by Betty Neels
The Baroness wouldn’t have finished her breakfast yet. Becky hadn’t had hers either and she had no idea where to go for it—the kitchen, perhaps. There would be some sort of servants’ hall, she supposed, and Tialda on the previous evening had told her that her supper was downstairs—besides, it was a splendid chance to see Bertie and Pooch.
Sutske was there with two young women and they all looked up and smiled as Becky went in. She smiled back and stood still while Bertie and Pooch made much of her, and since no one had said anything about breakfast she went through the open door at the back of the kitchen, into the yard at the back of the house. It was almost encircled with outbuildings, its cobbled surface uneven and worn by countless footsteps. Becky walked briskly to where an open archway led to the grounds beyond and was on the point of continuing down the back drive when the Baron popped up beside her, apparently coming from one of the great barnlike buildings on either side of her.
‘You walked away,’ he remarked mildly. ‘I was on the point of asking if you would care to breakfast with me.’
She stood to answer him, Pooch under one arm, Bertie pressed to her side.
‘Thank you, no. If you would tell me where I’m to have my meals…?’
He lifted his eyebrows. ‘My dear girl, with us, of course—where else?’
She eyed him stonily. ‘I was waiting to be told,’ she said sweetly.
He laughed then and caught her by the arm and turned her round to walk her back into the house. He called something to Sutske as they went through the kitchen and when they reached the breakfast room Willem was laying a place for her. Bertie and Pooch had come too and at the door Becky paused. ‘Do you mind the animals?’ she asked diffidently.
‘Not in the least. Lola is under the table if you care to look.’
He drew out a chair for her and sat down himself. ‘You’re worried about my mother?’
‘Not worried exactly; she’s tired—it was a long journey and although she loved every minute of it, I think it exhausted her.’
‘We’ll keep her in bed for today, then, and tomorrow as well. If she’s quite rested then, you can go back with her on the day after that.’
Becky buttered a roll and laid a wafer of cheese on it, wondering if she could ask about Bertie and Pooch, but before she could frame a suitable request, the Baron spoke. ‘You’ll take the animals with you, of course. Lola will miss them—so shall I and the rest of us here. Will they be all right in a strange house until you leave my mother?’
‘Oh, yes. They’ll go wherever I do.’ She hesitated. ‘How do I get another job? The Baroness isn’t going to need me for much longer, is she? Would you mind if I started looking for something before I leave?’
‘You will remain with my mother for at least another week, perhaps longer, and I will see to it that you have somewhere to go, and work in one of the hospitals, either in Leeuwarden or Groningen.’
She blinked. He seemed very sure about it, but it was a relief to know that she wouldn’t have to worry about that herself. She still had to make herself familiar with Holland and its ways, let alone the language, which sounded impossible at the moment. She thanked him and asked if Tialda was all right. ‘She looked tired last night; if she wants to spend a day in bed I don’t mind looking after her,’ she offered.
‘I looked in on her on my way down this morning; she’s fine—plans to go shopping, I believe. She’s going to stay here for a while. Pieter—her husband—will be back in another two weeks.’ He was interrupted by the telephone and he got up to answer it and Becky got up too. As she did so she heard him say: ‘Nina…’ and although she couldn’t have understood a word if she had remained, she swept Pooch up in her arms and with Bertie at her heels, left the room.
She didn’t see him for the rest of that day. He had visited his mother, but she had left them together and when she returned he had merely left a message that his suggestions made at the breakfast table were to stand.
She didn’t see him on the following day either; as she dressed that morning she had seen him ride away with Lola beside him and when he had gone up to visit the Baroness, Becky herself was eating a solitary breakfast with Willem to look after her and the animals for company. And since the family doctor came to see the Baroness just before lunch and stayed for a long time, there was no question of either Becky or her patient going to that meal. Doctor van Diessen was elderly, with a weatherbeaten face and twinkling blue eyes. He had known the family for so long that he was more of a friend than a doctor to them. He finished his examination of the Baroness although, as he observed, the legs were nothing to do with him—specialists would see to those very shortly. But he pronounced her very fit and agreed that there was no reason why she shouldn’t return to her own home the next day if she wished. ‘You have this excellent young lady to look after you, and Tiele to watch over you both.’ He beamed at them both and went away to find Tiele, refusing an invitation to stay for lunch because he had more patients to see.
