by Betty Neels
‘He can’t make us go back, can he?’ asked Franny.
‘No. He might try to bully you into returning, but I don’t think that he will.’ He smiled a little. ‘Let us go into the drawing room by the fire.’
‘I must get a job as far away as possible, where Auntie will be quite safe,’ said Franny. ‘I’ll start looking for something tomorrow morning.’
‘You will not need to do that. Auntie will come here, Franny.’
‘Here? What do you mean? And, of course, I must get a job...’
‘She will live here with us, and when we go to Holland I will find someone to keep her company.’
‘When we go to Holland?’ Franny’s voice came out in a startled squeak. ‘But I’m not going to Holland.’
‘I rather hoped that as my wife you would like to go with me.’
‘Your wife?’ She threw him a look of amazement.
‘Well, yes. You heard me telling your uncle that we were to be married?’
‘Yes, but that was to stop him trying to make me stay at Brinsleigh.’
‘Of course it was...’
‘You didn’t mean it.’
‘You realise that your uncle will be certain to check on it? If he finds that it was nothing but a hollow statement by me, he will make it his business to trace you and Auntie. He may not be able to make you return, but he could make life very unpleasant. And unpleasantness is something Auntie must be spared.’
He spoke with quiet assurance, and Franny, a variety of feelings churning up her insides, was in no state to find holes in his calm assessment of the situation. He smiled at her now and got up. ‘I’ll take Finn back now; we will talk again when I return.’
Finn was already on his feet. He liked the idea of the professor for a brother-in-law and he rather thought that he would make Franny a good husband. He hoped that Franny wasn’t going to be pig-headed about it. Of course, it must have been a bit of a surprise, but it would be a marvellous solution for their futures. He was surprised that the professor wanted to marry Franny, though. She was a splendid sister, who had taken enough knocks to upset any girl, but she was nothing much to look at.
He said now, ‘Thank you for lunch, it was first rate. Franny, let me know what’s going to happen. I’ll phone the hospital about Auntie in the morning.’
He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘Bit of a turn-up, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ said Franny. ‘I was so very glad to see you—you both—I can’t quite believe it. I’ll let you know where I’ll be as soon as I know.’
In the car presently, Finn asked diffidently, ‘You really want to marry Franny, sir?’
‘Yes, Finn. A medical man needs a wife, you know.’ He spoke kindly, but Finn heard the reserve in his voice and didn’t ask any more questions.
As for Franny, she sat by the fire with Trimble on her knee, her head in a fine muddle. All this talk of getting married was nonsense, of course, but at the same time the professor wasn’t a man to talk nonsense. Surely it wasn’t necessary to marry her in order to get her away from Uncle William?
‘I don’t know anything about him,’ she told Trimble. ‘The whole idea is crazy.’
Trimble muttered and twitched his whiskers, which hardly helped.
* * *
IT WAS DUSK before the professor returned, closely followed by Crisp with the tea tray. He settled himself in his chair and begged Franny to pour the tea.
The teapot was Georgian silver and the cups and saucers Coalport china. She poured carefully, terrified of breaking something, trying to think of something to say.
The professor handed her a plate of wafer-thin sandwiches. ‘I can see that you’re bursting with questions. Do ask them when you want to, only don’t be too long about it—I have to return to the hospital shortly and my secretary is coming this evening. She will keep you company.’ He added, in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘She will spend the night here too.’
‘Why?’
‘I have some old-fashioned ideas, Franny. One of them is that you don’t sleep under my roof without another woman in the house.’
‘Your reputation...?’
‘No, no. Yours.’ He caught her eye. ‘And don’t argue about it, Franny.’
‘No, well, I won’t. Not now at least. You keep talking as though we’re to marry. I can quite see that it was a good idea to tell Uncle William that, but you didn’t mean it, did you?’
