The Doubtful Marriage

by Betty Neels

  ‘So it is, more or less, miss. I asked the doctor, very respectful, if he was thinking of marrying and he said, “Well, no, Mrs Cribbs, I can’t say that I am at the moment, but it’s as well to be ready, isn’t it?” I dare say he’s got some young lady in mind— Dutch, maybe?’

  There was a small staircase leading to the floor above. ‘Our flat,’ explained Mrs Cribbs proudly. ‘Me and Cribbs live here all the year round, caretaking as it were, seeing that everything is ready when the doctor comes—sometimes at a few hours’ notice. Me and Cribbs are very happy here; we wouldn’t work for anyone else but the doctor; a right good man he is.’

  Emma echoed these sentiments later when she brought Matilda’s lunch to the dining-room. When Matilda protested that she could quite well eat her meals in the kitchen with everyone else she was treated to a pained silence, followed by a brief homily from her old friend on the subject of knowing her place in the world and doing exactly what the doctor ordered. ‘And that was that you was to have yer meals here or in the bedroom. And quite right, too.’

  Matilda agreed meekly. It seemed a bit silly to her but presumably he had a reason for it and it was obvious that Emma had no intention of doing differently. She was more tired than she realised; it didn’t take much persuasion on Emma’s part for her to get on to her bed and snooze until teatime. After tea there was television to watch and the papers to read and a whole shelf of books to examine. She went happily to bed and had her supper on a tray, feeling a fraud but unable to deny that she was tired out.

  She did better the next day. It was still cold outside and Emma wouldn’t let her go out but there was plenty to do indoors. There was a small grand piano in the drawing-room, a vast apartment on a half-landing at the back of the hall which Matilda had found rather overpowering when she had been shown it by Mrs Cribbs, but, once inside, sitting at the piano, playing a little of this and that, she began to like the room. True, it was a bit splendid for her taste, but she supposed that if one had guests it would be a splendid background for party clothes; and there was a magnificent fireplace—Adam she thought, but she wasn’t quite sure. While she was playing, Cribbs came in and put a match to the logs. She protested at that but he assured her gravely that the room was a good deal more pleasant with a fire burning. ‘And the fire is always lighted when the room is occupied, miss.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have come, why didn’t someone tell me? I’m sorry, Cribbs.’

  He looked shocked. ‘The doctor said that you were to regard the house as your home, miss, and if I might say so it is a pleasure to have you with us.’

  So Matilda spent the afternoon remembering odd snatches of music and enjoying every minute of it, and from time to time she got up and wandered round the room, looking at the portraits on the walls. The doctor must have had a vast number of ancestors, all rather stern, she decided. She preferred the landscapes and a group of delightful miniatures, ladies with smooth oval faces and ringlets, and one or two children’s heads, too angelic to be true.

  She had her tea and went back to the piano, her hands idling over the keys. It would be nice to see the doctor again, if only to thank him for his hospitality and bid him goodbye. She and Emma could go to a small hotel while she did a round of the agencies and got a job at one of the hospitals. She had some money, enough to keep them for a few weeks. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would plan something so that when the doctor returned she would have a definite plan for her future. The thought unsettled her so she began another tour of the room, taking a second look at the paintings on its walls. One particular canvas was well worth another look: a group of a family with a stern-faced gentleman in its centre, a mid-Victorian from his dress, his hand on the back of the chair upon which his wife sat, a very pretty young woman in the lavish satins of that period, and presumably happy from the beaming smile upon her face. They were surrounded by children of various ages and a dog or two.

  ‘You all look happy enough; I suppose Papa wasn’t as stern as he looks,’ observed Matilda to the empty room.

  Only it wasn’t empty. Rauwerd van Kempler said, with the hint of a laugh, ‘My great-great-grandfather, an eminent physician of his day, a devoted husband and a doting father. Great-great-grandmother was English; so for that matter is my grandmother.’

  He stood there, smiling at her. ‘You’re better. Have you been bored?’

