The Hasty Marriage

by Betty Neels

  The hotel was imposing, its wide drive and fountains clearly visible from the road, its elaborate towers and balconies looming behind them. It was a little sad, reflected Laura, that the first occasion upon which they were visiting it should be to dine with Joyce and Larry, for she remembered very clearly Reilof telling her about it, and adding at the same time that he would take her there when they were living in Holland.

  But that had been when they had been on holiday in Dorset—they had been friends then. They had become friends again, or so she had begun to think, and now Joyce had appeared out of the blue to rekindle Reilof’s love. Godfather had called it infatuation, but she didn’t believe that any more. She got out of the car without looking at him and sailed into the hotel, her head high, and for all her ordinary little face and mousy hair, several people turned to look at her.

  In bed, hours later, she reviewed the evening minute by minute. On the surface at least, it had been a delightful evening. Larry had turned out to be a youngish man, short and inclined to plumpness and wearing heavy glasses. That he was a man of substance was obvious from the diamond in his ring and the pearl studs in his shirt front, and as if these were not enough he made a point of telling them the value of his houses, the number of cars he owned and the many details of the steam yacht he used each autumn. Laura showed the appropriate interest, and listened to Reilof saying all the right things to Joyce while she studied her sister. She looked stunning in a blue dress the colour of her eyes; it showed off to advantage the diamonds she was wearing and made her hair more golden than ever. A man would have to be made of stone not to admire her; a reflection which hadn’t helped at all because Reilof was flesh and blood like anyone else, and when she stole a look at him, it was to see his dark gaze riveted on Joyce.

  The meal had been long and elaborate and Larry had fussed over the wine. He fussed over Joyce too, asking Laura’s opinion of the diamond ring he had brought back with him from the Hague. He harped too much on his wealth, and yet she had the suspicion that Reilof had a good deal more money than Larry. She dismissed this as unimportant, for Reilof would have been just the same man without a cent in his pocket. For her at least. Inevitably her thoughts returned to him. He had behaved with his usual charm and courtesy, the perfect guest, ready with small talk, a good listener, attentive to Joyce and herself. There was no fault to find.

  Laura punched her pillows into comfort for the tenth time. Whatever his feelings were for Joyce—and hadn’t Joyce told her?—he had concealed them admirably. She slept at last, haunted by dreams in which he and Joyce wove their way through a series of improbable events, always leaving her desolate and alone, watching them from a distance.

  But with the morning her common sense reasserted itself. Silly dreams weren’t going to deter her from her usual calm manner; she went downstairs to breakfast, wished Reilof a cheerful good morning, commented suitably upon the weather, poured his coffee, gave Lucky and Hovis each a piece of toast and immersed herself in her post when she saw that the doctor was frowning over his own letters. But presently he laid them aside and remarked with the air of a man who felt inclined for a pleasant chat, ‘A delightful evening, wasn’t it? I’ve always liked that hotel. I thought Joyce was looking quite lovely—if it were possible one might say that marriage had improved her looks.’

  Laura looked up from a letter from her father; apparently her own marriage hadn’t done much for her own appearance. ‘Oh, yes—she did look super, didn’t she? I’m so glad she’s happy.’ She paused, for it was delicate conversational ground; she wondered how he could bear to talk about Joyce at all.

  His dark eyes rested on her thoughtfully. ‘You believe that she’s quite content? She gave me to understand that she had some regrets—Larry goes away a good deal, I believe, two or three days at a time…’

  ‘So do you,’ Laura reminded him with some asperity. She hadn’t meant to say that, but the words had popped out before she could stop them, and it was an effort to meet his eyes across the table. He looked neither surprised nor angry, indeed there was the beginnings of a smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

  ‘That’s true,’ he observed mildly, ‘but hardly a fair comparison.’ He gathered up his letters and got to his feet. ‘I shall be at my consulting rooms for most of the day,’ he told her. ‘Will you be in for lunch?’

  ‘Yes.’ She tried hard not to sound too pleased.

