‘We will talk about it now.’ He had become all at once arrogant as well as angry, and it was all so much worse because he was so coldly polite. ‘If I am to be accused of—what shall we call it? Double dealing? Philandering? then I would prefer to settle the matter now and not, as you had no doubt hoped, after I had been softened with a whisky and a good dinner.’
Britannia stamped her good foot, careless of what she said now. ‘You’re impossible!’ she told him bitterly. ‘You won’t listen—you don’t want to. There must be some explanation, only you won’t give it, only snarl at me. And you are bad-tempered and arrogant and now you won’t listen…’
‘Not listen?’ his voice was all silk again. ‘My dear girl, what else am I doing but listening, most unwillingly, to your tirade?’
‘Oh, it’s not—it’s not, and I expected you to tell me,’ she went on desperately.
He lifted his brows. ‘I have no intention of telling you anything.’ He smiled mockingly. ‘Madeleine seems to have done that for me.’ He added: ‘And you believed her.’
Britannia regarded him with hopeless eyes. ‘It’s Madeleine you love and want to marry—she said so. I wouldn’t have believed it, only there was the letter.’
‘Ah, yes, this letter. And you imagined that I would—what is the old-fashioned term—trifle with your affections and then drop you when it suited me?’
‘That’s only one way of looking at it,’ she pointed out fiercely.
‘The only way, Britannia.’ He wandered over to the fireplace and kicked a log into flames. ‘And if that is how you feel about it, there is nothing more to be said.’
Britannia’s insides went cold. ‘Jake, please don’t let’s quarrel…’
He turned to look at her over his shoulder. ‘I never quarrel, I say what I have to say and that is all.’
‘It’s not, you know,’ cried Britannia in a high voice. ‘You haven’t said anything, only made nasty remarks.’ Her voice quavered for a moment, ‘I thought we were honest with each other…’
His face was bland and expressionless. ‘What would be the point of being honest with you, my dear girl? You have condemned me unheard and that, in my judgement at least, makes honesty between us quite pointless.’ He added, ‘I’m not sure what I should have explained to you, but nothing, and I mean nothing, would force me to do so now, even if I knew what it was.’
‘But Jake, you do know.’
‘Perhaps I can guess.’ His smile mocked her again. ‘But anything I had intended to tell you when I came into this room is quite purposeless now.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘I THINK I should go home,’ said Britannia slowly.
‘Of course you will go home.’ The professor was in a towering rage, his eyes like blue ice, the nostrils of his magnificent nose flaring with his temper. ‘I shall drive you there myself.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We should be able to catch the night ferry from the Hoek. I imagine that half an hour is time enough in which to pack.’
Britannia goggled at him. ‘Half an hour? The night ferry? Jake, you’re in a most shocking rage and you don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘Indeed I am in a rage, but I am quite aware of what I am saying. We should arrive at your home during tomorrow afternoon.’
‘You’re not coming with me.’ She spoke defiantly.
‘Yes, I am.’ He glared quite ferociously at her. ‘You wish to leave my house as soon as possible; the least I can do is to speed you on your way and make sure that you arrive home.’
She swallowed the great lump in her throat. ‘Jake, please—you must try and understand. I can’t hurt Madeleine—I hate her, you know that, and that’s all the more reason…’
‘I understand very well. I also understand that you have no compunction in hurting me.’ His sneering voice made her shudder.
She was almost in tears now, but it would never do to cry. She said in a calm little voice which shook just a little, ‘Jake, could we talk about it? You haven’t given me a chance…and you haven’t told me…’
His cold voice cut through her muddle. ‘Why should I tell you anything? You already know.’
It was hopeless; he was angry because she had discovered that he really loved Madeleine before he had found a way to tell her himself. ‘You’ll forget me,’ she told him miserably.
His smile was nasty. ‘I have no intention of discussing the matter with you, Britannia. Like all women you have rushed into a situation without stopping to think.’
‘I have thought!’ snapped Britannia, stung by the memory of the last few hours. ‘I’ve thought so much that I don’t know my own mind any more.’
‘So I perceive.’ His voice was all silk. ‘And now if you care to go and pack and say goodbye to my mother…?’
He held the door open and there was nothing else for her to do but to go through it.
A little over half an hour later, sitting beside the professor as he sent the Rolls racing down the motorway which would take them to the Hoek, Britannia reflected that it was like being in a nightmare where one wishes desperately to do something and is prevented by other people and circumstances. She had packed in a daze and then gone to wish Mevrouw Luitingh van Thien goodbye, and because there had been no time to explain, she had stated baldly that she wasn’t going to marry Jake after all and that he was taking her home there and then.
His mother had said very little. ‘A misunderstanding,’ she had observed severely, ‘and of course Jake is in one of his rages and won’t allow anyone to say a word. I’m sorry, my dear—you were, still are, the right wife for him.’
Britannia let that pass even though she agreed with every word. ‘He insists upon taking me all the way to Moreton,’ she said helplessly.
‘And quite right too. I hope you will have a good journey, Britannia.’ She had offered a cheek and then added: ‘It is Madeleine, of course.’
‘Yes,’ said Britannia, ‘it is. Jake will forget me.’
‘A pity that there is no time to tell me the whole. Jake has, of course, said nothing.’
Britannia had walked to the door and with her hand on the handle, had said miserably: ‘He loves her,’ and then gone out to where Jake waited for her.
The professor might be in a rage, but he had it under control now; his flow of light conversation would have done credit to a seasoned diplomat making the best of a bad situation. Throughout the journey he was never at a loss for a topic; not that Britannia had much idea of what he was saying. Once she tried to stop him, but her desperate: ‘Jake, please could we…?’ was ignored as he went into a detailed account of the rulers of Holland. Britannia, bogged down in a succession of Willems and the Spanish Occupation, said ‘Oh, really?’ and ‘Indeed,’ every now and then while she tried to sort out her thoughts. But they were still only as far as Koningin Emma when they reached the Hoek and began the business of getting on board. Presumably the professor had found the time to telephone for tickets, for there was no delay in getting the car on board and after a polite goodnight, Britannia was led away to a comfortable cabin and presently a stewardess appeared with a tray of coffee and sandwiches, and the information that tea and toast would be brought in the morning.
Britannia drank all the coffee and nibbled at a sandwich and then, because there seemed nothing else to do, undressed and got into the narrow little bed. It was going to be a rough crossing judging by the way the boat was lurching out into the North Sea; not that that mattered. As far as she was concerned, it could sink with all hands and her with it for all she cared. But although she lay awake, she was quite unable to think sensibly. The arrival of her morning tea was a relief and she drank it thankfully, got up and dressed, made up her white face very carefully and then, uncertain as to what to do next, sat down on the stool by the bed and waited in a kind of daze, not thinking at all for by now she was too tired.