Never Too Late

by Neels, Betty

  ‘My parents are dead, my wife was killed in an accident when Sibella was not quite a year old.’ He said very evenly: ‘She found life very dull being married to a doctor; she liked parties and winter sports and having fun. She was young—in her early twenties— we had grown apart. I have lost count of the people who have advised me to marry again, but until I met you there was no one I could be completely easy with. You fit into our lives so well, Prudence, I believe that we could lead a contented life, you and I and Sibella. But perhaps you would become bored after a time.’

  ‘Bored? How could I possibly be? There’s always something to do—Sibella and Henry, and of course you...’ She wasn’t looking at him and missed the amused gleam in his eyes. ‘And there’s Dutch to learn, and your friends, and the shopping.’

  ‘It sounds a little tedious. Life isn’t always as humdrum, though: there’s no reason why you shouldn’t come with me when I go to England, and if you do then of course Sibella can come too, and I travel round quite a bit. Sibella and I ride—I don’t know if you do?’ And when she nodded: ‘I’ll get you a mount, there are some splendid stretches of country not too far away.’ He saw her face and added: ‘Don’t decide now, tell your parents or Nancy if you wish, ask their advice.’

  ‘Suppose I refuse?’

  ‘We’ll go on as we are at present. Sibella is a lot happier than she has been for months, Ork and Sitska like you, my friends like you—for that matter, I like you. I should want you to stay on as—well, what are you? General assistant, Girl Friday, governess—I wouldn’t know.’

  ‘You’ve forgotten the shorthand and the typing,’ Prudence reminded him. ‘And I don’t want to ask anyone’s advice. Funnily enough, the only person whose advice I would take is yours. I’ll sleep on it and tell you in the morning.’

  Benedict nodded, got up and opened the door and when she was in the hall: ‘Ask Ork to take up tea, will you? I’ll be up in a few minutes.’

  Prudence turned to look at him. He was smiling a little, his voice had been casual and placid as though they had nothing more on their minds than some small household problem.

  What was more, neither by word or look did he so much as hint as to their conversation. They had tea, played cars with Sibella, and presently met downstairs before dinner, over which meal they discussed the various types of schooling he had in mind for Sibella. It was all a little frustrating, thought Prudence, going up to bed after a suitable interval, leaving her to decide such an important matter by herself. After all, he would be as involved as she. That this was quite illogical didn’t enter her head, and in any case she was aware in her heart that her mind was already made up. She would marry him; not for love but certainly for liking and because she wanted to live in the lovely old house and share his interests, in the same way as friends shared. He was quite right, falling in love was no great shakes, one only fell out again or got taken for granted, just as Tony had taken her for granted. She would be content and quietly happy, and it would be fun to watch Sibella grow up.

  She undressed and before she got into bed, went along to see that the child was asleep. Sibella was curled into a tight ball in her small bed, and Henry was sprawled untidily across its foot. He opened an eye and wagged his tail, he would go for his run in the garden with Benedict and sleep in his basket at the back of the hall. She kissed Sibella, tweaked Henry’s ear, and padded back to her own room.

  Lying wakeful, she reflected that the expression ‘to sleep on it’ was a load of nonsense. Whoever slept soundly on a problem needed their head examined!

  But it was obvious the next morning that Benedict had no problems. His ‘good morning’ was uttered with calm. The colossal conceit of the man! thought Prudence, suffering from lack of sleep. Her own greeting was on the snappy side and she barely glanced at him, aware at the same time that her bad temper was at variance with the fact that she had made up her mind to marry him. She was halfway through her first cup of coffee when he said: ‘Sibella, will you go to my bedroom and fetch my pocket book? I’ve left it on the tallboy. You’ll have to stand on a chair to reach it, so be careful.’

  Sibella skipped off, they could hear her feet pattering across the hall and running up the staircase. ‘Well?’ asked Benedict. ‘You wanted to sleep on it, but I can see that you’ve been awake for most of the night.’

  ‘Yes, I have.’ She threw him a peevish look.

  ‘Quite unnecessary. I slept soundly.’ He sounded so smug that she could have thrown something at him.

