Caroline's Waterloo Read online

  ‘And what did you intend to do?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘Well, I said I’d wait just a few minutes and then if she went on groaning and looking distressed I thought I’d go and get Jan up—only he’s old, I didn’t want to bother him.’

  He put a gentle hand on the beast’s heaving flanks. ‘You didn’t want to bother me either, Caroline.’ His voice was quiet.

  ‘No.’ For something to do she ran her fingers through her untidy hair.

  ‘Leave your hair.’ He still spoke quietly and she dropped her hands in astonishment. After a moment he said: ‘Look!’

  The foal was enchanting. ‘We shall be able to call him Prince,’ observed Radinck as they watched him get to his wobbly legs and nuzzle his mother. ‘Caroline, do you think you could make some hot mash? Willem should have it ready for the morning over in the far corner. There’s a Primus—just warm it up, Queenie could do with it now. I’ll stay here for a minute or two just to make sure everything’s as it should be.’

  Caroline went obediently, found the mash and the stove and waited while it heated, and presently went back with it to find that Radinck had fetched a bucket of water which Queenie was drinking thirstily. She gobbled down the mash too, standing between the pair of them. She was still far from being in the pink of condition, but she was clean and combed and content. Caro, sitting back on her heels so that she could see more of the foal, observed: ‘Oh, isn’t it lovely? She’s so happy.’ She caught her breath. ‘What would have happened to her if we hadn’t taken her in?’

  ‘Oh, she would have been left in a field to fend for herself.’ Radinck didn’t add to that because Caro’s eyes were filled with tears.

  ‘In a couple of days she shall go out into the fields with the horses. She’s almost strong enough—they like company, you know, and horses like them.’

  Queenie finished her meal, arranged herself comfortably on the straw with the foal beside her and wagged her ears. ‘She’s telling us we can go,’ said Radinck. ‘She’ll do very well until Willem comes.’ He pulled Caro to her feet, draped his jacket round her and walked her back through the moonlight night to the side door. Inside she would have gone to bed, but he kept an arm round her shoulders. ‘I have a fancy for a cup of tea,’ he declared. ‘Let’s go to the kitchen and make one—it will warm you, too.’

  He seemed to know where everything was. Caro, her arms in the sleeves of his jacket to make things a little easier, got mugs, sugar and milk while he fetched a teapot and a tea canister, found a loaf and some butter and put them on the table. ‘Didn’t you have any dinner?’ asked Caro.

  ‘Yes—only it was a very dainty one. I have been famished for the last hour.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a terrible feeling,’ agreed Caro, ‘and one always thinks of all the nicest things to eat. I’ve often…’ She stopped herself just in time. He wouldn’t want to know that she had sometimes been rather hungry; hospital meals cost money and although one could eat adequately enough if one were careful, there was never anything left over for chocolate clairs and steak and sole bonne femme.

  ‘Well?’ asked Radinck.

  ‘Nothing.’ She busied herself pouring the tea while he sliced bread and spread it lavishly with butter.

  Caroline hadn’t enjoyed a meal as much for a long time. It was as though Radinck was a different person. She wasn’t just having a glimpse of him as he really was, he was letting her get to know him. She found herself talking to him as though she had known him all her life. She had forgotten to worry that he might, at any moment, revert to his normal severe manner. Everything was wonderful. She sat there, eating slices of bread and butter, oblivious of her tatty appearance, talking about Queenie, and her riding and how she was going to learn to speak Dutch and what fun it was to have found a friend in Becky. And Radinck did nothing to stop her—indeed, he encouraged her with cleverly put questions which she answered with all the spontaneous simplicity of a small girl. It was the old-fashioned wall clock striking a ponderous three which brought her up short. She began to collect up the mugs and plates, stammering a little. ‘I’m sorry—I’ve kept you out of bed, I don’t know what came over me.’

  He took the things from her and put them back on the table. ‘Leave those. Will you be too tired to ride in the morning?’

  ‘Tired? Heavens, no, I wouldn’t miss…’ She stopped herself again. ‘The mornings are lovely at this time of year,’ she observed rather woodenly.