‘Indeed, I did.’ He passed her a plate of little cakes. ‘Use your wits, Franny. Your uncle is no fool. He might not be able to claim the right to keep Auntie at his home, for he has no legal grounds for that, but there is the faint possibility that he could interfere in your life. I know you are over twenty-one and independent, but he could argue that as a close relation he has the right to give you a home since you are homeless and without work.’
‘You won’t let him...?’ began Franny. ‘Anyway, I’d run away.’
‘No need to do that. I’ll get a special licence and we will marry as soon as it can be arranged. He’ll be unable to touch you once you are my wife.’
‘That’s all very well, but do you want a wife? Especially me...’
‘As I told Finn, a medical man needs a wife. I have never had the time to fall in love or find the woman I want for my wife. I’m no longer a youth and it seems that this is unlikely now. I believe that we will suit each other quite well and I promise you that I won’t rush you. We hardly know each other, but that is something that we can put right after we are married.’
He sounded placid, quite sure of himself, and entirely without sentiment. He passed his cup for more tea, entirely at his ease, smiling a little.
If this was a proposal of marriage, thought Franny, it must surely be unique. ‘I’d like to think about it,’ she said finally. ‘I’m not sure if I’m the right wife for you.’ She looked at him steadily. ‘I’m rather plain, you know, and Fish Street is very different from this.’ She waved a hand at their elegant surroundings.
‘I fancy that you are more at home here than you were in Fish Street. And, as for your looks, I have never wished to marry a ravishing beauty—too distracting!’
Which wasn’t quite the answer a girl would have expected from the man who had asked her to marry him. Still, it was better than nothing and, since it was evident that sentimental feelings of any sort were not to be evident either, it was what she should have expected.
‘It is very kind of you,’ she began inadequately, ‘but I really can’t marry you. You’ve forgotten Auntie...’
‘I have forgotten nothing. I have already said that Auntie shall stay here until such time as she wishes to make a home for herself again. I rather think that she will wish to do that, and I know just the right woman to act as her housekeeper.’
Franny eyed him thoughtfully. ‘You have thought of everything...’
The thought flashed through her mind that supposing he or she should fall in love? Had he thought of that? She voiced that thought.
‘We might fall in love—I don’t mean you and me, but with someone else.’
He answered her seriously, but she had the feeling that he was amused about something. ‘Then we must be sure to tell each other, mustn’t we?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘I must go. I shall bring Mrs Willett back with me. She is a widow, and a very pleasant person. I hope that you will like her.’ He got up and went to the door. ‘Crisp will show you to your room; you will want to unpack. I hope we will be back before eight o’clock. Phone the hospital if you’re anxious about Auntie.’
He went away quietly and she sat there, thinking about the future he was offering her. She could quite see that she wasn’t going to alter his life; his work was all-important to him, and taking a wife was something which he considered he should do. He would be a kind and considerat
e husband—she had no doubt of that—just as long as she didn’t make any demands upon him. And since he had decided that he should marry, she might just as well be his wife as anyone else. A businesslike arrangement with the warmth of a liking for each other which might in the course of time turn into something deeper. And Auntie would be safe and cared for...
Crisp came to interrupt her thoughts. He led her across the hall and along a short passage, and opened a door at its end. The room was a fair size, with a window overlooking a narrow garden. It was warm and softly lit by pink-shaded lamps, and furnished charmingly with a walnut bed and dressing table, two small easy chairs covered in rose-patterned cretonne and a tallboy inlaid with marquetry. The curtains were of the same cretonne and the quilt which covered the bed was pink.
Crisp indicated her luggage. ‘You will wish to unpack, Miss Bowen. The bathroom is through this door. If I can be of help in any way, please ask.’
She peered into the bathroom—cream tiles, fluffy pink towels, a shelf full of soaps and creams, lotions and powders. A room used by a woman, thought Franny. She must ask the professor if he had a mother or sisters...
