by Betty Neels
CHAPTER NINE
THE PARTY had been splendid, everyone told her the next morning. Letitia listened to their cheerful talk about it, treasuring every mention of Jason, then suggested that as Georgina had had a late night she might take the babies into the garden until lunch time, an offer willingly accepted. Letitia went to sit by the lake, with baby Ivo in his pram and Polly busy picking daisies so that they might make a daisy chain together. It was quiet there; she would have been quite happy to have gone back there after lunch, but Georgina insisted that she should accept Karel’s offer to drive her into Utrecht so that she might do any shopping she wanted, and indeed, she had presents to choose for her family. With his help she found something to please everyone before he took her to tea at the Esplanade Restaurant, a large cheerful place in the heart of the city. It was during tea that she managed to ask with a casual air where the hospital was.
‘Oh, if you mean the one where Jason works—that’s the largest, you know, we’ll go that way presently, and you can see for yourself. It’s pretty up to date.’
He was as good as his word, parking for a few minutes in the hospital forecourt and pointing out the various departments. Letitia looked at them all carefully, imprinting them on her mind, so that later on, when she was back in England, she would be able to think of Jason working there. It was cold comfort but better than nothing.
The days flew by; there was always something to fill them and whenever possible Letitia was included in the various outings, and when she stayed behind with Polly and Ivo there was the faithful Hans to look after her. She told herself that she was a very lucky girl, living in such comfort and with so little to do. She had struck up quite a friendship with Great-Uncle Ivo, too—it was impossible not to like the old gentleman, even though at times he was quite outrageous; besides, he often spoke of Jason.
‘Knew him as a boy,’ he told her one afternoon when they were sitting in the garden together. ‘Young limb, he was—always at the top of a tree or away fishing or out with the dogs. He’s grown into a decent chap, don’t you agree, girl?’ He had stared into her face so that she pinkened, furious at herself for doing so. ‘Um,’ said her companion thoughtfully, and then: ‘God bless my soul!’
She was to go back a few days ahead of the others; partly because Karel intended to leave then and was giving her a lift, and partly because although the theatre would be opened again the day after she returned, Julius wouldn’t be working until the end of the week. The last few days came and she had seen nothing of Jason; he might just as well have been at the South Pole for all the difference it made, but there was to be a party on her last evening and although Georgina hadn’t said that he would be there, Letitia hoped that he would be. But as it turned out, it was the day before that when he came. Letitia was spooning Polly’s supper into her small pink mouth when he walked in, so quietly that she didn’t hear him until he slid into a chair beside her at the nursery table.
‘Hullo.’ He sounded as though they had seen each other only an hour or so ago instead of days. ‘You’re going home tomorrow, Julius tells me.’
‘Yes.’
‘With Karel?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ve a free afternoon tomorrow, so I wondered if you would like to come over and see the gardens, they’re rather nice just now.’
‘Thank you, I’d like that,’ and then, anxious not to seem too eager for his company: ‘But I’m not sure about tomorrow, I must ask George.’
‘I already have and she said go ahead. She’ll be home all day, anyway, and had intended asking you if you wanted to go anywhere on your own.’
‘Well, then—yes, I’ll come.’ It had been weak of her to say that; why not make some excuse and say goodbye now? That would have been the sensible thing to do, only she wasn’t sensible any more. She stuffed rusks and milk, mashed together into a horrid pap, into Polly’s willing mouth. ‘Good girl,’ she encouraged her, ‘there’s a banana for afters.’
‘Revolting!’ declared Jason. ‘And she actually seems to like it. I’ve brought her some chocolate.’
‘One small piece,’ Letitia warned him, ‘before I clean her teeth.’
He was unwrapping it while his goddaughter uttered cries of joy from a full mouth. ‘You’ll make a pretty fierce mum,’ he observed, and added: ‘A rather sweet one too.’
‘I’ll have to get married first.’
But he didn’t answer her, only smiled and presently took a casual leave.
