THE NEXT DAY was Christmas Eve, and after weeks of bad weather the sun shone from a pale blue sky, giving the frost it wasn’t strong enough to disperse an added sprinkle. Julia, going to see how her patient was before breakfast, stopped for a moment to look out of one of the landing windows and admire the wintry scene. It was still not full daylight, although the sun was making a brave blaze of colour on the flat horizon, and somewhere outside she could hear Bep calling to Lien, who came from the village each day to help in the house. Their voices, very clear in the frosty air, sounded cheerful, and that, combined with the sunshine and the aromatic smell of coffee from the kitchen, contrived to put Julia into a cheerful frame of mind; it was, after all, Christmas and a time of good fellowship. She went to Marcia’s room, determined to be kind and considerate and even to try and like her patient a little.
It was a pity that Marcia wasn’t of the same mind; she greeted Julia with a cross face, a muttered greeting and a rather tart request to hand her a book lying just out of reach. Julia handed it to her, forbearing to mention that she could have quite easily got it for herself, adjusted her patient’s pillows to a nicety and went downstairs to see if the post had arrived. It had; she sorted Marcia’s scanty mail and went along to the kitchen to get her early morning tea tray, delaying for a few minutes in order to practice her scanty Dutch on Bep before going upstairs. She had deposited the tray, handed over the letters and was on her way to the door when she was stopped.
‘Nurse Pennyfeather, I must see Ivo at once—ask him to come to me immediately.’ Marcia cast down the letter she had been reading and when Julia didn’t move, repeated, ‘Do go at once!’
Julia stayed just where she was. She said composedly, ‘Ivo’s having breakfast—he has to go to Eindhoven this morning. Had you forgotten?’
Miss Jason looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I don’t care if he has to go to Timbuktu,’ she pronounced with surprising venom. ‘He must come and see me!’ She tapped the discarded letter with a nicely manicured hand. ‘Did you know that Mijnheer de Winter hasn’t received an invitation to the party this evening? After all his kindness to me! I shall refuse to go unless he is invited immediately. Go downstairs and say so, and be quick about it!’
Julia walked slowly back to the bed and stood looking down at the bad-tempered face staring up at her. A pity Ivo couldn’t see his Marcia now—Julia suspected that this was neither the first nor the last time her patient had allowed her façade of angelic serenity to slip. She said in a reasonable voice, her own temper nicely under control,
‘I don’t much care for the way in which you speak to me, Miss Jason. I’m here to look after you, not to be ordered around or expected to run to and fro at your beck and call. You are no longer helpless; you might try to realise that, I think, and behave with more consideration to those around you. If you could remember that we might get on quite well.’
She smiled kindly at the astonished face turned to hers and went without haste from the room.
Ivo was in the hall, putting on his overcoat as she descended the staircase. He gave her the briefest of glances, said, ‘Good morning, Julia,’ in an absent-minded fashion and made for the door so that she was forced to put on a turn of speed to reach it when he did. She said without preamble, ‘Marcia wants to see you urgently—she asks that you should go to her now.’
He paused with his hand on the door. ‘Well, I can’t—didn’t you tell her that I was going to Eindhoven? Come to think of it, I told her myself yesterday evening.’
‘You must,’ said Julia firmly, and when he turned a baleful eye upon her: ‘It’s no good looking at me like that—you didn’t invite Mijnheer de Winter, and Miss Jason says that if he doesn’t come, she won’t either. She’s upset.’
She saw his frown as he pushed his briefcase and gloves into her hands and turned and ran up the stairs, two at a time. She stood at the door, trying not to hear the faint murmur of voices from her patient’s room, and presently he came down again, his face bleak, took his gloves and case without a word, opened the door and went away. She heard the car tearing down the lane and roar down the road, apparently driven by a maniac.
The morning went badly after that. It seemed that Marcia hadn’t got her way and as a result she sulked, although when Jorina was around she became merely sadly resigned, which was a great deal worse. However, Julia did her best to take no notice of her patient’s ill-humour, but encouraged her to do her exercises in a spirited fashion and when she was asked to turn up the hem of the dress her patient intended wearing to the party, did so, although the time spent on it bit deep into her free afternoon.
The dress was a drab purple, skinnily cut, with a neckline which exposed far too much of Marcia’s boniness, but when Julia suggested, with all the tact in the world, that the silk jersey hanging in the wardrobe was one of the prettiest dresses she had seen for a long time, she met with no success.
‘I daresay you do like it, nurse,’ quoth Miss Jason, ‘but with my slender figure I’m able to wear these clinging styles. You, of course, think otherwise, and naturally so, I expect you feel just a teeny bit envious of us willowy creatures. It must be difficult for you big girls to stay in the fashion.’
