by Betty Neels
‘Your mother likes the country?’
‘Oh, yes, and the house is never empty; my sisters are all married and have children, they spend part of their school holidays there, and there is a surprisingly brisk social life, especially during the summer.’
He had chosen the route over the Afsluitdijk and they were driving around Leeuwarden by mid-morning, and then after a few miles of the motorway he turned off on to a narrow country road running between water meadows, empty of cows now. The road ran on, straight ahead, with nothing to disturb it, although on either side there were farms crouching in front of their vast barns. Presently she saw trees ahead of her and the outline of a jelly-mould church.
‘Veenkerk,’ said the professor. ‘We’re rather out on the other side of the village.’
The village was small with two outsize churches, a shop or two and a small market square. The professor drove through it along a narrow street with a high wall on one side and then turned into a narrow lane between trees. Trixie could see the house at its end...
‘It’s a castle!’ she exclaimed.
‘No, it’s a Middle Ages red-brick house called a stins; we have no castles as such and not many of the stinsen remain.’
‘Oh, does it have a name?’
‘Schaakslot. Of course not much of the original stins exists; my ancestors built over and around them and they were called staten so in fact the place is Schaak-State.’
‘It’s a bit confusing.’
He had nothing to say to this but drew up before the front door, a stoutly built affair set in the centre of the house; there were windows on either side, a circular tower at one corner and a larger square one at the other. A row of windows, much smaller than those on the ground floor, was overhung by a sloping roof in which were a number of dormer windows, and a wide bridge over a moat led to the front door.
The professor got out, came round to open her door, let Samson out from the back of the car and took her arm, crossed the bridge and reached the door as it was opened.
An old man stood there to greet them, white-haired and with a slight stoop and very neatly dressed. The professor shook his hand, exchanged a few words and said, ‘Beatrice, this is Wiber; he has been with the family since I was born.’
She shook hands and encountered a pair of faded blue eyes studying her searchingly. ‘Welkom, mevrouw,’ he said, and he took her hand in a surprisingly firm grip, gave it back to her gently and led the way into a large panelled hall, which had a lofty ceiling of elaborate plasterwork, and, facing the door, a massive staircase with a half-landing and two wings leading to the gallery above. On either side of the staircase was a door; one of green baize led, she imagined, to the kitchen; the other had a wide glass panel through which she glimpsed a garden. They were halfway across the hall when a pair of arched doors were thrown open and two people came to meet them. There was no doubt that the elderly gentleman was Krijn’s father—they shared the same good looks—but it was his companion who surprised her, a small stout lady, dressed in the manner in which elderly stout ladies should be dressed, her hair in an uncompromising bun, anchored to the top of her head and none the less very elegant. She trotted ahead of her husband, flung her arms around her son’s neck and embraced him before turning to Trixie. ‘And this is our new daughter. Welcome, Beatrice, my dear.’ She embraced Trixie too, her blue eyes twinkling from a round face, so charming that it could have been mistaken for prettiness. Her husband, greeting Krijn, was plucked on the coat sleeve. ‘Wildrik, here is Beatrice at last. Is she not exactly right for Krijn? Have I not always said that when at last he marries it would be worth the waiting?’
Her husband took Trixie’s hand and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Welcome, Beatrice. I can but add my delight at meeting you. Come into the drawing-room and meet the family.’
He took her arm and ushered her into a long wide room which to her bemused eyes appeared full of people. There were, in fact, Krijn’s sisters there with seven children and one man, who turned round to look at her as they went in. Trixie, introduced to them all in turn, found herself standing in front of him while Krijn said easily, ‘Oh, this is Andre ter Vange, one of our very numerous cousins. Andre, this is my wife, Beatrice; be a good chap and take her round once more so that she gets the names right—there are so many of us!’
He smiled down at Trixie. ‘Andre knows all there is to know about us; he’ll fill in all the gaps. I’ll be back...’
Andre smiled at her charmingly, and he had charm; he was good-looking too with a friendly smile. He said, ‘Delighted—always glad to welcome another cousin into the family. I’ll take care of your Beatrice, Krijn.’
Trixie stood between them, wishing that she could have stayed with Krijn but fair enough to realise that he might want to spend a little time with his parents. Krijn went away presently and Andre led her to a windowseat. ‘Time enough to get to know everyone,’ he said easily. ‘Let’s start with us...’
When she didn’t say anything he said, ‘I’m about the only man in the family who isn’t something to do with medicine. I’m an architect. I’ve worked in England and America, I live in den Haag and I travel a good deal. I’m thirty years old and I’m not married.’ He grinned at her. ‘Now you.’
He was friendly and amusing and he was trying to put her at her ease, something which Krijn should have done, she reflected uneasily. She said in her matter-of-fact way, ‘I’m not anything really—I was training to be a nurse...before that I lived with an aunt and uncle in London—my parents died...’
‘And along comes Krijn and sweeps you off your feet. Well, well, how romantic; there must be a side to him that I haven’t encountered.’
She frowned. ‘He’s the kindest and nicest man I have ever met and I dare say you don’t meet him enough to know much about him.’
