Caroline's Waterloo Page 9

  She didn’t know anything about donkeys, and she prayed that this one would answer to the gentle tug she gave its worn bridle. It did, and she made her way to the front, not hurrying because the donkey’s hooves were in a frightful state. It took longer to go back too, because she thought the tinkers might be more impressed if she went in through the main gates, and every yard of the way she was hiding panic that they might come to their senses and make off with the donkey before she could reach home. But the gates were reached at last and she singled out the scruffy man, beckoning him to follow her, leaving the rest of them grouped in the drive staring at them. The man began to mutter to himself before they reached the sweep before the house, but Caroline didn’t listen. She was planning what she would do; open the door and shout for Noakes to mind the donkey and keep an eye on the man while she fetched some money—and that was another problem; how much did one pay for a worn out starving animal? Perhaps Noakes would know.

  The Professor, home early for his lunch and thus breaking a rule he had adhered to for years without knowing quite why, was standing at the drawing-room windows, staring out over the grounds, aware of disappointment because Caro wasn’t home. He frowned at the dripping landscape before him and then frowned again, staring even harder. Unless his splendid eyesight deceived him, his wife, a most disreputable man and a very battered donkey were coming up his drive, and what was more, there were people clustered round the gates, peering in. Something about the small resolute figure marching up to the front door sent him striding to open it and down the steps to meet her.

  Caro, almost at the door and seeing her husband’s vast form coming down the steps with deliberate speed, felt a wave of relief so strong that she could have burst into tears. She swallowed them back and cried: ‘Oh, Radinck, I’m so glad you’re home!’ She had to raise her voice because he was barely within earshot. ‘I’ve bought this poor little donkey, but I don’t know how much to pay the man—I got him to come with me while I fetched the money. I thought Noakes would know, but now you’re here you can tell me.’ She looked up at him with complete confidence and added, just in case he didn’t realise the urgency of the occasion: ‘She’s a jenny and she’s going to foal soon; they were beating her, and just look at her hooves!’

  The Professor looked, running a gentle hand over the bruised back, bending to examine each wretched neglected hoof, then he straightened up to tower over the tinker.

  Caro couldn’t understand a word he was saying. His voice was quiet and unhurried, but the tinker looked at first cowed and then downright scared. Finally, the Professor produced his notecase, selected what he wanted from its contents and handed them to the man, who grabbed them and, looking considerably shaken, made off as fast as his legs would carry him.

  Caro watched him join his family at the gates and disappear. ‘That was splendid of you, Radinck,’ she said in deep satisfaction. ‘I couldn’t understand what you said, of course, but you scared him, didn’t you? Oh, I’m so very glad you were here… I’ll pay you back in a minute, but I ought to see to this poor thing first. What did you say to that horrid man?’

  Her husband looked down at her, a half smile twitching his mouth. ‘Enough to make him very careful how he treats any more animals he may own in future, and allow me to give her to you as a gift.’ The half smile became a real one and she smiled back at him in delight. ‘Tell me, how did you get him to come here?’

  She told him and he laughed, a bellow of genuine amusement which set her hopeful heart racing, although all she said was, ‘We ought to get in out of this rain. Where shall I take her?’ And before he could answer: ‘There’s that barn next to the stables where the hay’s kept…’

  He gave her a questioning look. ‘I didn’t know you were interested in the stables—yes, the barn would do very well.’

  Caroline began to lead the animal towards the back of the house. ‘I’m not sure what donkeys eat. I’ll ask Jan—he’ll get me some carrots, though.’

  Radinck gave her an amused glance. ‘Jan too?’ he asked, and then: ‘She can go into the south field with the horses once she’s rested.’

  They were halfway there when Caro asked: ‘What did you mean— “Jan too”?’

  He answered her carelessly: ‘Oh, you seem to have a way with people, don’t you? The servants fall over themselves to please you and now Jan, who never does anything for anyone unless he wants to.’