  ‘Not worth thinking about, I suppose,’ and then her ill temper collapsed at his gentle: ‘I had already done all my thinking, Prudence. I had no problem. I’ve asked you to marry me and I hope that you will say yes.’

  Small feet were scampering downstairs. ‘Well, I will,’ said Prudence. There was no time to say more, because Sibella came dancing into the room.

  ‘Just in time for some good news,’ declared her father, and lapsed into Dutch.

  Sibella had been standing by his chair; now she capered round to Prudence and flung herself at her. ‘Nice, very nice! Now you are Mama!’ She leaned up and kissed Prudence, then ran back to her father to fling her arms round his neck.

  He smiled at Prudence over the small head. ‘We must talk, but not now. This evening, I think. Now I must come down to earth and go to work.’ He kissed Sibella and got up and started for the door, but turned back after a few steps, bent over Prudence’s chair and kissed her.

  ‘I’m entitled to do that now, aren’t I?’ he said softly. ‘Tot ziens.’

  Prudence set about her usual morning’s routine. She hadn’t meant to say anything to Benedict until the right moment, certainly not in two minutes flat in the middle of breakfast. But it was done now, and she had to admit that she felt pleasantly elated and just for the time being she was content to busy herself with her chores and let future plans take care of themselves. And since Benedict didn’t come home for lunch there was no need to put any of her thoughts into words. In any case, the thoughts were chaotic and she would have been hard put to it to make herself clear. It was Sibella who did the talking, rattling on in her strange mixture of Dutch and English, making plans for a wedding, Christmas, a holiday next year, as well as stating her wishes about new clothes for these events.

  ‘It’s a bit early,’ protested Prudence.

  ‘You will marry now, this week?’ demanded the little girl.

  ‘Well, no. You see, it takes a little time—papers and things, and I’ll need a dress to be married in...’

  Sibella liked the idea of white satin, a train, an enormous veil and a bunch of bridesmaids. ‘And I will be a bridesmaid,’ she declared.

  ‘No, love—you see, I think we shall have a very quiet wedding, no bridesmaids and just a few people there. I’ll certainly not wear white satin.’ To clinch the argument Prudence added: ‘I’m too old. When you grow up and get married you shall have white satin.’ A red herring which kept Sibella happily occupied for the rest of the afternoon.

  They were just finishing tea when Benedict came in, and Sibella fell upon him at once, arguing hotly in favour of an enormous wedding. He listened patiently, translating for Prudence, and when the small voice had at length petered out:

  ‘Well, if we do all that, it’ll take at least six months to get ready, so Prudence can’t be your mama until next summer.’ He looked at Prudence. ‘But perhaps you would like it that way?’

  She said no so hastily that he smiled, then began to talk to Sibella again. The child listened carefully, then nodded her head. ‘I’ve suggested that there’s an alternative,’ he told Prudence. ‘We’ll go shopping and buy you a splendid dress and give a party for all our friends. When we are married, of course.’

  ‘That sounds fun. You do understand don’t you. I mean me wearing white satin...’

  ‘Yes, of course. We’ll discuss the details later when this bossy boots has gone to bed. How about a game of Snakes and Ladders?’

  It wasn’t until after dinner that
they had a chance to talk. Ork had been given the good news earlier in the day and they had had to suffer his benign glances as he served dinner—a special one, he informed them, by way of celebration.

  ‘And that makes me feel mean,’ observed Benedict. ‘I should have taken you out, shouldn’t I, to celebrate.’ He said something to Ork, who hurried away. ‘I’ve tried to make amends by telling him to get some champagne up from the cellar.’

  ‘I’d rather be here,’ said Prudence, and meant it.

  They had their coffee in the drawing room and Prudence, nicely elevated by champagne, listened to Benedict’s calm voice proposing this and that, and found herself agreeing to all he said. A quiet wedding as soon as possible, and from her home, an announcement to be put in the papers at once, no honeymoon, for the simple reason that he had more work than he could cope with for the next month or so, and lastly her return to Little Amwell.

  ‘I suppose I must go?’ she asked.