He was quick to see the flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Sorry—Krijn is a marvellous man and brilliantly clever. He has a reputation all over Europe—he’s been to America too. It’s marvellous that he’s decided to marry at last.’
He spoke pleasantly, but Trixie had the feeling that he didn’t really mean what he was saying. It was a relief when Soeske, the eldest sister, joined them. She took Trixie’s arm. ‘You’ve had Beatrice long enough,’ she declared. ‘Mama wants to talk to her.’ She swept Trixie away to where her mother was talking to Krijn.
‘Here she is,’ said Soeske. ‘Krijn, come and talk to the children and let Mama get to know Beatrice.’
‘You must feel a little bewildered, my dear—so many of us and all of us talking at once. We see Krijn seldom and when we do we all try to be here together to exchange news.’ Mevrouw van der Brink-Schaaksma took Trixie’s hand and added, ‘Come and sit down and tell me all about yourself. Krijn is shockingly bad at writing letters and how can anyone describe the girl he’s going to marry over the telephone? We have all been dying of curiosity.’
Trixie said in her sensible way, ‘Well, I hope I’ll do. I’ve been curious about you too—and a bit scared.’
‘Bless you, child, no need of that,’ said her companion comfortably. ‘You have no idea how pleased we all are that Krijn has at last decided to take a wife.’
‘That’s what Andre said...’
‘Andre is very clever at saying the right thing; he can put anyone at their ease within minutes. He’s a most successful architect.’ Mevrouw van der Brink-Schaaksma spoke pleasantly so that Trixie, who had had the feeling that her hostess didn’t like the young man, decided that she was mistaken. She sat there for some time, answering her companion’s gentle questions while she wondered if Krijn had told his parents that he had married for convenience and not for love. She thought it unlikely.
Presently Krijn joined them. ‘May I take Beatrice away, Mama,’ he wanted to know, ‘while I help her sort out the children?’
‘Of course, dear, and then perhaps Beatric
e would like to go up to your room—you’re in the round tower—so thoughtless of us not to have thought of that first, but we were so anxious to see you both.’
So half an hour later, her head full of childish faces and unpronounceable names, Trixie was taken upstairs by Reka—another sister—and led along a corridor leading from the gallery to a small door with an old-fashioned latch. It opened on to a lobby which in turn led to a circular room with a wide bay window, a massive canopied bed and much mahogany furniture decorated with marquetry. The pair of them went to look out of the windows and Reka said, ‘Isn’t it a lovely view? So peaceful. The park ends at that row of trees there, there’s a canal round the back of the house but quite a lot of ground on either side. Do you like it?’
‘I think it’s simply marvellous...’
‘Do you like us? Are we anything like you expected?’
‘I think you’re all marvellous, too. I’m so happy to have a family.’
‘Krijn is a darling, but of course you know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do.’ They smiled at each other, and Reka said,
‘I’ll leave you for a few minutes. We’re at the other end of the corridor—I’ll be back.’
She went away and Trixie went round poking her nose round doors. The first one was a clothing cupboard, the second a bathroom of superlative elegance, the third led to another bathroom, and, beyond that, a smaller bedroom with the bed made up, and Trixie, who had been a little worried but hadn’t liked to mention it, heaved a small sigh of relief.
She did her face and tidied her hair and went back to the window, just in time to see Krijn strolling down one of the paths below, his arm around his mother’s shoulder while Samson and two small dogs pranced around them.
For a moment she squeezed her eyes shut on sudden tears, then turned to smile at Reka as she tapped on the door and came in. ‘Ready?’ She came to stand by Trixie. ‘Mama will be doing her best to find out all about you—not you, I mean how you met and if he fell in love at once or whether he just found that he wanted to marry you. Did he? Did he fall in love at once or after you’d got to know each other?’
Trixie spoke slowly. ‘I think he—he just wanted to marry me.’ Which was, after all, the truth.
‘You don’t mind me asking? I won’t tell anyone...’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’
They went back downstairs and presently went into lunch, sitting round a very large circular table, with the older children sandwiched between their elders and the littlest ones in high chairs. Trixie, with Krijn beside her and her father-in-law at the head of the table on her other side, looked around her. The room was large and the table could accommodate twenty persons without difficulty. The side-table was of carved oak and laden with massive silver and a Friese clock hung on the wall above it. The windows here were long and narrow with heavy crimson curtains and elaborate pelmets. It could have been a set piece in some museum but it wasn’t; it was lived in, used daily by people who took its magnificence for granted but cherished it too.
Lunch was simple, beautifully served and eaten at leisure. ‘There will be the rest of the family this evening,’ said her father-in-law. ‘The girls’ husbands. Everyone will stay the night, of course.’
He was very like Krijn; Trixie wondered if he was absent-minded. Between father and son she was kept entertained throughout the meal and since the table was round there was a good deal of over-the-table talk. She saw Andre looking at her and smiled at him; he had been friendly and kind, putting her at her ease, but she wasn’t sure if she liked him. However, he was Krijn’s cousin and she was prepared to like anyone or anything to do with him...