  ‘Not in the least, thank you. I—I hope you don’t mind; I’ve been playing the piano. I didn’t know that you were coming back today.’

  ‘Oh, I come and go,’ he told her airily.

  ‘Vienna, Emma said…’

  The blue eyes stared down at her. ‘Very wintry there.’

  For some reason she felt vexed with him. She said austerely, ‘I’m glad you’re back Dr van Kempler. I am quite well again.’ She drew a breath and embarked on the thank you speech she had thought over. ‘I’m very grateful for your hospitality, it was very kind of you. I know you were Uncle Thomas’s friend—I expect any friend would do the same…’

  ‘Possibly. I must confess to having other reasons as well as that of a remembered friendship.’

  She prided herself on her common sense. She said matter-of-factly, ‘Oh, I expect you know of a job for me. I must confess that I’d hate to go back to that place, though I’m sorry for the old ladies.’

  ‘There will be changes made; they will, I hope, have a much happier life. No, I don’t know of a job for you, Matilda.’ He strolled over to the fireplace and kicked a log into place, then turned to face her.

  ‘I should like us to be married, and before you say anything, perhaps you will listen to me.’

  He need not have said that; she was bereft of words. He studied her astonished face for a moment. ‘You don’t dislike me?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Good, I am thirty-four, Matilda, I have a good practice with three partners, I travel a good deal, lecturing, examining, sitting on boards. I have a home in Holland and this house inherited from my grandmother. I have no financial worries, many friends and a busy life. I have for some time considered taking a wife—perhaps now that I am older I have a wish to come home to someone at the end of the day. I think that you might be that someone. I shall not insult your intelligence by saying that I love you. I have been in love—what man hasn’t at my age?—but never loved, and there is a difference. I’m not in love with you, either. I like you enormously, I admire you, I enjoy your company, I believe that you will fit into my life-style and that I can make you happy, but I’m not prepared for any romance—we can have a working relationship and, I hope, a sound friendship. Perhaps later we can live as man and wife, but only if and when we both want that.’ He smiled slowly. ‘I’ve surprised you, but you’re a sensible girl; think about it and let me know some time.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have to go out. I’m free tomorrow afternoon. Shall we go for a walk and talk about it?’

  Matilda said slowly, ‘I really don’t know…’

  He said briskly, ‘Of course you don’t. You’ve not had time to think about it, have you?’ He crossed the room and put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek gently. ‘Till tomorrow, Matilda.’

  She stood without moving after he had gone. He had called her a sensible girl; she only hoped that her senses would return to her in time for her to give him his answer on the following day. A refusal politely put.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CONTRARY to her expectations, Matilda slept well and got up the next morning already composing a graceful refusal to the doctor’s astonishing offer. She added to it, altered it, scrapped the whole thing and made up a new one before the day was half over. She had it off by heart by teatime and then forgot the whole thing when he walked into the drawing-room where she was curled up by the fire half asleep.

  His hello was genial as he sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace. ‘A little late for a walk, but we can talk here.’

  She was struggling to remember the bare bones of what she had
intended to say. ‘There’s really nothing to talk about,’ she managed.

  He chose to misunderstand her. ‘Oh, good, I knew you’d be sensible.’

  ‘I’m not being sensible,’ she snapped. ‘I really don’t wish to marry you. It’s—it’s a preposterous idea; it couldn’t possibly work…’

  He settled back more comfortably into his chair. ‘No? Tell me why not?’

  The arguments she had marshalled all day so carefully melted away. She mumbled crossly, ‘Well, I thought of a great many reasons.’

  ‘All of them either romantic or illogical.’ He smiled suddenly and she only just stopped herself in time from smiling back. ‘Oh, they are real enough, but they hardly apply, do they? I’m not offering romance and all my reasons for marrying you are logical, aren’t they?’ He paused. ‘Matilda, I wouldn’t have proposed to you if I hadn’t been certain that we could live together amicably.’

  She said a little wildly. ‘I want to marry for love.’