  Radinck was staring down at her. ‘I must agree with you, Caroline—the mornings are lovely.’ He turned away abruptly and went over to the sink with the teapot and she watched him, idly sticking her hands into the pockets of his jacket which she still wore draped round her. There was something in one of them. She just had time to pull it almost out to look at it before he turned round; she only had a glimpse, but it was enough. It was a handkerchief—a woman’s handkerchief, new but crumpled.

  They walked out of the kitchen together and up the stairs, and all the way Caroline told herself that she had no reason to mind so much. She had taken her hands out of the pockets as though they were full of hot coals and handed him his jacket with a murmur of thanks, aware of a pain almost physical. If she was going to feel like this every time she encountered some small sign that she wasn’t the only woman in his life, then she might just as well give up at once. Of course, the handkerchief could belong to an aunt or a cousin or…he had no relations living close by. It could belong, said a nasty little voice at the back of her head, to whoever it was he went to see almost every evening in the week. Then why had he married her? Couldn’t the handkerchief’s owner have been a sheet anchor too? She thought of herself as a shabby, reliable coat, always at hand hanging on the back door, necessary but never worn anywhere but in the back yard in bad weather, whereas a really smart coat would be taken from the closet with care and pride and displayed to one’s friends.

  At the top of the stairs she wished him goodnight and was quite unprepared for his sudden swoop and his hard, quick kiss. She turned without a word and fled into her room, aware that any other girl with her wits about her would have known how to deal with the situation.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IF CARO HADN’T BEEN so sleepy she might have lain awake and pondered Radinck’s behaviour, but beyond a fleeting sense of elation mixed with a good deal of puzzlement, there was no time to think at all; she was asleep as her head touched the pillow. And in the morning there was no time for anything but getting dressed by half past seven. As she went downstairs she did wonder if she would feel awkward when she saw him, but that need not have worried her. He offered her a cool good morning, led her down to the stables, watched her mount, had a word with Willem about Queenie, and led the way into the fields. They rode in almost complete silence and on their return, even the sight of Queenie and her foal called forth no more than a further businesslike discussion with Willem as to their welfare. They were back to square one, thought Caro. Last night had been an episode to be forgotten or at least ignored. She remembered the hanky with a pang of sheer envy, subdued it with difficulty and loitered to add her own remarks to Willem, who, with the rest of the staff at Huis Thoe, made a point of understanding her peculiar Dutch.

  By the time she got down to breakfast, Radinck was almost ready to leave. Caroline wasn’t in the least surprised when he mentioned that he wouldn’t be home for lunch. She was glad that there was so much to keep her occupied. It wasn’t until after lunch that the wicked little thought that she might take another look at the handkerchief in Radinck’s jacket pocket entered her head. The suit was to be sent to the cleaners, along with her dressing gown; they would be in one of the small rooms leading from the passage which led to the kitchen.

  They were there all right. Feeling guilty, she searched every pocket and found the handkerchief gone. It must be something very precious to Radinck and it served her right for snooping. Feeling ashamed of herself, she put on her sheepskin jacket, pulled a woollen cap over her head and went to find Rex, pro
wling in discontent from room to room. He had been left behind again. They went a long way, indeed they were still only halfway home in the gathering dusk when Radinck opened his house door. He had a large box under one arm and went at once to the sitting-room where Caro liked to spend her leisure.

  The room was empty of course, and in answer to his summons, Noakes informed him that the Baroness had gone out with Rex. ‘Been gorn a long time, too,’ observed Noakes. ‘Great walker, she is too.’ He turned to go, adding with a trusted old friend’s freedom: ‘Walking away from somethin’, if yer ask me.’

  His employer turned cold blue eyes on him. ‘And what exactly does that mean?’

  Noakes threw him a quick shrewd look. ‘Just me opinion, Professor, take it or leave it, as you might say.’

  ‘She’s unhappy? The Baroness is unhappy?’

  ‘Not ter say unhappy—always busy, she is, with this and that—flowers in the rooms and ordering stores and learning Dutch all by ’erself. ’Omesick, I’ve no doubt, Professor.’ He added defiantly: ‘She’s on ’er own a lot.’

  The master of the house looked coldly furious. ‘I have my work, Noakes.’

