by Betty Neels
Philomena had put down the receiver feeling unwanted. She had told herself briskly that she was being silly; her stepmother was fond of her in her own way, it was just that Philomena had never quite fitted in with their way of life. All the same she felt a lot better when Hubert telephoned to ask her if she would spend Saturday afternoon with him; a drive to Kampen, he suggested, and tea somewhere on the way back. He would have to be back in Utrecht for dinner with friends, he was sure she would understand…
She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to understand, it was only when they were on their way that she discovered his reason for wishing to get back in good time. There was a girl, he confided, apparently possessing all the attributes of a beauty queen as well as an intelligence seldom seen in women, and this topped off with a disposition which sounded too good to be true. Philomena listened patiently to his eulogy, made suitable comments when she could get a word in edgeways and offered the encouragement he undoubtedly hoped she would give him. By the time they were half way to Kampen she was heartily sick of the girl, but she was too kind to allow her impatience to show; she lent a sympathetic ear, murmured from time to time and allowed her thoughts to stray.
They were within sight of Kampen and about to cross the river Ijssel when they were held up for a moment on the bridge. There was a great deal of traffic and Philomena watched it idly. The Khamsin with Walle at the wheel and Tritia beside him passed them, going in the opposite direction. Tritia was laughing and talking, Walle was looking ahead of him, but as he drew level he glanced sideways to encounter Philomena’s fiery eye. There was no chance to see his expression. Hubert edged the car forward and at the same time the Khamsin had gone, leaving only the echo of a subdued roar, and Philomena, swallowing the unpleasant medley of feelings churning around inside her, began a feverish series of questions about Kampen, its houses, the charm of the buildings lining the water and the surrounding country, all tumbling out one after the other so that Hubert, rather puzzled because she had asked the same questions during their previous visit, and still mentally with the paragon he was going to meet that evening, had no chance to answer any of them.
She was so unlike her usual serene self for the rest of the afternoon that Hubert gave her a puzzled look from time to time and even asked her if she felt all right, to which she replied with quite unnatural vivacity that she had never felt better. They explored the town for an hour or so before having tea and cakes at De Stadsherberg, and on the return journey Philomena abandoned her lively chatter and encouraged Hubert to talk about his paragon, something he was by no means loath to do; it kept him fully occupied for the whole trip and enabled her to think her own not very happy thoughts while she said ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ and ‘How fascinating’ whenever he paused for breath. But once indoors with Mevrouw de Winter she was forced to describe her outing down to the last crumb of cake, an exercise which, undertaken in her still sparse Dutch, took all her concentration. She longed to go to her room and brood over Walle, but that would have hurt her landlady’s feelings, so she sat through supper, still talking, and then spent another hour after they had washed up together, looking at a family photo album Mevrouw de Winter produced as a special treat.
When Philomena eventually got to bed she was so befuddled by her efforts to make herself understood in the Dutch language that she fell asleep at once, quite worn out.
She was awakened by the rattle of pebbles against her open window. It was light and the sun was up, but it was barely six o’clock. She got out of bed, wild ideas of emergencies, accidents, and premature babies crowding her sleepy head. But it was none of these; it was Walle on his great horse, leading Beauty.
‘Good morning, Philly, I thought we might ride together.’ He grinned up at her. ‘I’ll give you five minutes to put on something sensible!’
Philomena blushed and withdrew as much of her as possible without disappearing from the window altogether. ‘I was asleep,’ she hissed severely.
‘Well, I should hope so. Now hurry up, there’s a good girl. We’ll telephone Mevrouw de Winter later.’
Philomena had withdrawn her head, now she popped it out again. ‘Why?’
‘Well, she’ll wonder where you are, goose.’
‘But won’t I be back for breakfast?’
‘No.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Four minutes, Philly.’