  ‘Having you in my employ under my roof is one thing, to harbour you as my fiancee is quite another— yes, you must go. Perhaps we might phone your father presently and ask him to find out the best way to get a special licence. I shouldn’t think it would take more than a few days, in which case you can go home at the end of the week and Sibella and I will come over for the wedding. I must warn you that I’m up to my eyes in work, so we’ll have to come straight back here on the same day.’

  ‘That’s fine. It’ll give me a chance to get some winter clothes. Do we have to have a best man and so on?’

  ‘I’ll bring Everard, and if I may my godmother. I told her today, by the way, and we’re to go to dinner tomorrow evening.’

  ‘I’ve no clothes,’ said Prudence. ‘Some blouses and a skirt are all I bought.’

  He smiled faintly. ‘We’ll take a day together as soon as possible and settle that question. In the meantime I don’t think Mevrouw van der Gulp is going to mind what you wear. You always look very nice.’

  She said uncertainly: ‘You do think we’re doing the right thing, don’t you?’

  His calmness reassured her. ‘Yes, I do. I believe we shall be very content together.’ He was watching her carefully from under lazy lids. ‘You have no regrets about Tony? There’s always the possibility that you will meet again someday.’

  ‘I haven’t thought about him for weeks,’ said Prudence. ‘Isn’t it awful to think that if I hadn’t spoken to you at Nancy’s wedding I might still be waiting to marry him?’ She added with a sudden flash of panic. ‘You don’t think I’m flighty, do you?’

  He answered her gravely. ‘No, Prudence, I don’t. On the contrary, you have a most stabilizing influence on me.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s good.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I’d better go to bed, I expect you’ve got work to do.’

  But as she got to her feet he stood up too. ‘I almost forgot.’ He fished around in his pocket and produced a little box. ‘Your engagement ring. It’s been in the family for a long time and it seems to me that it would suit you.’

  Prudence took the box and opened it. The ring inside was very beautiful, a large diamond set in a cluster of smaller stones, mounted in an old fashioned gold setting.

  ‘It’s magnificent.’ She looked at him. ‘Suppose it doesn’t fit?’

  For answer he took the ring from her and slipped it on her finger. ‘A good omen?’ he suggested, and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Prudence. I’ll see about your tickets tomorrow and we’ll phone your father after breakfast.’

  She stood at her window, looking out on to the garden below for quite some time. It was raining a little and windy, but the house was solid and warm all round her. ‘It’s home,’ she told herself happily; she never wanted to live anywhere else, she was so content. Perhaps to be content was more important than being in love.

  She telephoned her home directly after breakfast, before Benedict left the house. She was answered by her mother. ‘Darling, you’re not ill—is anything the matter? You don’t usually phone...’

  ‘Everything’s fine, Mother. Benedict wants to speak to Father. We’re going to be married.’

  She listened to her mother’s spate of excited questions. ‘Look, love, I’ll phone you later and we’ll have a good gossip, but could you get Father now? Benedict has to leave in a few minutes and he’s very busy.’

  She handed the phone over and sat on the edge of the desk listening to his placid voice asking matter-of-fact questions. Presently he handed the phone back to her. ‘That’s settled,’ he observed. ‘I must go, I expect you’d like a word.’

  He smiled at her and went out of the room. He hadn’t kissed her, but perhaps that was a habit he didn’t intend to make. She must remember not to expect it. She talked to her father, answering his sensible, fatherly questions, arranged to phone later in the day and went to get Sibella ready for school. A day like any other, only she was wearing a ring on her finger.

  She dressed carefully that evening, wishing she had something more elegant in which to visit Mevrouw van der Gulp, but Benedict’s, ‘Very nice,’ as she joined him in the hall did much to restore her ego and the old lady’s kindly, ‘You are just right for Benedict, and so elegant, my dear,’ made her evening.

  Mevrouw van der Gulp had a charming house—too large, as she pointed out to Prudence, but she was too old to change now. They had drinks in a drawing room furnished with a profusion of overstuffed chairs, small tables and standard lamps, but a fire blazed in the hearth and the room had a lived-in air and suited the owner. The dining room was small in comparison, all dark oak and red velvet, but dinner was superb, served on white linen with gleaming silver and delicate china. Mevrouw van der Gulp made no secret of her satisfaction at their news. ‘I’ve made no secret of my wish to see you married, Benedict,’ she told him. ‘I hope I’m to be invited to the wedding. When is it to be?’

