Fate takes a hand Page 11

  `It is not within my power to discuss this matter with you, Eulalia. You must understand that. I am not at liberty to disclose my clients' private affairs.'

  `That's absurd—however am Ito find out the truth if someone doesn't tell me?'

  Mr Willett switched on his intercom and requested two cups of tea. 'I can but advise you. Since you are anxious to solve the matter, I suggest that you should write to Mr van Linssen and put the matter before him.'

  The tea came and she sipped it while she thought. `But you did know about it?' she wanted to know.

  Mr Willett nibbled a biscuit. 'My dear Eulalia, I have already told you that I am not in a position to reveal such information.'

  `He was your client, though?' said Eulalia. She got no reply other than an offer of a second cup of tea. She liked Mr Willett, who had done his best for her when her grandmother had died, and now she said, 'All right, I'll write to him and see what he says. Thank you for your advice.' She got up. 'I'll let you know about his reply.'

  He escorted her to the door and shook hands. 'I'm sure it can be settled,' he assured her. 'Some misunderstanding!'

  He went back to his office and sat down to think. His first impulse was to telephone Mr van Linssen and tell him what had occurred, but on second

  thoughts he decided against it. He suspected that Mr van Linssen had more than an ordinary interest in Eulalia and who was he to interfere?

  As for Eulalia, she went back to Ivy Cottage, assured Peter, back from school, that she had gone to see Mr Willett about a trifling matter, and remarked to Trottie that it had been very pleasant in Cirencester but the days were getting rather chilly, and after their supper she helped Peter with his homework and saw him into bed, accompanied by Charlie and Blossom. Only when he was asleep did she sit down and tell Trottie what Mr Willett had said. 'I'm going up to London tomorrow morning,' she declared. 'If I catch an early train I can be there by eleven o'clock. I'll go to Maude's and find out if he's there, and if he isn't I'll go to his house and wait for him.'

  `Supposing he does own this house and the money too, what will you do, Miss Lally? You can give him back almost all the money, but you can't give him back this place, leastways, if you do, we'd be out in the street. And Peter? I know his school fees are safe but he's got to live somewhere, hasn't he? And him so happy with the garden and Charlie and Blossom?'

  `I thought about that on my way home, Trottie. I'll pay back the money I haven't spent and I'll get work, any work, so's we can go on living here, and I'll pay the rent. In that way we are not beholden to him.' She swallowed back tears. 'Oh, why did he do it?'

  Trottie had her own ideas about that but she didn't say anything, only remarked presently that that seemed a sensible thing to do and what kind of job had Eulalia in mind?

  `Anything—in a supermarket? I shouldn't think you need qualifications for that—only references— or in a café or a restaurant.' She looked at her old friend. 'I'm so sorry, Trottie—all those dreams...'

  `At least we're out of London, love, you're young and strong and Peter's happy, and I'm content like I never was in Cromwell Road.'

  Eulalia gave her a hug. 'You're an angel. I'll make us a hot drink and we'll go to bed.'

  She told Peter at breakfast that she was going to London for the day. 'A bit of business, nothing to worry over. I'll bring you back a Beano from the bookstall.'

  `Oh, thanks, Aunt Lally, and will you have time to see Mr van Linssen?'

  She wasn't going to lie to him. 'Darling, I don't know where he is, he might be in Holland, but if I do see him and that's not likely, is it?—I'll give him your love.'

  As soon as she had taken him to school she caught her bus and then the train, had a cup of coffee at the station buffet and caught a bus going west which would take her almost to Maude's Hospital. All the way there she had rehearsed what she would say; she would be quiet and cool and businesslike. She had, she honestly thought, bottled up her rage and

  humiliation; she would guard her tongue and not answer him back, however infuriating he became. She realised that if it was a misunderstanding she was open to his ridicule, but that was a small risk.

  She got off the bus and went along to the entrance of the hospital and enquired of the porter if Mr van Linssen was there. The head porter looked at her most suspiciously. 'Patient, are you? You're in the wrong door, miss, and his clinic isn't till one o'clock. Better come back in an hour or so and go to the outpatients' door round to the right as you go out.'