He called for her after lunch the following afternoon, relaxed and elegant, for all the world as though he hadn’t come straight from a heavy morning’s work at the hospital. Letitia had spent a good deal of thought on what to wear, rather in the mood of someone going to the block and wishing to put on a good show. She had decided at length on a blue and white striped cotton dress, last year’s, so neither new nor as fashionable as she would have wished, but it was cool and pleasing to the eye, and she had tied her hair back with a matching ribbon and got out her best pair of sandals to put on her bare feet; she had bought them on a shopping trip with Georgina; they were blue too, canvas with a rope sole and really quite the latest thing.
Jason gave her an all-embracing glance, accorded her a cheerful hullo, then addressed himself to Georgina and Julius, lounging on the terrace, and standing there beside him, Letitia was conscious of doubt about the afternoon’s outing. After all, he had no interest in her, not the kind she wanted, anyway. There was no need for him to put himself out. He had, after all, already done his share of entertaining her. She began, quite foolishly, to think of an excuse for not going. A sore throat? or a headache? No good, both he and Julius would at once examine her perfectly healthy tonsils and know it for an excuse, and a headache was too old a trick. And there was no more time to think of anything else, for he asked: ‘Ready?’ in a voice suggesting that she had kept him waiting, and urged her into the car. It was the BMW this time and she commented upon it.
‘I quite thought you’d got rid of it,’ she added.
‘Lord no—I like a change, that’s all.’ He spoke laconically and after that they said very little on the short journey, but when they reached the archway again, she uttered an involuntary ‘Oh, it’s absolutely super!’
He agreed placidly and invited her to get out. ‘My mother isn’t here,’ he told her. ‘My eldest sister’s children have taken the measles, and Mama has gone, full sail, to render all aid.’
She turned to look at him. ‘You sound as though—as though you don’t like children.’
She was conscious of his hand on her shoulder. ‘On the contrary,’ he assured her quietly. ‘Come inside, it’s far too nice a day to waste it indoors, but there is one room, I believe you would like to see.’
Letitia would have disputed that point; there was nothing she would have liked better than to stroll from room to room of the lovely old place and examine its treasures at her leisure, but she could hardly ask. She agreed politely and allowed herself to be led down a short passage at the back of the hall where he opened a panelled door.
‘This is the oldest part of the house,’ he explained. ‘It was used as the solarium by the wife of the man who built it. Mother used it as her sitting room, just as all the ladies of the house did before her. It has been empty for a year or two now.’
It was a small apartment, wainscoted to the plastered ceiling, with long windows leading into the garden, an open fireplace with its log basket and irons, and a high-backed brocaded chair drawn up to its side, flanked by a lady’s work-table, the blue of its faded silken bag matching the curtains. It was a delightful little room; Letitia ran a careful finger along the marquetry ornamenting the top of a small circular table in the centre of it and exclaimed on a little sigh: ‘It’s quite perfect. I can just imagine your mother, and all the other mothers before her, coming here for peace and quiet—she would have needed that now and again, I expect, with so many of you…’ She was thinking aloud, forgetful of her companion for the moment. ‘There wou
ld have been a great deal to do—children to see to and meals to plan and the house to run, and time to be with her husband—she would have wanted that too.’
She went to look out of the window and said dreamily: ‘And such a lovely garden too.’
Jason opened one of the french windows, and without saying anything, gestured for her to pass through. ‘There have always been roses here,’ he told her, ‘so that whoever was in the solarium would be able to see them and smell them too—there’s a charming herb garden, too.’
They strolled down one path and up another, pausing to admire the lily pond and the formal Dutch garden with its neatly clipped box hedges, the flowers set so precisely that they might have been painted on canvas. Presently he suggested tea, and they went indoors, Letitia’s head delightfully full of scents and flowers and a glimpse of a vast kitchen garden which in its way was just as beautiful as the flower beds. They used a small side door this time, which opened into a pleasant room with a wide balcony overlooking a lawn edged with trees, and here they had tea, with Letitia nervously pouring it from a Queen Anne silver teapot into Meissen cups so delicate she was afraid they would crack if she raised her voice.
