‘Writing what? A letter?’
‘Oh no, it’s a novella, I think, or something like that. But don’t say anything, will you? I think she means to keep it a secret.’
After a pause, Frédérique asked, ‘Do you find Marie changed lately?’
‘Changed? Marie? No, I haven’t noticed anything. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason, it’s just that she seems for ever occupied nowadays.’
‘But she’s always been like that, she’s always busy, just like Jan; I’m the only lazybones in the family, according to Papa.’
Frédérique made no reply. She was surprised that Lili had not noticed how edgy and reclusive her sister had become lately, but she told herself she was probably imagining it all, or Lili would not have been so dismissive.
‘You know we’re going to the Oudendijks’ this evening, don’t you?’ she said, to change the subject.
‘Yes, you mentioned the invitation. Ah, so you’ll be going. Just as well, too, because you’ve been awfully dull lately, haven’t you? Becoming indisposed each time you were invited, so it seems to me,’ jested Lili.
‘Well, I was upset,’ said Frédérique. ‘It was … well, it was because of Otto’s crush on Eline. But all that’s settled now, and I’ve washed my hands of the whole affair. He knows best, I suppose. Anyway, it’s no use fretting, because …’
She broke off, her eyes becoming moist and her lips tightening with suppressed emotion.
‘But Freddie,’ Lili said softly, ‘he’s known her for such a long time, ever since she moved in with the Van Raats, and if he loves her–’
‘Oh, I just want everything to turn out for the good, and I hope they’ll be very happy. The trouble is, I cannot abide Eline. Of course I do my best to be nice to her, but you know how hard it is for me to hide my feelings. Oh, do let’s talk about something else. It can’t be helped, in any case, and I’d rather not think about it either. Shall we go and look for Marie?’
Lili consented, and off they went upstairs, where they found Marie seated at the small writing table in the sitting room shared by the two sisters. Several pages of writing lay before her, but now she sat with one hand propping up her cheek and the other making squiggles on a blank sheet of paper. She gave a start when Freddie and Lili came in.
‘We’ve come to distract you,’ announced Freddie, smiling broadly. ‘Unless you’d rather be left in peace, of course.’
‘Oh no, not at all. And Lili never keeps me company, anyway.’
Lili made no comment. Her sister was being unfair, she thought, because it had been Marie’s idea to go upstairs by herself, not hers, neither were they in the habit of spending the afternoon together in their sitting room.
‘What have you been writing? Or is it a secret?’ asked Freddie with a sidelong glance at the sheets of notepaper.
‘No, not a secret,’ replied Marie with feigned indifference. ‘It’s something I started a while ago, a sort of travel diary of the excursions we went on last year, to Thüringen and the Black Forest, and I meant to turn it into a little story. But I’m bored with it now. I don’t know why I started it in the first place, really. It’s not like me to want to write stories, is it now?’
‘Why ever not?’ said Freddie with enthusiasm. ‘Won’t you read us something?’
‘Certainly not! Bore you with my schoolgirl prose? What do you take me for? It’s just something to keep me busy, that’s all. I was bored, so I took up writing, just as Lili has taken up reading. Do you know what I think, Freddie?’ Marie pulled a comically serious face. ‘I think we’re getting old! Yes, downright old I say, and dreary to boot. Do you realise it’s been months since we had a good laugh the way we used to?’
‘Or with Paul and Etienne!’ said Lili.
‘With or without them. We girls used to have such fun! But nowadays … I don’t know about you, but I think we’re all getting to be as dull as ditchwater! There’s you, down in the dumps because you don’t like Eline, and Lili going all quiet and sentimental, spending all her time daydreaming, and here I am writing about blue mountains and hazy vistas out of sheer boredom.’
‘Where will it all end?’ laughed Freddie. ‘Yes, the future looks very dismal, especially in your case. I bet there’s some secret lurking behind those blue mountains and distant panoramas.’
‘A secret?’ echoed Marie. ‘Oh no, nothing like that. Nothing at all.’ She touched her hand to her temple, and Frédérique thought she was brushing away a tear. Lili concentrated on rearranging the books in one of the cabinets.