  ‘Yes, of course you are coming—it will be soon. Prudence goes home on Saturday and Sibella and I will follow as soon as I can arrange for someone to take over for a couple of days. Everard is to be best man. It’s to be very quiet. Prudence’s father will marry us from her home.’

  The old lady nodded. ‘I’m sure Everard is delighted.’ She turned a faded blue eye on Prudence. ‘He was greatly attracted to you, my dear.’

  Prudence returned the look with a pleasant smile. ‘He’s a nice person, isn’t he? We had dinner together a week or so ago—I shall value his friendship.’

  Her hostess beamed at her and nodded again. ‘Yes, you will be a good wife to Benedict. You’re wearing the Vinke ring, I see. Doria—his first wife—disliked the family jewels, her ring was platinum, I remember, with a great topaz.’

  Prudence peeped at Benedict, but his face was inscrutable; if he minded Mevrouw van der Gulp talking about his first wife, he gave no sign.

  They stayed talking for a long time and when they got back Benedict said kindly: ‘Do you want anything? No? Then go to bed, my dear. I’ve some reports to read.’

  She wished him a cheerful goodnight, made some lighthearted comment upon their evening and ran upstairs, holding back disappointment. Even friends kissed occasionally.

  She was halfway up when he overtook her. ‘It would be a thundering lie if I told you I was quite out of the habit of kissing girls, but I still have to get into the habit—a delightful one—of kissing you, Prudence.’

  His kiss was quite something this time. She found herself looking forward to the next one.

  Benedict drove them to Schiphol, Sibella between them. The matter of the special licence had been dealt with, and they were to be married on the following Wednesday, which gave her almost no time at all to find something to wear for the wedding. There’s that nice place in Sherborne,’ she mused. We could drive over, or Taunton...

  ‘You’re very quiet,’ said Benedict. ‘Cold feet?’

  ‘Certainly not! I’m trying to think of somewhere where I can find an outfit. I will not be married in a Jaeger suit!’ She added: ‘There really
wasn’t any time to find anything in Appeldoorn, though I’m glad Sibella’s got something pretty.’

  He threw her a quick amused glance. ‘I’m sure you’ll look charming whatever you wear.’

  She felt quite lost once they’d said goodbye, and she had gone through Customs and Passport control. Wednesday seemed a long way off, and she had got so used to a way of life with Benedict and Sibella and the rest of the household. She accepted the coffee she was offered and watched Holland’s coast slide away into the grey horizon.

  Nancy met her at the airport, bubbling over with questions, full of advice, saying a little smugly that she had felt in her bones that Prudence and Benedict would hit it off. ‘What are you wearing?’ She wanted to know. The subject kept them busy for the whole of the drive to Little Amwell.

  Her mother was just as excited, although she said rather longingly: ‘It’s such a pity that you can’t have a pretty wedding like Nancy, darling.’

  ‘Mother, I don’t mind,’ Prudence reassured her parent for the tenth time. ‘We wanted a quiet affair, and anyway there would be no time—we have to go back to Appeldoorn in the afternoon, Benedict’s got some conference or other he simply can’t miss.’

  ‘Is he a very busy man, darling?’

  She thought of her solitary dinners. ‘Yes, very.’

  ‘Well, I must say it’s all very sudden,’ began Mrs Trent, intent on worming out as much as possible without appearing to do so. ‘You haven’t been there very long...’

  ‘No, but you forget we see each other every day. Benedict’s very much a family man...’ She wished she hadn’t said that, for her mother’s eye brightened.

  ‘How nice, darling,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a granny—they can come and stay in the school holidays.’

  Prudence’s lovely eyes lost their sparkle. ‘Something to look forward to, Mother dear.’

  Wednesday was upon them before they knew where they were. Prudence and Nancy had driven to Sherborne and searched the few boutiques there and found a smoky grey dress with a matching quilted jacket and a little hat with a sweeping bunch of satin ribbons jauntily at the back. Shoes and bag and gloves, undies and make-up, and Prudence professed herself satisfied.