It took just a little longer; after all, she had to wash her face and tie back her hair after she had flung on slacks and a shirt. She had never looked plainer than she did now, the early sun highlighting her nondescript features, free of make-up, and yet the look on the doctor’s face was all tenderness. He got off his horse while she mounted Beauty, and then swung himself up again. ‘Shall we go along by the river?’ he asked. ‘There’s a path of sorts and there’s no hurry.’
The dew was still on the grass and a rabbit or two scuttled away as they left the road and took to the bridle path. The sun was well up now, but it was still quiet except for the birds and some late lambs bleating and the lazy clip-clop of their horses’ hooves. Philomena, happy now, not caring about the puzzling past or the problematical future, nudged Beauty to a gentle trot and presently when the path opened out into a water meadow asked: ‘Could we gallop, just for a few minutes?’ And then: ‘I suppose this is your land too?’
The doctor sounded almost apologetic. ‘Well, yes, it is, although I rent it out, but the farmer won’t object. He’ll be moving his cows in later on, but for the moment it can be ours.’
The exercise brought the pink to Philomena’s cheeks and loosed her hair from its ribbon. She sighed gustily with content, slowed her mount to a sedate walk and allowed her to pick her way along the bridle path once more. They were close to the water now and Philomena called suddenly: ‘Look, fish!’ and dismounted to get a better look.
Walle took the reins from her and led the two horses to a nearby tree stump where he made them fast and then joined her. ‘Pike,’ he informed her. ‘Do you fish?’
She turned to look at him. ‘Me? No,’ she shuddered. ‘They’re so slippery, and I couldn’t bear to take the hook out of them…’
Walle was standing very close to her, now he turned her round to face him and caught her close. ‘But you eat them out of newspaper, my darling—all mixed up with tears, too.’
She stared up at him, her mouth a little open. ‘Oh, you can’t mean that,’ she whispered.
‘Of course I mean it—I shared your supper, remember?’
‘Not my supper—you called me your darling.’
‘You are my darling. And don’t pretend that you’re surprised—you heard me tell Grandfather that I was going to marry you, and I did tell you that we would have to wait for a suitable time and place, did I not? And that is now, my dearest Philly, with not a soul in sight and all day before us. I want you for my wife and I want you to say yes.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘I think that you love me too and I believe we can be very happy together.’
‘Oh, we can, and I do love you, Walle, only I thought it was Tritia you wanted, not me—she’s so very pretty and I’m not, you see.’ She hesitated. ‘And another thing, I’m not used to living in a castle—I’m not sure that I would suit…’
His eyes danced with laughter. ‘My darling, you will be marrying me, not the castle, and I think you will suit very well. Marry me, Philly.’
She hadn’t taken her eyes from his face and he was smiling down at her with gentle urgency.
‘All right,’ said Philly, ‘I will.’ She added: ‘Although I’m not at all sure that it will work.’
He didn’t answer at once, only held her even tighter and bent to kiss her. Presently he asked softly: ‘Still not sure, Philly?’
She stared up at him. ‘Well, I…you see, it’s… Walle, the first time we met it was only for a minute or two, you couldn’t have fallen in love with me then, and the second time and the third time you helped me, and each time I was a bit low you seemed to be there. You’re not just sorry for me? Someone or other said th
at pity was akin to love…’
He was looking at her with no expression on his face at all and she wasn’t sure if he was angry; all the same she went on: ‘And now I’m working for you and you don’t really see me, if you know what I mean.’ She drew a resolute breath. ‘Besides, I’m a plain girl and quite without attraction.’
He kissed her again, rather more thoroughly. ‘Dear little Philly, now you will listen to me; I have never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life! To begin with, how do you know if I fell in love with you on sight? It has happened, you know, and why should I spend hours waiting for you in that draughty entrance hall at Faith’s, on the chance of you going that way? You say that I don’t see you. Does it surprise you to know that I’ve watched your change in hairstyles, your careful make-up, your pretty clothes? I’ve enjoyed them all, but it would have made no difference if you had done none of these things.’