Julia murmured a nothing in reply; she had a nice taste in clothes and had never considered that fashion had passed her by—indeed, from the admiring glances wolf whistles she collected when out walking, she had always felt that she was as least as eye-catching as the next girl. She thought of the pink wool hanging in her cupboard and took comfort from it.
The party was to be quite a big affair, with a family dinner party at half past seven and the rest of the guests arriving about nine for what Jorina had called a chatty evening with dancing. But Julia, when she peeped into the drawing room, decided that for once Jorina’s English hadn’t been quite accurate, for the room, a large one, had been cleared for dancing, its magnificent old furniture arranged round its white-painted walls, and the silky carpet rolled up and carried off to some cupboard or other by Bep. There were flowers everywhere, and when Julia put her head round the dining room door, there were flowers there too, and the table, already decked with a lace cloth and a great deal of silver and glass, had a magnificent centre-piece of holly and ivy with Father Christmas, complete with sleigh and reindeer, in the middle.
Jorina came in while Julia was admiring the flowers and said, ‘Nice, eh? You like it, I hope. We have twelve for dinner and there will be about fifty people coming afterwards. A nice large party, but this time, bigger than usual, but there is room enough for everyone.’
She moved a bowl of hyacinths from one table to another and asked,
‘And Marcia, she feels better now? Does she come to the party after all?’ She didn’t wait for Julia to answer but went on, ‘And why are you not off duty, Julia?’
‘I’ve been altering a dress for Marcia,’ said Julia, and choked back a laugh as Jorina exclaimed, ‘Not tighter, I hope, or cut lower in the neck—if there are no curves what is the point of letting everyone see?’
She turned round as Bep came into the room with a tray of coffee.
‘Now we will sit down and drink our coffee—how fortunate that Marcia feels that she should rest. Was Ivo very angry this morning?’
Julia accepted her cup. ‘Very,’ she stated simply, remembering his bleak face. They sipped in a comfortable silence, broken by Jorina.
‘I wish to talk,’ she stated flatly. ‘I have wished to talk for many days now. I talk to Vader and he laughs a little and says things have a way of putting themselves right, and I talk to Ivo and that is worse, for although he listens and is polite he is also very angry, so now I talk to you because I think that we are friends.’
Julia heard her with mixed feelings. Jorina was going to talk about Marcia and Ivo. That she didn’t like Marcia, Julia was pretty sure, probably she disliked the idea of having her for a sister-in-law… She said a little unhappily, ‘Well, I suppose it’s all right and I’m glad you think of me as a friend, I like you too, but would Ivo mind?’
‘Of course he would mind, but you will not tell and I certainly shall not.’ She went on as Julia had expected she would, ‘It is about Marcia.’ She took Julia’s cup and refilled it, then refilled her own. ‘You see he doesn’t love her—I don’t suppose he ever did. Only when they first met she was clever…’ Julia gave her a questioning look and she went on quickly, ‘I will explain. A long time ago, when Ivo was twenty—twenty-one, he met a girl—she was pretty and—and frivol—how do you say?’
‘Frivolous?’ essayed Julia. ‘Bird-witted?’
Jorina nodded. ‘Yes—she led Ivo by the nose, she was so very pretty, you see, and gay and amusing and a little naughty, and then after a few months she married someone else with a great deal of money, and although Ivo has plenty of money too, it was not enough, so for years he had not loved any girl.
‘And then last year he meets Marcia at some lecture or other and I think that someone has told her about him because she does not try to flirt or attract him, only she lets him see that she has a good brain and that she reads Greek and Latin and is a very serious person, so he thinks, “Here is a girl who is not after my money or out for a good time”, and they become friendly and go to lectures and theatres and concerts—all very dull. Then she is taken ill, and while she is still in hospital Ivo has to go to Edinburgh, and although I am quite sure he has never mentioned marriage to her, she hints and suggests…it is as if she has convinced him that he was responsible for her getting polio—I do not know how.’
‘Where did Marcia catch it?’ asked Julia quickly.
‘At a party to which Ivo took her. She did not wish to go because it was to be gay with dancing, but he persuaded her, and it was after that that she became ill.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘So when she is able to leave hospital she asks that she may come and stay with us until she is strong enough to travel, and because Ivo is not here and we do not know how he feels about her, we agree. But six months is a long time and I think—I know that Ivo does not wish to marry her, but she pretends to him that she loves him very dearly, so he is kind to her, for she is ill and perhaps he thinks that in his absence her feelings will change and everything will arrange itself. But you see how she behaves towards him, Julia; she will marry him, although she does not love him, and I shall not forgive her.’
‘Can’t you tell her—I mean how Ivo feels?’ hazarded Julia. ‘No—he wouldn’t stand for that, would he? Can’t he tell her?’