  ‘He’s a dear old man,’ declared Caro warmly, remembering Jan’s deep elderly voice rumbling out the carols of an evening. ‘He had a frightful cold, you know—I told him what to do for it.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’

  He sounded irritable. ‘I don’t suppose it would make any difference whether I minded or not. Give me that rope, and be good enough to go up to the house and ask Noakes to get Jan and young Willem, then telephone the vet and tell him to come out as soon as he can to examine an ill-treated donkey in foal.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Caroline smiled happily at his rather irritable face. ‘I’ll go at once. Radinck, what shall we call her?’

  He was staring at her with hard eyes as though he couldn’t bear the sight of her. ‘What could be more appropriate than Caro?’ he wanted to know mockingly.

  She hadn’t taken a dozen steps before he was beside her, his hands on her shoulders so that she had to stop.

  ‘I’m sorry, that was a rotten thing to say.’

  She had gone a little white and the tears were thick in her throat, but she managed a smile. ‘As a matter of fact it’s a very good name for her.’ She added earnestly: ‘It doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t.’

  ‘It does—you didn’t deserve it, Caroline.’ His voice was gentle. ‘What shall we call her? We have a Waterloo and a Rex and the kitchen cat is called Anja—how about Queenie, and if the foal is a boy we can call him Prince.’

  Caro had no doubt that he was trying to placate her hurt feelings, and although it wasn’t much the tiny flame of hope she kept flickering deep down inside her brightened a little; at least he had realised that he had hurt her. She smiled at him a bit crookedly. ‘That’s a splendid name,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll get Noakes.’

  She slipped away before he could say anything else and took care not to return until she saw Jan and Willem going towards the stables.

  Radinck had fetched a bucket of water and some oats while she had been gone and now the three men stood watching the donkey making a meal. She was still happily munching when Mijnheer Stagsma arrived. Radinck explained briefly what had happened, introduced Caro and waited patiently while the vet wished her happiness in her marriage, congratulated her on her rescue of the donkey, hoped that his wife would have the pleasure of calling on her soon and enquired how she liked her new home.

  He was a youngish man with a friendly face. Caro would have enjoyed talking to him, but out of the corner of her eye she saw her husband’s bland face watching them. He was growing impatient, so she brought their cheerful little talk to a friendly end and indicated the patient.

  Mijnheer Stagsma took a long time, muttering to himself and occasionally saying something to the Professor. At length he came upright again.

  ‘Nothing serious, I think—starved, of course, but that can be dealt with, and I’ll deal with those hooves as soon as she’s stronger. I should think she’ll have the foal in a week or so—it’s hard to tell in her present state. I’ll give her a couple of injections and some ointment for those sores on her back. Who’ll be looking after her?’

  Caro, striving to understand what he said, looked at Radinck. He answered the vet, spoke to Willem who grinned and nodded and then turned to Caro, telling her what the vet had said.

  ‘Oh, good—Willem doesn’t mind feeding her? I don’t…’

  ‘No, not you, Caroline. You may visit her, of course, and take her out when she is better, but Willem will tend her and clean out the barn.’

  She supposed that being a baroness barred her from such chores. ‘If you say so,�
�� she said happily, ‘but I simply must learn Dutch as quickly as possible.’

  The glimmer of a smile touched her husband’s face. ‘You seem to manage very well—but I’ll arrange for you to have lessons.’

  They wished the vet goodbye, standing together on the sweep as he drove down the drive and out of sight.

  ‘Oh, dear—should I have asked him in for a drink?’ asked Caro.

  ‘I already did so, but he couldn’t stop—he’s a very busy man.’

  ‘And nice—so friendly.’ She didn’t see the look her husband shot at her. ‘May I go back and look at Queenie?’

  He turned away to go into the house. ‘There is no need to ask my permission, Caroline. I am not your gaoler—you are free to do exactly what you like as long as you don’t interfere with my work.’

