The Convenient Wife Page 9

  ‘Rather should we not say how kind of her to marry me?’ His voice was as bland as the face he turned towards her.

  The three of them dined presently in a panelled room on the other side of the hall, which was hung with heavily framed portraits. They sat at a large oval table set with lace table-mats, heavy silver and crystal. And the food was delicious, served by Domus aided by a stout young girl with rosy cheeks. Venetia, tucking into poulet à l’estragon, reflected that it would be easy to adapt to such a pleasant way of life. She looked up and found Duert’s dark eyes upon her. She smiled at him, and then blushed because his half-smile and raised eyebrows warned her that he had read her thoughts. But if she felt awkward it was easy enough to conceal with Anneta’s chatter, a never-ending stream of gossip about her friends, her clothes and what she would do when she went to America. Duert listened to her courteously, but Venetia had the feeling that his mind was on other things. She thought that he was fond of his ward, but that he found her a distraction. That, presumably, was where she would be expected to do her part—keep Anneta amused and out of mischief so that he could get on with his work. His work meant a great deal to him. If it hadn’t been for Anneta and the problem of seeing that she conformed to a conventional way of life, he would never have married. Well, he has married now, thought Venetia, spooning a mouth-watering ice-cream pudding, but all the same he has arranged things exactly to suit himself.

  An unkind thought, she conceded, listening with half an ear to Anneta’s prattle, for he would be a good husband if one counted material things as vital to a happy marriage. Later, perhaps, when they had got to know each other really well, things might change…

  They went back to the drawing-room presently, to sit talking over their coffee, until suddenly Anneta got up. ‘Well, I’m for bed—we had rather a lot of late nights at the van Hoeves’, and I only got back this morning.’ She kissed Duert and then Venetia. ‘See you at breakfast.’

  If Venetia had hoped that Duert would continue the conversation they had had before dinner, she was to be disappointed. He told her a little about the house and the country around it, made a few observations about Delft, recommended that she should take Anneta’s advice as to the shops she should visit in den Haag, and remarked upon the wintry weather. Any minute now he would suggest that she was tired and might like to go to bed…

  She agreed about the weather, at the same time getting to her feet. ‘I think I should like to go to bed,’ she told him without fuss. ‘Shall I see you before you go in the morning?’

  He had risen with her, and they went to the door. ‘I doubt it. I shall leave here at about seven o’clock, and hope to get back in time for dinner in the evening.’ He stood looking down at her, his brows drawn together. ‘You have everything that you need? You’re comfortable in your room?’

  ‘Oh, it’s delightful, thank you. I shall sleep like a top. Goodnight, Duert.’

  In her warm, comfortable bed an hour later, she lay going over the day’s happenings. It seemed incredible that in that short time she had married, travelled to another country and become someone quite different: Mervrouw ter Laan-Luitinga. She twisted the golden ring on her finger just to make sure about that. And it had turned out to be much less traumatic than she had expected. Anneta appeared to like her, and that was a bonus, for a start. And that had been the main reason for Duert marrying her. She allowed her thoughts to turn to the delights of shopping for suitable clothes. Duert had said that she might have carte blanche and she began to make a mental list of what she might need.

  She fell asleep in the middle of it.

  Duert had been gone for an hour or more by the time she got down to breakfast, but Anneta joined her at the table. ‘Truus is dying to take you around the house. I’ll come too, if you like, to translate.’

  Venetia accepted gratefully and took no offence when Anneta said, ‘Is it going to be very different? Living here?’

  ‘Well, yes—very. I lived in the hospital, and my granny, when she was alive, had a small house in Hampstead, where I went on my days off.’

  ‘Did you work with Duert?’

  ‘Gracious, no. I was a second-year student nurse—he’s a highly respected consultant surgeon.’

  Anneta rested her chin on her hands and planted her elbows on the table. ‘I always knew he’d fall in love—properly, I mean—and now he has and you’re rather nice. Not pretty, but you do have such lovely eyes.’

  ‘Thanks. What do you mean “properly?”’