But the Baron didn’t lunch alone. Becky, looking idly out of the Baroness’s window, saw a Mercedes sweep up the drive and stop by the front door. Nina van Doorn got out, wearing slacks and a silk shirt which made Becky green with envy and before she had closed the car door the Baron was beside her. Becky turned away. They were well suited, the pair of them, she told herself. The Baron might be kind and when he remembered, thoughtful of others, but he was too self-assured, naturally so, for he had far too much of the world’s goods; and Nina seemed to have been cast in the same mould. And why are you worrying? Becky asked herself crossly. In another couple of weeks you’ll never set eyes on them again.
The Baroness lunched in bed and Becky, summoned by the ever-attentive Willem, went downstairs presently and ate another solitary meal before settling her patient for a nap and going off duty for an hour or two. She changed into one of the cotton dresses she had bought in Trondheim and went to fetch Bertie and Pooch, and because she seemed to want to come too, Lola. The grounds round the house were parklike, and she left the formal gardens and wandered in the landscaped fields surrounding them, Pooch on his lead and the two dogs running free. They made for a little copse which bordered the boundary along one side and Becky, delighted to be free for a little while, didn’t hurry. The sun was warm on her, her surroundings were idyllic and she had time to think.
But not for long. She had reached the copse and was wandering along one of its paths among the trees when she rounded a curve and saw the Baron and Nina van Doorn, deep in conversation, just ahead of her, Lola saw them too and launched herself at her master in a few great leaps, putting her paws on his shoulders to gaze into his face, and close behind her, not to be outdone, came Bertie, a good deal slower and much less agile and content to rub himself round the Baron’s elegantly trousered legs. He didn’t appear to mind in the least, although he told both beasts firmly to get down, but Nina minded very much. She had backed away, crying out something in a quite different voice from her usual cool tones, and when she saw Becky she began on her, remembering in her sudden rage to speak English.
‘You!’ she cried. ‘You, with these animals—take them away at once, how dare you bring them here!’ She rounded on the Baron. ‘You know how I cannot bear them, they spoil my clothes.’ Her voice soared. ‘And don’t dare laugh! Tell that girl to take them away—the servants should know better…’
The Baron’s voice was soothing but amused. ‘Don’t be silly, Nina, they’ll not harm you, and I think you have not recognised my mother’s nurse. She is hardly to be blamed, she had no idea that you had such a dislike of dogs and cats.’
Becky had Bertie beside her again and Pooch tucked firmly under one arm. She said quietly: ‘If Lola will come with me, I’ll take her back with me. I’m sorry we disturbed you, Juffrouw van Doorn.’
Nina turned her back without answering and the Baron spoke quietly to Lola, who gave him a reproachful look, went to join Bertie and then followed Becky obediently back the way they had come.
She stared back at him, her brown velvet eyes still drowsy with sleep. ‘Oh, lord,’ she exclaimed crossly, ‘can’t we come here either?’ She rubbed her eyes like a sleepy child. ‘How did you know we were here?’ She started to struggle to her feet, but the Baron put out a large restraining hand and sat down beside her.
‘It happens to be my hiding place. When I was a small boy and had done something wrong—and that was very often—I used to come here; for some reason no one ever thought of looking behind the raspberries. I come here even now with Lola.’
He stretched out his great length on the grass and Lola lay down beside him. ‘I’m sorry that Juffrouw van Doorn was so upset. She had no intention of being rude—she simply didn’t recognise you. She hates most small animals…’
Becky didn’t speak. She was thinking that even if she had been one of the servants she would have resented Nina’s tone of voice.
