Catherine played the accompaniment while Otto sat on the sofa, listening. It sounded to Eline as if she were hearing her own voice for the first time. She was singing Mozart’s ‘Evening Thoughts’ – crystalline but with a new velvety timbre, light and almost downy, from which the previous glittery, metallic quality had vanished. She sang effortlessly, without a thought for technique or art, and not for one moment did she imagine herself on stage in front of an audience, as she used to do during her duos with Paul. She had only to part her lips and all her joy seemed to well up from her soul, charging the melancholy words of her song with a new depth of emotion. On this long, light summer evening, now that the youngsters’ noisy play had ended, her music poured a melodious calmness over the happy gathering, and they loved her all the more for the poetry that she bestowed on them.
After the song there was a ripple of applause on the terrace, and Eline could be heard laughing gaily and talking to Otto and Catherine. Henrietta and Marianne ran inside to congratulate her on her performance.
‘Oh, I’ll never be as good as you, Eline!’ cried Marianne, who, like all Theodore’s offspring, addressed their future aunt familiarly by her first name. ‘I sing in a choir at my boarding school in Bonn, but our music master is old and boring, and I’m not learning a thing. Have you had singing lessons for long? And who is your teacher?’
Eline seated herself beside Otto on the old-fashioned, ample sofa while the two girls perched on the arms, and told them about Roberts and her duets. Catherine had gone outside.
‘I say, Eline, don’t you find it boring here?’ asked Henrietta.
‘Boring? Why should I be bored? On the contrary!’
Henrietta was surprised. She was rather heavy for her age, but still looked very boyish sitting on the arm of the sofa, wide-legged in her red stockings and riding boots with the laces undone. There was no trace as yet of coquetry; she had ginger hair in a thick plait down her back, fun-loving grey eyes, a generous mouth and beautiful teeth. In her mind she carried a confused picture of balls attended by men in gold-braided uniforms and ladies in décolleté gowns, and to her Eline was the personification of The Hague, where all that mattered was dancing and ball dresses.
‘Well, I would have thought The Hague was completely different!’ she exclaimed in her boyish voice. ‘So much more amusing, going to all those parties, I mean. I’m not sure it would suit me in the long run, but I’d love to take a look some day. I’ll come and stay with you, later on, when you’re married. So I thought you’d find De Horze rather boring – it’s always the same. Actually, I love it here, I’ve got my donkey cart and my donkey, and I also have a goat, and I can’t bear the idea of going away to boarding school.’
‘Just you wait!’ interjected Marianne, who was beginning to put on ladylike airs. ‘Another two years, and then it’ll be time for my coming out and for you to be packed off to Bonn!’
‘In your donkey cart, or with your goat!’ chuckled Otto.
‘How horrid! To Bonn! No thank you very much! I don’t care if I’m not clever. Miss Voermans is good enough for me.’
‘Is she your governess?’ asked Eline.
‘Yes. She’s staying with her relatives in Limburg at the moment. She’s been with us for a long time; she teaches me and the boys, but Mama says the boys are getting too old and that they must go to boarding school as well. Papa doesn’t think so, he’s much more sensible, he doesn’t care for all that learning. Miss Voermans is all right, although she’s very ugly and as thin as a rake. So you like it here, do you?’
‘I certainly do. Indeed I have no intention of leaving! We’ve decided to stay here, haven’t we, Otto?’
He smiled and took her hand.
‘Come along, Henrietta, we’re boring them with our talk!’ cried Marianne, springing to her feet and tugging at her sister’s sleeve. ‘Can’t you see? How could you ask such a silly question, anyway?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s silly to ask Eline whether she’s bored.’
‘Why do you think it silly?’ asked Eline.
‘Because people who are engaged don’t get bored!’
‘How would you know?’ said Hetty. ‘It’s not as if you’ve ever been engaged.’
Otto and Eline rose, smiling at the younger sister’s gruff remonstrations.
‘Where are you going, Uncle?’ Marianne wanted to know.
‘We are going to join the others in the garden.’
‘That’s not what you would do, is it, Marianne?’ teased Hetty. ‘You’d steal off into a dark corner with your beloved, wouldn’t you?’