  ‘You must know that he’s very eligible—is that the right word? He could have married a dozen times since I came to live here, and that’s eight years ago. I think you’re just right for him.’

  Venetia thanked her and wondered what her companion would say if she knew the truth. Luckily she would never know. She asked, ‘When do you go to America?’

  ‘In September, it’s my birthday on the third, and I’ll go to my aunt very soon after that. My father wanted that, and I expect I’ll like America.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s quiet here, Duert is away so much.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘But it won’t be any more, of course, now you’re here. When shall we go shopping?’

  She glanced at Venetia’s tweed skirt and sweater. ‘Did you bring a lot of clothes with you?’

  ‘Come upstairs and see,’ invited Venetia.

  ‘But there’s nothing—absolutely nothing!’ exclaimed Anneta, having seen Venetia’s wardrobe. ‘We might go shopping just as soon as we can—today…’

  ‘I’d like to see the house first. I believe Truus is waiting to take us round.’

  Anneta pouted. ‘She can wait until we’re ready. It’s more important to get you some clothes.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Venetia made her voice firm. ‘Truus has her work to do, and we have all the time in the world. Let’s go and get her.’

  The tour of the house took a long time—not only was it a large place, but Truus wanted to give each room, each piece of furniture, each picture full attention, and Venetia enjoyed every moment of it. Ignoring Anneta’s rather sulky presence, she wandered from room to room, examining cabinets, commodes, and tables and peering at family portraits.

  ‘What very large families,’ she murmured, studying a painted group of a Regency gentleman who looked astonishingly like Duert, his hand on the shoulder of an especially splendidly dressed lady, surrounded by an artistically arranged bunch of children. ‘Eight of them,’ said Venetia, counting.

  ‘Duert likes children,’ whispered Anneta and giggled. ‘You’ve got a busy time ahead of you, Venetia.’ She stared at Venetia. ‘You’re really quite pretty when you blush.’

  When they had visited the entire house they went into the gardens. The snow had stopped falling and everything was quite white and still. In thick coats and scarves and boots chosen from a selection in the lobby beyond the kitchen, they went outside.

  ‘If we have lunch early we could go to den Haag this afternoon,’ suggested Anneta. ‘We can’t start too soon on your clothes.’

  Venetia agreed. ‘If you’d tell Truus?’ She would have to learn to speak Dutch, basic Dutch at least, as quickly as possible. She registered a resolution to ask Duert to arrange lessons as soon as he could; she was at a disadvantage until she could at least order the meals and understand Truus and Domus.

  A youngish man, who saw to the gardens and greenhouse and drove the car when necessary, took them into den Haag. There were two cars there beside the Bentley Duert drove—a Jaguar and a Mini. They went in the Jaguar, and Venetia made another vow to learn to drive, so that she could use the Mini without depending on anyone else. Anneta had had lessons, but she had been forbidden to drive. ‘Duert says I’m not careful enough—just you wait until I get to America.’

  She knew just where to go once they reached den Haag. ‘Not my usual shops,’ she explained, hurrying Venetia through arcades and narrow streets. ‘You’re not quite my style, are you? More the doctor’s wife—oh, do you see what I mean? I know the very shop to start with
.’

  The shop, when they reached it, didn’t look very promising to Venetia, who had been used to High Street stores where she could rummage round the rails, checking the prices and looking for bargains. There was one garment in the window, a silky dress flung carelessly over a little gilt chair. A pale scarf had been tossed on the carpeted floor beside it. ‘I don’t think that’s me,’ said Venetia doubtfully.

  But once inside she was swept into an inner room and shown one outfit after another. ‘For the day,’ explained Anneta, ‘you’ll need at least three dresses…’

  Quite carried away, Venetia tried them all on, finally choosing a slim skirt with a matching top in a pleasing shade of blue, a wool dress in dove grey belted in soft leather, and, gently egged on by Anneta, a wide jersey skirt with a matching top in navy blue with a cropped cardigan, embroidered all over with pale pink roses, to match. And not once did she look at a price ticket. In any case, it seemed likely that such an elegant shop wouldn’t have any such thing. Everything was charged to Duert and they left the shop, very pleased with themselves.