  ‘I imagine that we all do. But love isn’t always a flash of lightning; it can grow slowly from friendship and respect and regard.’ He smiled again very kindly. ‘Tell me, Matilda, did you—do you—love Leslie Waring?’

  His voice was as kind as his smile and she paused to think so that she could give him an honest answer. ‘Well, no—I sort of slipped into thinking that I did, if you see what I mean. We got on well and didn’t quarrel and it would have been so nice for Uncle Thomas, and Mrs Waring seemed to like me.’

  ‘None of them, if I might say so, good reasons for marrying.’

  She said with a sudden flare of anger, ‘Well, you tell me what they should be.’

  ‘We will make an exception of love; that is a bonus in a happy marriage. Liking, respect, a shared interest in similar things, a similar background, an ability to laugh together and at each other, loyalty—they all add up to a happy marriage, even without your romantic ideas about falling in love—and that, my dear Matilda, isn’t the same thing as loving. One can fall in love and out again—I’m sure we’ve both done that—but to fall in love and to love at the same time is, for those fortunate enough to do it, the crown of life.’

  She eyed him in amazement. ‘My goodness, you’ve given it some thought, haven’t you?’

  ‘Indeed I have.’ His blue eyes gleamed. ‘Logical thought.’ When she didn’t speak, he said, ‘Will you marry me, Matilda? I believe that we may have a pleasant life together, even if unromantic. You will never be bored; I’m a busy man and I shall expect your help in many ways.’ He smiled. ‘Consider the alternatives and think about it. I’ve had a difficult day; I’ll take a nap while you weigh up the pros and cons.’

  He closed his eyes and there was no mistaking the fact that within a couple of minutes he was snoring very gently. Matilda sat and looked at him, thoughts running in all directions like frightened mice running from a cat. She called them to order and sensibly bent her reflections into a serious vein. He had, for him, had a lot to say and there was no doubt that it had been to the point. There had been no protestations of affection, let alone love; on the other hand, she felt certain that as long as she was a good wife he would be a good husband. He had harped on the unromantic aspect and she regretted that, for she was a romantic girl, and to marry a man who regarded her as a good friend and nothing more was lowering to say the least, but he was honest about it, and, she reminded herself, it wasn’t as though she were in love with him. But she liked him…

  ‘Well?’ asked the doctor without opening his eyes.

  Of all the strange proposals, she thought pettishly and said coldly, ‘I have a great many questions before I can even consider an answer.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Where would we live? What is to happen to Emma? Are you C of E? Do you have a family? Would you wish me to go on working after we are married?’

  He raised a large, well-kept hand. ‘Shall we deal with these first? I live in Leiden—there is a medical school there—in an old house with a quite nice garden. The town is old and charming and there is a good deal of social life. I have a wide circle of friends; they will be your friends, too. Emma, if she will, can make her home with us. I have a housekeeper who will be glad of help and the companionship of someone of her own age. Yes, I am the Dutch equivalent of C of E. My mother and father live near Hilversum, not too far away, and I have three sisters and two brothers. I’m the eldest. And, lastly, I most definitely do not wish you to continue working after we are married.’

  ‘I haven’t said…’ began Matilda.

  ‘I am merely answering your questions, Matilda,’ he told her smoothly.

  She brooded for a moment on the alternatives life had to offer. A job at some hospital—the best she could hope for was a Staff Nurse’s post while she caught up with modern methods and new drugs. A small flat with Emma to share it, enough money to live on, but only just, and the chance that she might meet someone who would want to marry her; not a very big chance, for she was, under her calm front, a shy girl and she had got out of the way of accepting the invitations of housemen because there was always Leslie. Besides, she had to admit to being a bit strait-laced, due no doubt to living with Uncle Thomas and Leslie’s easy-going attitude; he had known her for years and any glamour in the relationship had long been rubbed off.

  She drew a deep breath. ‘All right, I’ll marry you!’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do. If I were really honest I’d say no and find work and make a success of it, but if I marry you I’ll do my best to be a good wife, only I do think you’re getting the worst of the bargain.’