  ‘Good—I shall try and come home. I’ve a number of patients this afternoon, but I’ll be home about teatime. Uncle Wim’s coming to dinner, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, and Barones van Dielle te Appel.’

  ‘Oh, lord, I’d forgotten.’ He was on his way to the door when he turned back to stand beside her chair. ‘Laura, are you happy?’

  The question was as sudden as it was unexpected, and she could only gape at him. ‘Happy?’ she repeated stupidly. ‘I—I…yes, at least I…yes, thank you, Reilof.’ She was aware that it was a poor reply, anyone quicker-witted would have seized the opportunity…but her wits were addled. She heard her voice, wooden and polite and quite unconvincing. He stood looking down at her, saying nothing, waiting for her to say something else, and when she didn’t he said, ‘Laura…’ thought better of it, and went out of the room, leaving her to sit there thinking of all the clever replies she could have made and hadn’t.

  Presently she got up and went along to the kitchen to discuss lunch with Truus—a salad, because Reilof liked them, and some of the little chicken patties which Truus made so well, and to follow a bowl of fruit—there were nectarines and peaches and grapes in the hothouse at the bottom of the garden, but she would have to go out and get pears and apples.

  The little errand did her good; it was so normal to set out with her shopping basket over her arm, and drive herself into Baarn and practise her bad Dutch on the obliging tradespeople. It was a lovely morning too, and still early, and she didn’t hurry. Her purchases made, she drove back home, wondering if she should telephone Joyce. She had said during dinner the previous evening that she might go with Larry after all, but Laura hadn’t been too sure of that; she could have changed her mind—they might go round the shops together and she could take Joyce back home for lunch. Would Reilof be pleased? she wondered. But wasn’t that the modern civilised way of dealing with the situation?

  She was still trying to decide what to do when she arrived back, and leaving the car at the door she let herself into the cool, dim hall. She was almost at the door leading to the kitchen when the telephone rang. She put down her basket, called to Piet that she would answer it, and went along to the sitting room.

  It was Reilof, and although her heart had rushed into her throat at the sound of his voice she made herself answer his hullo calmly. But he didn’t speak for several moments and she rushed into speech. ‘Have you left something behind? Do you want me…?’

  He cut her short then, and said curtly, ‘Something has turned up, Laura—I shan’t be home for lunch, probably not for tea either. I’ll do my best to get home for dinner.’ He sounded hurried and preoccupied.

  ‘What’s happened? Where are you going?’ she asked urgently.

  ‘Not now, Laura.’ He hung up and she replaced the receiver slowly.

  ‘He could have said goodbye,’ she muttered, fighting disappointment and a faint apprehension; surely he could have told her and set her mind at rest. She had been a fool not to ask from where he was telephoning. She frowned, remembering a background of voices while she talked. Not a hospital ward and not his consulting rooms—more like a hotel…

  She had been on her way out of the room, now she flew back to the telephone. When the clerk at the reception desk at the Hoog Vuursche Hotel answered she asked for her sister. There was no reply from her rooms, she was told, and who was calling?

  ‘Her sister, Mevrouw van Meerum,’ stated Laura, and added mendaciously: ‘I was expecting her. I wondered why she hadn’t arrived.’

  The voice was eager to oblige. ‘Her sister? In that case I can
tell you, Mevrouw, that Mrs Eldridge went out about ten minutes ago.’

  ‘Not by herself?’ queried Laura, and waited with miserable certainty for the answer.

  ‘You have no need to worry, mevrouw, she was fetched by Doctor van Meerum. I spoke to him myself.’

  Laura drew a steadying breath. ‘Oh, good,’ she managed in a quite normal voice, ‘they should be here at any moment. Thank you.’

  She put the receiver back and went slowly upstairs, where she walked about, going from room to room in an aimless fashion and then wandering downstairs again. Presently, she told herself, she would be able to sit still and think sensibly, but in the meantime she couldn’t stay still. She whistled to Lucky and Hovis, snoozing in their baskets, and went into the garden, where she would probably have stayed for the rest of the morning, mooning around, if Piet hadn’t come to tell her that Jan de Mijhof had called and might he join her in the garden?