  ‘A cup of tea,’ declared Anneta, ‘and then another boutique that’s just right for you.’

  ‘But I’ve already bought three outfits.’

  ‘But you can’t wear them in the evening.’ Anneta dragged her into a small, elegant tea-room, ordered tea and produced a list. ‘I dare say you have a list, too, but this one will be better. I dare say you’ve crossed out a list of things you think you don’t need.’

  Venetia nodded guiltily. ‘Well, yes—it’s such a long list.’

  ‘You don’t have to worry about saving Duert’s money,’ said Anneta gently. ‘He’s—what do you say?—loaded.’

  ‘Oh, well, then perhaps one more dress—something pretty for the evening…’

  The boutique was close by and even more elegant than the first shop had been. Venetia came out of it half an hour later with a triumphant Anneta beside her. They were loaded with dress boxes, and Venetia felt slightly light-headed. She now possessed three more dresses, all, so the sales lady had assured her in almost perfect English, suitable for a quiet evening at home. A plum-coloured velvet with a sweeping skirt and long, tight sleeves, a patterned crêpe de Chine, skilfully cut with a pleated skirt, and a misty grey crêpe patterned with pastel flowers. There was no doubting the fact that each of them did a great deal for her, she had hardly recognised herself in the salon looking-glass. True to her promise, she hadn’t asked the prices; she only hoped that Duert had meant what he had said.

  Apparently he had, for, beyond admiring the plum velvet that evening and expressing the hope that she had bought a few things for herself, he showed no anxiety over the bills. He had returned home in time for dinner, and joined them in the drawing-room, looking as though he had never done a hand’s turn in his life, although Venetia thought that he looked tired. But he joined in the general talk with every appearance of enjoyment, and only after they had dined and had their coffee did he excuse himself with the plea that he had some dictating to do.

  ‘He dictates into that machine,’ explained Anneta, ‘and Juffrouw Floos types it all out each morning, but perhaps now he’s got you he will spend more time here in the drawing-room. You don’t get much time together, not during the day…’

  Venetia agreed gravely. She must remember that she was there to present a picture of solid married life. ‘I dare say it will take Duert a few days to catch up with his cases in Leiden. He’s such a very busy man.’

  ‘I’m a bit scared of him,’ confessed Anneta suddenly. ‘I’m never quite sure what he is thinking.’

  Venetia agreed heartily, but silently. She said bracingly, ‘You don’t need to be. I think he would be upset if he knew that.’

  ‘You won’t tell him?’

  ‘Of course not. I hope we’ll be friends, and friends don’t tell tales on each other.’

  ‘Promise you’ll never tell tales on me, Venetia…’

  ‘I promise, because I don’t think I’ll ever have cause to do so.’

  ‘You are nice. I’m so glad Duert found you. Tomorrow we’ll go to the kitchen and you can order the meals—I’ll help you—and then we’ll go to den Haag again. You need a coat and boots and undies and a couple of evening dresses for a start…’

  They fell to discussing the latest fashions in winter coats until Duert came back and Anneta went to bed, and since he didn’t seem disposed to talk to her Venetia went to bed, too. She wished him a friendly goodnight, assured him that she had had a delightful day, and whisked herself away. He had been pleasant and beautifully mannered, but she felt shut out.

  So what did you expect? she asked herself, going upstairs and listening to the door closing behind her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  IT WAS astonishing to Venetia to find how quickly she settled into her new life. The house ran on oiled wheels and, although she saw Truus each day about the meals, arranged the flowers and went through the contents of the linen cupboards, she had nothing much to do. Yet her days were filled. Anneta was determined to turn her into what she called a fashionable young wife, and, although some of her ideas were rather more than Venetia could accept, she knew which shops to go to, and within a week Venetia had acquired a wardrobe carefully planned to cover any social occasion, as well as more mundane tweed suits and woollies.