  He turned to answer the phone and she went out into the forecourt again. She was in luck. She would join the patients for his clinic; he would have to see her then. It meant that she would have to catch an evening train back home and probably miss the last bus to the village, but she could get a taxi.

  She wasn't far from the park and there was a small café near there where she could get a sandwich and some coffee. The walk did her good, and she sat for half an hour eating her small meal before going into the park and walking briskly along its paths. It was a fine autumn day but there was a nip in the air, and she wished she had worn something warmer. Her jersey dress and jacket looked good, and to boost her self-confidence she had worn a hat, a small-brimmed velvet one, years old but dateless, She wasn't sure why she had taken such care with her clothes, perhaps to impress upon Mr van Linssen that she wasn't penniless and didn't need his charity. She even went

  over her speech again as she walked, and presently made her way back to the hospital and walked boldly into the outpatients' hall. It was crowded, which suited her very well, and there were notices on the wall pointing out where the patients for the various clinics should sit. Mr van Linssen's benches were already almost full when she approached them, to be halted by a fussy little woman who asked for her card.

  Eulalia gave her her brightest smile. 'I'm not a patient. I have to see Mr van Linssen on a private matter and I haven't time to go to his home. May I sit here and see him when his patients have been attended to?'

  The little lady pursed her lips. 'It's most unusual. I don't know what Sister will say.'

  `If I'm not a patient, surely she need not be bothered,' Eulalia pointed out.

  `That's true. You are personally acquainted with Mr van Linssen?'

  `Oh, yes. Over a period of some months. He is a friend of my cousin.'

  `Oh, well, I dare say that's all right. Sit on the far side of the back row. You'll have to wait a while— he's got a very full clinic today.'

  Eulalia sat down where she was told and looked around her. A sister was bustling to and fro, so were several nurses, and presently two young housemen crossed the hall and went through a door close to the front bench, followed almost at once by a woman in

  a white overall with a great many papers under her arm, and five minutes later there was a wave of shuffling and head-turning and Mr van Linssen, looking quite different in his long white coat, crossed the hall. He was talking to a younger man and didn't look at anyone. She watched his massive back disappear through the door and felt a pang of something. Panic? Fear at having to face him? Pleasure at seeing him again? She didn't pursue the thought.

  The next three and a half hours seemed endless. She longed for a cup of tea but she didn't dare leave her seat in case he went away. The benches slowly emptied, few remaining patients were in the hall now, and very soon she would get her chance. She went over her prepared speeches once more and, as the last patient was called in, moved to the front bench.

  The man came out again in ten minutes, followed by the two housemen, a nurse and the older man with Sister. That lady pulled up short when she saw Eulalia. 'You're very late. Where are your notes? I doubt if Mr van Linssen will see you.'

  Eulalia had slipped past her. 'I'm not a patient but I have to see him before he leaves.' She closed the door in Sister's astonished face and stood looking at Mr van Linssen, writing busily at his desk.

  He didn't look up. 'Sister, we'll admit that last man...' He did look up then. His blue eyes, suddenly
alert and cold, studied her for a moment, then he got slowly to his feet.

  `Oh dear, oh dear,' said Mr van Linssen, and gave her a mocking smile which tore to shreds all her coolness and calmness and dignity and reduced her speeches to utter nonsense.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE CAME forward and offered her a chair. 'Do sit down. I can see that you are bursting with the wish to give vent to your rage and to hurl abuse at my head.' He glanced at his watch. 'I can spare you ten minutes.'

  Eulalia found her voice. It was rather shrill and not quite steady but she knew what she wanted to say. 'I do not care whether you can spare the time for me. I shall say what I have come to say, and if it takes more time than ten minutes, that's just too bad.'

  He eyed her with appreciation; bad temper suited her. Her lovely grey eyes flashed, her cheeks were delightfully pink. She sat down deliberately, put her handbag on the floor and folded her hands on her lap. He saw that they were shaking and her charming bosom was heaving in a beguiling manner, and he sat back in his chair. He had been taken by surprise but he rather thought he was going to enjoy the next half-hour.