Marianne looked her sister up and down for a moment and gave an aggrieved shrug, whereupon Eline cast her a smile of sympathy and took her arm.
Outside, the tea things had been cleared to make way for a large bowl of punch made with light Rhine wine flavoured with raspberries and strawberries. Animated conversation reigned over the table while Truus took a long glass ladle and filled one glass after another.
‘What is keeping Theodore and Etienne?’ asked the old lady, looking about her.
‘They’ve gone for a walk in the park,’ responded Mathilda.
‘Theodore! Etienne!’ called Frédérique.
Otto offered to go and find them, and set off towards the darkness of the wood where shadows lurked between the trunks of the lofty trees. Through a break in the canopy overhead he could see a pale moon shining in the pearl-grey evening sky. He walked on, following the winding drive. Seeing no one, he shouted their names:
‘Theodore! Etienne!’
A sonorous voice answered, at the sound of which he took a side path. Presently he came upon his two brothers, lost in the dark, sitting on a park bench. He could barely distinguish their faces.
‘You’ve been sorely missed!’ declared Otto. ‘And now punch is being served!’
He expected Etienne to leap to his feet in his usual boisterous fashion, and was most surprised to see his young brother remain huddled on the bench with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
‘No punch for you then?’ he asked.
‘Come on Etienne, let’s go!’ said Theodore. ‘Let’s take our time getting back though, Otto, because there’s something we ought to discuss. I have been talking to Etienne, and apparently I have not been very diplomatic. At any rate, our young brother here appears to be rather upset.’
‘No I’m not,’ growled Etienne.
‘So what’s wrong?’ asked Otto.
‘Nothing. It’s just that for the past quarter of an hour Theodore has been telling me off. It turns out that I’m lazy, idle, a free-spending scamp and goodness know what else. In other words: good for nothing.’
‘Oh, come now,’ protested Theodore, ‘don’t go off in a sulk. That won’t get you anywhere. All I did was mention your future and raise the admittedly boring subject of your financial situation. No harm in that, surely. What do you say, Otto?’
‘Ah, I have spoken to Etienne on those matters myself. He was quite willing to hear me out, although I don’t believe he paid much attention, I have to say.’
‘Well, I suppose I’m not as tactful as you are. Perhaps that’s all to the good, because he seems to be paying attention now, doesn’t he?’
‘But you make it sound as if we’re as poor as church mice!’ spluttered Etienne.
‘And you, dear boy, sound as pathetic as a girl. I merely explained to you that we have to keep a tight rein on our expenses here at De Horze – and the same applies to Mama in The Hague – because if we don’t we will be obliged to economise in the most unpleasant manner afterwards. Can you imagine what it would do to Mama if she had to leave the family home she loves so much and has lived in for so many years? It doesn’t bear thinking about. And then there’s Mathilda; there doesn’t appear to be any money forthcoming from Van Rijssel, so she has no choice but to turn to Mama for support in educating the children. We all live very frugally, as you saw for yourself when you were here last winter wit
h Van Raat, and it is no different now. The only luxury we can afford is having you all to stay with us in the summer. In the meantime you’re living it up with your student friends in Leiden, all of whom are rich or pretend to be, and you get through nearly the same amount of money over there as we do here as an entire family. So you see, old chap, this cannot continue. I don’t begrudge you your carefree student days, and I’m aware that it’s far from easy, once one is accustomed to spending freely, to start tightening one’s belt. But still, Etienne, you really must better your ways.’
Etienne kept his head bowed as they went on their way, his customary high spirits dampened. He felt a sting of conscience.
‘Another thing: it’s time you started thinking about graduating. Because you don’t seem to have been at all busy lately.’
‘Well, it’s summer now, isn’t it?’ said Etienne.
‘What about last winter? Did a lot of studying then, did you?’
Etienne sighed.
‘No I suppose not, but I wish you’d stop nagging! You know I will graduate eventually. Wait and see. I’ll work harder.’
Otto smiled, feeling a twinge of pity for his young brother. Work and Etienne didn’t seem to go together at all!