‘She is a very beautiful girl,’ went on the Baron, choosing his words. ‘I suppose that is why she cannot bear to have a golden hair out of place or the tiniest crease in her clothes.’ His eyes fell to Becky’s dress, rumpled and creased where the dogs had lolled on her. ‘When a girl is as beautiful as Nina, she would not wish to spoil it in any way.’
Becky, for want of anything better to say, agreed politely, stroking Pooch’s rather tatty fur as he lay curled in her lap.
‘You’re not envious of her?’ enquired her companion softly.
‘Me?’ Becky thought about it. ‘No, I don’t think so. Of course it must be wonderful to know you’re so lovely that everyone turns around to look at you and to know that all men are ready to eat out of your hand, but I wouldn’t like it if I didn’t like Pooch and Bertie and had to fuss about my clothes…’
‘Juffrouw van Doorn hardly fusses,’ remarked the Baron coldly, and Becky said hastily:
‘Oh, I wasn’t being personal. She’s quite the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. You must think you’re the luckiest man alive.’
‘Oh? Why?’ His silky voice should have warned her.
‘Well, you’re going to marry her…’ She looked up and caught his icy stare. ‘Well, it’s none of my business,’ she mumbled, going red.
‘No, it isn’t.’ He had sat up, leaning his back against the tree, his casual friendliness all gone. ‘This seems a good opportunity to discuss my mother and your future. She will return to her own home tomorrow and you with her, of course. I have arranged for her to be seen two days later; the plaster will be removed and if everything is satisfactory, she should be able to manage very well with a stick. I should be obliged if you will stay with her for a further week, during which time I will see about a job for you and find you somewhere to live. Have you any preference—surgical or medical?’
The red in Becky’s cheeks had faded and she looked quite pale again despite her days in the sun. It was like accepting charity and it stuck in her throat; he was carrying out his promise because he had said that he would help her and he wouldn’t go back on his word. Charity could be very cold.
She said at once, her pleasant voice without expression, ‘I like medical work, thank you, but I’ll take whatever there is going.’
He nodded and got to his feet. ‘No, don’t get up— bring Lola in when you come, will you? I’ll see what there is and my secretary will let you know.’
Becky watched him go unhurriedly towards his house. It was a pity, she reflected, that he was so taken with Nina. She wouldn’t be any good for him; they both liked their own way far too well—though perhaps if he loved her very much, he would let her do exactly as she wanted. Becky scowled at the thought—no dogs, no cats, certainly no horses or donkeys, probably no children; sticky fingers would anger Nina just as much as muddy paws. Becky swept her still too thin arms round the necks of her astonished companions and gave them a throttling hug. Poor Lola, poor kitchen cats; she hoped the Baron would find a kind home for them.
She saw very little of him for the rest of that day and on the following afternoon, after a hectic morning persuading the Baroness to pack the few things she had needed while she was staying with her son, collecting Bertie and Pooch, putting her own small possessions in her case, they drove away in an elderly Cadillac, driven by an equally elderly chauffeur; both of them candidates for a museum, thought Becky, skipping into the front seat while Bertie, on his best behaviour, sat on the floor at the Baroness’s feet. The Baron saw them off, Lola beside him, and his mother, reclining rather awkwardly in the back of the car, remarked comfortably: ‘Of course, it’s ridiculous to say goodbye. We live so close to each other and in any case he comes to see me frequently on his way to and from the hospital.’
Becky plucked up the courage to ask exactly what the Baron did.
‘My dear child, has no one told you? Chests and hearts, my dear, just as his father before him. He has beds in Leeuwarden and Groningen and he goes frequently to London and Edinburgh and Birmingham—for consultations, you know. He works too hard, and it seems a pity that he should waste so much of his free time with someone as unsuitable as Nina van Doorn.’
To which bit of outspokenness Becky replied with a murmur. It was nice to think that someone else shared her views, though.
