Damsel in Green

by Betty Neels

  ‘Yes—I was very tired.’ She stopped, remembering clearly that she had told him that she had had an excellent night’s sleep. She peeped at him through her lashes to see if he had noticed and saw that he had. His face wore an ‘I told you so’ expression which was maddening. She repeated, ‘I’ll wake the children,’ and did so, leaving him to sit in the chair while she combed their hair and tidied them and fastened Cor’s calipers. She avoided him for the rest of the day, and went upstairs early after dinner, pleading letters to write.

  She awoke the next morning to a world of cold and ice and blue sky and a feeling of happiness engendered by the knowledge that she would be seeing Julius every day for the next two weeks. She drank the tea Pankie brought, bathed and dressed and then set about getting Cor on to his feet. She was fastening the last strap of his calipers, with Beatrix in voluble attendance, when the Professor came in. He wished her a genial good morning, suffered a strangling embrace from Beatrix, and carried Cor down to breakfast.

  Barely an hour later they were all down by the lake, watching while Julius tested the ice. Satisfied, he put on his skates and skimmed over its entire surface. He was an excellent skater. Georgina watched him; in a tremendous sweater, his wool-gloved hands clasped behind him, weaving to and fro until finally he came back to them and pronounced the ice safe. Presently he set off again with Beatrix, leaving Dimphena to execute graceful patterns on her own, and Georgina to walk Cor gently up and down the hard-packed snow at the lake’s edge. They paused frequently to watch the skaters, especially Dimphena, who floated round with the practiced ease of a dancer, her pretty face framed in a fur bonnet, her scarlet slacks and anorak making a vivid splash of colour.

  They all came to a halt when Hans came down from the house with a great thermos jug of hot chocolate. He waited while they drank it, and then took charge of Cor, and Georgina, with a pair of Dutch Runners strapped to her stout shoes, found herself on the ice, with the Professor beside her. She hadn’t skated for a couple of winters at least, and she faltered a little as they started off, but he slid a great arm round her waist and drew her along willy-nilly, so that in a few seconds she was quite at her ease, and by the time they had circled the lake she was enjoying herself hugely. The cold air rushed against their faces, the ice beneath their skates was smooth, her cheeks glowed and her eyes sparkled. She became as warm as toast and when they finally stopped and Julius pulled her round to face him, she said happily, ‘That was marvelous!’

  He glanced at her, and then away. ‘You skate well. Do you know that you look pretty too?’

  Her pink cheeks became pinker. She said in a little girl’s voice, ‘Oh, do I?’ Her sheepskin jacket and brown knitted bonnet and her last year’s tweed slacks hardly seemed the height of fashion to her, especially when compared with Dimphena’s outfit. ‘I’ll take Cor indoors, I think. It’s time for his exercises.’ He was still holding her hand; he didn’t let it go, but took her over to the edge of the ice and took off her skates. As he went he said, ‘We’ll do this again.’

  He was as good as his word. The following morning, Cor, it seemed, wanted to spend an hour or so with Hans, and Dimphena declared that she must go calling on friends and took Beatrix with her. Georgina found herself free to accept the Professor’s invitation to skate. They circled the lake slowly while they talked; the easy talk of two people with all the world in common. She found herself telling him about her childhood with Aunt Polly and of how much she owed her. She said deliberately:

  ‘That’s why I’ve accepted Casualty Sister’s post.’

  He halted so suddenly that she would have fallen if he hadn’t been holding her firmly.

  ‘You’ve what?’ His voice was silky, there was something in its tones which made her look up at him. Her brown eyes met his blue ones and held them squarely. ‘You didn’t tell me,’ he said flatly.

  ‘I gave the letter to the stewardess to post in Harwich when she got back.’ She kept her voice level. ‘It’s—it’s what I’ve always wanted.’

  His eyes weren’t blue any more. They had turned to steel and were just as cold. She wondered what he would say and was totally unprepared for his next remark.

  ‘Did I tell you that we have guests tomorrow? A pity we shan’t be able to skate again—by the time they leave, I expect a thaw will have set in.’ His voice was level, and she hoped that hers was equally so.