‘All right, that’s a promise!’ persisted Theodore. ‘I can take your word for it then, can I? Come on, let’s shake on it!’
Etienne put out his hand.
‘Good. And no more sulking now, please, no long faces!’
‘I wasn’t sulking,’ said Etienne crossly. Theodore’s admonitions had touched a raw nerve. Thinking of his exams, he realised how unprepared he was, and how hard it was going to be to keep his promise. It had never occurred to him that he had been letting them all down – Mama, Mathilda, Theodore and the children – simply by enjoying himself in Leiden and indulging in all those lavish dinners with his fraternity, and he was at a loss as to how to repair the damage. Meanwhile they had arrived at the terrace, where Truus was replenishing the glasses.
‘Ah, there you are! Just in time, too, because I wouldn’t have saved any punch for you if you’d made us wait much longer!’ she declared with feigned vexation. ‘Eline was wondering what was keeping you, Otto; she was afraid you’d fallen into the pond!’
‘That’s not true!’ huffed Eline, whereupon Catherine, Cor and the girls raised a riotous chorus of protest at her denial. There was so much jollity that Etienne quickly forgot his cares and could not resist joining the fray with whoops of laughter. Frédérique tried in vain to calm him down, while Mathilda explained to Howard what was going on.
Madame van Erlevoort shook her head in dismay.
‘It is most unkind to tease her so!’ she chided gently, but her defence of Eline only increased Etienne’s hilarity.
…
The last few days had been hot and muggy. After coffee the youngsters dispersed. The doves circled round the storks’ nests atop a pair of tall poles in the middle of the lawn. On the veranda with steps leading to the garden sat the old lady with her daughters, while Eline and Frédérique were inside, playing billiards with the men.
‘Where are the children?’ enquired Catherine, gazing out over the freshly mown lawn, deserted now but for Theodore’s three dozing hounds.
‘They’ve gone for a stroll; to the White Hollow, I believe,’ replied Truus.
‘The White Hollow?’ Mathilda cried out in dismay. ‘But that’s an hour’s walk! And I’m sure it’s going to rain.’
Truus stood up and peered at the sky.
‘You may be right, Tilly. I shouldn’t have allowed it, I suppose, but Hetty was so insistent and your little ones so eager that I gave in, without thinking of the weather. I can’t think of everything, I’m afraid. All the bustle and excitement of the children makes my head spin now and then – which is not to say that I don’t love having you here, mind you!’
Heavy, slate-grey clouds were massing in the sky. The light dimmed, the leaves rustled on the boughs and the surface of the pond rippled in the rising wind.
‘I hope they took umbrellas!’ said the old lady, standing up. Catherine and Mathilda followed suit.
‘Umbrellas! I doubt it! Children don’t think of such things, they won’t even have taken their hats, I wager! What shall we do? There’s a heavy downpour on its way.’
‘We can’t just leave them to their fate. Are you sure they have gone to the White Hollow?’ fretted Catherine.
‘Sure? Well, not really, but they were talking about it. Wait, I’ll go and tell Klaas to take the covered wagon to the White Hollow.’
Off she went to speak to the coachman.
Scattered raindrops began to fall. The dogs on the lawn got up, stretched, and ambled into the house one after another. Madame van Erlevoort paced the floor while Catherine and Mathilda grew increasingly nervous as they waited for Klaas to hitch the horses.
The gloomy sky lit up with a sudden flash of lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. Hardly had it died away than the clouds burst forth in a heavy downpour. The billiard players hurried out to the veranda, where they all stood close together in the shelter of the awning, united in their concern for the youngsters and heedless of the raindrops blowing in their direction. There were more flashes of lightning and the ensuing thunderclaps became deafening.
‘I don’t think we should stay here,’ said Catherine anxiously. ‘Let’s go inside. Oh, my poor Kitty!’