  ‘And now, beggin’ yer pardon, Professor, you’ve got ’er as well.’

  The Professor looked like a thundercloud. ‘It is a good thing that we are old friends, Noakes…’

  His faithful butler had a prudent hand on the door. ‘Yes, Professor—I’d not ’ave said any of that if we ’adn’t been.’

  The austere lines of the Professor’s face broke into a smile. ‘I know that, Noakes, and I value your friendship.’

  Caro walked in half an hour later, her cheeks glowing, her hair regrettably untidy. As she came into the hall from the garden door, Rex beside her, she saw Noakes on his stately way to the kitchen.

  ‘Noakes!’ she cried. ‘We’ve had a lovely walk, I’m as warm as toast. And don’t frown at me, I’ve wiped Rex’s feet. I went to see Queenie too and she’s fine.’ She had thrown off her jacket and was pulling the cap off her head when the sitting-room door opened and she saw Radinck.

  Her breath left her, as it always did when she saw him. After a little silence she said: ‘Hullo, Radinck, I didn’t know you’d be home early. I hope you’ve had tea—we went further than we meant to.’

  He leaned against the wall, his bland face giving nothing away. ‘I waited for you, Caroline.’ He nodded at Noakes who hurried kitchenwards and held the door wide for her to go in. The room looked very welcoming; the fire burned brightly in the grate and Waterloo had made himself comfortable before it, joined, after he had made much of his master, by Rex. Caro sat down on the little armchair by the work table she had made her own, smoothed her hair without bothering much about it, and picked up her tapestry work. She had painstakingly unpicked it and now had the miserable task of working it again. She smiled across at her husband. ‘I hope it’s scones, I’ve been showing Marta how to make them.’

  He said gravely: ‘I look forward to them. Caroline, are you lonely?’

  The question was so unexpected that she pricked her finger. She said rather loudly: ‘Lonely? Why, of course not—there’s so much to do, and now I’m going to start Dutch lessons, tomorrow, and Juffrouw Kropp is teaching me how to be a good housekeeper, and there are the animals…’ She paused, seeking something to add to her meagre list of activities. ‘Oh, and now there’s Becky…’

  Noakes brought in the tea tray then and she busied herself pouring it from the George the Second silver bullet teapot into the delicate cups. It wasn’t being rich that mattered, she mused, it was possessing beautiful things, lovingly made and treasured and yet used each day…

  ‘Queenie and Prince are doing very well,’ remarked Radinck.

  She passed him his cup and saucer. ‘Yes, aren’t they? I went to see them this morning—twice, in fact… Oh, and I asked Juffrouw Kropp to see that your suit went to the cleaners.’

  ‘I imagined you might; I emptied the pockets.’ He stared at her so hard that she began to pinken, and to cover her guilty feelings about looking for that hanky, bent to lift the lid of the dish holding the scones.

  ‘Will you have a scone?’ she asked. ‘Marta’s such a wonderful cook…’

  ‘And your dressing gown? That was ruined, I imagine.’

  ‘Well, yes, but I think it’ll clean—it may need several…’

  ‘I don’t think I should bother, Caroline.’ He bent down and took the box from the floor beside his chair. ‘I hope this will do instead.’

  Caroline gave him a surprised look, undid the beribboned box slowly and gently lifted aside the layers of tissue paper, to lift out a pale pink quilted satin robe, its high neck and long sleeves edged with chiffon frills; the kind of extravagant garment she had so often stared at through shop windows and never hoped to possess.

  ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous!’ she exclaimed. ‘I shall love wearing it. Thank you very much, Radinck, it was most kind of you.’ She smiled at him and just for once he smiled back at her.

  They had a pleasant tea after that, not talking about anything much until Caro reminded him that they were to go to the burgermeester’s reception the following evening.

  ‘You have a dress?’ Radinck enquired idly, ‘or do you want to go to den Haag shopping—Noakes can easily drive you there.’

  ‘Oh, I have a dress, thank you. It’s—it’s rather grand.’

  ‘Too grand for my wife?’ He spoke mockingly, but she didn’t notice for once.

  ‘Oh, oh, no, but it’s rather—there’s not a great deal of top to it.’ She eyed him anxiously.