‘Not Ivo. You see, he thinks that she loves him and she pretends—you think that she pretends too?’
‘Yes, she doesn’t care a row of buttons for him,’ said Julia vehemently, and then had to pause to explain about the row of buttons. ‘She’s in love—as far as she can be—with that awful de Winter man.’
‘Then why doesn’t she tell Ivo that she doesn’t love him?’
Julia thought about this and then said slowly, ‘I’m not sure,’ although she was almost certain she was. Marcia had been flattered by Ivo’s attention—who wouldn’t have been? Probably she had decided to marry him within a few weeks of meeting him, but was far too clever to let him see that. When she became ill she had made the most of Ivo’s pity and concern for her; possibly she had written him letters calculated to keep that concern alive while he was away—and then August de Winter had come along and in her odd way, she had fallen in love with him, but because she was uncertain of him she had refused to let Ivo go, and now, although she didn’t want him any more, she was going to keep up her deception until Julia had returned to England and there was no likelihood of Ivo falling in love with her…because he had fallen in love with her, she wasn’t sure how much, and it seemed unlikely that she would ever know. She could of course go to Ivo and tell him about Marcia and August de Winter, and he would despise her for it. She sighed and said, ‘Marcia is a very clever woman and there’s nothing we can do about it. He’ll have to find out for himself and let’s hope it won’t be too late when he does.’
Jorina surveyed her narrowly, her nice blue eyes thoughtful. ‘Is it not strange,’ she said, ‘that we are unable to say to each other what we would wish to say? One day, perhaps. What shall we do? I had thought of telling Ivo, but I cannot—I suppose you would not?’
Julia gave her a horrified look. ‘Me? Heavens, no! Not for all the tea in China.’
She had to explain that too, she was still doing so when Doctor van den Werff came in and asked with some surprise if they didn’t intend to change. ‘I know it’s still early, but I daresay you’ll take a long time, and we shall need a drink before everyone arrives.’
He smiled at them both and went away again and Julia got up to go.
‘I don’t take long to change, actually, but Marcia will need help.’
Her patient dressed with more eagerness than Julia had expected, and it was while she was zipping the dreary purple up its back that Marcia said coolly, ‘I telephoned Mijnheer de Winter while you were downstairs and asked him to come on my own account. Since Ivo disregarded my wishes I was forced to take matters into my own hands.’
Julia fastened the little hook at the top of the zip. ‘To dinner?’ she asked with admirable calm. ‘There are guests, that will make the numbers wrong. And he’s not one of the family.’
Miss Jason admired herself in the pier glass. ‘Nor are you, nurse,’ her voice was spiteful, ‘and Ivo should have thought of that—he must learn to have some regard for my wishes.’
Julia tried again. ‘But, Miss Jason, it’s not your party—you’re a guest in the house.’
Marcia turned round to face her, without, Julia noticed mechanically, any difficulty. ‘And what business is that of yours? Perhaps you’re afraid you’ll be asked to dine in your room in order to make the numbers right.’ She turned back again and smiled slowly at her reflection. ‘This colour suits me—I’ll rest now if you want to go.’
Julia went. If she changed very quickly she would have time to go and tell Jorina so that something could be done about dinner. She raced through her bath and was about to put on her dress when she decided to find Jorina at that very moment and not wait any longer. She flung on her dressing gown and with her feet thrust into slippers and her hair streaming blackly down her back, she ran across to Jorina’s room, tapped on the door and went in. Jorina was there, also in her dressing gown, and Ivo, still in his dark grey suit, was sitting on the end of her bed.
‘Oh, lord,’ said Julia helplessly, and turned to go, to be stopped by Ivo’s half-laughing: ‘Don’t run away, Julia—it’s not the first time I’ve seen you in a dressing gown with your hair dripping round your shoulders. What’s the matter? Or have you come to borrow something feminine I’m not supposed to know about?’
Julia advanced into the room. ‘Look,’ she said urgently, ‘I wasn’t going to tell you, but since you’re here—and you’ll know soon enough anyway—Marcia has just told me she’s invited Mijnheer de Winter to dinner and I feel mean telling you because I’m sure she didn’t mean me to.’ She ignored Ivo’s laugh and went on, ‘But you had to know, because that’ll make thirteen at table and that would never do—I’ll have dinner in my room, it’s such a good idea and no one will be any the wiser. Actually I didn’t think of it, Marcia did…’
‘The devil she did,’ said Ivo, and then seriously, ‘There’s no question of you not coming to dinner,’ and she realised then that he was indeed very angry. ‘I’ll telephone someone—we’ll sit down fourteen. There’s no need to tell Marcia, for there’s no point in arguing about it at this late hour. Thank you for telling us, dear girl—no one need know, just we three, and Bep of course, but she’s a tower of silence!’ He smiled suddenly and Julia felt her heart slide away into a spiralling pulse. ‘Hadn’t you better finish dressing, dear Miss Pennyfeather? You look sensational as you are, but no one would eat anything if you appeared at table like that.’