  He said, as politely impersonal as a doctor to his patient, 'I'm listening, Eulalia.'

  `Don't call me Eulalia,' she snapped.

  `You shouldn't say that. I might be tempted to call you something else.'

  `Oh, be quiet, do,' she snapped. Her carefully rehearsed speeches had flown out of her head. 'You tricked me, didn't you? There wasn't an uncle in Australia—how did you get Mr Willett to agree? And why did you do it?'

  She paused, and he said smoothly, 'You are so sure that I have done this, but you have no proof. You may be mistaken, in which case your journey here, rather gratifying though it may be to myself, has been a waste of time and money.'

  She stared at him, suddenly uncertain, and then remembered William.

  `I have proof. William told me—he's an old man who lives in the village. He was in Wedge's bar when you were there. He remembered you because you had a Bentley motor car.'

  Mr van Linssen laughed. 'How very lowering for my ego. Now that you have proof, what do you intend to do about it, Eulalia?'

  `Give it all back, of course. I can't do that all at once, but I haven't used much of the money, and what I have used I'll pay back if it takes me the rest of my life. And we'll leave the cottage...'

  His slow smile mocked her. 'Yes? And where will you go?'

  `I'll find somewhere. I'm not a fool.'

  `No, but pig-headed in the extreme. Come down off your high horse and use some sense. What about

  Peter and Miss Trott? Are they to suffer a homeless plight with you?'

  He was sitting back in his chair, very much at his ease, and she felt rage bubbling up inside her again. She said in a cold voice with only the faintest quiver in it, 'I am not pig-headed.'

  `No, no, of course not— a slip of the tongue. Let us say rather that you are a strong-minded female who likes her own way.'

  The interview which she had planned so carefully had now become a fiasco and it was all his fault. Somehow she had been made to feel guilty. She sat silent, trying to regain her composure, not helped by him glancing at the watch he took from his waistcoat pocket.

  `You are returning this evening to Brokenwell?'

  `Yes.' She got up. 'There's no point talking to you. I'll go and see Mr Willett. I'll send you a cheque, and perhaps you would be good enough to tell me what rent you require?'

  All he said was, 'You've missed your train. When is the next one?'

  `Eight o'clock.'

  `You won't be home until nearly midnight. Sit down, Eulalia.'

  So she sat down again, quite glad to do so, for she was hungry and her feelings had left her tired and somewhat dispirited. Just for a moment she didn't care what was to happen next.

  Mr van Linssen lifted the receiver and dialled.

  `Dodge, will you go to the study and look in the phone book for the Boy and Horseshoe at Brokenwell and let me have the number?' In a few moments he said, 'Thank you,' and put down the receiver, to pick it up again and dial once more. 'Mr Wedge? Van Linssen here. Would you be good enough to send a message to Miss Trott at Ivy Cottage? Tell her that Miss Warburton will be staying as my guest until tomorrow morning and will return home some time during the day. Many thanks.'

  He put the receiver down and Eulalia gasped, `You can't do that...'

  `I just have,' he pointed out in a reasonable voice, and sat back again, watching her.

  Eulalia drew a long breath. She said in a voice that was getting rather shrill, 'I do not care for your arrangements, Mr van Linssen, I intend to go home.'

  She got to her feet again and this time he did the same. 'Yes, yes.' He sounded impatient. 'But since I owe it to Miss Trott and Peter to return you safely to Brokenwell, you have no alternative but to do as I say.'

  `You are an abominable man,' said Eulalia loudly, `and I dislike you. I dislike you even more than I do Victor. You are high-handed and sarcastic and—and unkind, and if I had that money with me now I'd throw it at you, and the cottage as well.'

  The absurdity of this remark didn't strike her, and whatever Mr van Linssen thought about it remained

  concealed by a perfectly expressionless face. He picked up the phone once more and spoke into it. `Geoff? I've been called away. Will you collect the notes from Outpatients? I'll see to them later. Yes, in an hour or two.'

  That done, he took Eulalia's arm and walked her briskly out of the room and across the hall and into the forecourt, bidding a surprised nurse and a porter goodnight as he went.

