‘Can’t you understand that some things are too painful to talk about? That it’s less painful to keep them to oneself?’ he murmured, clinging to her.
‘For a time, yes, but don’t you think you would feel a great deal better for having shared your sorrow with someone?’
‘I don’t know, I really don’t know!’ he faltered.
She said nothing, but he remained in her arms, savouring the sweet consolation of maternal love. He waited, hoping that she would urge him again to confide in her. But she did not, and to end the silence he began to speak of his own accord.
‘I can’t imagine how you knew. I thought I was putting on a pretty good face, that I was the same as ever. I didn’t even want to think about it either, because I couldn’t stand how much it affected me. As if I couldn’t live without that creature!’
He related to his mother how he had proposed to Frédérique and how she had rejected him in such a disdainful, insulting manner. He admitted that for some time he had felt very low as a result, but he would soon get over it: it was too absurd.
‘Don’t you love her any more?’ asked Madame van Raat.
Hearing him say ‘that creature’, her first thought had been of Eline, and when she discovered that he meant Freddie, she could not help feeling a flicker of relief.
‘No, no I don’t love her!’ he replied, shaking his head vigorously. ‘Oh no! Not any more.’
She lifted his chin with her hand and gazed into his eyes a long moment.
‘Why are you so different from the way you used to be?’ she asked reproachfully, doubting his denial. ‘Why have you become so quiet lately, and so unforthcoming? But I won’t quiz you any further, my child; you need not tell me more than you wish. Only, please do not deceive me, Paul, I should prefer you to say nothing rather than that.’
‘Oh, you are such a dear!’ he faltered. ‘And it has done me a power of good to have told you, even though it’s rather embarrassing.’
‘If you no longer love her,’ she pursued, tousling his hair with her fingers, ‘then it is only your vanity that has been hurt, Paul, and that is something you can easily put behind you. Still, I find it hard to believe that you should have stopped caring for Freddie. But as I said, my dear boy, I do not wish to pry, nor do I wish to cause you pain. I just want to thank you for trusting me enough to share your troubles with me at last. Now tell me, you do believe that your old mother loves you, don’t you?’
He nodded, tightening his embrace. All at once she noticed how much he resembled his father in the life-sized portrait on the wall – more so than Henk – and she had a sense of wonder at the overwhelming rush of love she felt for her young son in his time of heartache.
…
Marie’s bouts of gaiety were over. She no longer collapsed into fits of helpless, happy laughter as she had done so often when she and Emilie de Woude had such fun putting the finishing touches to Georges and Lili’s new abode. She became resigned to the disillusionment she had suffered, and she saw her life stretching ahead of her like a dismal fog of monotonous grey, especially now that her brother Jan had left for the military academy in Breda and the house had grown distressingly dull. She longed for some animation, and envied Frédérique the lively company of the Van Rijssel children, who filled Madame van Erlevoort’s spacious home with such cheer.
Otto never visited The Hague. She had not seen him since August, when she had been staying at De Horze, and she cherished the memory of the few occasions she had found herself alone with him, when they had talked and strolled together in the park. Not that their conversations had been in any way intimate or important, but to her they were like small, sweet oases in the desert of her disappointment.
Only once, during those early months of winter, had her subdued mood of acceptance been disrupted by a crisis of emotion. It was brought on by a remark made by Frédérique, who, talking of how lonely it must be for Otto in the village of Elzen, suddenly exclaimed:
‘Oh, Marie, you would have made Otto such a good wife! At least you would have appreciated him.’
‘Me?’ she had responded timidly, attempting to smile. After Frédérique had gone she had lapsed into a flood of bitter tears. But after an hour everything was the same as before: blanketed by a grey fog of disillusionment, to which she, as usual, accommodated herself.
