The Fateful Bargain Page 7

  The physiotherapist went, and they had coffee and talked about clothes.

  ‘Do you love pretty things?’ asked Lucillia, looking pointedly at Emily’s serviceable and severe overall. She sounded surprised.

  ‘Very much—there’s not much chance to wear them and dress up when you’re a nurse.’ Emily put down her cup. ‘Now for that shower before lunch.’

  It was an awkward business. Lucillia had still very limited movement in her legs. Emily eased her into her chair and wheeled it to the bathroom leading from the room, and turned on the shower. It was specially built with a little seat under it, and after a good deal of manoeuvring and giggling on both their parts, Lucillia was safely under it, while Emily, wrapped in a pinny she found hanging behind the door, sponged and rubbed and shampooed. They emerged some time later, rather damp and flushed but still good friends.

  ‘You see,’ said Emily in her sensible voice, ‘it can be done—I know it’s a struggle, but it’s worth it.’

  She applied herself to drying her patient’s hair and offered her her make-up box, and Lucillia, in a pretty dressing-gown and once more back in her chair, had to admit that she felt a good deal better. ‘Although it’s a frightful fuss and bother,’ she complained.

  Emily thought it prudent to say nothing. She went in search of Bas, who led her to the kitchen where Anneke was hovering over lunch trays.

  ‘You must ring for anything you want, miss,’ she said. ‘One of the maids will bring up Juffrouw Lucillia’s meal. You have your meal in the small room?’

  However, when Emily went back to make sure that Lucillia had all she wanted she was told to have her lunch with her. ‘I like to hear you talk.’ Lucillia spoke to the maid and presently a second tray was brought and laid on a small table by Emily’s chair.

  They were deep in discussion on the latest skirt length when the door opened and Mr van Tecqx came in.

  He wasn’t alone. A St Bernard stalked beside him and darting ahead of them, barking with delight, was a Jack Russell.

  Lucillia gave a happy little scream. ‘Sidney, Pepper, darlings—Sebastian, may they stay? I thought you were having lunch with Mama?’

  He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Yes, they may stay if Emily has no objection.’ He glanced at her briefly. ‘The former nurse had a horror of dogs. I had lunch with Mama,’ he glanced at his watch, ‘an hour ago—it’s after half past one.’

  There was a faint question in his voice. It seemed prudent to explain.

  ‘Well,’ began Emily, ‘we got a bit carried away. Lucillia had a shower and I washed her hair—she’s going back to bed as soon as we’ve finished lunch. You don’t mind?’

  ‘I’m delighted. How did the physio go?’

  ‘Oh, I was good, wasn’t I, Emily?’ Lucillia didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Sebastian darling, how soon can I go shopping? I need some new clothes, I mean once I’m walking again—I managed on my crutches…’ She turned her pretty face to his. ‘Dear Sebastian!’

  He got up and strolled over to the window and looked out at his garden below. ‘Don’t let us rush things—the moment you can walk round the garden on your crutches you may have an entire new wardrobe. But don’t run before you can walk, liefje—and I warn you, there will be days when you will feel that you will never walk again, even though you’ll dance at my wedding one day.’

  A remark which sent an unhappy little pang through Emily, although she wasn’t sure why. Sidney was standing beside her chair and she pulled his soft ears gently and didn’t look up, but Lucillia gave a squeal of laughter.

  ‘Sebastian, you’re never going to marry? Who is she?’

  ‘I’ll have to find her before you start dancing, won’t I?’ he said blandly, and Emily gave a sigh of relief. Lucillia had been ill for ten months now. She thought it would take at least another two months before she would be free of her crutches. Her left leg had been the most affected and the muscle wastage was considerable. She gave a little gasp at her thoughts; she had come to nurse Lucillia back to health as soon as possible and then go back to England; that had been the bargain, and here she was hoping she would be in this lovely old house for months. She went a bright pink with shame and Mr van Tecqx, watching her downbent head, wondered why.

  ‘If you’ve finished that soufflé I’ll lift you into bed,’ and he suited the action to the word. ‘You can have a nap while Emily unpacks and finds her way around.’ He kissed the top of Lucillia’s head and went to the door. ’emily, I’ll ask Anneke to take you round the house. I shall be back late this evening.’