  ‘Allow me to be the best judge of that, Matilda. Now, are we to settle on some plans for our marriage? Supposing we marry by special licence? Somewhere quiet—I’ll make the arrangements if you agree to that. We can leave for Holland after the wedding. Have you any family you would like to have with you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, Uncle Thomas was all I had.’

  ‘Then shall we ask the rector to give you away? He was a friend of your uncle’s, wasn’t he?’ He went on easily, ‘I expect you want to buy clothes, and then it might be a good idea if you and Emma spent a few days with her sister at Southend. I’ll be going to Manchester tomorrow for several days and if you feel up to it you could do your shopping. When I get back I’ll drive you both down to Southend—the sea air will do you good.’

  ‘For how long?’ She felt that she was being rushed along towards a future she had hardly had time to contemplate.

  ‘Oh, until a couple of days before the wedding. I shall be in Holland until then. My mother and father will want to come over to meet you; I think you will like them.’

  He saw her rather blank look and added kindly, ‘I’m rushing you along, aren’t I? But there is really no point in waiting, is there? Do you suppose Emma will agree to come to Holland?’

  ‘I think so; she hasn’t anywhere to go here. My cousin only kept her because he was afraid of what people might say—she worked for Uncle Thomas for years and I don’t think she ever expected to leave him.’

  ‘Well, you talk to her, my dear. If she did dislike the idea we could find her a small flat near her sister and pension her off, but I think she’ll want to stay with you.’

  He got up and strolled across to the drinks set out on the sofa table. ‘Will you have a sherry or do you prefer something else?’

  He poured her drink and gave it to her. ‘Have you enough money to buy all you need?’ He sounded so matter-of-fact that she answered without hesitation, ‘I think so, thank you. Uncle left me a little money—enough to get some clothes and something for Emma.’ She added reflectively, ‘It won’t be a dressy affair, will it, our wedding?’

  ‘Er, no, and you can get anything else you want when we get to Holland.’

  She supposed that if they had been an ordinary couple, marrying for love and perfectly at ease with each other, they could have discussed little problems concerning money and what they would live on, but beyond the vague n
otion that the doctor appeared to be in comfortable circumstances she hadn’t a clue as to his life and didn’t like to ask.

  He watched her, aware of her thoughts and smiling a little. ‘I shouldn’t worry, Tilly,’ he said quietly, ‘we shall have plenty of time to discuss things later on—leave everything to me.’

  Something she was only too glad to do.

  She woke up the next morning to find Emma there with her early morning tea and the doctor leaning over the foot of the bed, watching her. His ‘good morning’ was genial and brisk. ‘I’m just off,’ he told her. ‘I’ve fixed things with Emma’s sister—Emma will tell you presently. Cribbs will drive you down in a couple of days; I won’t be back. Take a taxi to the shops and back again and please don’t overdo things.’

  Matilda peered at him through her wealth of hair. ‘Shan’t I see you before you go to Holland?’

  ‘It rather depends.’ He didn’t say on what. ‘I’ll keep in touch.’

  He came round the bed and bent and kissed her cheek and was gone, leaving her indignant. ‘Well, I never did!’ she said explosively to Emma. ‘Arranging everything like that without saying a word. I’ve a good mind to…’

  ‘Now, now, Miss Tilly,’ said Emma placidly. ‘No need to get worked up. You be glad that you’re marrying a man who sees to everything for yer comfort. Proper gent, ’e is.’ She trotted to the door. ‘You drink your tea and after breakfast we’ll do that shopping. Termorrer, too; I must have a new ’at.’

  Matilda hopped out of bed and looked out of the window. The garden, rather bleak in the wintry morning, was empty. ‘Where’s Dickens?’ she asked Emma’s retreating back.

  ‘Gorn with his master—very devoted ’e is. Always lived ’ere with Mr Cribbs but the doctor says ’e’s to go with us when we go to Holland. ’E says ’e won’t be coming over quite so often when ’e’s married.’