by Betty Neels
She had frozen at the sound of his voice, now she turned round. He had been sitting in the winged armchair on the other side of the small bright fire in the steel grate; if she had stopped to look round her when she had gone in she would have seen him, but she had been intent on getting the letter written. She said a little stupidly: ‘It’s easier to write…’
‘In that case, supposing I read one of your discarded efforts?’ He had walked over to the desk to stand in front of her. She got up too because she felt at a disadvantage with him towering over her.
‘Since you’re here, I’ll say it,’ she said, wishing with all her heart that she were miles away. Somehow none of the things she wished to tell him seemed important any more, but she would have to try.
‘I’ve no right here,’ she said in a little rush. ‘I feel as though I’m living here under false pretences. So you see I have to go at once.’ She added in a polite little voice: ‘If you don’t mind.’
He was lounging against the wall now, his hands in his pockets. ‘But I do mind, my dearest. You see, I happen to love you.’
She felt her cheeks flame and then drain of all colour. After a little silence she managed, in a squeaky voice: ‘Love me—you love me?’
He nodded. ‘What other reason should I have had for marrying you?’
She stammered a little. ‘To—to give me a job because you were sorry for me.’ She drew a breath. ‘You let me shop and answer the telephone and dust and put the children to bed…’ Strong indignation had spiralled her voice.
‘Well, my darling, I had to give you some reason for coming to my house and then for marrying me, did I not?’
‘You deceived me—this house…and you’re rich…’
‘And that was the very reason for keeping you in the dark, Constantia,’ he reminded her. ‘You didn’t like rich people, you thought them to be idle and selfish. I had to prove to you that that wasn’t true of everyone who had money. And you love this house.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She sniffed. ‘But Rietje and Tarnus—you let me believe they…and that the house belonged to an old wh-whiskered uncle.’
The doctor’s fine mouth twitched just a little. ‘My darling love, did I ever say that? Oh, I admit that I allowed you to think it, but how else was I to persuade you to marry me?’
He left the wall with astonishing speed considering his size, and now he was so close to her that she couldn’t have moved away even if she had wanted to. ‘I fell in love with you the moment I set eyes on you, dear heart. There’s no one else but you in the world and there never will be, you have to believe that. You didn’t love me when we married, but I took a chance and I was beginning to think I had won, but now I’m not so sure. You see, Constantia, having a great deal of money isn’t important to me, it has never mattered except as a means to keep my home as it should be kept so that my children will inherit it in all its perfection, just as I inherited it.’ He smiled slowly. ‘I much prefer being a GP.’
Constantia gave a small sob. ‘You mean a p-professor.’
‘That too.’ He lifted his hands and put them lightly on her shoulders. ‘Dear darling, could you love me just a little? I’ve been unfair to you, but only because I was afraid that you would disappear out of my life. I counted on your kind heart and your generosity and perhaps, just a little, on the hope that you loved me without knowing it for yourself.’
Two tears were trickling down Constantia’s cheeks, and she put up an impatient hand and brushed them away. ‘No—I didn’t know, not until that day when we went to that accident,’ she went on in a muddled fashion. ‘I’d known all the time, only I didn’t realise. I think I loved you when I first saw you, only you see I didn’t expect to, if you see what I mean…’
Jeroen saw at once, and demonstrated it by catching her close and kissing her hard. ‘My darling girl, you make it all so clear,’ he said, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘Where, by the way, were you going?’
She leaned back against his arm and looked up into his face. ‘I didn’t really know—England, I suppose.’ She closed her eyes suddenly. ‘Jeroen, darling Jeroen, it’s true, isn’t it? I’m not dreaming?’
He kissed her again and after a moment she said dreamily: ‘No, I’m not,’ and then suddenly brisk: ‘Jeroen—morning surgery! Oughtn’t you to be taking it—you never finish…’
‘One more small thing I forgot to mention—I have a partner, darling, he’s taking it for me. You see, I was afraid I might miss you.’
‘Miss me?’
‘It seemed logical that the first thing you would do would be to leave, and I had to prevent that at all costs, dearest.’
She leaned up to kiss him, and he held her close and kissed her back, slowly this time and very gently. Neither of them heard Tarnus open the door, and after a startled moment, close it very gently behind him.
Back in the kitchen he told Rietje: ‘There is no need to hurry with the coffee.’
She looked up from the task of grinding the beans. ‘The Baron is occupied?’
‘Very occupied.’
‘But the Baroness?’
‘Is occupied with the Baron.’ He smiled slowly to himself as he took the cellar keys from his pocket. ‘I think that they will require champagne instead of coffee this morning, Rietje. The best in the cellar.’
The two elderly people stared at each other and presently exchanged happy smiles as Tarnus went towards the cellar steps.
And upstairs Jeroen released Constantia just long enough to pull the bell rope by the fireplace. ‘Tarnus shall fetch up some champagne, my love, although feeling as I do, a cup of your English tea or even a glass of water would serve the same purpose.’
‘What purpose?’ she demanded.
‘Why, to celebrate the happiest day of my life, my darling.’
‘And mine, too,’ said Constantia.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3934-0
THE LITTLE DRAGON
Copyright © 1977 by Betty Neels.
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