  She hadn’t seen Jan for some days, for she had been careful to avoid his company, something which she told herself was ridiculous. But Reilof had seemed strangely annoyed about her outing with Jan, and although she hadn’t felt free to tell him her reasons for going she saw no reason in vexing him still further. But now she didn’t think about that; here was a friend, someone with whom she could while away half an hour while she pulled herself together. She crossed the lawn to meet him, forgetful of her pinched, unhappy face, smiling her pleasure.

  ‘Jan—how nice, now you can have coffee with me. I don’t seem to have seen you for a few days.’

  He took her hand and shook it, smiling at her although his kind eyes missed nothing of her wan looks. ‘I’d love some coffee, although I really came to see if Reilof was here. His secretary told me that he has cancelled everything for today; she passed on some of his patients to me…I thought he might be here, playing truant in your company.’

  She shook her head and pinned a smile on to a mouth which shook a little despite her best efforts. ‘He’s not here. He telephoned a little while ago to say that he didn’t expect to be home for lunch or tea…’

  ‘Gone off with a girl-friend,’ said Jan laughingly, and stopped short at the look on her face. ‘Sorry,’ he said quickly, ‘I make these silly jokes—I need a wife to make me toe the line.’ He didn’t look at her again but tucked an arm in hers and strolled back to the house. ‘Actually, I hadn’t intended to tell you yet, although you would have been the first to know for you were so kind and understanding. Ella has promised to marry me—on my terms.’

  Laura stood still. ‘How super—Jan, what splendid news! I am glad. I know you’ll both be very happy, she’s such a dear girl and so gay and pretty. When do you plan to marry?’

  ‘Just as soon as it can be arranged.’ They were in the little sitting room by now and she saw that Piet had already brought in the coffee tray. She busied herself pouring it, waving him to a chair opposite her own and handed him his cup.

  He took it from her, hesitated and said diffidently: ‘I haven’t mentioned it before, Laura, but I had the idea that Reilof was annoyed because you went to Utrecht with me. He said nothing to me, but I hope he wasn’t vexed with you? Did you tell him about Ella?’ He smiled broadly at her. ‘He would be amused that you should play the part of fairy godmother, I think.’

  She ignored most of this and said lightly, ‘You asked me to say nothing, so I didn’t—it didn’t matter in the least,’ and as if she knew that wasn’t quite enough explanation: ‘He’s been frightfully busy.’

  Her companion gave her a quick glance. ‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ He set down his coffee cup. ‘Ella and I would like you both to come out to dinner with us, but before that I should like to talk to Reilof about this house he offered me.’ He stood up. ‘You will forgive me if I go? I have quite a number of patients to visit after lunch and work to do first. I’ll telephone Reilof later.’

  Laura said all the right things, went with him to the door and watched him drive away; Jan was a dear and a good friend to them both, which made it impossible to confide in him and ask his advice, but at least she could tell Reilof now why she had gone to Utrecht… She remembered suddenly that it really didn’t matter now; what hope had she of improving their relationship now that Joyce had come dancing back into his life? She sighed, went to tell Truus that she wouldn’t be in to lunch as the doctor was prevented from coming home, and with Lucky and Hovis at her heels, she set off for a walk in the woods.

  The day crawled by and there was no message. By tea time she was both furiously angry and frightened too. That Reilof was spending the day with Joyce she had no doubt; had she not had proof of that from the hotel? But surely he would come back. Whatever his feelings towards her were, he would, for the time being at least, present an unruffled front to his friends and especially his guests that evening.

  But it seemed she was wrong. She went up to change her dress and returned to the drawing room to wait for him. Their guests had been bidden for eight o’clock; at five minutes to the hour she poured herself a glass of sherry, drank it very fast and went to warn Truus that they might have to start dinner without the doctor. And at eight o’clock exactly Uncle Wim and Barones van Dielle ter Appel arrived. Laura greeted them with composure, explained that Reilof had been detained and sent his excuses, and fortified by a second glass of sherry with her guests, made bright conversation until Piet came to tell her that dinner was served. They had reached the sweet and Laura was ready to drop from her efforts to keep the Barones suitably amused and her godfather from making awkward observations, when Reilof came in.