He accompanied her to the door and opened it and as she went past him murmured wickedly, ‘If you need any help I’d be delighted.’
She cast him a withering glance and flew down the passage and heard his laugh as she shut her door.
As she dressed it occurred to her that he hadn’t been much upset by Marcia’s conduct; she had been prepared to be sympathetic, but now it seemed that sympathy was wasted on him.
She put on the new pink dress, piled her hair elegantly and scented her person with ‘Femme’ before studying herself in the long mirror on the wall. The dress suited her with its high neck and long sleeves and the simplicity of its cut. She went along to Marcia’s room to remind her that it was time to join the family downstairs and tried not to notice the inimical look in Marcia’s eyes as they lighted upon her. Miss Jason, although ready, was unwilling to go down.
‘Kindly go and fetch Ivo,’ she said. ‘I should like him to help me downstairs.’
It was on the tip of Julia’s tongue to tell her that she needed no help, but there was no point in spoiling what she hoped was to be a delightful evening. She went downstairs and had reached the bottom step as Ivo came out of his study. She stammered a little as she spoke to him because he looked handsomer than ever in his dinner jacket, as well as a little remote, but there was nothing remote about his greeting. He walked across the hall towards her and took her hands, held her arms wide and studied her with cool leisure. ‘Delightful,’ he pronounced, and for a moment she thought that he was going to say something else, but he didn’t, so she gave him Marcia’s message, standing there, still holding hands, and was a little surprised when he said lightly,
‘Ah, yes—this is Marcia’s great night, isn’t it?’
‘Because she’s going to dance?’
She didn’t understand why he smiled. ‘That among other things,’ he said in a teasing voice, and led her across the hall to the sitting room where the rest of the dinner party were gathering, and handed her over to his father before he went upstairs, to return very soon with Marcia clinging to his arm. Hard on their heels came August de Winter, looking nervous, and Julia, who disliked him very much, found it in her heart to pity him because of the perfect and icy politeness, with which he was greeted by Ivo and his father; anyone with a thinner skin might have turned tail and left the party on some trumped-up excuse, but he seated himself on a sofa beside Marcia and began a low-voiced conversation with her, while Ivo, looking too bland for Julia’s peace of mind, turned to greet the last and fourteenth guest. And no wonder he had looked so bland, she thought, and was thankful that she had wasted no sympathy on him, as he obviously needed none. The girl who came in was small and blonde and very pretty with laughing blue eyes and a gaiety which was infectious. She was wearing the sort of dress most girls long to wear and dared not, and she greeted Ivo with a disturbing familiarity which troubled Julia a little, and the rest of the company with charm, and then, as if drawn by a magnet, fastened like a leech upon Mijnheer de Winter, who was, willy-nilly, prised from Marcia with a neatness which could only earn Julia’s wholehearted approbation. She felt almost sorry for the man struggling to withstand the laughing blue eyes of this dolly, against whom he had no chance, and at the same time retain his dignity in Marcia’s eyes. He gave up the struggle very soon and was led away, leaving her on the sofa where she was immediately joined by Doctor van den Werff, who, disregarding her discomfiture, broke at once into easy conversation.
Dinner was fun, at least for Julia, who had Ivo’s other brother, Pieter, on one side of her and an uncle on the other—the uncle was, as was to be expected, a doctor too. They talked lightheartedly and made her laugh a great deal as they ate their way through oyster soup, filet of beef Meurice and gateau St Honoré, washed down with a variety of wines which certainly contributed, as far as she was concerned, to a delightful meal. It was a leisurely one too; by the time they had all repaired to the drawing room, they were joined almost at once by the first of the guests, and when someone started a CD player, everyone took to the floor. Julia, partnered by yet another cousin who begged her to call him Bill, watched Marcia rise to her feet and circle the room slowly with Ivo, an action made all the more conspicuous because they were doing the foxtrot while everyone else was gyrating in a more up-to-date fashion. Her partner watched them too and observed,
‘Is that the young lady who was stricken by polio? A marvellous recovery—in fact she looks as though she’s been recovered for some time.’
‘Are you a doctor?’ asked Julia suspiciously.
He smiled at her charmingly. She thought he was rather nice, not young any more, but possessed of a friendly manner and a pair of twinkling eyes which could, she suspected, be keen as well.
‘Yes, my dear young lady; married, with three children, otherwise I would be sitting out with you on the stairs. Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?’