  ‘Not your work,’ said Caro, suddenly passionate, ‘your life—and never fear, Radinck, I’ll take care never to do that.’

  She marched away, her chin in the air, in one of her rare tempers.

  But her tempers didn’t last long. Within half an hour they were lunching together and although she didn’t apologise for her outburst she tried to be friendly. She supposed that it was for Noakes’ benefit that Radinck met her conversational efforts more than halfway. It was a disappointment when he told her that he wouldn’t be home for dinner. She spent her afternoon wrestling with an ever-lengthening list of Dutch words and the evening coaching her choir once again, and before she went to bed she went down to the stables to take a look at Queenie. The little donkey looked better already, she thought. She pulled the ragged ears gently, offered a carrot and went back to the house, where she mooned around for another hour or so before going to bed much later than usual, hoping that Radinck would come back before she did. But there was no sign of him. She fell asleep at last and didn’t hear him return in the small hours of the morning.

  She was up early and with Waterloo in attendance went down to see how Queenie had fared. Willem was already there, cleaning out the barn and feeding her, and Caro, trying out some of her carefully acquired Dutch, made out that the donkey had improved considerably, but Willem was busy and she didn’t like to hinder him, so she wandered off again into the crisp morning—just right for a ride, she decided, and with Waterloo trotting beside her, hurried back for breakfast.

  Jan was waiting for her when she got to the stables and Jemmy greeted her with a toss of the head and a playful nip. Caroline mounted his plump back and walked him out of the yard and into the field beyond. Walk round once, Jan had told her, then trot round once. She did so, watched by the old man, and then because she was feeling confident and enjoying herself she poked Jemmy’s fat sides with her heels and started off again. Jemmy was enjoying himself too; his trot broke into a canter and Caro, her hair flying, let out a whoopee of delight. They were three quarters of the way round the field when she saw Radinck standing beside Jan.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THERE WAS ONLY one thing to do and that was to go on. Caroline finished circling the field and pulled up untidily in front of Radinck. Jan was standing beside him, but she couldn’t tell from the craggy old face if anything had been said. To be on the safe side she leaned down from her saddle. ‘Don’t you dare be angry with Jan!’ she hissed fiercely. ‘I made him teach me—he thought I was doing it as a lovely surprise for you.’

  ‘And were you?’ It was impossible to tell if Radinck was angry or not.

  ‘Well, yes—but not just for you. I thought that as you’re a baron and have a lot of posh friends you might be ashamed of me if I couldn’t do all the things they do…’

  The gleam in Radinck’s eyes became very pronounced, but he answered gravely: ‘That was very thoughtful of you, Caroline. Were you going to use it as an argument in favour of inviting my—er—posh friends here?’

  He was impossible! She looked away from him at the gentle countryside around them. ‘No,’ she said evenly, ‘I promised that I wouldn’t interfere with your life, didn’t I? You seem to have forgotten that. It was only that I didn’t want to let you down.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, you are…’ He stopped and started again. ‘I should enjoy your company each morning before breakfast.’

  ‘Would you really?’ Her eyes searched his face. ‘I saw you the first morning we were here, you know, that’s when I made up my mind to learn to ride. But I’m not very good, it was lucky I didn’t fall off just now.’

  ‘Jan has taught you very well.’ Radinck turned and spoke to the old man, who grinned at him and answered at some length, and then turned back to her. ‘Jan says that all you need now is practice. It is a pity that I have an appointment this morning, otherwise I would have ridden with you.’ His gaze swept over her. ‘But I think you must have the right clothes. I’m free after lunch until the early evening. I’ll take you into Leeuwarden and get you kitted up.’

  Caro stammered a little. ‘Oh, that would be s-super, but isn’t it taking up your time? If you tell me where to go, I c-could go on my own.’