One day, Marie was surprised to receive a visit from Madame van Raat. Marie said she was sorry that Aunt Dora had not chosen a more propitious moment to call, as her father had gone to visit Lili and her mother was out shopping, but her aunt maintained that she would be delighted to have a chat with Marie instead, and plumped herself down in an armchair. She was not usually talkative, but this time she launched into all manner of topics, even enquiring after the ball given by the Eekhof girls. She mentioned a letter from Eline, and what a good thing it was that Paul was doing so well in Bodegraven and that he seemed very steady in his resolve to pursue his chosen career. Marie was glad to hear her speak so approvingly of her son, as until then she had only known her to frown on Paul’s behaviour. She also thought it very amiable of Aunt Dora to say, in parting:
‘By the way, how is Freddie? I have not seen her for such a long time. You can tell her from me that I am beginning to think she has forgotten all about me – she has not called on me for months! Tell her she is a naughty girl, will you?’
‘Yes, Aunt, so I shall!’ responded Marie with a light smile. Madame van Raat departed, leaving Marie wondering whether Aunt Dora had any notion of what had transpired between Paul and Freddie.
…
When Frédérique heard from Marie that Madame van Raat was expecting her to call, her feelings were mixed. She had been avoiding the house at Laan van Meerdervoort out of a sense of discretion mingled with regret and embarrassment. But now that she had been summoned, she thought it likely that Paul’s mother had no knowledge of her son’s proposal. Besides, Paul had made it quite clear that he wanted to let bygones be bygones, and so, thinking it would be impolite of her to neglect the dear old lady any longer, she decided to pay her a visit.
But her heart beat fearfully as she rang the bell. Here she was, calling on Madame van Raat as a mere acquaintance, whereas if only things had been different, she might have come as her daughter-in-law.
Madame van Raat gave Frédérique a warm welcome. She was eager to know how her young visitor was keeping, and eyed her intently as she responded to various innocuous questions. Her thoughts flew back to the time when, observing Paul with Eline, she had entertained something akin to a hopeful expectation, and now she could not resist drawing a comparison between Eline’s faded elegance and Frédérique’s rosy freshness, tinged only by the faintest suggestion of melancholy. But notwithstanding the girl’s beauty, Paul’s mother felt a pang of aggrievement, on behalf of her son. Frédérique was so lovely, so healthy, and she was making her poor son suffer in silence. She did not think herself possessed of a talent for diplomacy, nor did she have a clear notion of her own eventual motives, all she knew was that she dearly wished to deepen her acquaintance with Frédérique. With any luck she would gain some insight into what the girl was feeling as she chatted to the mother of the suitor she had rejected. But the time was not ripe for plumbing the depths of Frédérique’s character, and the rules of polite society were not to be transgressed. On the other hand, she could not help thinking how agreeable the girl was, how openhearted and amiable, and how winsome, with none of Eline’s selfconscious airs and graces! No, it was inconceivable that Freddie should have wilfully toyed with Paul’s emotions … she simply did not love him enough, or … there might be other reasons, which she preferred not to dwell on for the time being.
‘Well my dear, at least you have made amends now!’ said Madame van Raat when Freddie took her leave. ‘But you won’t make me send out a summons again, will you? I am all alone here, and I do so like to see a young face from time to time.’
Frédérique kissed her goodbye, promising to call again soon.
In the days that followed Madame van Raat went about her business with a faintly knowing smile on her lips and a calculating look in her eye. Through the mist of her habitually passive disposition she had caught a glimpse of a new goal to her existence. That goal was not going to be easy to attain, nor was it by any means near. She knew she had been too optimistic in trusting Dr Reijer’s judgment when he maintained that she had the ability to contribute to Eline’s recovery, and was afraid she might risk an even greater disillusionment now that the happiness of her own child was at stake. But being a pious soul, she prayed to God for guidance.
