her eyes, and sat down opposite Eloise. But only for a moment; she was up and pacing round the room again so that Eloise had to turn her chair round in order to keep her in view.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, determined not to let the prowling figure worry her.
‘I will tell you—you have turned Timon against me, that is what is the matter! You—a silly fat girl with no looks and dowdy clothes. How dare you? But you will not succeed, do you hear? I, Liske, will not allow it. He is mine, do you understand, I wish to marry him…’ She paused to take a dramatic breath and Eloise asked quietly:
‘Do you love him?’
‘What has that to do with it? He has money—a great deal of it—and his lovely house and cars and an old honoured name. Besides, I wish to be his wife.’
‘If he’ll have you,’ observed Eloise softly. ‘And why on earth have you come to tell me all this? If he wants to marry you—if he loves you, do you suppose that anything I could say or do would make any difference to him? Don’t be silly!’
‘Silly—silly, you say!’ Liske’s girlish voice was shrill. ‘It is you who are silly. He does not care a jot for you, you know—has he ever said so? sought you out? been attentive to you?’ She paused to look into Eloise’s face and went on in triumph: ‘No, I can see that he has not. He is bewitched, to tell me that I mean nothing to him, that he has no wish to marry me, that I have dreamed things which he has never said…’
‘And did you?’ asked Eloise with interest.
Liske gave her a nasty look. ‘I am a beautiful girl,’ she declared with a self-assurance Eloise envied. ‘If I wish for something, I have it, you understand. I shall have Timon, for I am quite beautiful and any man can be made to fall in love with me.’
‘You’re labouring under a misapprehension,’ said Eloise, then, ‘I’ve done nothing, nor do I intend to do anything. After all, if he had wanted me, he had only to say so, had he not? And he hasn’t.’
‘That I do not believe. There must be something you have done or said which has made him speak to me in this way.’ Liske pounced on her coat and flung it on, looking so very beautiful that Eloise could only sit and admire her. ‘I am angry,’ she said loudly and quite unnecessarily, and rushed through the door, across the hall and outside to where, presumably, she had left her car.
Eloise sat where she was, her mind in a turmoil. Just what had Timon said? Had he used her as an excuse to get himself disentangled from Liske? As he had never given her any reason to suppose that he was interested in herself, she supposed so. He had made that strange remark at his sister’s, that he had almost made the mistake of his life, but he could have meant anything, and nothing in his subsequent manner towards her had encouraged her to think otherwise.
She was disturbed from her rather unhappy reverie by Mijnheer Pringle calling from the landing above. ‘Eloise? Who was it? Did I not hear voices?’
She got up and went into the hall. ‘It was Liske. I’m not quite sure why she came; I think she’s had a quarrel with Ti… Doctor van Zeilst. She went again—she’s rather angry.’
He had joined her in the hall. ‘She is a bad-tempered girl. It would have made Debby very happy if she had known that Timon wasn’t going to marry her.’
‘They are engaged, then?’ She didn’t care what questions she asked now; she was going so soon and afterwards it wouldn’t matter.
‘Certainly not. They have known each other for a long time, and it is possible that Timon has at some time or other considered her as a wife. She has so much, you see—youth and beauty and the same circle of friends—but there again,’ he wrinkled his forehead in thought, ‘she has so little also, no love to give to anyone but herself, no interest in his work and a great impatience with his good old Bart and Mevrouw Metz. She is also selfish and greedy; she wishes for all the good things of life and is not prepared to give anything in return. Debby never liked her, you know.’
‘I don’t either,’ said Eloise flatly.
He gave her a perceptive look. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do, my dear.’ They went back into the sitting room and sat down by the fire. ‘It was she who upset Bart, did you know? So cruel a girl to taunt him with his age, and he a devoted servant and friend of Timon. Timon was angry about that.’
He got up and went to the cabinet where the drinks were kept. ‘We will have a drink. You have had a trying evening and I am tired of packing my cases, they can wait. We will have a glass of Courvoisier, Debby always liked it.’
They sat companionably sipping their brandy and presently he said: ‘Of course we go tomorrow evening as already arranged—Timon said that Liske would not be there.’
‘I’m not afraid of her,’ said Eloise, fired by the brandy.
‘No, I don’t imagine you are. Shall we wait and see? I often think that that is the best course when one is not sure what is going to happen next.’ He got up and took her glass. ‘Now I have some work to do in my study. Go to bed, my dear, and don’t bother your head about Liske.’
So she went to bed, to dream fearful dreams of Timon waving her goodbye with Liske hanging on to his arm, wearing a fur coat and a wedding veil and laughing at her. She woke in a bad temper and didn’t sleep again.
She got up in the morning with a splitting headache and the temper no better; somehow she got through the day, anxious now to get the evening over and done with; she didn’t care if she didn’t go, she told herself. All the same, she found herself putting on the grey jersey dress. She was sitting quietly in the sitting room, puzzling out the headlines of the Haagsche Post, when the doctor arrived, and although she greeted him pleasantly she made no attempt to sustain his attention and nor did he seem to wish it, embarking at once upon a conversation with Mijnheer Pringle about the weather. ‘Which reminds me,’ said the older man, ‘talking of weather, it is just possible that I may have to return here later this evening. Pieter wanted some figures from me before we go; he was going to telephone—if he does so I’ve told Juffrouw Blot to let me know and I’ll go
back.’ He paused. ‘I have no car.’
‘There’s the Mini or the Bristol, you can borrow either, Cor,’ said the doctor easily. ‘A pity to spoil the evening, but if these figures are important, then you must return, of course. Are we ready?’
Bluff was in the car. Eloise got close to him and flung an arm round his woolly shoulders; he was a nice comforting creature, which was more than could be said of his master, who had barely looked at her.
The doctor’s cook, his treasured Magda, had excelled herself. The table, its silver and glass winking in the soft glow of the wall sconces, was decorated with a great bowl of roses and the food was superb: if Timon wanted her to remember his home and the luxury in which he lived, though Eloise, he had gone the right way about it. Would she ever forget the salmon mousse, the roast pheasant, the great silver dishes of vegetables, the sauces? Nor for that matter would she fail to recall the luscious bombe glacé which followed them. They had drunk champagne, but she had had only one glass; she wasn’t used to it, she told her host gravely, and people said that it went to your head. He had agreed with her in the nicest possible way.
It was while they were sitting in the drawing room that the doctor was called away to the telephone and at the same time Mijnheer Pringle received a message from his own home, which left Eloise sitting alone. She curled up more comfortably in the armchair by the fire and reflected that if history were to repeat itself, Liske should make a dramatic entrance at that very moment.
Which she did. There was no ring at the door, nor was the great knocker thumped. She came in quietly, and even as Bart, crossing the hall on some errand, saw her, shut the double doors of the drawing room in his face.
One didn’t need glasses to see that Liske was beside herself with rage. ‘You’re here—I knew it would be so! You—you harpy, you…’ she paused to think, ‘designing trollop!’