‘Yes,’ said Julia tranquilly, ‘they have, but thank you just the same. What made you say that about Miss Jason?’
She was right about the eyes; they became keen on the instant. ‘Nothing, my dear, nothing—only it seems to me that she’s been here a very long time. In my experience fairly mild cases—fairly severe ones too—respond well to modern treatment and—pull their weight once they are on their feet. I should have thought she would have wanted to go home. Has she no family?’
‘Oh, yes—her father’s a solicitor in England, somewhere in the Midlands.’
He made an amused face. ‘I don’t like your Midlands. I also would not wish to return there. What do you think of Lise?’
‘She’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen for weeks,’ Julia said sincerely.
They were joined then by more people and almost at once Julia was asked to dance again; this time her partner was young, and although his English wasn’t good, they carried on an animated conversation, understanding each other very well, laughing a good deal as they danced. She had a number of partners after that and would doubtless have danced all night if she hadn’t caught sight of Marcia, sitting between two great-uncles, and looking discontented. Julia, who had no idea of the time, and didn’t really care, deduced that Marcia had had enough of the party; she slipped between the dancers and joined the little group.
‘I wondered if you were tired, Miss Jason,’ she began, although Miss Jason didn’t look tired, only cross which, Julia thought sympathetically, was natural enough, for there was no sign of Ivo and none of August de Winter. ‘I thought you danced beautifully,’ she went on. ‘What a triumph after all those months.’
‘I fail to see what triumph there is in dancing round a room, Nurse Pennyfeather. I shall go to bed in half an hour, if you could remember I shall be glad of your help.’
‘I’ll remember,’ said Julia, and smiled at the two old gentlemen as she slipped away. If she had only half an hour of the evening left, it would be nice to dance until the last moment of it. She was passing the open door to the hall when Ivo’s arm shot out and caught her gently.
‘There you are,’ he said pleasantly. ‘We haven’t danced, dear Miss Pennyfeather.’ He swung her into the crowd. ‘Having a good time?’
‘Super. Marcia wants to go to bed in half an hour though, and I shall go up with her. I—I saw her dancing. She was marvellous.’
She looked up at him and he returned her look with a half smile.
‘I think August de Winter has enjoyed himself too,’ he remarked silkily.
Julia was stricken by a sudden thought. ‘Did you do it on purpose, Ivo?’
He made no pretence of not knowing what she meant. ‘Of course, dear girl, surely you know by now how disagreeable I can be?’ He smiled again, his blue eyes fierce, and then said in quite a different voice,
‘Has anyone told you that you look beautiful this evening? You do. I like that demure pink thing—you put every other woman here in the shade, Julia.’
‘Who’s Lise?’ asked Julia, who had been longing to know all the evening.
‘Pretty, isn’t she? She’s theatre sister at Tilburg hospital. Jealous, dear girl?’
Julia went pink. She said much too quickly, ‘Of course not, how ridiculous,’ and knew that she was, wildly jealous. ‘Anyway, why ask me? Is that why you invited her?’ she went on, following her own train of thought. She gave him a severe look which he ignored.
‘She can’t hold a candle to you, Julia. James must be mad to let you out of his sight.’
‘Oh, James—pooh,’ said Julia impatiently. ‘I shan’t marry him.’
‘No, I know that. Why do you keep looking at the clock?’
She reminded him about Marcia and said hesitantly, ‘Would you like to dance with her once more, or—or talk to her before she goes to bed?’
For answer he drew her through the door they were passing. The hall was dimly lighted and empty as they walked over to the fire burning in the steel grate at the back of the hall.
‘You’re going to miss the rest of the party,’ he said kindly. ‘Come down again even if everyone has gone. I want to wish you a Happy Christmas before we go to bed.’
They went back together through the babel of laughter and talk and when they reached Marcia, Ivo helped her to her feet and in the little silence which had fallen, said pleasantly, ‘I’m sure you’re all glad to see what a marvellous recovery Marcia has made. She’s going to her room now, but don’t think that that signals the end of the evening.’
He smiled, his face calm, but when he would have gone to the door with her, Marcia held back, shaking her head playfully at him in a manner which Julia found quite nauseating. ‘You’re all so kind,’ she said, ‘and I am so happy. I should say—we are so happy.’ She looked up at Ivo who, Julia was relieved to see, wore a polite, impersonal air of friendliness; if he loved Marcia, then he was hiding it most successfully, and now would have been a wonderful time to have announced his intention to marry—if he was going to marry. With a sudden uplift of spirits she realised that he wasn’t going to do anything of the sort, but equally, he wasn’t going to humiliate Marcia either. It was the cousin from Utrecht who said exactly the right thing.
