The garden room was full of colour even on the grey winter’s afternoon; they wandered around while Britannia admired the chrysanthemums and the forced spring flowers and an enormous assortment of house plants.
‘But it’s one person’s work,’ observed Britannia.
‘More or less—old Cor sees to this side of the greenhouses. When you can manage it, we’ll go and look at the gardens and the hothouses. Shall we join the family for tea, or would you like it here?’
‘They’re all going tomorrow, aren’t they? And they haven’t seen much of you.’ She would have liked to have stayed there alone with Jake, but it might look as though she wasn’t prepared to share him with his family. They went slowly through the house again and into the sitting room, full of people. The children were there too, the little ones under the wing of the two nannies, the babies on any lap which came handy, while everyone talked their heads off. Britannia, settled on a sofa with her foot up once more, was instantly absorbed into the cheerful gathering and now they spoke quite openly about her joining the family, laughingly warning her that New Year would be a splendid opportunity for her to meet even more of them. ‘You’ll have to open up all the bedrooms, Britannia, there are hordes of us; Emmie cooks for days before and Jake gives a dance; it’s tremendous fun.’
Britannia suppressed a tiny qualm; supposing she couldn’t cope with entertaining on that scale? There would be any number of things she wouldn’t know, and would Jake expect her to know them? Just for a moment she thought of Madeleine, who would know exactly what to do on such an occasion and be relied upon to be a perfect hostess. And supposing she did something silly and Jake felt ashamed of her? She looked up and found the professor’s eye on her and he shook his head slightly at her and smiled, just as though he guessed what she was thinking.
He took her with him the next afternoon; he had patients to see at his consulting rooms and as he explained, it would be a good opportunity for her to see them and meet Mien, his secretary, and Willa, the receptionist and nurse. There were his two partners whom she must meet, too, he told her, but not just yet; one was on holiday, the other in Luxembourg. So Britannia, wrapped up against the cold wind and the fine powdering of snow which had begun to fall, was made comfortable beside him when he came to fetch her after lunch.
‘Warm enough?’ he wanted to know, sending the car towards Arnhem. And when she nodded, for who wouldn’t be warm in such a magnificent car? he went on: ‘I should like to wrap you in furs, my darling, but I think that you wouldn’t like that—not just yet.’
He manoeuvred the car past a string of air force jeeps. ‘I haven’t given you a ring, have I? But a ring is binding.’
Britannia didn’t know why his words should make her suddenly cold inside; after all, she had asked him to wait. She peeped sideways at him and saw that his profile was stern. She said meekly: ‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ and when he didn’t say anything else she forbore from further speech. But when he drew up before one of the tall, narrow houses in a quiet side street of the city, the face he turned to her was quite free from any sternness.
‘Wait while I get you out,’ he cautioned, ‘and I shall have to carry you up the stairs—there’s a lift, but it’s out of order.’
His rooms were on the first floor, indeed they occupied the whole of it, three consulting rooms, a most comfortably furnished waiting room, a tiny office for Mien, a bespectacled, rather plain girl with a charming smile, and another small room used by Willa for any small treatment which might be necessary. Britannia was enchanted by it all and spent the ensuing hours sitting with Mien, whose English was really rather good, while Jake went away to see his patients.
‘It is a large practice,’ explained Mien, ‘and as well as his work here, the professor has many beds in the hospitals. He operates several times a week and also goes to Utrecht and to London and sometimes Vienna.’
And Britannia, anxious to know all there was to know about Jake, listened to every word. There was still so much to discover about him and not a great deal of time before they married. With Mien on the telephone beside her, Britannia went into a pleasant daydream; being married to Jake was going to be fun.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE OLD HOUSE seemed very quiet after everyone had gone the next day, leaving only Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien behind. The professor had left before breakfast and it was after that meal that his mother suggested that she might take Britannia over the rest of the house. ‘That’s if you can manage the stairs, my dear,’ she added. ‘Jake would not forgive me if I suggested anything which might harm your ankle.’
‘I can hop,’ declared Britannia cheerfully. ‘It’s much better, you know, and the elastic stocking supports it. I’d love to come with you.’
Their tour took most of the morning, there was so much to see: magnificent bedrooms furnished with what Britannia could see were valuable antiques, cunningly concealed bathrooms and clothes closets and a dear little room which had been called ‘Mevrouw’s kamertje’, a name which had been handed down from one generation to another without anyone really knowing why it should be so. It had a work table, its original silk lining still intact, though faded, and some small high-backed chairs which her guide assured her were most comfortable. There was a games table too, exquisitely inlaid with applewood, and a sofa table in the window, as well as an escritoire with its accompanying chair. The curtains were brocade in muted greens and blues and the highly polished wood floor had a scattering of fine rugs upon it. The only concession to modernity were the table lamps; little silver stands with peach shades which blended exactly with the room.
They sat there for a little while carrying on a placid conversation about nothing in particular until Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien remarked unexpectedly: ‘I have said nothing to you as yet, my dear, for Jake has told me that you want a few days in which to think over his proposal—indeed, he tells me that nothing has actually been settled, but I hope very much that you will accept him. I do not mind telling you now that I—in fact, all of us, have been very much against him marrying Madeleine de Venz.’ She sighed. ‘Not that he would have taken any notice of anything we might have had to say. You can imagine my delight, Britannia, when after years of dreaded expectation that he would marry her, he should meet you and fall in love with you at your first meeting.’
‘He intended to marry her.’ Britannia wasn’t asking a question but stating a fact.
Her companion corrected her, ‘No, my dear, she intended to marry him.’
Which remark merely substantiated what Britannia herself already knew. She picked up a dainty little figurine, admiring its vivid blue glaze and then looked at its base. ‘Longton Hall,’ she said absentmindedly, ‘mid-eighteenth century and quite charming. Madeleine hates me.’
‘Naturally, Britannia. You’re not afraid of her?’
‘Goodness me, no, mevrouw, not of her. She has become a habit with Jake—habits are hard to shake off. She has a lot that I haven’t—breeding and knowing how to do things and what to say, she knows all his friends and, I daresay, how he likes his house run…’
Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien snorted elegantly. ‘His servants dislike her, did you know that? Even the dogs avoid her.’ She glanced round at the two faithful beasts who had accompanied them silently and were now sitting between them. ‘And as for breeding, Britannia, I find your manners much more to my taste. She is sophisticated, certainly, and probably able to cope with any social occasion, but there is no warmth in her; her love for Jake, if one can call it love, is purely selfish; if he were to lose his possessions overnight or fall victim to some incurable illness, she would have no more to do with him. You, I know, would love Jake under any circumstance.’