  ‘It was wonderful.’ She swallowed a misery which was no easier to bear because she had deliberately brought it upon herself, and went on brightly, ‘I hope it doesn’t thaw before Karel and Franz arrive.’

  He answered carelessly; she could see that she hadn’t got his attention. ‘I daresay it will hold until then. By the way, I must ask you not to go on the lake, either alone or with the children, until you have checked with me that it’s safe.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Shall we go round once more before we go in?’

  The magic had gone. He talked pleasantly about the house and the grounds and the small farm abutting his land, which he owned too; but he was a thousand miles away from her, and she realized sadly that now guests would be in the house, she would see less of him. After a little while she said timidly, ‘I’d like to go in now, please,’ and his ‘Of course’ was so willingly said that her eyes sparkled with tears which she had no intention of shedding. They walked back to the house, and parted in the friendliest possible fashion in the hall.

  They met again at lunch, and again during the pleasant half hour in the salon before dinner, when the whole family foregathered to chat about their day. She had expected him to ignore her as far as good manners would allow, she certainly didn’t expect him to go out of his way to talk to her. She couldn’t have been more wrong. He kept her by his side, discussing where she should go, and what she should see, and even complimented her upon the blue dress. And when she went upstairs to see Cor and Beatrix safely to their beds, he insisted, with a charm which yielded nothing to her excuses, that she should go down again. It was certainly pleasant with just the three of them. The Professor and Dimphena discussed their guests and their plans for entertaining them, taking care that Georgina was included in their talk. There was to be a luncheon party, to which some local friends would come, and a family dinner party as well, ‘And,’ said Dimphena hopefully, ‘perhaps a little dancing afterwards, Julius?’

  ‘Why not?’ he agreed lazily, ‘though remember that most of the family are too elderly to do anything more modern than the foxtrot.’ They all laughed, and he went on, ‘I think we should tell Georgina who will be coming. It will be less confusing. There will be Uncle and Aunt Van den Berg—fiftyish—they live in Wassenaar; then Uncle and Aunt Kuppers-Eyffert, who come from a small place near Arnhem, and some cousins of mine—doctors, I’m afraid—and their wives, of course. There will be some children too—nice for Beatrix and Cor.’ He turned to Dimphena. ‘It’s short notice, Phena, but I telephoned Therese LeFabre this afternoon. She will be coming some time after lunch. She can have the little bedroom at the end of the corridor.’

  Dimphena looked upset as well as surprised. ‘But, Julius, you said you were never…’

  He gave her a blank look which brought her up short. ‘Did I really?’ He smiled. ‘Poor Phena—but Therese knows us well enough to take pot luck.’

  Georgina found that the evening held no pleasure for her any more; which was stupid and illogical of her, her common sense assured her. She had known about Madame Lefabre, hadn’t she? She had known that Julius would almost certainly see that lady while he was in Holland, so why should she feel as though the world had come to an end for her? She rearranged the folds of her long blue skirt meticulously with fingers that trembled despite her efforts.

  ‘By the way,’ said Julius, and she looked up to find his eyes upon her; they gleamed with an expression she was unable to read, ‘Uncle Ivo—my Great-Uncle Ivo—will also be coming. He’s eighty, and proud of it, and he is very prone to speak his mind. He is also very wise.’

  She went to bed soon after,
because she didn’t want to be left alone with the Professor. She said her goodnights and went upstairs, aware that he had known what had been in her mind about Madame LeFabre. She got into bed, determined to think of nothing but her bright future at St Athel’s. But it was no good and she gave herself up to speculation about Therese LeFabre and presently she began to think about Julius.

  Chapter Ten

  The visitors arrived in ones and twos, the aunts and uncles in chauffeur-driven cars, the cousins later in the day, in small fast cars which pulled up before the house with a good deal of horn blowing and squealing of brakes. Neither of them were quite as large as Julius, but they had his straw-coloured hair and blue eyes and the same placid manner, which Georgina was beginning to realize wasn’t always as placid as it seemed. Their wives were young, neither of them good-looking, but possessed of a charm which could, on occasion, turn them into beauties. They both had an excellent taste in clothes, and the one was as dark as the other was fair. Between them they brought four children, small, well-mannered and gratifyingly curious about Cor’s calipers. They gravitated without urging to Georgina, and she was pleased, for she was able to try out her rudimentary Dutch on them. She didn’t mind them laughing at her in the least, and it amused them to correct her.