She had worried about being alone with Jason; that she might feel awkward or shy, perhaps, but she was neither. He entertained her with a flow of talk which steadied her nerves nicely, so that when he suggested that she might like to go on to the balcony, she agreed readily. They stood side by side, leaning on its delicate wrought iron balustrade while he pointed out the distant summer house, the tiny stream which fed the pool at the end of the lawn, and Jaap the gardener, bending over the flower beds.
‘He’s been here for as long as I can remember,’ Jason told her, ‘he must be well into his eighties and works a full day still. It was suggested a little while ago that he should retire, but he was so upset that no one has dared mention it since.’
‘I expect he loves his garden. Does he have any help?’
‘Lord, yes, dear girl. He has a couple of lads whom he bullies unmercifully, though they take it like lambs.’ He turned to look at her, and she noticed for the hundredth time how vividly blue his eyes were. ‘Letitia, will you marry me?’
She was stunned into silence, goggling at him, her mouth agape, her eyes wide. ‘Marry you?’ she repeated, her voice high.
He nodded. ‘That’s right,’ he agreed calmly, ‘marry me.’ He smiled a little and she waited, for surely he would tell her that he loved her, then it would be easy for her to tell him that she had loved him for weeks. But he said nothing at all, only looked at her, his eyes half closed against the sun, still smiling.
Not wanting to, she remembered what Karel had said—that Jason was the kind of man to marry some mouse of a girl out of pity. Somehow she kept her voice level and her face calm. ‘It wouldn’t do, Jason—I’m not the right person. You see, I’m not used to managing servants; we’ve only ever had old Mrs Barnes at home and she comes twice a week and does what she wants. I wouldn’t know how to go about things, and they’d hate it, and after a little while you would too. And it’s such a large house.’
‘Just a house, dear girl, and my home—and everyone, down to the boy who does the odd jobs, likes you.’ He bent down to fondle the two dogs sitting so quietly beside him. ‘That’s an excuse, isn’t it, Letitia? You’re not the girl to care one bit that I have rather a lot of money and everything that goes with it—you could manage an establishment twice the size of Niehof, and you know it. You’re making excuses, dear girl.’
She had looked away because she wanted to cry and he mustn’t see. She wondered what had decided him to ask her to marry him—probably an impulse born of his kindness, not love—he had been careful not to mention that.
‘Yes,’ she said in a small, well-controlled voice, ‘I suppose I am.’
He stood up. ‘Well, we’ll forget the whole thing, shall we, dear girl?’ And now his voice was as placid and cheerful as usual so that she had to take a quick look. He was watching her with eyes still half shut, so that she was unable to read their expression. ‘We certainly mustn’t let it spoil a beautiful friendship, must we?’ He went on easily: ‘Tell me, which way is Karel taking you home?’
‘We’re to go on the Ostend ferry, I believe. He’ll drop me off at St Athel’s.’ Letitia heard her voice, sounding quite natural, answering him, and it was like listening to someone else speaking while her mind grappled with the fact that he had asked her to marry him—and she had refused when it was the dearest wish of her heart. Jason was speaking again.
‘Ah, yes—quite easily done. He has only a couple more months to do, hasn’t he? Has he any idea where he’s going next? He’s a good surgeon, Julius tells me, so presumably he’ll specialize, and do well.’
She didn’t want to talk about Karel, who didn’t matter at all, but Jason seemed interested, and they had to talk about something, didn’t they?
‘Oh, yes—I think he will, and he’s very keen to get on.’
‘And young.’ There was edge to Jason’s voice which Letitia had never heard before. Probably he was irritated at their awkward little scene; she made haste to find a topic of conversation. The garden once more; she wore it threadbare, but Jason agreed pleasantly enough to her remarks, and presently the conversation was back again on safe ground; trees and shrubs and flower-beds, until he suggested that they should go.
‘I hate to bring such a pleasant afternoon to an end,’ he told her gently, ‘but if you are to go to George’s party, we should be going.’