‘Well, of course we’re all happy,’ he remarked loudly. ‘You’re cured, Marcia, which means you’re happy because you’re the patient, and Ivo’s happy because he’s the doctor, and we’re all happy because you have been able to enjoy the party. Let’s drink a toast to that.’
The toast was drunk and Julia, watching Marcia, could see that she was furiously angry.
As she had expected, her patient took a long time to undress, she complained in a low, pained voice as each garment was removed and avowed that permanent damage had been done by reason of the exercise she had been persuaded, against her will, to take. ‘I should never have danced,’ she stated in the brave, resigned voice she affected when she wished to draw attention to herself. ‘But of course, Ivo insisted.’
‘There was no reason why you shouldn’t,’ observed Julia cheerfully, determined to be nice despite her opinion of Marcia’s behaviour at the party. ‘I know you’ve been ill a long time, but you’re as good as new again, you know. You can’t stay an invalid all your life.’
Miss Jason had nothing to say to this, instead she complained once again, this time about the ache in her legs.
‘Only your muscles—time they were used a little more,’ said Julia reassuringly, but despite her strong feelings, her hands were gentle as, without any show of impatience, she began to massage her patient’s legs. By the time she had finished and Marcia had declared herself ready to sleep, they could hear the last of the cars driving away; the guests had gone, the party was over. All the same, Julia, when she found herself free, did as she had promised and went downstairs to a house strangely quiet after the cheerful hubbub of the evening. The fire in the hall was dying down; its heat had brought out the scent of the flowers in a great bowl on one of the console tables and she sniffed appreciatively as she passed it on the way to the drawing room. The drawing room was empty, but when she went into the sitting room it was to find Doctor van den Werff, his three sons, his daughter-in-law and Jorina and Klaas clustered round the fire, a tray of coffee in the middle and the whisky decanter to hand.
Jorina said comfortably, ‘We’ve been talking about the party. Did you enjoy it too?’ and when Julia said that she had, very much, they all started talking about it once more, and continued to do so until Doctor van den Werff got up to go to bed, followed, in ones and twos by everyone else, but when Julia went to follow them, Ivo said softly, ‘Not you, Julia—stay a few minutes longer.’ So she stayed, sitting back comfortably in the deep chair, watching the flickering fire and not talking at all. Ivo had nothing to say either, but it was peaceful there together; somehow there seemed no need for words. But when the clock struck a silvery half hour she roused herself, exclaiming,
‘The time! I simply must go to bed,’ and was taken aback when Ivo said quietly, ‘There is really no need to talk, is there?’ and smiled in such a way that she got to her feet rather more hastily than she had intended. ‘It was a lovely party,’ she gabbled. ‘I’ll say goodnight,’ but Ivo had stood up with her and before she could move away had caught her hands in his.
‘It’s Christmas Day, Julia—the first day of Christmas.’ He let her hands go and fished around in his pocket, to produce a small jeweller’s box of red leather and then lift her hand to curl the fingers round it. ‘I hope you’ll like it, dear Miss Pennyfeather.’
She opened her hand and looked at the box. ‘May I open it now?’ she asked in a small voice, and taking his silence for consent, lifted the lid. There were earrings inside, resting on white velvet. They were early Victorian, she guessed, small golden crescents ornamented with filigree work in the centre of which was suspended a red stone, set in gold—they looked like rubies, but as it wasn’t very likely that Ivo would buy her rubies, she supposed them to be paste, but paste or not, the earrings were very beautiful. She said so in a warm voice and asked if they were Dutch, and when he said briefly, ‘Yes,’ she went on, ‘Thank you, Ivo, what a lovely present. I want to try them on.’
She smiled at him and went across to the baroque mirror on the wall and slipped the delicate little hooks in, swinging her pretty head from side to side to see the effect. She began. ‘They’re much too…’ but was interrupted by his, ‘No, they are not, Julia,’ and something in his voice prevented her from going on, so she said instead, ‘Thank you. Ivo—what a lovely way to start the first day of Christmas.’ She smiled at him in the mirror and he said lightly, ‘Wear them tomorrow, Julia—think of them as a small return for what you have done for Marcia, if you will.’
‘Very well, Ivo. And now I think I’ll go to bed. Good night.’
In her room, she took the earrings out of her ears and laid them back in their little box; they had done nothing to discourage her impossible daydreams; it was time she used a little common sense. She got into bed and late though it was, spent some considerable time poring over the time-tables she had purchased in Oisterwijk, so that she could return to England with the least possible fuss, just as soon as Doctor van den Werff suggested she should do so.
She was early for breakfast next morning, but Jorina was already at breakfast with Ivo and her father, although no one else had come down. They greeted her with a cheerful chorus of Merry Christmases and she sat down, to find a small pile of gaily wrapped packages by her plate. She jumped up again at once and said, a little confused, ‘Oh, I left mine upstairs—I wasn’t quite sure—I’ll get them.’