  Before luncheon she went upstairs to repair the ravages to her person consequent on the entertainment of six small children, and it was as she was coming downstairs again that she saw the old gentleman in the hall. She knew who it was immediately, for Julius had a likeness of him, in spite of the white hair and the slight stoop. She looked around for Hans, but there was no sign of him, and the old gentleman caught sight of her and burst into resounding and incomprehensible speech. She advanced to meet him, saying inadequately, ‘How do you do? I’m afraid I cannot understand a word you say.’

  He waited until she was close to him, then produced a pair of old-fashioned gold-rimmed spectacles the better to examine her. He took them off again before he said, ‘So you’re the girl Julius told me of.’ His English was as good as her own and delivered in a deep rumbling voice. ‘Nice-looking too,’ he went on, ‘plenty of flesh on your bones—can’t bear skinny women myself, nor can Julius.’ Georgina blinked, but was saved from replying, for he hadn’t finished. ‘You’ve got an outlandish name.’

  ‘Georgina,’ she said faintly. ‘Georgina Rodman. I’ll tell Professor Eyffert that you’re here.’

  Before she could move, he bellowed mildly, ‘Good God, girl, do you call him that all the time?’ He looked down his nose at her, making his resemblance to his great-nephew more marked than ever. ‘Afraid of me?’ he asked.

  ‘My goodness, no. Why should I be?’ She smiled at him and watched the answering smile on his pleasant old face, as he pronounced:

  ‘You’re a nice girl. Why doesn’t Julius…’

  ‘Why don’t I what, Uncle Ivo?’ He came across the hall and shook his uncle’s hand. ‘It’s good to see you again. I see you’ve already met Miss Rodman.’

  ‘Is that what she’s called? I shall call her Georgina—that is, provided she has no objection.’

  ‘None at all,’ she answered in a composed voice. She took care not to look at Julius even when he said, ‘Shall we join the others?’ and ushered them into the salon.

  Therese LeFabre arrived during tea. The children had spent a noisy happy afternoon playing in the snow, and Georgina had played with them while their parents tried out the ice. They were all warm and pleasantly tired when they joined the less mobile members of the party in the little room for tea. She sat the children together, supplied them with food and drink and went to sit by Uncle Ivo, who while making an excellent tea, asked a great many questions of her. She did her best to answer them and was just wondering how to counter his forthright enquiry as to why she had not married, when Hans opened the door, and a woman came in. It had to be Therese, for she was everything Georgina had expected her to be, and even more than that. She was strikingly good-looking, as slim as a wand, and looked as though she had stepped straight from the pages of Vogue. She paused with studied grace just inside the door, stretched out her arms with a tinkling of bracelets and cried in a ringing voice, ‘Julius!’

  He had got up and was advancing to meet her with every appearance of pleasure. Georgina, suddenly cold inside, extracted a small scrap of comfort from the fact that he only took one of the outstretched hands and shook it. But that was really no comfort, for she didn’t imagine that he was a man to kiss a girl in front of a roomful of relatives. She looked away and encountered the penetrating gaze of her companion.

  He said softly, without taking his eyes from hers, ‘She’s been after him for years—she’s thirty if she’s a day and no shape at all.’ He gave a whispered snort, which was none the less ferocious. ‘All those damned jingling bracelets!’ He added fiercely, ‘I hope he knows his own mind.’

  Georgina hoped so too, but this was hardly the time nor the place to give the matter thought. She sought to lead Uncle Ivo’s thoughts into pleasanter channels.

  ‘I think she’s lovely,’ she said evenly, intent on betraying nothing of her feelings. ‘Don’t you like modern clothes?’

  ‘Of course I like them—I’m not an old woman, even if I am eighty.’ He put his spectacles on and stared at her through them. ‘You’re as transparent as glass, my dear,’ he said, suddenly gentle. ‘I hope you’ve got a pretty dress for dinner tonight.’