He had become the genial host, thoughtful of his guest, and his impersonal good manners chilled her to the bone so that any wild ideas she had been turning over inside her unhappy head were most effectively damped. She accepted his suggestion in a colourless voice and sat silent beside him, composing a little speech to make to him later, when they would say good-bye.
Only it didn’t turn out like that. True, he went into the house with her and stayed for a drink, showing none of the signs which a man whose offer of marriage had just been refused might have been expected to exhibit. He was his usual good-humoured self, and when he got up to Letitia, who had been watching him, forgot every word of what she had planned to say. Not that it mattered; how could she have said it in a room full of people? How did you tell a man that you loved him to distraction and then ask him if he loved you with friends and relations milling round, listening to every word?
Letitia shook hands, and his hand was cool and firm and nothing more, and she thanked him for a pleasant afternoon and murmured suitably when he wished her a pleasant trip home. She watched him go, sickened by the very idea of going back to St Athel’s and longing to rush after him and say so. But what would be the good of that? And perhaps it was fortunate that she hadn’t had the chance to say the things she had wanted to say—she would have regretted it later, for he had never said that he loved her. Indeed, now that she came to think about it, he had changed the conversation so quickly that she would scarcely have had the opportunity to change her mind if she had wanted to. Perhaps he had regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth and felt nothing but relief.
She saw the BMW shoot smoothly down the drive, not listening to a word Great-Uncle Ivo was saying to her, so that she uttered replies at random, causing that old gentleman to look at her searchingly and bark:
‘He’ll be back, girl, he’ll be back.’ Which remark brought her to her senses more quickly than anything else could have done.
‘No, he won’t,’ she told her companion in an empty voice. For a frightful moment she thought that she was going to disgrace herself by bursting into tears, but she choked them back. ‘Do you suppose this glorious weather will last?’ She asked the ridiculous question in a voice which didn’t sound like hers at all.
‘No,’ said Great-Uncle Ivo, ‘I don’t.’ He went on fiercely: ‘You’re a silly chit of a girl—Jason’s a man in a thousand.’
‘Oh, do you think I don’t know that?’ she almost wailed at him. �
�Please don’t let’s talk about him!’
His old blue eyes surveyed her unhappy face. ‘We were talking about the weather,’ he said at once. ‘We are having a glorious summer, though you probably don’t agree with me, Letitia—and we each have our share of it. You have yours, my dear—a slice of summer.’
‘A small slice of summer,’ she corrected him, ‘and it’s finished. I’m going back tomorrow.’
‘Ah, yes—with Karel. Such a dear boy.’
‘It’s kind of him to offer me a lift.’
As though he had heard his name, Karel crossed the room to them and a few minutes later Letitia was laughing and talking as though she hadn’t a care in the world. It was difficult, especially when she remembered Jason’s nonchalant wave of the hand as he went, but life had to go on, however awful she felt about it. She would have liked time to think, but Karel gave her none; he was demanding to know if she could be ready to leave by seven o’clock the next morning, and when Great-Uncle Ivo strolled away, he confided: ‘I telephoned Mary, and she’ll be in London—we’ll get a few hours together. You don’t mind?’
She summoned a smile. ‘Of course I don’t,’ and she sighed without knowing it so that he asked her if she was tired. She shook her head, unable to tell him that the day had become endless now that Jason had gone.
It was pouring with rain in the morning; unexpected and suitable to her mood, but it was impossible to remain miserable in Karel’s company; he was at his gayest and she did her best to match his mood, while a part of her mind thought of Jason.
It was, in a way, good to be back at work; Letitia flung herself into the well-known routine, telling herself that now she was away from Jason she would find it easier to forget him; only she couldn’t, she went around with a sad little face, joining in the lighthearted chatter of her friends, denying vigorously that anything was wrong when Margo challenged her in a big-sisterly fashion to tell her what was upsetting her, and throwing herself wholeheartedly into the mild activities afforded by the thin purses of herself and her friends.