She stirred against him. ‘Well, I thought you hadn’t noticed a thing! You said that your partner wanted a sensible girl with no nonsense and no prospect of getting married, so you couldn’t have cared a cent for me…’
The doctor kissed the top of her head with evident pleasure. ‘Wrong, my darling girl. How else was I to get you—you were so sure that you were all these things, weren’t you? And you’re not, you know.’
She drew back to look up at him. ‘But I am—Chloe and Miriam have told me, and they should know, they’re so pretty and popular.’
‘And quite empty, my darling. Now you, you’re full of surprises—you’re kind and sweet and suddenly cross in the most enchanting way, so no more nonsense. You happen to be exactly what I want.’
She slid her arms round his neck and kissed him. ‘That sounds awfully nice.’ She added doubtfully: ‘I haven’t been working here long. What do I do? Give a month’s notice and go back home, or wait until you can find someone else…?’
‘No waiting, Philly, there’s no need of that. We’ll start looking for another nurse right away. We can be married where you like. It takes a little while to arrange things here; we could have a special licence in England—perhaps you would rather be married from your home?’
‘I hadn’t thought about it, at least, sometimes—before I met you—I used to think that I’d like to go somewhere very quiet and just get married with no one there.’
‘We’ll do exactly as you wish, Philly, only let us marry soon; I’ve wasted so many years before I met you.’
‘There are still plenty of years left, Walle,’ said Philomena softly. ‘I can’t quite believe it.’ She slipped from his arms and smiled up at him. ‘I can’t imagine living in your castle.’
He took her arm and led her to where two patient horses were standing. ‘You’ll love it. We’ll go there now and have breakfast and tell my mother.’
Philomena was on the mare, fiddling with the reins, not looking at him. ‘Will she be surprised?’
‘I imagine not. I haven’t told her that I intended to marry you, but she will know, I think.’ He leaned across and took her hand. ‘She will be very happy, Philly, she’s fond of you already.’
‘And Tritia? I don’t think she likes me—and your aunt, the one who has been away?’
‘Perhaps Tritia is envious of you—she leads an aimless existence and she’s almost always bored, but she’s too lazy to do anything about it. But why worry about her, my darling? She will be leaving very shortly; my aunt came back last night—you will see her today, but I don’t suppose she will stay long. She has a house in den Haag and much prefers living there, or so she says.’
They were allowing the horses to amble along, the sun warm on their backs now, the castle’s roof visible among the trees ahead of them. Philomena reined in Beauty suddenly. ‘I can’t!’ she declared. ‘I simply can’t—I haven’t even brushed my hair properly and I only washed my face…’
‘It looks nice,’ observed the doctor, and meant it, ‘but if it bothers you I’m sure whatever it is you want can be provided.’
He spoke with easy assurance, but Philomena thought privately that it would be most unlikely that the castle would yield the particular brand of cosmetics she had so extravagantly purchased for herself before she left London. But she was wrong; the bathroom to which she was led held a selection of creams and powders and lotions, as well as brushes and combs and toothbrushes. She took her time with them and was well satisfied with the result when at length she went downstairs. And judging by the doctor’s behaviour, he was well satisfied too. Indeed, her hair was sadly disarranged and as her protests were half-hearted, it looked quite deplorable. She shook it out and re-tied it, then at his suggestion followed him to the study, a room she had not yet entered.
It was a large room, lined with bookshelves, and with a massive desk before its one big window. It was comfortably furnished with easy chairs and reading tables and there was a great cupboard along one of its walls. The doctor unlocked this, pressed a small knob within and revealed a wall safe, which he opened.
Philomena, at his elbow, peered in. ‘What’s in there?’
‘Something for you, Philly.’ He took out a small velvet-covered box and opened it to show her a ring; five large rubies bordered by diamonds, set in heavy gold. ‘It’s old; it was my great-grandmother’s and my grandmother left it to me, to be given to my bride when I married.’
‘Walle, I’ve never had anything so magnificent—it’s beautiful!’