  With Lucillia tucked up in bed with a book, Emily went to her room, unpacked her case, tidied herself and went downstairs, not quite sure what to do next. Bas was in the hall, waiting for her. He beamed at her without speaking and led her through the baize door to where Anneke was waiting in a comfortable sitting room. She surged up as Emily went in, smiling as widely as her father. ‘I am to show you all,’ she explained. ‘We start here. Our sitting-room—there are four of us, and here the kitchen.’

  It was a delightfully old-fashioned room with its scrubbed table in the centre, rows of copper pans and saucepans, a dresser loaded with dishes and plates and, looking not in the least out of place, a big Aga stove before which sat a tabby cat. ‘Nice?’ asked Anneke.

  ‘Oh, lovely.’ Emily went slowly round, admiring everything, then stood at the lattice windows overlooking the garden at the back of the house.

  ‘And here…’ Anneke led the way through a stout door to a narrow passage with several small rooms leading from it. There were modern sinks and fridges and deep-freezes, a dishwasher and an ironing-room, all very modern and kept nicely out of sight.

  They went back through the kitchen and out into the hall, where Anneke opened doors into the drawing-room, the dining-room, and a small sitting-room furnished exquisitely in Regency style and where Emily thought she could spend the rest of her days very happily, it was so pretty.

  There was a vast library with a gallery running round three of the walls and leather chairs disposed around the parquet floor, each with its own small table and lamp, and a billiard room across the hall. The last door opened on to Mr van Tecqx’s study, but Emily didn’t go in, only stood at the doorway and looked at the great desk and chair behind it. Here, presumably, he retired when he wanted peace and quiet. The top of the desk was very untidy and the waste-paper basket beside it was brimming over. Emily, having a tidy mind, itched to empty it and restore order to the chaos.

  Upstairs there were a bewildering number of bedrooms, all looking as though they were in use, and when Emily remarked on that, Anneke said, ‘It is that Mijnheer wishes that the house is kept open, you understand?’

  She led the way to the second floor, where there were more rooms, each charmingly furnished, most with bathrooms. The upkeep! thought Emily, a bit dazed with such lavish comfort, and followed her guide up still another staircase, narrow and steep, where the attic rooms house a flat for Anneke and Bas and the two housemaids. There was comfort here too; a small kitchen, a sitting-room and two shower-rooms.

  She accompanied Anneke down to the hall once more and once there, ventured, ‘It’s a very large house just for Mr van Tecqx.’

  ‘Yes, yes, very large. But always his family is living here with many children. He has a brother and sisters, there were six children. When Mijnheer married we hoped for children again…’ She shook her head sadly and Emily, dying of curiosity, took her tongue between her teeth; it was none of her business.

  Lucillia was awake when she went along to her room and inclined to be peevish, but she soon cheered up over tea and biscuits and submitted cheerfully to Emily’s ministrations, and when they were done, the pair of them watched a programme on television. It was a splendid set with remote control, and when Lucillia switched to the BBC news, Emily had a sudden pang of homesickness. Pearson’s would be busy at this hour; she pictured the ward and Sister Cook sailing up and down, keeping an eagle eye on everything. H
er thoughts were diverted by Lucillia’s sudden, ‘Have you ever been in love, Emily?’

  ‘Well, no,’ said Emily slowly. ‘I’ve never got to know a man well enough.’

  Lucillia looked astonished. ‘You didn’t go out dancing or dining? All those young doctors…’

  Emily said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘Yes, I know, but I’m not pretty and not chatty, if you see what I mean. I don’t sparkle.’

  Lucillia nodded her pretty head, ‘Oh, yes, I see, but you are nice to be with, Emily. I’m glad Sebastian found you. He didn’t like Zuster Brugge: he said he was frightened of her—he wasn’t really, of course, he said that to make me laugh.’ She switched off the television. ’emily, do you truly believe that I’ll be quite normal again?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Look what you’ve done today. We’ll do the same tomorrow and the day after that, and each week we’ll do a little bit more. You are going to dance again, you know.’