‘Marie!’ said Frédérique softly. ‘If there’s anything I can do to help, I wish you’d say so. I can see perfectly well that you are upset about something. Why keep it to yourself?’
Marie stood up and averted her face.
‘Why Freddie, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions! You’re as bad as Lili, seeing romantic reasons for everything. There’s nothing the matter, except that I’m rather bored, and I’d love to have some fun for a change. Well, hello there, master Jan!’
Jan stood in the doorway with a quizzical look.
‘What are you three up to? Gossiping about your beaus, I bet.’ he said.
‘Have you ever heard such presumption!’ exclaimed Marie, throwing her hands up in horror. ‘It’s your inborn male vanity making you say that, mere stripling though you are; just you wait, I’ll show you!’
She began to chase him round the table while he laughed and ducked this way and that, quickly putting chairs in her path whenever he could, much to Freddie’s and Lili’s amusement. Suddenly he dashed out of the room, with Marie at his heels.
‘What’s got into Marie?’ wondered Freddie. A few moments later Marie returned, quite out of breath.
‘Did you catch him?’ asked Lili.
‘Of course not,’ responded Marie. ‘That boy’s as quick as greased lightning, and as nimble as a mountain goat too! Oh, how good it feels to run … I wish I were a boy!’
When Frédérique made to leave, Lili accompanied her downstairs; Marie said she would be down shortly.
But she lingered by the window and gazed outside, where the fading light was veiling the world with a transparent, ashen haze. She could see the canal, green and still beneath leafy overhanging boughs, and the avenue dozing beyond, melting into the dewy dusk.
She took a deep breath. She would banish that cruel sense of regret from her heart once and for all, as she had already begun doing this afternoon. She was getting old, decidedly old, she felt, she was becoming dull and weighed down with cares. But she would be brave, she would have no self-pity, she would crush the blossom within her soul, revile that vision, blot it out. It was torture, but she owed it to herself.
And as she stared vacantly into the gathering darkness, the face of her beloved rose up before her. She saw his fine head, the warm fidelity of his gaze, his kind expression, his heart-warming smile. But he was smiling at Eline, not at her.
…
The tram cars running between Oude Scheveningseweg and the Kurhaus were packed. At the junction of Anna Paulownastraat and Laan Copes van Cattenburch they were stormed by the waiting throng and rapidly filled to overflowing, both inside and out. There was much pushing and stepping on toes, and even ladies colourfully attired in fluttery summery dresses joined the feverish scramble for places. The bell clanged, the horses started up, and all the passengers who had managed to climb on board smiled triumphantly as the conductor shouted to the crestfallen people left behind, who promptly turned away to face the arrival of the next tram.
‘Such crowds! How dreadful!’ said Eline, observing the commotion with a serene smile.
She was seated next to Betsy in the open landau, facing Henk and Otto. Dirk the coachman had been obliged to halt a moment, but now the long line of vehicles began to move again. Herman, the young groom in pale-grey livery with shiny buttons, sat bolt upright with his arms folded across his chest and his lips pursed in an expression of self-importance.
‘There a
re bound to be lots of people,’ said Betsy. ‘But as it’s in the open air, there will be enough places, so we needn’t fret.’
Not a breath of wind stirred the dense foliage, and after a day of soaring temperatures the gathering dusk brought little relief. The air seemed torpid, leaden. Eline leant back in her seat, looking rather wan from the heat; she spoke little, merely glanced at Otto from time to time through hooded eyes, with a hint of coquettish contentment. Betsy was chatting away to Van Erlevoort, as Henk found little to say. His mind was on other things, such as how much more pleasant it would have been to have stayed at home and taken tea in the garden instead of rushing off to Scheveningen immediately after dinner.
Betsy, however, felt on top of the world, relishing the sultry evening air, the soft padding of her well-appointed landau, which compared so favourably with the other private vehicles, and the sight of Herman sitting ramrod-stiff on the box with the hangings monogrammed in silver. She was pleased with herself, with the luxury that she had occasion to display, and with the company she was seen to be keeping. Eline was looking as pretty as a picture in a stylishly simple ensemble in a pale shade of pewter, her face framed by a refined little bonnet tied with a flutter of silk ribbon. And Van Erlevoort was a fine-looking fellow, a man of distinction. As for Henk, he looked comfortably expansive and sleek … no indeed, her husband was not really so bad, she could have done a lot worse for herself.