She was back in a minute to give her own small presents before opening her own. Bep’s was first—a small Delft blue candlestick, complete with its blue candle. The second was a French silk scarf in coffee patterned with greens and blues, from Jorina, and lastly there was a large square box, which turned out to be marrons glacés, most extravagantly packed and beribboned, from the doctor. She had scarcely finished thanking them when Jorina asked, ‘What did Ivo give you?’
Julia glanced at him across the table. He had finished his breakfast and was sitting back in his chair, very relaxed, smiling a little.
‘Earrings,’ she said simply, ‘quite beautiful. Gold crescents with red stones.’ She smiled widely, remembering them. ‘I shall wear them when I change.’
By the time she was free from her duties, everyone had gone to church. It would have been nice to have gone too, even in a foreign language church would have made the day more Christmassy. She had hoped that Marcia might have expressed a wish to go with the family, but she had protested gently when she had been invited to join them, and Julia had spent the greater part of the morning encouraging her to exercise herself, something she was loath to do.
They all met again at lunchtime, for although Jorina had come upstairs with a request that Marcia and Julia should go down for drinks, Marcia had refused on the grounds that her legs ached. Julia spent half an hour massaging them once more before her patient felt fit for the journey downstairs, and when they eventually reached the sitting room it was to find the men closeted in Ivo’s study, enjoying themselves from the sound of things, and Jorina and her sister-in-law sitting together, drinking sherry. They greeted Marcia kindly enough, but their kindliness didn’t quite make up for the reception she had expected, for she said in some surprise, ‘I had expected everyone to be here…’
Jorina offered her a drink, was refused and said, ‘Well, you know what men are—they’re in Ivo’s study, drinking whisky—they’ll be out presently.’
Marcia sat down, took the various packages from Julia which she had been bidden to carry downstairs, and said, ‘Well, in that case…’ and handed Jorina her gift with a flowery speech which its contents hardly merited. Julia, eyeing it, decided she could have well done without it, had it been offered to her; perhaps she had been lucky in the bookmark after all, for Jorina was staring nonplussed as The Seven Types of Ambiguity and quite obviously searching for the right words with which to express her thanks.
The other men came in then and Marcia gave first doctor and then Ivo their gifts and then accepted theirs with a girlish flutter which caused Julia to get up and walk over to the window, from where she watched the doctor unwrap a diary which he exclaimed over politely, tactfully omitting to mention that he received several of exactly the same pattern, free each Christmas, from the various pharmaceutical firms enjoying his patronage. Ivo thanked her gravely too his face blandly polite as he exhibited a tie, a floral one very gay and aggressively nylon—and he, Julia was certain, wore nothing but pure silk, hand-made, and those in dark rich colours. And for Bep, Marcia had nothing at all, which didn’t worry her in the least, for after her own careless, ‘Oh, her—I’d forgotten,’ she undid her own presents. And very dull too, thought Julia while her patient exclaimed rapturously over a Greek-English dictionary which the doctor had thoughtfully given her and a beautifully bound volume of Montaigne’s Essays from Ivo—not a very loving gift, thought Julia, and felt a guilty delight in her earrings.
Lunch, a light meal, because they were going to dine traditionally that evening, passed off smoothly enough, and Julia, watching Ivo discreetly through her long lashes, could see nothing in his pleasant friendly manner towards Marcia to suggest that he was in love with her, although she was shrewd enough to realise that he wasn’t a man to show his feelings in public—at least, she amended, only if his feelings got the better of him, and those, she considered, he had nicely under control. It was a pity she could tell nothing from his face. He was looking at her now and she hadn’t heard a word he said.
‘Daydreaming,’ he remarked. ‘I’ll have to say it all again. What are you going to do this afternoon?’
‘Go for a walk,’ she replied promptly, because it was the first thing to enter her head.
‘I’ll come with you if I may,’ he said easily. ‘I could do with some exercise.’
Without looking at her Julia knew that Marcia was annoyed, although when she spoke, that young woman’s voice was as well modulated as always, although faintly long-suffering.
‘Ivo,’ she said, ‘I had hoped that we might have had a pleasant afternoon—do you know, we’ve hardly talked since you have been back?’
‘Indeed?’ Ivo was at his silkiest, but perhaps it was because he was still annoyed about August de Winter and wanted to teach her a lesson. Julia frowned; she didn’t care be used for his convenience—she wouldn’t go for a walk…
‘This evening, perhaps,’ Ivo went on vaguely with a pleasant smile. ‘Shouldn’t you rest now?’ He glanced across at Jorina. ‘We’re dining early, aren’t we, Jorina—?’ and when she nodded continued to Marcia, ‘There are a few friends coming in this evening, you don’t want to be too tired.’
