by Betty Neels
Left alone, Polly came dancing into Mary’s room. ‘Isn’t this just too gorgeous for words? He never said, did he? Perhaps he’s so used to it that he doesn’t notice how grand it is. He’s going to be here all day tomorrow as well as today; he said he’d show us everything.’
Mary, making sure that her hair was securely pinned, observed, ‘It’s certainly very beautiful; he must miss it.’
‘Yes, but when he marries he’ll come here more often; he said so.’ She went to peer at herself in the triple mirror. ‘His mother doesn’t live here, you know. There’s a house in Leeuwarden.’
‘How do you know all this?’
‘I asked, of course. We’re friends, Roel and me.’
‘I,’ said Mary. ‘We’d better go down.’
The house might have been grand but the atmosphere was homely. In the vast drawing-room, where they had drinks before lunch, there was knitting on a chair, books and magazines scattered on a side-table, a tabby cat perched on the window-seat and two dogs lolling by the open French window.
They were big shaggy beasts, with little yellow eyes and a great many teeth. ‘Bouviers,’ said the professor. ‘William and Mary; they look fierce but they’re your friends for life once you belong.’
Mary put out a balled fist, and had it sniffed and then gently licked. ‘They’re splendid creatures. I don’t suppose Richard has ever seen them?’
‘No, I’m not sure if they would like each other.’
Any doubts Mary had had about their welcome were dispelled by the time lunch was over. His mother might have looked severe but her smile was gentle and kind and she laughed a lot. ‘Come and sit by me and tell me about yourself,’ she invited Mary as they drank their coffee. ‘Pleane is going to show Polly the garden and Roel has some business to attend to.’
A pleasant hour passed while Mevrouw van Rakesma chatted and asked questions in the nicest possible manner, and since there was no sense in not being honest Mary answered truthfully.
‘What do you intend to do with your future, my dear?’ asked her hostess kindly.
Mary told her. ‘If I can pass the exams I can make quite a career out of it. Not necessarily in a library—museums and large country houses sometimes have good jobs going.’
‘You don’t wish to marry?’
‘I’d like to marry, but I’m not going to,’ Mary said calmly.
They bad a splendid day after that—touring the house, listening to its history, hearing about the village and the people who lived in it.
The next morning they walked there with the professor, who seemed to know everyone who lived there by name. They went into the little whitewashed church and looked at the names of long-dead van Rakesmas, carved into its stone floor, and they walked by the lake, watching the yachts, of which there were any number.
‘People come for the weekend and their holidays—ifs possible to sail from one lake to another.’
‘Have you got a yacht?’ Polly wanted to know.
‘Yes. Perhaps I’ll have the time to take you out on it.’
‘But not tomorrow?’
‘Tomorrow I have to work, and the next day, but I’ll only be away for two days.’
He had gone by the time they got down for breakfast the next day and that morning Ilsa came.
Polly and Pleane had taken the dogs for a walk down by the lake and Mary was sitting with Mevrouw van Rakesma when Ton, who looked after the house with his wife, opened the door to announce that Mevrouw van Hoeven had called.
He was pushed aside by Ilsa, and Mevrouw van Rakesma frowned. Her greeting was pleasant enough, though. “This is unexpected, Ilsa; I thought you were in The Hague.’
‘I met the director of the Leeuwarden Children’s Hospital yesterday; he told me that Roel was in Holland.’ She turned to Mary. ‘What are you doing here?’
Mary said, ‘Hello, Ilsa. We’re paying a visit. We came over with Roel.’
Ilsa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Really?’ She turned back to Mevrouw van Rakesma. ‘I wanted to see Roel; he’s here of course?’
‘He’s away—will be for a few days. Do sit down; Ton will bring coffee.’
‘Where is he? I’ve got the car...’
‘He didn’t say; I know he’s visiting several hospitals and will be away for several days. Would you like to leave a message, Ilsa? He’ll be sorry he’s missed you.’
Ilsa had recovered her charm. ‘No—no message. I’m quite sure he’ll ring me as soon as he is free. After all, it’s to see me that he has come.’ She glanced at Mary as she spoke. ‘We have a number of decisions to make.’
