Fate takes a hand Read online

  He was acquainted with almost everyone there. His host and hostess were Americans who lived for a good part of the year in London in a large house in Hampstead, and their guests were as cosmopolitan as they were. Mr van Linssen's perfect manners concealed his boredom as he greeted everyone in turn, while Ursula flitted from one group to the next, tril-

  ling her light laugh, making amusing conversation, in her element. Watching her flirting with a youngish American he didn't know, he tried to imagine her as his wife and found it impossible.

  Driving her back to her home later, he answered her remarks about their evening in an absent-minded manner so that she said crossly, 'Well you make it sound as though the whole evening was a bore. You really are getting a bore yourself, Fenno. Once we're married, I intend to entertain a lot—I've heaps of friends. Think how influential they will be—you'll get well known, you might even get a knighthood.'

  He forbore to tell her that he was already well known in the medical world—a world which mattered to him; besides, how could he, a Dutchman be offered a knighthood? If his services to surgery ever merited it, then his own queen would reward him for them. He was suddenly tired, too tired to argue with Ursula. He saw her into her home, wished her goodnight, refusing an offer to go in for a cup of coffee, and drove himself to his own home, thankful that he had several appointments in Holland and would be leaving on the following day for a week or more.

  He phoned Ursula when he got in and listened patiently while she grumbled at him for not letting her know sooner. 'That nice man I was talking to— he's from Chicago—invited us both to have lunch with him on Sunday. He's rented an apartment in Richmond while he's staying here—I said we would go, and now you've spoilt it all.'

  `I am sorry I forgot to tell you. There's no reason why you shouldn't go without me, is there? Make my apologies. I cannot change any of the appointments I've made in Holland.'

  `Oh, well, I'll go on my own—there'll be several of us there.' She added peevishly, 'You won't be able to carry on like this when we're married, you know.'

  She rang off and he went along to his study to catch up on his paperwork. Then, after a busy day on the morrow, he caught an evening flight to Schiphol, where he was met by a grey-haired man who shook his hand and led him outside to where a dark blue Jaguar was parked.

  Mr van Linssen, reverting to his mother tongue, remarked that it was nice to be back home. 'Everyone well, Pete?' he wanted to know as he took the wheel.

  `Mevrouw arrived this afternoon. She hopes to see something of you while you are here, mijnheer, and that you will have time to see the rest of the family.'

  `I shall be busy, Pete, but I should be home each evening with my mother, and I'll certainly find time to visit my sisters.' He glanced at his companion. `You're well? And Anneke?'

  `Both well, I am happy to say, mijnheer. We hope that you will be here for some time.'

  `Ten days, no longer.'

  `You will perhaps spend more time in Holland when you are married?'

  `My fiancée isn't keen on the idea, Pete. I must bring her over for a few days to meet the family.'

  Pete remained silent. He had been with the family since Mr van Linssen was a little boy, running the household while his wife did the housekeeping, and after so many years in the family service he was regarded as a friend. After a few moments he said, `She could not be anything but happy to live here, so quiet and peaceful by the lake, and yet so near Amsterdam and Utrecht.'

  Mr van Linssen had driven the short distance south to Aalsmeer and turned on to the Hilversum road, but some six miles before he reached that city he turned into a country road running between the lakes which stretched for some miles on either side of it. It was pleasant country, giving one no inkling of the nearness of Hilversum and Utrecht, with trees bordering the road, pleasant villas at the water's edge, and from time to time a village. He was going south now towards Utrecht, but only for a short distance before he turned between brick pillars into a short drive and stopped before the house at its end.

  It was a solid house, built of rose-coloured bricks, with a gabled roof and a great many windows. Those on the ground floor were tall and wide, but the nearer the roof the smaller they became, with leaded panes and painted shutters. He got out of the car and went up the double steps to the canopied front door while Pete got his bags from the boot. The door opened at his touch and he went inside to the wide hall, with

  its panelled walls and high plastered ceiling, and was met by a very small, very thin woman with brown hair, barely streaked with grey, and brown eyes. She burst into voluble Dutch, wringing his hand and then smiling broadly as he bent to kiss her cheek.