They got up from the table and as they did so he said to Julia,
‘Hadn’t you better hurry up and change, or we shall have no time for our walk,’ and because there seemed to be a little pause in the talk as he spoke, Julia said meekly that yes, she would go right away.
It was barely a quarter of an hour later when she came flying down the stairs again, warmly wrapped against the cold, the fur bonnet tied securely under her chin, her feet snug in high leather boots. She pulled on her gloves as she reached the last stair and looked around for Ivo. He was lounging in his study doorway, watching her, and as she exclaimed, ‘Oh, there you are,’ crossed the hall to meet her, exclaiming,
‘You look so happy, dear girl. Why is that?’
She was happy, but it was impossible to tell him that it was because she was going to spend the afternoon with him. ‘It’s Christmas,’ she stated, as though that explained everything.
They started off briskly, for although, for once, the sun was shining and the sky was almost clear of clouds, there had been a heavy frost during the night and it was cold.
They walked in silence, and Julia, trying to think of something ambiguous that would hold no pitfalls conversationwise, asked, ‘Was the church full?’
He tucked a hand beneath her elbow. ‘Yes, very. I wish you could have been there. I had hoped that you might be.’
‘So did I, but I couldn’t have left Marcia. She was tired after the party—it was wonderful to see her dancing.’
His hand tightened and she winced from the pain. ‘Don’t let’s talk about her, not now, Julia. Let’s pretend we’re back at Drumlochie House.’
On the way back Julia asked, ‘How many people are coming tonight, Ivo?’
‘Oh, a dozen or so—mostly neighbouring doctors and friends from the hospitals—they don’t stay late. I’m afraid it’s a splendid chance for us to talk shop. Jorina will be glad to have you there to break us up when we get too engrossed.’
‘Jorina’s a dear,’ said Julia with conviction. ‘She’ll be a wonderful wife. Klaas is a lucky man.’
Ivo stopped to stare down at her. ‘And whoever gets you for a wife will be a lucky man too, Julia.’
Her heart sank a little; it seemed as though he took it for granted that she would marry; someone in England, in the future neither of them knew anything about. She told herself she was being foolish and said too brightly, ‘Oh, no, he won’t. I don’t think I’m very good with money and I love pretty clothes and I’m not in the least clever.’
‘You sound ideal,’ said Ivo, and put up a hand and pushed her bonnet to the back of her head so that her black hair spilled out. He pushed that aside too, gently. ‘You’re wearing the earrings,’ he said, and smiled a little.
‘Of course. Aren’t they lovely?’ she wanted to know, and went pink when he said, ‘Almost as lovely as you, Julia.’
He bent and kissed her gently and said, as he had said before, ‘Only a seasonal greeting,’ and then tucked her hair back inside the bonnet and pulled it forward. And Julia, shaken by his quiet, serious face, said, as she too had said, ‘Yes—well, shouldn’t we be going back?’
That night, lying in bed with the house quiet around her and only the wind in the trees outside to disturb her thoughts, Julia tried to make plans again, but it was of no use and she allowed her thoughts to drift instead to the pleasant evening they had all enjoyed. For it had been that; they had dined off roast turkey with its attendant chestnut stuffing and cranberry sauce and what Jorina described as English vegetables culled from an old copy of Mrs Beeton’s cookery book. There was even a Christmas pudding, and Julia had found it rather touching that Jorina had gone to such pains to have everything just right. They had finished with crackers to pull and the champagne which Ivo had produced had loosened their tongues to a gaiety which even Marcia joined in.
Later, when the guests had arrived, it had been fun too; they had teased her in their beautiful English about the few words of Dutch she managed to say and she had laughed with them, not in the least put out, and even contrived to add to her vocabulary. Somehow Ivo had been beside her for the greater part of the evening, and when everyone had gone and she was waiting at the foot of the stairs while Marcia said her goodnights, he had come to her and asked her if she had had a happy day. She had nodded, her eyes alight with happiness, the earrings dancing, and had longed to ask him if he had been happy too—and didn’t dare for fear of the answer. So she had smiled at him, saying nothing, her vivid face aglow, forgetful of her feelings, and then turned to see Marcia watching them from the drawing room door.
She hadn’t been surprised when Marcia, as she was getting ready for bed, asked her who had given her the earrings; she had been able to answer naturally enough that it was Ivo. ‘Something to remind me of Holland when I go back,’ she said lightly, and Marcia had said nothing to that, nor had she made answer when presently Julia wished her goodnight.
In her own room she had taken the earrings off and laid them carefully away in their little box. She didn’t think she would wear them for a long time, not until she could bear to think of Ivo without wanting to burst into tears—something which she immediately did.