  Venetia found herself wondering why Duert had been so anxious to have someone in his home to be with Anneta. The girl seemed contented and happy enough, even though her clothes were sometimes outrageous and she was at times silent. She seldom spoke of her school and the friends she had made there, and the young people who came to the house seemed harmless enough, even if noisy. Venetia met them all and, being not much older than they were, enjoyed herself with them. She would have liked to have told Duert this, but she only saw him for short stretches of time each day, and Anneta was almost always there.

  When they did find themselves alone he had little to say, other than polite enquiries as to whether she was settling down, had enough money, was ready to start Dutch lessons…

  To all of which she replied in her sensible way that everything was fine and the lessons couldn’t be started soon enough as far as she was concerned.

  It was at the beginning of the second week that Anneta told her that she had an appointment with the dentist. ‘I go to a man in den Haag. He’s good, but very slow. I arranged to go while you have your lesson in the morning, then we can go out in the afternoon if you like.’

  ‘How will you go?’

  ‘I’ll get a lift in the car—the gardener’s going in for some bulbs, and if I’m not ready he can come on home and I’ll get a taxi. It’s only a mile or two.’

  Venetia, her lesson over, was in the garden, crunching through the frozen snow, muttering Dutch verbs, when she heard the car coming back and went off round to the garage to meet Anneta. She wasn’t there. Wim, the gardener, shook his head and smiled and then said, ‘OK, mevrouw,’ with which she had to be content. It was almost lunchtime when she heard Anneta’s voice as she came into the house, and she hurried out to meet her.

  ‘I was getting quite worried,’ she began. ‘Are you all right? Was it very painful?’

  Anneta flung a careless arm around her shoulders. ‘Not too bad, but I went and had coffee afterwards and sat for a bit. I hate the dentist.’

  They went together into the dining-room. ‘Well, at least it’s over for six months,’ said Venetia.

  ‘Oh, no. I have to go again in a week’s time, but I’d like to forget that. What shall we do this afternoon?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look round Delft. Would that bore you?’

  ‘Dear Venetia, of course not. We will tour the churches, and then have tea and be home in time for Duert.’

  So the afternoon was spent pleasantly enough, and when Duert came home there was so much to talk about, Venetia quite forgot about the visit to the dentist.

  Anneta was spending the evening with friends, so Duert
and Venetia dined alone, sitting with the width of the table between them, carrying on the kind of conversation which might have been made by polite acquaintances. Finally, Venetia, tired of remarks about Dutch architecture and the weather, asked, ‘Which hospital were you at today? And did you operate? Have you a long waiting list?’

  The professor looked surprised, and then said, ‘Forgive me, I’m not used to anyone asking me questions about my work.’

  ‘Well, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,’ said Venetia matter-of-factly, ‘but I’m interested.’

  ‘I do believe you are. I have been in den Haag operating on a man who fell from a scaffolding—rather a lengthy business, but I hope that he’ll be all right eventually. And yes, I have a short waiting list, although you must realise that most of my surgery is of the urgent sort.’ He stirred Digby gently with his foot. ‘Do you have enough to do, Venetia? You are not bored?’

  ‘Good heavens, no. Now I’ve started my Dutch lessons they take up quite a lot of the mornings. Besides, Anneta and I go out quite a lot, you know, and her friends come here for coffee and tea.’

  ‘You like them?’

  ‘Yes—of course, I don’t know them well, but they’re all very pleasant, even though I don’t know what they’re talking about half the time.’

  ‘I should like her to do something useful with her time.’

  He frowned in thought and she said quickly, ‘She’s only seventeen, Duert. Couldn’t she just enjoy herself until she goes to America?’

  ‘Do I seem harsh to you? I have no wish to be, but the headmistress of her school became uneasy about her. She went off on her own from the school on several occasions, and she is careless of convention. I’m not sure that all of her friends are good for her.’

  ‘And what do you want me to do?’

  ‘I think that you are doing all that you can. She likes you and she listens to you and enjoys your company, which is more than could be said for her governesses and companions.’