The next time Paul spent a few days in The Hague his mother did not breathe a word to him about Frédérique, nor about the conversation she had had with her. When she received a second visit from Frédérique she mentioned how much she enjoyed having someone read to her. Eline used to read to her sometimes in the past, but had grown tired very quickly. Lately Marie had been so kind as to do her this favour on several occasions. Why did not Frédérique join them one evening? Frédérique promised to do so, with some misgivings, because the more amicable Madame became, the more awkward she felt, for the old lady never gave any intimation that Paul had told her of his proposal, and if she had known, she would surely not have been quite so effusive in her manner towards her. But Frédérique allowed herself to be persuaded, and became a regular visitor at Laan van Meerdervoort. She never met Paul there, as she did not visit when she knew him to be in town; nor did Madame, who kept her deepening friendship with Frédérique secret from her son, ask to see her at those times.
One blustery evening, when Madame van Raat was expecting Marie and Frédérique, the latter came alone, as Marie was feeling indisposed. Frédérique offered to take Marie’s place as reader, and the women settled themselves in the spacious salon, where the red-shaded gas lamps spread a rosy glow and the kettle sang for tea. On a low table lay Volume II of Tolstoy’s War and Peace.
This time, however, the book was to remain unopened, as Madame was more in the mood for conversation. She talked of nothing but Paul: how serious he had become, and how he had always been a good boy at heart. He had sown his wild oats, but had now developed into a fine, sensible young man. It could have been so different – after all, for a young man to have a fortune was not always a good thing. Oh, she was very pleased with how he had turned out; and Freddie had always liked him too, had she not?
‘Well, you always liked him, didn’t you?’ Madame van Raat repeated with feeling, after Freddie had stammered an unintelligible reply.
‘Oh yes, indeed!’ Freddie managed to say.
‘Talking of Paul,’ Madame pursued in a confidential tone, ‘there is something that I have been wanting to ask you, Freddie. You don’t mind, do you?’
She had laid her hand on the girl’s arm, and could feel it trembling. Frédérique had a sense of being trapped: the old lady had spun a web of sympathy and familiarity around her, from which she could not disentangle herself.
‘Of course not! Ask what you wish,’ she stammered, dreading the question.
‘I wanted to ask you whether, by any chance, there has been any unpleasantness between you and Paul. What made me wonder was that he seems to act rather strangely every time someone happens to mention your name. There’s something troubling him, I can tell. And because I know he can be quite rude at times, I thought he might have offended you in some way. I do hope that is not the case. Is it?’
‘Oh no, not at all, I assure you.’
‘Go on, dear, you can confide in me, you know. Paul is not always on his best behaviour, in fact I’m afraid he is a bit of a prankster, and when I see the way he teases Francoise van Oudendijk and the Eekhof girls I can’t help being amazed that they don’t seem to mind at all. Or rather, I used to see him acting flirtatiously, but he has become much more sensible lately. So you see, I can well imagine that you were annoyed with him for some reason or another, and he with you in return. Now if you would only tell me what that reason was …’
‘But dear lady, I assure you, nothing happened!’ she cried, struggling against her tears. ‘There was nothing, nothing at all!’
Paul’s mother gave her an incredulous stare.
‘My dear, what a fibber you are! Fie on you! Can’t you see that if you do not tell me the truth I shall only be worried, allowing all manner of things to enter my head – disagreeable ones, too! But my dear, you are not crying, are you?’
The evening had been torture for Frédérique from the moment she arrived, owing to Madame van Raat’s constant allusions to the strained relation between Paul and herself, and she could contain herself no longer.
‘Why won’t you believe me?’ she broke out, with an accusatory sob.
‘Because if nothing happened,’ said Madame van Raat, putting her arms about Frédérique, ‘there is no reason for you to be so upset, is there? Forgive me if I have caused you pain, but what did you expect me to think, Freddie? What am I to think of your being so upset?’
‘Nothing! Don’t think anything! There is nothing the matter!’ Freddie wailed.
Madame van Raat drew her closer. ‘Now listen, Freddie, listen to me! Do you love Paul?’ she murmured.
Racked with sobs, Freddie tried to extricate herself, but the old lady only tightened her embrace.
‘Don’t go, Freddie, just stay close to me a moment and answer my question: do you love Paul? Do you love him very, very much?’
