The professor spoke softly to his companion and Madeleine gave him a surprised look which turned to ill-humour. Britannia had no idea what it was she snapped in answer, but she turned on her heel and went and he came into the room.

‘Corinne seems to be making use of you,’ he observed mildly.

‘She had to do something or other, and the other children are out in the grounds with the two nannies.’

He sat down cautiously on the chaise longue beside her injured ankle, and said to surprise her: ‘I’m sorry that Madeleine was rude—she’s a highly strung girl and doesn’t always choose her words. You didn’t look very pleased to see us.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Jealous of the fox jacket?’

Britannia wiped away a dribble on the baby’s chin. ‘What a silly question,’ she said coldly. ‘How could I be jealous of anyone who wears the skin of a trapped animal?’ She added austerely: ‘I hope you had a good day at the hospital.’

‘You know, if you didn’t ask me that each day when I get home, I should feel positively deprived. Yes, I had a good day. I’m home early because everyone in Holland who can get home does so on St Nikolaas. Zuster Hagenbroek will be going to the bosom of her family in half an hour or so; she will come back quite late, I expect.’

‘I’m glad she can go home.’ It was a pity she couldn’t think of anything else to say; the conversation so far had hardly sparkled.

‘And how will you manage?’ he asked blandly.

‘Very well. I’m perfectly able to look after myself.’ She added with a rush: ‘I’m well enough to go home, if you would be so kind as to arrange it.’

‘All in good time, Britannia. You have enough to read? I daresay my sisters have called in on you…’

‘Yes, thank you, and yes, they have. I enjoyed it.’ She wouldn’t look at him while she sought for something else to say. Since he appeared to have settled himself he could at least help the conversation along.

The little silence was broken by Corinne’s whirlwind entry. ‘You dear girl,’ she exclaimed warmly, and: ‘Hullo, Jake—here, take your nephew and give Britannia a rest.’ She dumped her son in the professor’s arms and sat down on a low chair by the fire. ‘Well, we’re all ready and the children are in such a state of excitement I should think they’ll all be sick later on.’ She glanced at them both. ‘Having a nice chat, were you?’ she asked. ‘Did I interrupt something?’

The professor didn’t bother to answer it, it was Britannia who said: ‘No—we were only passing the time of day.’

‘Oh, good. I told Emmie I’d have tea with you, Britannia, do you mind? I can’t stand having to sit and listen to Madeleine dripping platitudes in that sugary voice.’

‘I will not tolerate discourtesy towards my guests, Corinne,’ observed the professor severely.

She made a face at him, got up and took her small son from him and tweaked her brother’s imposing nose. ‘You old humbug,’ she said. ‘I may be fifteen years younger than you, but I’ve got eyes in my head, you know. Are you going to the sitting room for tea?’

‘You have never grown up, my dear, have you? No, I have some work to do.’ He added with some force: ‘And no remarks about that, if you please.’

He smiled at her, nodded to Britannia and went away, and Corinne, settling down in her chair again, remarked: ‘He’s an old dear, isn’t he? Bad-tempered, of course, but then so was Father, and he hates to be bested, though I don’t suppose anyone’s ever succeeded in doing that; he’s so clever, you see, and he knows just about everything, although he hasn’t a clue how to manage his love life,’ she added artlessly. Her blue eyes smiled into Britannia’s. ‘He’s a super brother and he’ll make a gorgeous husband to the right girl. Do you like Madeleine?’

‘I don’t know her.’ Britannia had almost been caught off guard. ‘She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?’

‘So are you.’

Britannia pinkened a little. ‘Thank you. Tell me, how is it that you all speak such wonderful English?’

‘We had a nanny—a fierce old bird; and then we had a governess, and Father always made us speak English at meals, and Jake kept it up, and now we’re all married and none of us have lost the habit. You don’t speak any Dutch?’

Britannia shook her head. ‘No—well, about six words, and if someone says something easy like “Are you cold?” very slowly, I can understand them. Otherwise it’s hopeless.’

‘You’ll learn. Here’s tea, and I’m famished.’ Corinne handed Britannia the baby. ‘Tuck him under your arm, will you, and I’ll pour.’

Alone again after tea, Britannia lay listening to the distant small voices echoing up the staircase; there were a lot of children—she could imagine how excited they must be, although she was a little uncertain as to what exactly was to happen. She had been going to ask Zuster Hagenbroek, but that dear soul had already gone and although Emmie had been in once or twice to see if she wanted anything, her Dutch just wasn’t up to asking; even if it had, she would never have understood.

But she was to find out. She was reading by the light of the table lamp beside her when the professor returned. ‘The Sint arrives in ten minutes—do you want to comb your hair or anything before I take you downstairs?’

‘Me? Downstairs? Why?’

‘My dear good girl, you don’t really imagine that I—or anyone else for that matter—would leave you sitting here alone when St Nikolaas comes to call?’

‘I’m not dressed.’

His eyes swept over her pink woolly housecoat with its ruffled neck and velvet trimming. ‘You are a good deal more dressed than most of the ladies downstairs.’ He walked over to the dressing-table and came back with a hairbrush and a mirror. ‘Here you are. Where do you keep the things you put on your face?’

She was studying her face, a normal size now but still blue and yellow all down one side. ‘I’m a fright. They’re in the bathroom, on the shelf.’

She brushed her hair and tied it back neatly, powdered her nose and applied lipstick. ‘There, am I all right?’

He picked her up and started for the door. ‘My darling girl, not only are you all right, you’re quite breathtakingly beautiful.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE PROFESSOR’S REMARK, coming as it did after several days of coldness, so astonished Britannia that she stayed quiet as he took her downstairs and across the hall, this time not to the sitting room but down a wide passage at the side of the staircase, with doors on one side and a big arched door at its end. Outside this he paused, kissed her hard and swiftly and pushed the door open with his foot. The room was very large, with enormous windows with crimson curtains drawn across them to shut out the chilly dark evening. The floor was of polished wood with a great centre carpet and the furniture was satinwood, upholstered in shades of rose and cream and blue. Britannia, laid gently on to a sofa drawn up to one side of the great hearth, stared around her with great interest. It was a very grand room and the people in it looked grand too. The women had dressed for the occasion and she quite saw what Jake had meant when he said that she was more dressed than the other ladies present, for whereas she was muffled to the throat in cosy wool, they were in long evening gowns, beautiful garments such as she had often gazed at in Fortnum and Mason’s windows or Harrods, and the men were in black ties to complement them. Very conscious of her prosaic appearance, she smiled rather shyly at Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien, who came across the room to sit beside her.

‘My dear, how very nice that you can join us,’ said that lady in a ringing voice. ‘How pretty you look, and how I wish I had your lovely hair. You know everyone here, don’t you? I must warn you that presently it will become very noisy and you are to say immediately if you get the headache.’