  She said lightly, ‘I’ve no intention of competing,’ and smiled widely. ‘I promised I’d play the piano for the children in the nursery. If they’ve finished their teas, I’ll take them upstairs now, I think.’

  She went unhurriedly to fetch them and was almost at the door, ushering the last child through it, when the Professor reached her.

  ‘Before you go, my dear Miss Rodman, come and meet Therese LeFabre.’ His voice was silky. ‘A very old friend.’

  She shook hands, and was overwhelmed by charm, turned on deliberately and impossible to ignore. It was cloying and spiced with small pinprick remarks which somehow contrived to make Georgina feel a prig and someone to be pitied. She smiled her way through the conversation, glad that Julius had left them alone, although probably being a man, and in love, he would have noticed nothing. She followed the children upstairs, and said, ‘Oh, dear, love is so very blind!’ which mystified the children considerably.

  Blind or not, and very much on the losing side, she had every intention of going down with all flags flying. She put on the brown organza and, watched by Beatrix and Cor, spent a good deal of time arranging her hair in a shining pile on the top of her head. Therese would doubtless be loaded with jewels, and they would be real, she had no doubt; she fastened some early Victorian earrings—little golden tassels—into her pretty ears, and went to find someone to take Cor down.

  The Professor was the only occupant of the salon when they entered. He was standing in front of the fire, with a glass in his hand, looking distinguished and remote. He looked up and watched as Georgina settled Cor in a small armchair, thanked Hans for his good offices, and arranged cushions where they would be most comfortable. When she had finished, she said, ‘There. Now I’m going to see if Beatrix is ready…’

  ‘No,’ said the Professor, ‘stay here.’ He spoke so gently that she wasn’t sure if she had heard him at all. ‘Phena is quite capable of helping Beatrix with buttons and things,’ he went on. His deliberate glance swept her from head to foot and she willed herself to remain calm under it. She knew she looked nice—the brown organza was becoming in its own modest fashion.

  He said abruptly, ‘How delightfully feminine you look,’ and went over to the sofa table behind the great sofa to fetch her a drink. She thanked him with a coolness wholly at variance with her heightened colour, and sipped, thankful to have something to do. She was cudgelling her brains for a topic of conversation when the door opened and Therese LeFabre came in. She was wearing a silver trouser suit and a great many chains and rings; she made Georgina feel like a mouse.
She stopped when she saw Georgina and Cor and said in her prettily accented English:

  ‘Oh, you’re here already,’ and then cast a speaking glance at the Professor. ‘Julius?’

  He was looking at her with no expression on his face at all; now he smiled faintly and walked over to the drinks tray. ‘Your usual, Therese?’ he asked pleasantly; if he was annoyed at not being alone with her, he was concealing his feelings very well.

  Georgina got up and went over to Cor’s chair, and sat down beside him, half-turned away from the others and by concentrating hard upon what he was saying, was able to ignore the murmur of their voices, and presently, when everyone else arrived, she was caught up in a small circle consisting of the doctors and Great-Uncle Ivo, who made no bones about admiring her appearance in a loud and penetrating voice.

  The dinner was long and leisurely and delicious; if it hadn’t been for Therese sitting beside Julius at the great oval table, Georgina would have loved every minute of it. As it was, she was glad when they at last left the table to stroll in little groups back to the salon, the children dragging a little by now, the men left behind to drink their port. She looked at Cor worriedly. He was tired—too tired. The treat of staying up late was wearing thin. She drank her coffee, and said firmly, ‘Bed, Cor dear.’

  He looked stubborn. ‘Not until all the others go too.’

  ‘They’re coming,’ she said, and went to drop a word in motherly ears so that within a few moments she had the small creatures collected, with goodnights said. They were at the door when Therese LeFabre said:

  ‘But it is wonderful, Miss Rodman; all these children who listen to you—you must be a very good nursemaid.’

  Georgina had been about to lift Cor to carry him upstairs—he wasn’t heavy, and she wasn’t going to disturb the men. She put him down again, her eyes sparkling with temper. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but in any case she had no chance to say it, for the Professor’s voice, level and cold, spoke first.