The Baroness lived in the centre of Leeuwarden in a beautiful old house in a quiet street lined with equally beautiful houses. Its door was opened by a slightly younger Willem, who Becky quickly learned was indeed that old man’s brother, and he passed them carefully on to a severe and very tall woman rejoicing in the name of Jikke, who instantly took charge of the Baroness while at the same time welcoming Becky with an unexpectedly sweet smile and a complete lack of surprise at the sight of Bertie and Pooch. Becky beamed back at her, happily unaware that the Baron had made sure that his mother’s household would accept the two animals in an amiable manner.
The party entered the house through an imposing lobby which in turn led to a narrow hall, stretching endlessly back to a gracefully curved staircase at its end, and lined on both sides with doors. With Jikke leading the way, Pooch under one arm and the Baroness on the other, Becky slowly walked half its length before the housekeeper opened a pair of doors and ushered them into a small panelled room, very cool and dim by reason of it having only one small leaded window. Its floor was of polished wood with a handsome rug before an old-fashioned and elaborate stove, and several high-backed armchairs arranged casually, interspersed by small tables holding charming lamps. There were bookshelves too and high on a shelf above the panelling, rows of Delft plates and dishes. It looked as though no one had touched it since it was first furnished, centuries ago, thought Becky, bidding Bertie sit while she set Pooch carefully beside him.
The Baroness smiled at her. ‘We’ll have tea before we do another thing,’ she declared, for all the world as though she would be doing the unpacking and putting away of her many possessions, ‘and then I shall have my exercises before dinner. I’ve not asked anyone for this evening—indeed, I shall not do so until this wretched plaster is taken off. I daresay we can amuse ourselves for two days, Becky.’ She allowed Becky to make her more comfortable in her chair and arrange the offending limb just so before saying: ‘Ring the bell, will you? Ulco speaks English and he will tell you where your pets may sleep. You had be
tter go with him when he comes.’
Which Becky did, through the hall again and a narrow wooden door, thick enough to withstand a siege, down a pair of steps and into a semi-basement kitchen, a nice old-fashioned place, fitted out cunningly with every modern device. It had a number of doors leading from it, and one of them revealed a roomy cupboard with a dog basket, comfortably blanketed.
‘We thought that this is good, Zuster—if your dog and cat will sleep here—with an open door and you to lay them down before bed. We will not disturb them in the morning, but you will take them into the garden at the back?’
‘Oh, splendid,’ agreed Becky. ‘I’ll be down early, if no one minds?’
Ulco smiled at her. ‘No one will mind, Zuster, and we take good care of them.’
She was really a lucky girl, mused Becky, as she sped back to the Baroness. Wherever would she have found someone who didn’t object to animals, let alone went out of their way to accommodate them?
They had their tea, she and her patient, and then Becky left her patient to be taken upstairs where a cheerful young girl was already unpacking the Baroness’s luggage in a vast room with an elaborate plastered ceiling and William and Mary walnut furniture. The curtains were a dusky pink and matched the bedspread and the white carpet was soft underfoot. Becky gave a willing hand in the disposing of her patient’s wardrobe, smoothing silk and lace with a careful hand, loving the feel of it, and presently when they were finished the girl beckoned her to follow her through a door leading from the room which led directly into another bedroom. It was large too, simply furnished with white-painted bed, dressing table and tall chest, but it too had a thick carpet and easy chairs and enchanting little bedside lamps. The curtains were the same pink as in the Baroness’s room and the bedspread was quilted rose-patterned chintz. There were books on the table by the bed too; Becky heaved a sigh of pure happiness and set about unpacking her own few garments.
It seemed very quiet after the Baron’s great house and Becky found herself listening for his firm footstep around the place and his voice, never loud but clear and decisive. She was surprised at her pleasure when he arrived the following evening, walking in on the pair of them, the Baroness sitting in her lovely drawing room, stitching at her petit-point while Becky patiently unravelled silks for her.