  `Anneke, it's good to see you again.'

  `You are alone?' she wanted to know. 'The young lady is not with you? We had hoped to see her...'

  Not this time, Anneke. Is my mother in the drawing-room?'

  `Yes, and waiting for you. I will bring coffee, and presently there is a good supper for you.'

  `Good, I'm famished.' He smiled at her and crossed the hall to open the double doors at one side and go into the room beyond.

  His mother came to meet him as he went in, a tall woman with silver hair worn in an old-fashioned style, framing an elderly face which must at one time have been beautiful. Her eyes were blue and just now they were alight with pleasure. 'Fenno, my dear, this is delightful. You did not mind that I came here before you had arrived? I wish to see as much of you as possible and I know you will be away for most of your day.'

  He kissed her cheek. 'Mama, there is nothing I could wish for more but to find you here waiting for me. I hardly saw you when I was last in Holland.'

  `You are alone? You have not brought your fiancée with you?'

  He answered her briefly. 'No, she did not wish to come.'

  His mother gave him a sharp glance. 'Of course, it would be dull for her as you will be away for so much of the time.' She smiled at him. 'I must wait until the wedding, perhaps?'

  His 'Perhaps' was uttered casually as he went to open the doors into the grounds at the back, to be greeted by the dog who came bounding in at his whistle.

  Anneke came in then, with coffee and the information that supper would be served in twenty minutes or so. 'You waited for me?' he asked his mother.

  `Yes, dear, you may well be gone in the morning by the time I get down, and probably you will be too tired to talk much in the evening. Will you be operating?'

  `Yes, at Leiden. I shall be there for three days and then I go to Utrecht and finally to Amsterdam. You will stay?'

  `Willingly, Fenno.' She spoke readily but she searched his face anxiously. She understood him very well: reserved to the point of coldness, generous to a fault, a steadfast friend, a compassionate man towards his patients and, hidden away beneath his beautiful manners, a romantic. Now there was something wrong, and most likely something to do with this Ursula he intended to marry. Even though she had never met her, Mevrouw van Linssen had taken

  a dislike to her; she had sent excuses for not accompanying Fenno on several occasions now, and it was obvious that she had no wish to meet his family. She began to talk about his younger sister who had just had a second son, and presently, when they had supper together, she gave him a light-hearted account of his friends' and family's doings since he had been away.

  It wasn't until the following evening as they sat before the fire in the drawing-room, the dog at their feet, that he told her about Peter.

  `He sounds a nice child,' said his mother, and hoped for more. Into the companionable silence she asked, 'You say he's an orphan, poor boy. I suppose his lives with his grandparents?'

  `No, a cousin, and an old housekeeper.'

  More promising, reflected Mevrouw van Linssen. `How dull for him—I hope he has lots of friends.'

  `Not dull at all. His cousin is in her late twenties.' He paused and she waited for more, but all he said was, 'The housekeeper worked for Eulalia's grandmother until she died. She had nowhere to g
o, so they made a home together, and then took on Peter when his parents were killed.'

  He began to talk about something else, leaving his mother thoughtful.

  He didn't speak of it again until the day before he was to return to England, when he was driving his mother back to her small town house in den Haag, and then in reply to her carefully careless question.

  `See Peter? I doubt it. He lives in the Cotswolds. Besides, his cousin dislikes me.'

  His voice was harsh, and she contented herself by saying casually, 'The Cotswolds are lovely, aren't they? All those charming houses.' But she thought to herself, so it is this aunt with the pretty name. Why didn't she like Fenno? She had no idea how to answer that question. Instead she begged him to give her love to Ursula. 'And do tell her that she must come and meet me before you marry,' a remark which he replied to with a grunt which could have meant anything.