  ‘At Sebastian’s wedding—his wife died years ago and he’s never bothered to marry again. He has lots of friends, of course, but that’s not the same as getting married, is it? Besides, they are all married people. Every so often they introduce him to some girl or other that they think might be suitable, but he doesn’t fall in love.’

  ‘Oh, well, he will, one day,’ Emily observed in her sensible way. It would be someone suitable—it would have to be, with this lovely house to preside over. Dinner parties, thought Emily, seeing it all clearly in her mind’s eye, and people dropping in for lunch and tennis in the summer…

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ asked Lucillia.

  ‘Nothing. How about a few passive movements before your dinner?’

  Emily discovered that she was to have her own dinner downstairs after she had seen to Lucillia, and it was almost eight o’clock before her patient had finished the dainty meal which had been sent up for her and had been settled with a pile of magazines. ‘Zuster Brugge made me go to sleep at nine o’clock, she said it was good for me. You won’t, will you, Emily?’

  ‘Only if Mr van Tecqx wants you to. Are you quite comfy?’

  She went to her room and debated as to whether she should put on a dress, and decided that she would. There was nothing much more to do for Lucillia and she could put on the pinny in the bathroom. She did her face and brushed out her hair and tied it back, then got into the other dress, apart from the navy blue, that she had bought at C & A during their last sale. It was what a woman’s magazine would have described as useful, for although it was nicely cut it had no high fashion points and was in a serviceable grey jersey.

  Emily, examining herself in the long looking-glass inside the big closet door, felt instantly dissatisfied, and then laughed at her reflection. There was no one to see her anyway.

  In this she was mistaken. Mr van Tecqx rose from his chair as she entered the drawing-room on Bas’s invitation. He said easily, ‘Hullo—I thought we might dine together, we can discuss Lucillia. She’s not asleep yet? I’ll have a chat with her later.’

  ‘She’s reading and watching television; she’s tired, I think, but quite happy too.’

  She sat down in the chair he had pulled forward and accepted the glass of sherry he had fetched for her, uneasily aware that her appearance hardly did justice to her splendid surroundings. Her host didn’t appear to notice that; he chatted about various things and asked her if she had seen the house and if she had liked it, and mentioned that he would be going back to England in a few days’ time. ‘I’ll look your father up,’ he promised. ‘You have telephoned him?’

  ‘Me?’ She was surprised. ‘No.’

  He stretched over and picked up the telephone which was lying on a small table near him. ‘What is your number, Emily?’ When he had got it he asked, ‘Would you like me to go?’

  ‘No, thank you. If I just tell Father that I’m here…’

  She made the call brief and hung up. ‘Father’s feeling fine; he walked down to the gate and back several times.’

  ‘Good. What do you think of Lucillia?’

  There was a picture of her over the great fireplace, and Emily studied it. ‘She’s so pretty.’ She sighed unconsciously. ‘And she does want to be quite well again, despite what she sometimes says, doesn’t she? I think I can understand why she’s so impatient. She’s missing so much.’

  ‘Have you not missed a great deal too, Emily?’ He spoke very softly and didn’t look at her, so that she was emboldened to go on.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose you could say that, but I never expected anything else.’ She added quickly, in case he thought she was sorry for herself, ‘You can’t compare us, you know.’

  ‘Comparisons are odious,’ declared Mr van Tecqx, getting up to let the two dogs in. Back in his chair with the two of them on either side of him, he observed, ‘I have left you to get on with things today; you seem to have managed very well. Tomorrow we must put our heads together and get some sort of scheme organised. You must, of course, have your free time, and a day to yourself each week. There is a car in the garage, and the gardener will drive you anywhere you may wish to go.’

  ‘Thank you. I expect I’ll spend the first few weeks getting to know Delft.’

  ‘Just as you please.’ He was politely uninterested, and Emily sat trying to think of something amusing or interesting to say without success until Bas appeared to tell them that dinner was served, and that was a great relief.