‘Why are you asking me that? Why do you want me to tell you?’
‘Because I believe that he loves you.’
‘No, no, he doesn’t care about me, he doesn’t love me, not any more.’
‘But he did once, and he may do so again! Oh, do tell me the truth, my dear – tell me what happened between you. Well, if you won’t tell me, shall I guess? Paul made advances to you, he trifled with your affection, and then neglected you. Is that what happened?’
‘No, no! Nothing like that, honestly! It was all my fault!’ Frédérique cried out. ‘How could you think such as thing of your son!’
‘Was it really your fault? Well then, did he ask you to marry him? And did you say no? I am only guessing, because of course I don’t know anything. But you shouldn’t tell fibs, my dear, just tell me the truth.’
Frédérique felt too worn out by this persistence to offer any more opposition, and she admitted defeat with a despairing nod, after which she hid her blazing face in Madame van Raat’s shoulder.
‘Why did you reject him?’
‘I think it was my pride … it got the better of me.’
‘Did you not think my boy good enough?’
‘No, no, it wasn’t pride, really; it was more like jealousy, I think. He was so charming to all the other girls … Oh, I’m not even sure why I turned him down.’
‘And do you regret it, my child?’
Frédérique recoiled in dismay.
‘But you mustn’t mention a word of this to him!’ she cried. ‘Not a word! Oh, please, promise me that you won’t say anything! You say you think he might yet love me, but I know for certain that it cannot be the case. And I would die of shame if he had any idea that I … Oh, will you promise me that you won’t say anything?’
‘Of course I promise, my child. But there is no need for all this distress, now is there? I’m afraid I have made you unhappy, for which I am truly sorry. But really, don’t you think you have behaved rather foolishly? Now listen to me. Try looking on the bright side. Personally, I would not be at all surprised if Paul still loves you; in other words, anything might still happen.’
‘But I was horrible to him! He hates me!’
‘Nonsense, dear! There, there, you must stop crying, Freddie. But now it is my turn to ask a promise of you now: will you try to believe that Paul still loves you? Will you try for my sake?’
Freddie gazed at through her tears.
‘I wish I could, but … it wouldn’t be right!’ she said tonelessly.
Madame’s knowing smile never left her
face; she kissed Frédérique and gently brushed the teardrops from her cheeks.
When Frédérique had gone, Madame van Raat did not betake herself to bed at once as she usually did, but stayed up for a long while afterwards, musing contentedly on her efforts to inveigle Frédérique into an admission. Never had she imagined herself capable of such a feat of diplomacy!
…
So now she knew: Freddie loved her boy. Why she had rebuffed him was still unclear, but her motives for doing so no longer seemed to be clear to Freddie herself either. He had proposed, so much was evident. The next day Madame van Raat sent a note to her son asking him to come and visit her without delay, as she wished to hear his opinion on certain money matters. Paul complied with promptness and astonishment. Money matters? It was always Henk whom she consulted regarding the family finances, and besides, what did he know about money? That was exactly why she had summoned him, she declared: it was high time that he learnt to manage his own financial affairs. He shrugged, saying that he was sure that his brother was much better at such things than he was, whereupon she launched into a long and convoluted exposé to persuade him of the necessity of taking himself in hand, at the end of which she remarked, as though at random:
‘Freddie came to see me yesterday evening. Such a sweet girl. Such a shame …’
‘Freddie? I didn’t know you and she saw each other.’
‘Oh yes, quite often.’
‘Often? I thought …’
‘What, dear boy? Freddie often comes by of an evening, with Marie; they read to me, you see. Didn’t you know?’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘How odd; I thought you knew. We talk about you sometimes.’
‘About me? Does she talk about me?’
‘Well, not all the time, but whenever I mention you she responds very sweetly. Of course she doesn’t know you’ve told me everything, dear boy. So she is not aware that I know what passed between you.’
‘It’s a bit surprising that she should call on you, though.’
Eline Vere Page 51