He had taken her hand and was putting the ring on to her finger; it fitted too and he observed: ‘I have been a little worried that your finger would be too small—you have little hands; pretty ones too.’ He kissed them in turn and then for good measure kissed her mouth.
There was no one in the breakfast room when they sat down at the table, but Mevrouw van der Tacx came in shortly after, wished them good morning, allowed her son to serve her with her breakfast from the sideboard and then observed happily: ‘You’re wearing the ring, my dear. I’m to congratulate you, Walle, am I not, and wish you both happiness.’ She got up and kissed Philomena warmly. ‘I couldn’t wish for a nicer daughter,’ she declared. ‘Walle’s a lucky man. When are you going to get married?’
‘Just as soon as it can be arranged,’ her son told her, so that she immediately fell to making plans, some of them very light-hearted, and there was a good deal of laughter, interrupted by the entry of Mevrouw van Niep.
The doctor’s aunt was actually no relation but the widow of his mother’s brother. She was a tall, thin lady, with a long solemn face, light blue eyes and rigorously coiffed hair. Her dress was fashionable but sombre and she had never, for one moment of her life, forgotten that she was from adel, even though she had a good deal less money than she could have wished.
She uttered a general good morning as she entered and then waited, her head on one side, looking at Philomena, who looked back, slightly unnerved by the scrutiny.
‘This is Philomena Parsons, Tante Lia,’ introduced the doctor. ‘We are to be married in the near future.’
Philomena fancied that the pale eyes became icy, although Mevrouw van Niep smiled at her. ‘How delightful—I had already heard of you, of course. Tritia has told me a great deal about you.’ She was seated now, sipping her coffee and nibbling toast. ‘A nurse, are you not?’
‘That’s right,’ said Philomena cheerfully. ‘I’ve been here several weeks now—in Ommen, you know.’ She wasn’t sure that she liked the lady, but she was so happy that she was disposed to like everyone, even Tritia. She heard that young lady’s aunt remark now that the dear girl would be arriving after lunch. ‘She has been visiting,’ she explained, ‘distant connections of mine, Baron Termenacht and his wife.’ She paused to see what effect this information had upon Philomena, who, not having studied the Dutch adel, remained unimpressed. It was left for the doctor to say placidly: ‘I drove her there yesterday, Philly. Two of the dullest people I have ever met.’
His aunt gave him a shocked glance and his mother laughed softly. ‘Oh, I must agree. I ca
n’t think why you keep up your acquaintance with them, Lia.’ Her sister-in-law gave her an indignant look and she went on placatingly: ‘Oh, they have a title, I know, but who cares about that? After all, our own name is a good deal older and far more noble; I’m always thankful that our ancestors refused to be ennobled.’ She smiled at Philomena. ‘I’m sure you would much rather be Mevrouw than Baronne or Jonkvrouw, wouldn’t you, my dear?’
‘Oh, rather,’ agreed Philomena happily, and fell to brooding on the delights of being called Mevrouw van der Tacx. She said dreamily: ‘I like your name,’ and Walle laughed and said that if she had finished her breakfast, he proposed to show her round the castle, an excursion which took up a good part of the morning and afforded them both a great deal of pleasure.
The four of them had lunch together later, and leaving the two older ladies to sit in the drawing room, Walle took Philomena into the gardens where after an exhaustive tour, they ended up playing croquet. Philomena was addressing her ball in a very professional manner when she was completely put off her stroke by the arrival of Tritia. She must try and like the girl, she reminded herself, watching her trip across the lawn towards them and all at once aware that she was still wearing the very ordinary slacks and shirt she had put on in such a hurry that morning; she couldn’t attempt to match Tritia’s cool perfection, nothing she had on could come near to the linen two-piece and the exquisite high-heeled sandals. She glanced down at her own everyday person and saw her ring—that was something Tritia hadn’t got. Philomena allowed her hand to rest on her mallet so that the rubies caught fire in the sun.