They showed her the park that afternoon, bundled in old coats and jackets from the boot-room beside the stout back door. She was passed from one member of the family to the other while the older children milled around and the dogs raced ahead, and for a little while she found herself walking with Andre, who laid himself out to be charming and amusing, but she was glad when she found herself back again beside Krijn’s vast reassuring person. He took her arm and told her about the house and the family, and although he made no attempt to be either amusing or charming she listened to his quiet voice with delight and deep content. Looking up into his calm face she promised herself that she would do everything in her power to make him happy, and, if that meant hours spent all alone while he worked on his book or travelled all over the place for consultations or lectures, then she would do it gladly. Loving someone, she reflected soberly, wasn’t the same thing as falling in love; she had done both and perhaps she was fortunate to have done so, even though it would bring heartache.
That evening Gabe, Edwer, Alco and Bruno arrived in time for dinner, solid young men who assured her in turn that they were delighted that Krijn had found himself a wife at last and one so obviously just right for him. ‘The girls have been matchmaking for him for years,’ Gabe told her, ‘but he never took any notice. We were beginning to think that he was going to remain a bachelor, so you can imagine how pleased we all were when he told us he was going to marry.’ He twinkled nicely at her. ‘And such a nice girl too. Will you be here for Christmas?’
‘I don’t think so. Krijn has to go back to Timothy’s before then...’
‘You’ll be here for Oud en Nieuw—he never misses that. New Year is an important date in our calendar.’
‘Then I’m sure we’ll be here.’
She went upstairs to change for dinner with Krijn, and he paused at her door to ask her if she had everything she needed. ‘I’ll knock in about half an hour,’ he told her, and walked on down to his dressing-room door.
They went downstairs together presently and she was glad that she had packed the grey dress; she knew that it suited her and despite its simplicity it had the hallmark of expensive elegance. At the foot of the stairs Krijn paused to look at her. ‘That’s a pretty dress—I haven’t seen it before...’
Dinner—smoked salmon, roast pheasant with a great many garnishes and red cabbage, profiteroles, oozing cream and dripping chocolate sauce with a lemon sorbet after the pheasant and cheese and biscuits to round off the meal—was a leisurely affair with everyone talking at once and a good deal of laughter, and presently they all went back to the drawing-room for coffee and more talk. It was late when Mevrouw van der Brink-Schaaksma said that she was going to bed and invited any one wishing to do so to accompany her. The women went willingly, leaving the men to their talk, and Trixie, making her round of goodnights, was glad that it was Krijn who went to the door to open it as she, the last, went past him. He put a hand on her shoulder, dropped a kiss on her cheek and bent to wish her goodnight so quietly that no one else could have heard. A good thing too, she thought, aware that they were being watched by the remaining men.
It had been an exciting day; she slept soundly and since, after breakfast, it began to rain for a time as there was a lowering sky, she was taken on a tour of the house. Luisje, the youngest of Krijn’s sisters, went with her and so did his mother, and since they paused frequently to examine a piece of furniture or study a painting it was lunchtime before they had finished.
In the afternoon there was more talk round the fire, then everyone started to leave for home. Krijn and Beatrice were the last to go and she, getting into the car and turning to wave at his father and mother standing on the steps of the house, felt regret that their stay had been so brief. She had dreaded it and that had been silly of her; it had been delightful and Krijn’s family had been more than kind. She had had enough invitations to last her for months and Andre had asked if he might call. ‘I am nearer than anyone else,’ he had told her, ‘and I’d love to drop in for coffee now and again.’
She had agreed because it was the obvious thing to do. She told Krijn that as they drove back to Leiden and he had answered her briefly. ‘Oh, good. Andre is an amusing companion and he seems to have more time
on his hands than the rest of us.’ He hadn’t said any more and she guessed that he was already thinking of tomorrow’s work that lay ahead of him.
It was nearly evening when they reached the house, and Rabo welcomed them with the offer of coffee. They went into the drawing-room together and Krijn sat down to look through his letters. There had been messages from the hospital too, and as Trixie poured their first cups the telephone rang.
It was a lengthy conversation and she understood nothing of it beyond his brief ‘ja’ or ‘neen’. He put the phone down at length. ‘I’m afraid I must go into Leiden. Don’t wait dinner for me, Beatrice. Wolke will get me something later if I need it.’
‘Is it something very urgent?’
He was halfway to the door. ‘Yes. I’ll see you at breakfast.’
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS ON the evening after their return from Schaakslot that Krijn told Trixie that they would be going to dinner at the university in Leiden on the following day.
‘Gracious, what short notice, and what do I wear?’
‘Did I not tell you? It might have slipped my mind. Wear anything pretty.’
She wished to be fair. ‘You mentioned that we would be going when we got back but you didn’t say when. Perhaps I misunderstood you...’
She went to bed that evening worrying about the right clothes: long or short, dressed up or casual? She woke several times during the night and went down to her breakfast looking wan with the lack of sleep.
‘You do not feel well?’ asked Krijn. ‘You are pale—you have not slept?’
She stared down at her plate. ‘It’s really very silly. I don’t know what to wear to this dinner party—I don’t want to make you feel ashamed of me...’
He said gravely, ‘I don’t think that would be possible, Beatrice. I’m sure that you will look very nice whatever you decide to wear.’