  ‘We’ll go together, Caroline,’ and just as she was relishing this he added briskly: ‘You would have no idea what to get, in the first place, and the shop is extremely hard to find.’

  He was right about the shop; it was tucked away in a narrow street lined with old gabled houses, squeezed between a shirtmakers and a gentleman’s hatters. Following Radinck inside, Caro wondered where on earth the customers went, and then discovered that the narrow little shop went back and back, one room opening into the next. The owner of the shop knew Radinck; he was ushered into a small room at the back, its walls lined with shelves stacked with cloth and boxes of riding boots and beautifully folded jodhpurs. Here he was given a chair while Caro was whisked into a still smaller room where, with an elderly lady to observe the conventions, she was fitted with boots, several white sweaters and shirts, a riding hat, a crop and a pair of jodhpurs, and finally the jacket. Looking at herself in the mirror she hardly recognised her image. ‘Oh, very elegant,’ she said out loud, and, obedient to the old tailor’s beckoning finger, went rather shyly to show herself to Radinck. She stood quietly while he looked her over.

  ‘Very nice, Caroline,’ and then, to her surprise: ‘What size are you?’

  ‘In England I’m a size ten, I don’t know what I am in Holland.’ She was on the point of asking him why he wanted to know and then thought better of it; instead she said, ‘Thank you very much, Radinck.’

  He gave her a half smile. ‘What else can you do, Caroline?’

  She gave him a surprised look. ‘Me? Well, nothing really—I can swim, but only just, if you know what I mean, and I can play the piano a bit and dance a bit…’

  ‘You drive a car?’

  She shook her head. ‘No—I’ve never needed to, you see.’

  ‘You shall have lessons and later on a car of your own. Tennis?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ She added waspishly: ‘I hope I’ve passed.’

  He turned away from her. ‘You would have done that even if you could do none of these things. If you’re quite satisfied with the things we’ll get them packed up and I’ll drive you back.’

  She had deserved the snub, she supposed. She wondered for the hundredth time why Radinck had married her; she hadn’t been a very good bargain.

  Fairmindedness made her stop there; he had wanted a sheet anchor and she had said that she would be one. She belonged in the background of his life, always there when he wanted her, and it would be a good thing if she remembered that more often.

  On the way back she did her best. ‘I expect,’ she said carefully, ‘that now you’ve had time to think about it, you’d rather I didn’t ride with you in the mornings—it’s something you hadn’t reckoned on, isn’t it? And that wasn’t why I wanted to learn to ride,’ she finished with a rush.

  He had turned off the motorway and had slowed the pace a little, because the road was narrow. ‘I didn’t think it was; shall we try it out for a day or two and see what happens?’

  Caroli
ne agreed quietly and just as quietly wished him goodbye presently. He had already told her that he had an appointment and she forbore from asking him if he would be home for dinner. She was surprised when he told her that he would see her about seven o’clock.

  She wore one of the new dresses, a silk jersey in old rose with a demure stand-up collar and long sleeves, and when he got back she was sitting by the fire in the drawing-room engrossed in some tapestry work she had bought as an alternative to the sweater. She wished him a demure good evening and set a group of stitches with care. There was a pleasantly excited glow under the new dress, for Radinck had paused in the doorway and was looking at her in a way he had never looked at her before. The stitches went all wrong, but this was no time to look anything but serene and casual. She went on stitching, the needle going in and out, just as though she knew what she was doing; there would be a lot of unpicking to do later. Radinck advanced into the room, offered her a drink and went to fetch it from the sofa table under the window. As he handed it to her he observed, with the air of a man trying out words he had almost forgotten: ‘You look pretty, Caroline.’

  The glow rushed to her cheeks, but she answered composedly: ‘Thank you—this is one of my new dresses, it is charming, isn’t it?’

  ‘I was referring to you, Caroline.’

  ‘Oh, how kind.’ That sounded silly, so she added: ‘The right clothes make such a difference, you know.’