Her hostess said nothing to that and Ilsa went on, ‘We saw so little of each other when Pleane and I were staying with him. I believe I must go back with him, so that we can get everything settled.’
“That would perhaps be best. Ah, here is the coffee.’
Ilsa was wearing gloves with her elegant outfit, so unsuitable for her surroundings. She slipped them off, but neither of her companions saw the ring on her engagement finger. She put the glove back on again, drank her coffee, talking amusingly while she did so, and then declared that she must go. ‘I’m lunching in Dokkum,’ she explained. ‘Such a dull little town, I always think.’
She made her graceful goodbyes to Mevrouw van Rakesma and turned to Mary. ‘Do walk to the car with me and tell me what you think of Friesland—so different from Hampstead, is it not? And this is such a pleasant house.’ She was leading the way out of the lofty wide hall. ‘I have always loved it; it will be delightful to live here.’
They reached the car but she made no attempt to get into it. ‘I must say I admire you for trying, Mary. Did you really think that you stood a chance against me? Roel and I have had an understanding for years, and we shall marry shortly.’
‘There was no reason why he should tell me, Ilsa,’ Mary said quietly.
‘Oh, yes, there was. You may think you’re concealing your feelings very well, my dear, but he saw through you weeks ago. He’s too kind to say anything to you, but surely you have the wit to see that he brought you here so that you would understand once and for all that he is merely a friend, helping someone who needs a job and money; he’s always helping people... You don’t have to believe me, but I’m going to see him now, for I know where he is.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Mary in a proud little voice. When Ilsa took off her glove once more and held out her hand, and she saw the diamond sparkling there, though, she knew.
‘We shall announce our engagement and marry very shortly.’ She smiled at Mary. ‘But of course you won’t be at the wedding.’
She got into the car, waved gaily and drove away. Mary watched her go; she had thought during the last few days that Roel was growing fond of her, and she couldn’t forget his kiss but, despite disliking Ilsa, she could see that she might be speaking the truth. She had spoken with such certainty. It all made sense too. Roel had never mentioned his future plans, but then why should he since he knew that she wasn’t included in them? His kindness had been just that and nothing more.
She was walking slowly back to the house when Pleane and Polly joined her. ‘Did we see Ilsa driving through the village? Did she come here?’ Pleane wanted to know. ‘She hasn’t been near us for ages, not since we came back from London.’
‘She called to see your mother; she’s on her way to have lunch in Dokkum.’
‘I bet she was surprised to see you,’ said Polly.
‘Well, yes, I think she was.’
‘Was she friendly? What did she talk about?’
‘Oh, nothing much. Did you have a good walk?’
She’s upset, thought Polly, and began a long description of where they had been, and when they joined Mevrouw van Rakesma she was careful not to mention Ilsa, although Pleane said something softly in Dutch to her mother.
A good cry, that’s what I want, thought Mary, joining in the talk, smiling and nodding and not taking in a word. If only they hadn’t come; if only they had stayed at ho
me and got on with a life which had nothing to do with Roel. There was no help for it, though; they would have to stay until he drove them home again and she could concentrate on forgetting him. Polly must forget him too, and she would be hurt, for the pair of them had become firm friends.
He was coming home in the evening—in time for dinner, he had said; Mary got into her one festive dress and took a good look at herself in the pier glass. It was a sober garment, meant to last several years—dateless and simple and mousy brown. Not a colour she would have chosen from choice, but it had been cheap in the sales and was the kind of dress which would pass muster almost anywhere. If she hadn’t been so pretty it would have been a disaster; as it was it did nothing for her. Not that it matters, she told herself.
They sat in the drawing-room waiting for him; the dinner hour passed, and his mother had just wondered out loud what had happened to him when Ton came to tell her that the professor had phoned to say that he would be unable to return home until the next day and expressed his regrets.
‘An unexpected meeting,’ said Mevrouw van Rakesma, translating for Mary and Polly’s benefit. ‘We will dine at once, Ton,’ she said, and then in English, ‘One can never be sure of anything with a doctor in the family, can one?’
They played Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit after dinner until bedtime, and Mary was thankful when her hostess declared that she was going to bed.
‘Let William and Mary into the garden before you come up,’ she told Pleane. ‘Mary, you look tired...’
