He spoke clearly and Britannia, who had picked up a little Dutch by now, understood him very well. He wanted to speak to Madeleine the following afternoon and would she be home. She started up the staircase while she pondered the unwelcome thought that possibly it had something to do with his ill-humour in the car. It took her a few minutes to dismiss the idea as nonsense; he had every right to telephone whom he wished and just because it had been Madeleine there was no reason for her to feel as she did—coldly apprehensive. It hadn’t been such a good day after all, she decided as she took off her outdoor things and did her hair and face. Perhaps he had had an extra busy day and hadn’t really wanted to go to see his friends. She went downstairs again to find him gone and his mother sitting by the fire, looking so normal that Britannia called herself an imaginative fool and embarked on a cheerful account of the afternoon. Everything, she told herself, would be all right when Jake got home later on.

Only he didn’t come. There was a message just before they sat down for dinner to say that he had an emergency operation that evening and would get something to eat in hospital, and although Britannia sat up long after Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien had gone to bed, he didn’t come, so presently she too went to bed, to lie awake and listen for the car. She slept in the end without hearing its return in the early hours of the morning.

She was surprised and pleased to find him at the breakfast table the next morning, and then not quite so pleased to see that he was still in a thoughtful mood; something was on his mind and she longed to ask him what. Instead she wished him a cheerful good morning, hoped that he hadn’t had too busy an evening and asked if he was going to the hospital that morning.

He glanced up from the letter he was reading. ‘Yes, and I don’t expect to be home until after tea. Have you any plans for today? Don’t, I beg of you, over-exercise that ankle. It’s made a very rapid recovery, it would be a shame to spoil it.’

She waited for him to say something else; something about their future. Perhaps that was why he was so preoccupied and it would be for her to say what she was going to do next. But how could she before he had asked her definitely to marry him? And would they marry soon, or was she to go back to the hospital for a while? When he didn’t speak she said cheerfully: ‘Oh, I’ll take care—I’m going to have a lazy morning anyway, because your mother is going to visit a friend in Hoenderloo.’

‘Oh, Jonkvrouwe de Tielle, they’re great cronies.’ He picked up his letters and stuffed them into his jacket pocket, came round the table to kiss her, said easily: ‘I’ll see you this evening then, Britannia,’ and went away, leaving her determined to ask him what was the matter and what was more, to get an answer.

She frowned as she poured herself more coffee. He could have told her that he was visiting Madeleine that afternoon, he could have told her even why he wanted to see her in the first place. Surely two people who were going to marry didn’t have secrets from each other—not that kind of secret, anyway. But perhaps, because she hadn’t been quite definite about marrying him, he didn’t feel bound to tell her such things. She told herself that she was being a little unreasonable and admitted that she was jealous.

And later that day, as she was getting ready for dinner in her room, she could see that it was she who had been at fault; Jake had come home, rather late it was true, but his usual charming self, and although his kiss had been a casual one, he had joined in the talk and when she had peeped at him, the frown had gone; he looked relieved…so it had been something to do with Madeleine, and whatever it was had been settled. Britannia, viewing herself in the green dress in the cheval mirror between the windows, decided that she didn’t look at all bad; it was wonderful what relief did to one’s face. She went carefully downstairs, with due regard to the ankle, and spent a pleasant evening. Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien had brought her friend back with her and after dinner the four of them played bridge—not a very serious rubber, which was a good thing, because Britannia was a more than indifferent player.

When she got down to breakfast the next morning it was to find Jake already gone. ‘The professor was called out in the night, miss,’ Marinus informed her, ‘a nasty accident on the motorway. He came home to change and shower and eat his breakfast and was gone again by half past seven. A busy day ahead of him, I understand, miss.’

She agreed and thanked him, adding: ‘Marinus, you speak such very good English—have you lived in England?’

He coughed in a gratified way. ‘My family lived in Arnhem, miss. I had a good deal to do with the British soldiers at one time.’

‘Underground?’ asked Britannia, very interested.

‘You might say so, miss. Everyone in these parts was more or less involved. I came here as a young man and the professor’s father saw to it that I had English lessons; he found it a waste that I should have picked up so much of the language, and not always as correct as it should be.’

‘Oh, Marinus, how nice—and isn’t it fortunate for me and anyone else here who can’t speak Dutch?’

‘It has had its uses, miss. Can I fetch you some fresh coffee?’

‘No, thanks. The professor suggested that I went to the library and had a good look at the books. I think I’ll do that. Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien will be out, won’t she?’

‘Yes, miss. I will serve your coffee in the library presently, and I think that lunch in the little sitting room might be more comfortable for you.’

Britannia got up and went to the door. She wasn’t using her stick any more now; her ankle was just about cured. ‘Thank you, Marinus, that does sound nice.’ She smiled at him as she went out and he beamed back. She was a nice young lady, he thought, and would make a good mistress to work for.

Britannia spent a pleasant morning; she had never seen so many books outside a public library before, not only rare first editions but a comprehensive collection of all the most readable books, and a reference section which had her absorbed until Marinus, coming quiet-footed to remove the coffee tray, told her that her lunch was about to be set on the table.

She had intended to go back to the library after the meal, but the sitting room was cosy and an armchair and a book by the fire was very appealing; she fetched an old crimson-bound volume of Punch and settled down happily for the afternoon. The house was quiet and already the winter dusk was creeping into the room. She switched on a reading lamp and opened the book. Perhaps Jake would be home in time for tea; he had had a long day, if he wasn’t too tired she would ask him about the future. She hadn’t done it yesterday; somehow there hadn’t been the chance.

The doorbell rang almost before she had turned the first page and she looked up, wondering who it could be; Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien was still out and didn’t intend to return until the early evening. If it was a visitor it would be awkward, for her few words of Dutch would prove quite inadequate when it came to conversation. Perhaps whoever it was would speak English or even go away.

She turned to look over her shoulder as the door opened and Marinus came in, but before he could speak Madeleine had swept past him and shut the door in his face.

Britannia felt a quiver of rage which changed to amazement; this wasn’t the Madeleine she knew, despite the tempestuous entry; this was a subdued, rather untidy girl who hadn’t bothered much with her face or hair either. She stared at her, quite startled, hardly recognising her, and got out of her chair. ‘You’re ill!’ she exclaimed.

Madeleine shook her head. ‘No, I’m all right. I’ve been worried—I am worried now, for I have been trying to make up my mind to come and talk to you, but I think that you may not believe me, and why should you?’ She shrugged her shoulders in a resigned way. ‘Even now I do not think that it will be of any use, but I must try…’