  The corners of Radinck’s stern mouth twitched. ‘It was my impression that—er—not a great deal of top for the evening was all the fashion this season.’

  ‘Well, it is. The sales lady said it was quite suitable, but I—I haven’t been to an evening party for some time and I’m not sure…’

  ‘The sales lady looked very knowledgeable,’ said Radinck kindly, and forbore from adding that she would know better than to sell the Baroness Thoe van Erckelens anything unsuitable. ‘Supposing you put it on and I’ll take a look at it before we leave tomorrow—just to reassure you.’

  ‘Oh, would you? I wouldn’t like people to stare.’ Caroline added reluctantly: ‘I don’t think I’m much good at parties.’

  ‘Neither am I, Caroline, but you don’t need to worry. Everyone is eager to meet a bride, you know.’ His voice held a faint sneer and she winced and was only partly comforted by his: ‘I’m sure the dress will be most suitable.’

  Caro repeated this comforting observation to herself while she examined herself in the long mirror in her bedroom, dressed ready for the reception. There was no doubt about it, it was a beautiful dress; a pale smoky grey chiffon over satin with a finely pleated frill round its hem and the bodice which was causing her so much doubt, finely pleated too.

  She turned away from her reflection, caught up the mink and went quickly down the staircase before she lost her nerve.

  The drawing-room door was half open and Noakes, appearing from nowhere opened it wide for her to go through. Radinck was standing with his back to the hearth with Rex and Waterloo sitting at his feet enjoying the warmth. Caro nipped across the stretch of carpet and came to a breathless halt. ‘Well?’ she asked.

  Radinck studied her leisurely. ‘A charming dress,’ he pronounced finally, ‘exactly right for the occasion.’

  She waited for him to say more, even a half-hearted compliment about herself would have been better than nothing at all, but he remained silent. And she had taken such pains with her face and hair and hands…

  She said in a quiet little voice: ‘I’m ready, Radinck,’ and picked up her coat which Noakes had draped over a chair.

  He didn’t answer her but moved away from the fire to fetch something lying on one of the sofa tables. She thought how magnificent he looked in his tails and white tie, but if she told him so, he might think that she was wishing for a compliment in her turn.

  He crosse
d the room to her, opened the case in his hand and took out its contents. ‘This was my mother’s,’ he told her. ‘I think it will go very well with this dress. Turn round while I fasten it for you.’

  The touch of his fingers made her tremble although she stood obediently still, and then went to look in the great gilded mirror on one wall. The necklace was exquisite; sapphires linked by an intricate chain of diamonds, a dainty, costly trifle which went very well with her dress. She touched it lightly with a pretty hand, acknowledging its beauty and magnificence, while at the same time aware that if it had been a bead necklace from Woolworths given with all his love she would have worn it for ever and loved every bead.

  She turned away from the mirror and got into the coat he was holding, picked up the grey satin purse which exactly matched her slippers and went with him to the car. On the way to Leeuwarden she asked: ‘Is there anything special I should know about this evening?’

  ‘I think not. I shall remain with you and see that you meet my friends, and once you have found your feet, I daresay you will like to talk to as many people as possible. It will be like any other party you have been to, Caroline.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she had been to very few parties and certainly never to a grand reception, but pride curbed her tongue. She got out of the car presently, her determined little chin well up, and went up the steps to the burgermeester’s front door, her skirts held daintily and with Radinck’s hand under her elbow. She had a moment of panic in the enormous entrance hall as she was led away by a severe maid to remove her coat, and cast a longing look at the door—it was very close; she had only to turn and run…

  ‘I shall be here waiting for you, Caroline,’ said her husband quietly.

  The reception rooms were on the first floor. Caroline went up the wide staircase, Radinck beside her, her heart beating fit to choke her. There were people all around them, murmuring and smiling, but Radinck didn’t stop until they reached the big double doors opening on to the vast apartment where the burgermeester and his wife were receiving their guests. She had imagined that their host would be a large impressive man with a terrifying wife. He was nothing of the sort; of middle height and very stout, he had a fringe of grey hair and a round smiling face which beamed a welcome at her. She murmured politely in her carefully learned Dutch and was relieved when he addressed her in English.