So Mary went to her room too, undressed slowly and lay in the bath for a long time, making unlikely plans for her future which involved a great deal of hard work ending in success and a splendid career. She didn’t believe any of it but it prevented her from crying. Only when she was in bed she gave up her ideas of being a career girl and thought about Roel, and cried into her pillow very quietly, so that Polly wouldn’t hear.
Roel was there when they went down to breakfast, out in the garden with the dogs, and she was glad that there was time only to wish him good morning before his mother and Please joined them.
‘A successful trip?’ asked his mother, pouring the coffee.
‘Yes. I must come over again in a couple of months—there’s a seminar—and I may have to go to Brussels later on.’
‘But you’ll be at Cheyne Walk for the rest of the time?’
‘Yes, although I intend to take a few weeks’ holiday fairly soon.’
He caught Polly’s eye and smiled a little. ‘What have you been doing with yourselves?’
‘Being lazy,’ said Polly.
Pleane added, ‘Ilsa came yesterday.’
‘Yes.’ He looked at Mary, who had her eyes on her plate. ‘I know.’
So Ilsa had been truthful after all—that was why he hadn’t come home. Mary crumbled toast and composed her face to a state of cheerfulness; to anyone not knowing her well it looked genuine, but Polly and Roel, knowing her well each in their own way, knew better.
‘I’ll take the dogs for a walk,’ said Roel as they finished breakfast. ‘Mary, a walk would do you good; come with me.’
It was hard to think up an excuse in front of everyone else there and she hesitated too long. ‘You won’t need a jacket—’ he glanced at her feet in their neat shoes ‘—and you’re wearing sensible shoes. Come along.’
He swept her out of the house and down the drive, into the lane, and turned away from the village towards the lake.
After a few minutes he asked, ‘What’s the matter, Mary?’
‘Nothing—nothing at all. It’s lovely here; you have no idea how much we’re enjoying ourselves, and your mother is so kind.’
‘Don’t waste time waffling. I asked you what was the matter.’
‘If you don’t mind I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I do mind. What did Ilsa say to upset you?’
‘Nothing—nothing at all...’
‘Very well, and now tell me what she said.’
‘Don’t you bully me,’ said Mary crossly. ‘You’ve been very kind to us, and I’m grateful, but I wish we’d never come. You’ve helped us enough.’ Her voice rose to a wail. ‘I want to go home.’
‘If you won’t tell me I’ll have to guess. Ilsa told you that she was going to marry, probably gave you some proof of it, perhaps told you that she was going to meet me. Am I right?’
Mary nodded, not looking at him.
‘She may even have hinted delicately that I was aware of your feelings towards me and was concerned about them.’
‘She told you...?’
‘I haven’t seen her, but I’ve known her for some years. You’re a goose. My dearest girl. Don’t you know when a man’s in love with you?’
She said sharply. ‘How could I possibly? I’m a thorn in your—’
He stopped walking and swung her round to face him. ‘Did I say that? I must have been mad. But I’ll say this, and you had better believe me. I love you, Mary; I want you for my wife. I think I have been in love with you for weeks.’
‘Oh, have you? Have you really? But you’re going to marry Ilsa. She said so; she said you were going to be married quite soon and she showed me her engagement ring.’
‘Exactly what did she say? Can you remember?’
‘Oh, yes. She said that you and she are going to be married shortly; she said she knew where you were. She said... The rest doesn’t matter.’
‘She was quite right in a way. She is going to be married shortly, but not to me. The ring she showed you wasn’t mine, my darling; she’s to marry a middle-aged tycoon with a great deal of money who lives in Florida.’ He tightened his arms around her. ‘So that takes care of Ilsa.’
‘Yes, well,’ said Mary, wriggling in his arms.
He held her fast. ‘Shall we discuss us? Our future—our glorious future together. But you haven’t told me that you will marry me yet, my darling.’
‘Oh, I will, I will. Isn’t it funny that we didn’t like each other very much to start with? Well, I thought you looked nice...’
‘And I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. Now stand still; I’m going to kiss you.’
Mary, a sensible girl, knew when to do what she was told!
ISBN : 978-1-4592-6361-1
MARRYING MARY
First North American Publication 1998.
Copyright © 1996 by Betty Neels.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario. Canada M3B 3K9
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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