  The autumn days were shortening but the fine weather still held. Eulalia dug away at the garden, gradually reducing it to some kind of order, while old Bob, a bit too stiff for hard digging, saw to the fruit-trees and pruned anything that needed it. She had planted as she cleared, and already there were neat rows of winter cabbage, spinach, beet and turnips. It was a bit late in the year to plant, but the soil was good and the garden sheltered. When she wasn't busy in the garden she helped with the chores and did the shopping if Trottie's feet were painful. She had half expected to see Victor, but there was no sign of him. Mr van Linssen's bit of play-acting had frightened him off, and after a few days she stopped looking over her shoulder each time anyone went past the cottage, and on the following Sunday,

  although he was in church, sitting in his family pew, he avoided looking at her.

  Trottie, who had been there too, remarked on that as they walked home with Peter between them. 'Depend on it, Miss Lally, he had a nasty fright; Mr van Linssen being such a big gentleman and with such a cold eye when it suits him. Happen that Victor thinks you're promised.'

  Eulalia tried to look unconcerned and blushed instead, so that Peter wanted to know why she had got so red. 'And why does Victor think you're promised?' he enquired. 'And what does that mean?'

  Eulalia had always done her best to be a good guardian and that meant telling the truth as much as possible when he asked awkward questions. 'It's a rather old-fashioned way of saying you're engaged.'

  Peter gave a little skip. `To Mr van Linssen? How absolutely super. He'll be my cousin too, won't he?'

  `No, dear, I must explain. He—just pretended, so that Victor would stop bothering me. He's going to marry Miss Kendall. He was just doing a kind act.'

  She couldn't bear to see Peter's disappointed face. `Never mind, love, I'm on the look-out for a millionaire who'll look after all of us forever and ever!'

  `Oh, well,' said Peter. 'I suppose he'll do if we can't have Mr van Linssen.'

  `Well, no, we can't,' agreed Eulalia, and felt unutterably sad at the thought.

  Presently, when they had had their dinner and Peter was in the garden with Blossom and Charlie,

  and Trottie was having what she called her lay down', she brushed the sadness away; she had no reason to be sad about the man. They disagreed every time they met and he had a nasty knack of making her feel foolish. She was, of course, grateful to him, for he seemed to have a way of turning up at the right moment, but he was, she told herself, an arrogant man, given to sarcasm and with the gift of bringing out the worst in her. She would, she told herself resolutely, forget him.

  It wasn't easy, but, the garden dealt with for the moment, she was able to turn her attention to plans for the shop. She had renewed old acquaintances by now and Peter had friends in the village. She went out to coffee-mornings, afternoons of tennis and the occasional dinner party, so that by the time she was ready to open the shop there would be a number of people who would come and buy flowers, out of curiosity at first and then, hopefully, because the shop and its contents were attractive. It would have to be just before Christmas, when she might hope to get orders for flower arrangements as well as cut flowers.

  She spent her evenings making lists, planning how much money she dared spend and debating ways and means with Trottie. She intended to get Jacob to put up a small glasshouse attached to the bathroom wall, and get planning permission to knock a hole in the side wall of the garden and put a gate there, something she had discovered could be done since it wouldn't alter the appearance of the cottage. She still

  had to go and see Mr Willett and get his advice, and before that make a few tentative enquiries in the village to see what people thought of the idea. Not everyone, of course, but the rector, and old Colonel Grimes up at the Manor, and the doctor, and Mr Wedge at the Boy and Horseshoe...

  She went one morning to see him first, leaving Peter with Trottie. It was mid-morning and there were only two people in the bar, while Mr Wedge leaned on his elbows, discussing politics. Eulalia, waiting until he had made short work of the government and politicians in general, finally asked for a cup of coffee. 'And if you could spare five minutes—I'd like your advice.'

  Tor', Miss Lally that's given for free, likewise the coffee. Trouble, is there?'

  `No, no, Mr Wedge, just an idea I want to tell you about.'

  The two men leaning on the bar came nearer. They were both elderly, long since retired from working on local farms and eager to hear what she had to say.

  `You'm Miss Lally,' said the oldest man. 'I remember you when you was a little maid. Living in that Ivy Cottage that gentleman bought.' He turned to Mr Wedge. 'Remember, Tim? Him with that great big car. 'Ad it all cut and dried 'fore you could say knife. Wanted to know where that Mr Willett 'oo saw to Mrs Warburton's business, poor soul, lived. Mark you, 'e were a fool to buy the place. Least-

  ways, it seemed so, but Miss Lally 'ere 'as done it up a treat.'