  Eulalia went silently. There was a great deal she wanted to say, but she was so angry that her thoughts weren't making sense, and putting them into words would be useless. She sat beside him in the car, as still and stiff as a poker, her lovely nose in the air, vexed even more by Mr van Linssen's casual manner. He could have been delivering a parcel for all the notice he took of her.

  She said suddenly, 'I am doing this against my will and I protest very strongly.'

  `Don't be so silly,' observed Mr van Linssen in a voice to dampen down even the strongest feelings.

  That was the extent of their conversation until they reached his house.

  Dodge, advancing to meet them as they went in, showed no surprise, but inclined his head gravely and bade her good evening and stood listening to his master telling him to take Miss Warburton to the guest-room so that she might tidy herself.

  `Miss Warburton has missed her train. She will spend the night here and return to Brokenwell in the

  morning. Could we have a tray of tea in ten minutes or so, and dinner at the usual hour? See that Miss Warburton has all she wants, will you?'

  He turned to Eulalia. 'Do come down when you're ready. I'm sure you would like a cup of tea. The cure for all ills in this country, is it not?'

  He waited until she had followed Dodge upstairs, and then went along to his study to let his registrar know that he would be back at Maude's in a couple of hours.

  Eulalia was ushered into a charming room at the back of the house, overlooking the tiny garden beyond which there was a narrow road and on the other side of it a row of mews cottages. She looked out of the window and then turned to survey the room. It was quite small but most elegantly furnished, with a peach silk bedspread and curtains, a satinwood dressing-table and two small easy chairs and a thick cream-coloured carpet, and when she peered round a door beside the bed she discovered a bathroom, equipped with thick peach-coloured towels, soap, powder, bath essence... There was even a toothbrush and hairbrush and comb.

  Perhaps Ursula comes here, thought Eulalia, unaware that it was Dodge's pride that unexpected guests would find everything they could need.

  She poked at her hair, powdered her nose, applied lipstick and went downstairs, outwardly serene, inwardly quaking.

  The drawing-room was as beautiful as she had re-

  membered, more so now perhaps, since there was a bright fire in the steel grate and a s
mall table had been drawn up to it on which was a silver teapot and delicate cups and saucers and a plate of fairy-cakes. Mr van Linssen drew a chair forward for her and asked her to pour out in a no-nonsense voice, and sat down again in a vast wing-chair. It was all very cosy and domestic, made more so by the presence of Mabel, curled up before the fire. It was all so normal, too, thought Eulalia. It seemed right that they should be sitting there facing each other, drinking their tea and eating Dodge's delicious little cakes. She gave herself a mental shake. She mustn't allow herself to be soothed; Mr van Linssen would take advantage of that and make some preposterous suggestion about the cottage and all that money...

  He did no such thing, however, merely made absent-minded conversation, offered the cakes, had a second cup of tea, and then excused himself with the plea that he had some telephoning to do, leaving her with Mabel for company and a pile of newspapers.

  She put these down presently and got up and wandered round the room, examining the pictures and the books housed in the handsome breakfront Georgian bookcase. They were handsomely bound, probably first editions, she thought, and some of them had titles in what she supposed was Dutch. She walked to the window and stood looking out into the already darkening evening. It was quiet, and she thought it was almost as peaceful as Brokenwell. She

  was still standing there when Mr van Linssen came back, offered her a drink and, when she had sat down, went to his chair again.

  She answered his remarks with polite brevity, although this didn't appear to discompose him in the least, for he made easy conversation until Dodge came to tell them that dinner was served.

  Eulalia, whose insides were hollow with hunger, was sensible enough to polish off lobster bisque, chicken a la king and chocolate pudding, as light as air and smothered in cream. It made no difference, she told herself, that she was at the table of a man she disliked; she had been famished and it was good sense to eat a meal, even though she sat unwillingly at his table. Mindful of her manners and swallowing her temper with the soup, she replied suitably to her companion's casual talk and had a second helping of pudding. They had their coffee at the table and, as soon as they had drunk it, Mr van Linssen got up.