She dawdled over her unpacking, did her hair and her face, decided that there wasn’t much point changing into the one decent dress she possessed, and went back to the drawing room.
A little while later the professor came home with Mrs Willett, a cosy, middle-aged lady with a friendly face and a soft voice who was presently led away to her room by Crisp with a warning that dinner would be in half an hour.
The professor gave Franny a drink, poured one for himself, and sat down. ‘I’ve seen Auntie again,’ he told her. ‘She is perfectly happy and her general condition is good. I’ll keep her there for a few days while they get her going on some gentle exercise. She sends her love.’
He talked of this and that, then, putting her at her ease, so that by the time Mrs Willett joined them Franny, soothed by his quiet voice and warmed by the sherry, felt quite her old self.
After dinner the professor went to his study and she and Mrs Willett sat by the fire, talking. Mrs Willett had a daughter the same age as Franny, married and living in the north of England, and presently Franny found that she was telling her about herself and Finn and Auntie. Mrs Willett, primed by the professor, already knew the bare bones of it, but she bent a kind and sympathetic ear now, and when Franny had finished she spoke with real sympathy.
‘You’ve had a miserable time, my dear, but now you can look forward to a happy future. Professor van der Kettener tells me that you are to be married. He will be a kind and good husband; you can depend upon that. I have worked for him for several years when he has been here in England, and you couldn’t wish for a better man.’
He joined them presently, and after a short time he suggested that Franny might like to go to bed. ‘You must be tired,’ he told her, ‘and after all the excitement you need a rest. Crisp will call you in the morning. I’ll see you at breakfast.’
So Franny bade Mrs Willett goodnight, and when the professor opened the door for her she paused to wish him goodnight, too. ‘I hope you sleep well too,’ she told him.
The professor, satisfied that his plans had been successful, assured her that he would.
Her room looked inviting. She had a long, hot bath, then climbed into bed and found that someone had put a glass of warm milk on the bedside table. She drank it down, wondering sleepily why it tasted so delicious, not knowing that it was discreetly laced with the best brandy, so making doubly sure that she had a good night’s sleep.
* * *
THE THREE OF them breakfasted together in the morning, but presently Mrs Willett went back to her room and the professor put his letters down.
‘Crisp will take you to St Giles’ when you wish,’ he told Franny. ‘And would it be a good idea if you did some shopping afterwards?’ He caught her look. ‘Yes, I know you haven’t any money. I’ve an account at Harrods, so go there and buy whatever you want. I’ll let them know.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘You will need a wedding dress for a start...’
‘Oh, well, yes. I suppose I will. What else should I buy? I don’t want you to be ashamed of me.’ Franny was trying to match his matter-of-fact manner. ‘I could get everything except the dress at Marks and Spencer.’
He said easily, ‘Oh, you don’t need to be too economical; get everything at Harrods. If I give you an idea of how much you can spend that would make it easier, wouldn’t it?’
And when she nodded he named a sum which left her open-mouthed. ‘That’s too much. I couldn’t possibly...’
He said smoothly, ‘I think that just for once we might be a little extravagant, don’t you, Franny?’
‘Well,’ said Franny, ‘it would be lovely to buy clothes without looking at the price tag first. It will only be us at our wedding?’
‘Er, yes. And your aunt and Finn, of course.’
She nodded. ‘In a church...?’
‘Of course. I’ll see about the licence today.’ He gathered up his letters, preparing to go. ‘Have you any preference as to the day?’
‘No. Whenever it fits in with your work.’ Franny frowned. ‘You know, I’m still not sure that I’m the right wife for you. I know it’s only a friendly arrangement—I mean, we aren’t—that is, we don’t love each other—but I don’t know anything about you.’
‘But you like me a little now, and you trust me?’
‘Yes. I didn’t like you very much at first, you know, but now I do, and of course I trust you. You’ve gone to a lot of trouble, too.’