Truus was very fraught, blaming herself for having allowed the children to go out, and in her nervous condition she snapped at Catherine and Mathilda, then at her husband, even at her mother, and finally at Etienne, who had suggested going after them with umbrellas. Umbrellas! The boy had taken leave of his senses! Why had no one thought to warn her? Why did everything go wrong the minute her back was turned? How could she possibly run this household properly under these conditions? Suddenly she rounded on Eline:
‘Eline, don’t just stand there by the pillars, you’ll get all wet, and it’s dangerous with the lightning. Oh dear, it can’t be helped, so do let’s go indoors! What if they’ve had an accident! I can’t bear it! Oh, Mathilda, why didn’t you warn me? I can’t take responsibility for everything, you know!’
She shooed them all into the drawing room, for there was no sense in standing around getting wet, it would only make the waiting harder to bear. Nevertheless, she kept running out to the veranda to see if the youngsters were coming, while the thunderstorm continued unabated.
Inside, they seated themselves. Little was said, and the atmosphere was charged with restless expectation. They all heaved a sigh of relief when at last the old wagon returned. The hood was secured on all sides, but small hands could be seen parting the flaps and small, wide-eyed faces peering out. The ramshackle vehicle rumbled past the house on its way to the covered entrance at the back, and there was a general rush to welcome the bedraggled passengers.
One by one they emerged: first Marianne and Henrietta, then Willy and Gustaaf, after which they helped the Van Rijssel foursome and Memée to alight. Catherine flew to Kitty, who was crying. They were all soaked to the skin, their shoes and hands were covered in mud and their straw hats soggy and dripping. Bedlam broke loose as the children swarmed through the vestibule into the large dining room shouting at the tops of their voices, the three barking dogs bounding alongside.
Marianne and Hetty hooted with laughter at Willy, who had left one of his shoes in the White Hollow; Tina, Johan and Madeleine shrieked in unison as they told Mathilda how Nico had very nearly been left behind because he had gone off in search of his toy spade, which he had lost in the sand. However, Truus soon showed her mettle as mistress of the house by raising her voice commandingly and rapping loudly on the table until some semblance of order was restored. The youngsters were dispatched upstairs, where Nurse Frantzen, Truus’ governess and the English nursemaid ran from room to room fetching out dry socks and vests from the wardrobes while Truus distributed bath towels. The little ones were stripped of their wet clothes, and no one
heeded the thunderstorm raging outside. Marianne and Henrietta went into their room and shut the door behind them for some privacy, as everyone was running in and out, including Papa and the uncles. Willy and Gustaaf were told to help themselves, and Truus threw them towels and fresh underwear, telling them to make sure they dried themselves properly, not forgetting their backs, chests, and between their toes, while she fetched them socks and shoes. Kitty was still crying; she could be heard in another room, along with Catherine and her governess, who were conversing in English.
‘Oh, Tina, do take off your wet clothes,’ cried Mathilda, helping Johan while her mama took charge of Nico and Frédérique saw to Madeleine. Tina, however, sat on a chair and refused to budge. Just then Eline appeared, bearing a complete set of clothes for her favourite.
‘Now, now, Tina dear!’ said Eline indulgently, ‘your poor mama is quite run off her feet, so you mustn’t be cross. Will you let me help you instead? What do you say?’
Tina nodded her head, pouting like a little princess. Eline crouched down on the floor, unfastened the child’s mud-spattered button boots and pulled off her soaked stockings.
‘My pretty poppet, you’re shivering!’ she cried out in dismay, and rubbed the child’s clammy feet and legs with a rough towel until they were warm and rosy once more. Tina wriggled her toes in Eline’s lap, happy again. She untied her belt and began to unbutton her blouse.
‘Good girl! Go on, take your clothes off, and I promise I’ll brush your hair afterwards. You’ll like that, won’t you?’
‘Will you do my hair? Will you put it up like yours?’
‘Gracious no, poppet, I shall make you a braid, the way you always wear it.’
‘Oh please, please, Eline, put it up, won’t you? I want to look like a proper lady!’
‘All right then, if you do as I say. Quick, Tina, let’s get you undressed first.’
Eline made her stand up on the chair and proceeded to undress as if she were a doll, while Tina prattled on about the White Hollow and how frightened they had been by the lightning. She rubbed the slight, shivering body until it glowed all over, after which the little girl flung her arms around Eline’s neck and squeezed with all her might. Eline had to laugh.
Eline Vere Page 25