When Dirk overtook another vehicle of their acquaintance, Betsy acknowledged the occupants with her most winning smile, since she did not wish to appear to be gloating at the speed of her handsome bays.
‘Oh, lovely! It’s cooling down, I’m beginning to feel quite revived,’ murmured Eline. She took a deep breath and sat up as they came to the end of the Promenade. ‘Just what I needed: some fresh air after the appalling heat we had this afternoon.’
‘Nonsense, Elly, it was delightful!’ countered Betsy. ‘In fact I wish we had such warm weather all the time.’
‘Well, it would kill me after a few weeks! Oh, Otto, you’re laughing, but I’m serious, the heat makes me quite ill. Don’t you believe me?’
‘But Elly, of course I believe you!’
She shook her head, giving him a look of mock reproof.
‘You called me Elly again,’ she whispered.
‘So I did; how silly of me. Ah, I’ve just had an idea,’ he whispered back happily.
‘What are you two conspiring about?’ Henk demanded.
‘Oh, nothing. Just a little secret between Otto and me … shh,’ she said, putting her finger to her lips, delighting in their curiosity.
For she had asked Otto not to call her by the familiar name everyone used. She wanted him to invent a special name for her, a name that only he would use, one that was not worn and stale – he did not think it childish of her, did he? He had exhausted himself trying to come up with a suitable pet name, but she was never satisfied and kept telling him to think again. And now he appeared to have found something.
‘I’m dying to know,’ she whispered, smiling.
‘Later,’ he mouthed, returning her smile.
‘Until now I didn’t find you half as tiresome as most engaged girls, and I wish you’d stop mumbling like that, it’s very boring!’ Betsy cried out with mild indignation.
‘Well, you were no better with Henk in the old days!’ riposted Eline. ‘Was she, Henk?’
‘No, I don’t believe she was!’ chuckled Henk. Eline felt a pang: the thought of her sister’s engagement several years since brought back long-buried moments of a certain heartache she had felt at the time. It all seemed so very long ago, yet she was perturbed.
But they had long since left Badhuisweg behind, they had passed the Gallery, they had rolled round to the rear of the Kurhaus, and now they were coming to a halt at the steps leading to the terrace overlooking the sea.
…
Betsy, Eline and Otto passed one by one through the turnstile, while Henk, who had the tickets, brought up the rear. They did not see the Eekhofs and the Hijdrechts, who were seated at one of the tables near the bandstand, and walked on. Otto’s hand was touching Eline’s arm.
‘Look, there go the Van Raats, and Miss Vere with Van Erlevoort!’ said young Hijdrecht. ‘They’ve been coming here every evening lately.’
‘What an absurdly plain dress Eline is wearing!’ said Léonie. ‘I wonder who she’s trying to impress … and that hat with the veil! All the girls nowadays seem to think they should have a hat with a veil as soon as they get engaged. It’s preposterous!’
‘Still, they make a fine couple, don’t they?’ opined Madame Eekhof. ‘And it’s a splendid match.’
‘At least they aren’t making a spectacle of themselves the way some engaged couples do,’ said Ange. ‘Not like Marguerite van Laren, for instance, for ever flicking invisible dust off her fiancé’s lapels. Remember how we laughed the other day, Hijdrecht?’
Betsy, bobbing and smiling left and right as they picked their way through the multitude, said they ought to find a table soon or they would all be taken.
Fortunately it was pleasant everywhere – it was even preferable to sit at some distance from the bandstand because of the noise – so they made their way to the section adjoining the Conversation Room, which was still largely unoccupied. They chose a table at the front, where they could see and be seen by everyone strolling past.
Amid the continuous exchange of little nods and waves of the hand, Betsy and Eline exchanged whispered comments about the risible toilettes and extravagant hats passing by. Eline herself was very satisfied with the unadorned style of dress she had taken to wearing since her engagement, a sophisticated kind of simplicity, so much smarter than her former, more lavish attire, and different enough to attract notice. Simple, well-cut gowns flattered her slim figure and made her feel statuesque, and besides, they gave her an unwonted air of seriousness and modesty, which Otto, being by nature a lover of simplicity rather than ostentation, was bound to find attractive.