  Emily was too sensible to be overawed by the richness of the silver and crystal with which the table was decked. All the same, she made a mental note of it all so that she could write about it later to her friends at Pearson’s and her father. She ate her mushrooms au gratin, Dover sole in a white wine sauce, accompanied by creamed potatoes and a variety of vegetables, and polished off a strawberry mousse topped with lashings of whipped cream with the delicacy of a kitten enjoying a saucer of milk. She accepted a glass of wine when Mr van Tecqx offered it, but refused a second glass; she still had to settle her patient for the night.

  Mindful of her manners, she made polite conversation throughout the meal, encouraged by her companion’s apparent interest in such mundane topics as the weather, Dutch architecture and gardening. Indeed, he led her to suppose she had brushed through the meal rather well, so she was a little puzzled when he asked her as she poured their coffee, ’emily, when was the last time you went out with a man? I know you have been out with me, but other than that?’

  She put down the coffee-pot carefully and handed him his cup. ‘Well, I think it was about a year ago. Roseanne—she’s one of my friends at Pearson’s—her brother came to take her out one evening, but she’d already promised to go out with one of the housemen, so I went instead of her because he’d booked a table at a Chinese restaurant and he didn’t want to go alone. I don’t think I like Chinese food.’

  Mr van Tecqx allowed a small choking sound to escape his lips. ‘Er—no, it isn’t to everyone’s taste.’

  ‘Why did you ask?’

  ‘No reason,’ his voice was bland, ‘idle curiosity. You must forgive me. I know so little about you.’

  That goes for the two of us, thought Emily as she offered more coffee.

  He left her presently, sitting comfortably in the drawing-room while he went to say goodnight to his sister. The house was quiet, but not unpleasantly so. The stoelklok on the wall tick-tocked as it must have done for very many years, and there were faint sounds from the dining-room where one of the maids was clearing the table. Outside there was the muted sound of traffic at the end of the street. Emily sighed blissfully. It was all quite perfect.

  She said goodnight to Mr van Tecqx when he came back, and he made no move to detain her. His ‘See you in the morning, Emily,’ was uttered in a voice that led her to suppose he was thinking about something else.

  She settled Lucillia for the night and went to her own bed. It had been a long day and she was tired. Just before she went to sleep she decided that Mr van Tecqx had been mistaken about his sister; she wasn’t goi
ng to be difficult.

  Emily was forced to eat her words before the next day was over. Lucillia began the day well enough, but when there was some difficulty in getting her physio exercises right she burst into tears and grew so wild that the physiotherapist went away, saying her services were useless for the moment, which left Emily to bear the full force of Lucillia’s rage.

  ‘It’s not fair!’ she wept. ‘Why should someone like you be on your feet and perfectly well—you don’t need to be, you don’t go dancing or to parties, I’m sure you are not that kind of girl, but I am—I won’t, simply won’t lie here day in and day out!’ and when Emily fetched a bowl and started to sponge her face, she screamed, ‘Oh, go away, do! I want to die!’

  Emily took no notice. This was what Mr van Tecqx had warned her of. Well, it couldn’t last for ever. She mopped her patient’s tear-stained face, shook up the pillows and got everything ready for the shower.

  ‘I won’t!’ shouted Lucillia. ‘And you can’t make me! Where is Sebastian?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him this morning.’ Emily kept her voice calm. ‘I dare say he has patients to see. But you don’t want him to see you like this, do you?’

  ‘Why not? It won’t be the first time.’ Lucillia burst into tears again and caught Emily’s hand. ‘Oh, I’m a beast, aren’t I? Don’t go away, will you, Emily? If you knew how desperate I feel!’

  Emily perched on the bed and took Lucillia into her arms. ‘I can’t know exactly, but I think it must be pretty grim. But you’re over the worst; if only you’d believe that! Getting better is always worse than being ill, because when you’re ill you don’t care, but once you know you’re on the mend you get impatient.’ She patted Lucillia’s hand and her silk-clad shoulder. ‘I’ll help you all I can.’

  Lucillia went on crying, but the rage had gone out of her now. Emily was still sitting there when Mr van Tecqx opened the door and came in. Sidney and Pepper were with him, but at his quiet word they sat down obediently just inside the door and they didn’t bark.