  He was wearing the dark grey suit he had been wearing when he left the house that morning, and although he was immaculate as he always was, he looked preoccupied, but he greeted his guests with his usual charm and good manners, made his apologies for being late and dropped a brief kiss on her cheek before going to his own chair opposite her. He refused her offer to ask Truus to send up his dinner, saying that he had very little appetite and would eat whatever they were having. So she served him some of Truus’s trifle which he hardly touched, and then suggested in her pleasant voice that they should all go to the drawing room for their coffee. But although she appeared composed now that Reilof was home again, she found that she was so angry with him that she could barely contain her rage. The moment their guests had gone, she would say her say, she promised herself as she embarked in her ramshackle Dutch on the recipe for trifle which the Barones had asked for.

  At any other time she would have been delighted to receive such a signal honour from the fierce old lady, but now she didn’t care in the least. She was all the more astonished, therefore, that the Barones should sweep her on one side as she was on the point of leaving and murmur, ‘You are worried, child, although you conceal it well—one day you will be as good a hostess as I am, and that is saying a great deal. It is a pity that I do not know you well enough for you to confide in me; let us hope that by the time we are on such a friendly footing as that, there will be no need for you to wish to do so.’

  She bent her stately head, and Laura, very surprised, kissed the elderly cheek.

  Reilof shut the house door behind him and she stood irresolute, not sure whether to speak to him now or wait until he had gone to his study as he always did each evening. The urge to burst into speech was great, but she was sure that she would lose her temper and maybe shout at him, too. Piet and Truus were in the kitchen and weren’t likely to hear, but one of the maids might come into the hall for some reason or other. She decided to compromise and ask him to go with her into the small sitting room, and was on the point of suggesting this when he said quietly: ‘And what did you do with your day, Laura?’

  She was so annoyed of being stymied at the last moment that she snapped, ‘Nothing,’ before she had stopped to think.

  ‘Jan was here?’ His voice had become very silky.

  ‘Oh, yes—I quite forgot…’

  ‘How convenient. I had thought, although I had said nothing to you on the subject, that you
had understood how I felt about you spending the day with Jan.’

  Her voice spiralled. The entire household could have come into the hall as audience and she wouldn’t have cared. ‘Perhaps you would explain?’

  ‘Certainly,’ the silkiness was still there. ‘You are my wife and as such I expect you to conform to certain standards. Jan is my junior partner and a friend of some years’ standing, and he is also younger than yourself and he seems to find you attractive.’ Laura watched his mouth curve downwards, as though he found this quite beyond his understanding. ‘I have always considered you a sensible woman, but it seems as though you have allowed his admiration to go to your head. We are, I should remind you, recently married…’

  His words bit into her mind like acid into silk; she wanted to explain about Jan and Ella, but why should she if that was what he thought, and how dared he… She said in a shaky voice, ‘Don’t be pompous! And where have you been all day, and who with?’ She drew a difficult breath. ‘I telephoned the hotel this morning—I wanted to speak to Joyce. They—they told me that she had gone out with you…’ She gulped another breath, her anger nicely alight. ‘And since you mention it, you don’t seem above being attracted yourself, do you? Of all the nonsense…talk about the pot calling the kettle black…!’ She raised her voice and said very clearly: ‘If I had a pot I’d throw it at you this very minute!’ Having delivered this muddled speech she flung round and raced upstairs, banged her door shut and fell on to the bed. She never wanted to see Reilof again, she told herself, and after a good burst of tears, she spent the next hour wondering just what she would say to him when she saw him in the morning.

  As it turned out, she need not have spent the best part of the night cudgelling her brain, for she fell asleep as it began to grow light and woke late. By the time she got down to breakfast, Reilof had gone, leaving a brief note for her; he would probably be away for several days, it told her; anything urgent was to be passed on to his secretary. He hoped that on his return they might have a talk, as there were several matters to be cleared up between them.