  It took Eulalia a few moments to realise what the old man was saying. She went so pale that Mr Wedge cast her an anxious look, not sure what was wrong but sensing that something was amiss. He said, 'How about another half-pint, William, though you ought to be getting home or you'll have your missus after you.' It was a relief when William nodded reluctantly and made for the door with a cheerful `See you' and a wave.

  He was barely out of the door when Wedge said loudly, 'I'll fetch that cup of coffee, Miss Lally, now it's quiet. Tim here's a bit deaf so you can say what you want.'

  Eulalia said slowly, 'If you don't mind, Mr Wedge, I'll come back later—I've just remembered something...' And she followed William out of the door. He was already halfway up the street but she caught up with him easily.

  `May I walk a bit of the way with you? I want to ask you something?'

  `Why not, missy? Time's me own when the wife's not badgering me.' He gave her a shrewd glance. `Something I said back there in the pub?'

  `Yes, the gentleman who bought Ivy Cottage. Did he give his name, was he English?'

  `Didn't give no name, not to me, anyway. As for being a foreigner I wouldn't know. Spoke the Queen's English a sight better than me. Quiet kind

  of man and 'andsome. Pots of money, no doubt, with that car. It were a Bentley motor car, like Sir Percy over at Bowle House drives.' He stopped and took a look at her. 'Know 'im, do you, Miss Lally?'

  `Oh, yes,' said Eulalia, in a voice which boded ill for Mr van Linssen, 'I know him.'

  She bade him goodbye presently and walked back to Ivy Cottage, going at a great pace, propelled by rage. Trottie looked up from her knitting as she went in. 'And what's upset you, Miss Lally? Don't tell me it's that Victor...'

  Eulalia stood in the centre of the little room, magnificent in her rage. She said between her teeth, 'Not Victor. Mr van Linssen. How dare he?'

  Trottie put down her knitting. 'Well, tell old Trottie all about it,' she invited.

  `This cottage—he bought it. William Thorpe told me, at least, he was talking to Wedge and I asked him.' She gave a great heaving breath. 'Don't you see, Trottie, it belongs to him? There's something fishy
about that; he's played a trick on me.' She stopped to think. `Do you suppose that he bought it from that great-uncle in Australia? No, of course he couldn't, and besides, I've got the deeds. I don't understand.'

  Trottie knitted half a row. 'You'd best go and see that Mr Willett. He'll have the answer, I've no doubt.' She finished the row. 'That old William's getting on a bit, doesn't always know what he's talking about.'

  Eulalia said doubtfully, 'Yes, perhaps that's it. All the same, I'm going to take the deeds and catch the bus into Cirencester this afternoon.'

  `You do that,' advised Trottie. 'Don't go blaming that nice Mr van Linssen until you know he's guilty.' `If he is, I'll never speak to him again.'

  `Well, you're not likely to see him, are you, love?' said Trottie briskly. She folded up her knitting. 'I'll get us a bite to eat and you go and tidy yourself. You can't go to Cirencester in that old dress.'

  It was mid-afternoon by the time Eulalia arrived at Mr Willett's office and requested his clerk for a few minutes of his time. She didn't have to wait long. Mr Willett came out of his room to meet her, shook hands in the most friendly fashion and ushered her in. He had seen her white face and eyes dark with rage, and embarked most prudently upon a series of questions as to her health, the health of Miss Trott, the well-being of Peter and a lengthy observation concerning the pleasure of living in a village again after the drabness of the Cromwell Road.

  Eulalia replied politely and waited until he paused for breath.

  `Did you know,' she asked without preamble, 'that Mr van Linssen had bought Ivy Cottage? And what about the money—all that money? And was there a great-uncle in Australia?'

  Mr. Willett sat back, his hands before him in an attitude of prayer, and looked grave. 'First, will you tell me from whom you have heard all this?'

  So Eulalia took a calming breath and told him, and then sat waiting for him to answer.