‘Then leave everything to me, Franny.’ He went to the door, stooping to kiss her cheek lightly as he went. ‘I shall be home about five o’clock, but I must go out again this evening.’
He put a small roll of notes by her plate and had gone before she could thank him.
Mrs Willett was in the hall when Franny entered it presently. ‘I’ll be back this evening, Franny. Have a lovely day shopping. I hope you’ll show me everything.’
Franny sat down at the table again and presently Crisp came to clear it. ‘You will want to go to the hospital later, Miss Bowen? I’ll drive you there, and I was to remind you to take a taxi to Harrods from the hospital when you are ready to leave.’
It was a pleasant feeling, she reflected, being so carefully looked after. After years of penny-pinching and worrying about making ends meet, to be given carte blanche at Harrods was like a dream. But then the whole of the last day had been a dream. No one would believe it if I told them, thought Franny.
She went in search of Crisp and asked if he would take her to the hospital in half an hour. It was still early, but she realised with rising delight that she had a lot of shopping to do.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AUNTIE WAS UP and dressed, waiting to go to Physiotherapy. ‘I am so comfortable here,’ she told Franny happily. ‘Tomorrow I’m to start doing exercises. Marc came to see me just now; he says I’ll be as good as new in a short time. My dear, he says I am to stay at his home until I decide to make a home for myself and Finn. And you are to be married. I could scarcely believe it.’
‘Nor can I,’ said Franny. ‘I’m going shopping. The prof—that is, Marc—says I must have some new clothes.’ She smiled widely. ‘Harrods.’
‘Only what you deserve, love. Do you suppose we shall hear from William again?’
‘If we do, we only have to tell Marc,’ said Franny largely. ‘He’ll know what to do. So don’t worry, dear. Did Finn phone?’
‘Yes. I was to tell you that everything is fine. He will ring you this evening. Oh, my dear, can you imagine how wonderful it would be if I could have a home of my own again? With Finn popping in and out and you close by? It’s like a dream!’ She gave Franny a thoughtful look. ‘You’ll be happy with Marc? It’s all so sudden; I had no idea that he was in love with you.’
> Franny stopped herself just in time from saying that she’d had no idea either. Let Auntie enjoy her romantic thoughts.
Obedient to her instructions, Franny took a taxi to Harrods, over-tipped the cabby for the sheer pleasure of it and entered the elegant doors. She looked a little out of place among the stylish customers wandering around as she made her way to the dress department. She explored it for some time, aware of the sharp eyes of the sales ladies, before going up to one of them.
‘My name is Bowen, Miss Francesca Bowen. Professor van der Kettener has an account here and has told me to charge anything I buy to him. Would you verify this before I start shopping?’
The sales lady looked surprised, begged her to be seated while she did as she was asked, and went away. How awful, thought Franny, if he has forgotten.
She should have known better; he never forgot. A smiling lady returned and, despite the heavy make-up and strange hairstyle, turned out to be both friendly and helpful.
‘Are you looking for just an outfit or a complete wardrobe?’ she asked. She thought Franny was a plain girl, shabbily dressed, but it would be a pleasure to dress her...
‘I want something for a quiet wedding—something I can wear afterwards. A dress and matching coat? I shall need some shoes and gloves and a handbag and a hat. I would also like something to wear every day—a jersey dress, perhaps, skirts and blouses and one or two sweaters. A pretty dress for the evening—oh, and a raincoat. Shoes and a dressing gown, undies and stockings.’
‘A winter coat?’
‘Oh, yes, and a coat I could wear if we went out in the evening.’
‘You would like to choose the dress and coat first? Come with me, if you will...’
Two hours later Franny walked out of Harrods. Her many purchases would be sent to Wimpole Street, and all she carried was the well-known plastic bag containing a splendid selection of aids to beauty. Marc might not love her, but there was no reason why he shouldn’t be proud of her. And the jars and bottles she had bought might not turn her into a beauty, but they would mitigate the plainness.