This was the person she now was; she knew it was difficult for her simply to be herself, it was easier to slip into a role to suit her mood, and now her role was that of the somewhat mannered but ever alluring and overjoyed fiancée of a suitable young man, someone from her own set, who was generally liked for his agreeable humour and lack of affectation. And overjoyed – that she was, for her heart’s prayer for happiness was being answered – she exulted in the peace bestowed on her by his great, calm love, which she sensed rather than comprehended; she was happy in the blue stillness of that lagoon, that Nirvana, into which her fantasy-ridden soul had slipped as into a bed of eiderdown; she felt so suffused with joy that her nervous tension relaxed, and quite often, to her own surprise, found herself with tears in her eyes out of sheer gratitude.
The stream of promenaders was without end, and she felt quite dazed.
‘Eline, what’s the matter with you? Look, there’s Madame van der Stoor, and little Cateau, too!’ hissed Betsy.
Eline focused her eyes and nodded her head in greeting, as disarmingly as she was able. Then she saw Vincent Vere and Paul van Raat, who were coming towards their table. They remained standing, leaning on their canes, as there were no vacant chairs in the vicinity.
‘Would you two care to sit down a moment – that is, if Eline would care to take a turn with me?’ asked Otto, half-rising.
Eline thought it an excellent idea, and while Vincent and Paul sat down with Henk and Betsy, she and Otto joined the meandering flow. They were approaching the bandstand, around which a semicircle of avid listeners had gathered, and they heard the crystal-clear high notes of the Lohengrin overture swelling from the violins while the conductor, standing with his back to them, controlled the rise and fall of the music with waves of his baton. When Otto guided Eline to the narrow aisle between the occupied chairs and the music lovers, she held back, whispering:
‘Let’s stop and listen for a while, shall we?’
He gave a nod of assent, and the
y halted. In her tranquil frame of mind she rejoiced in the grand swell of melody. It seemed to her that she was being engulfed, not by the music so much as by the still blue waters of her lagoon, limpid and clear as the river upon which Lohengrin’s craft glided forth, and she saw majestic, beautiful swans …
At the loudest fortissimo she took a deep breath, and when the glass filaments drawn by the violins spun themselves out, thinner and thinner, the majestic swans, too, glided away.
There was a burst of applause; the semicircle of listeners dissolved.
‘Lovely … that was so lovely!’ murmured Eline as in a dream, feeling Otto’s hand searching for her arm. Oh, life was sweet indeed …
‘It’s very strange, you know. I always feel so much better for listening to a beautiful piece of music; it gives me the feeling that I might not be completely unworthy of you after all,’ she murmured, putting her lips close to his ear so that no one would hear. ‘It’s silly of me, I suppose, but I can’t help it.’
She smiled at him uncertainly, in suspense for his answer. She often felt a little uncertain, as though she might lose him by a single ill-advised word, for she had not yet fathomed how much he loved her, nor why.
‘Oh, you mustn’t put me on a pedestal,’ he said gently, lowering his voice as he spoke, so that their conversation seemed merely to hover in the air separating them. ‘I’m a perfectly ordinary chap, not a jot better than anyone else, and you ought not to place yourself beneath me. You, unworthy of me! The very idea! Why, I believe you don’t know yourself very well at all.’
Could he be right? Did she not know herself? The possibility surprised and delighted her, for she had always thought she knew herself very well. Could there really be some hidden corner of her soul that she knew nothing about, some secret wellspring of devotion to him? Would he teach her to know herself?
‘Oh, Otto!’ she began.
‘What?’ he asked softly.
‘Nothing, it’s just that I love you so much when you talk about us in that way,’ she murmured, filled with an exaltation for which she had no words. She felt the gentle touch of his hand on her arm, and a little tremor passed through her as they made their way among the jostling, laughing crowd, eagerly observed from the tables by their acquaintances and those who knew them by sight.
Eline Vere Page 20