‘What about the children?’ Frederik had whispered as Cornelia placed a guard against the fire and turned down the lamp.
He’d returned her kiss, drawing her to him and leading her to a chair where she’d sat on his knee and wept. He kissed her wet cheeks and smoothed back her hair and told her he loved her and that there was no need for tears.
‘I won’t ever hurt you, Lia,’ he murmured. ‘I will cherish you and take care of you always.’
She placed her finger on his lips to silence him. ‘Don’t make promises,’ she whispered. ‘We don’t know what is in front of us. Let us make the most of what we have now. You have already given me joy by your caring friendship, and—’
Now it was his turn to put his finger to her mouth, gently tracing the outline, feeling the moistness as she parted her lips. ‘I have told you I love you,’ he said softly. ‘I don’t want only friendship.’
It was then that she stood up, drawing him to her and asking him to come again to her bed. ‘But this time not as a friend, but as my lover.’
And then he had asked, ‘What about the children?’
She kissed his hand as she led him to the door, carefully closing it behind them. ‘They’ll be asleep,’ she whispered as they mounted the stairs. ‘They sleep well.’
Once inside her room he took off his jacket and threw it on a chair, and when Cornelia turned her back to him he fumbled to unfasten the lacing that reached below her waist. The sleeves of the bodice slipped off her shoulders, her gown falling to the floor in an abundant cascade, leaving her in only her linen chemise.
He took in a deep breath as she turned towards him and raised her arms, and he lifted the chemise over her head so that she stood naked before him. He gazed at her and then fell to his knees, and as he knelt she lifted first one foot and then another so that he could take off her dainty slippers. He kissed each foot in turn, murmuring her name. Not Cornelia, but Lia. That was his name for her, and never in his life had he felt such emotion, such strength of passion as he was feeling now. Not once had he seen a woman unashamed to show him her body in all its beauty, and as he knelt before her she bent to unfasten his shirt, her breasts touching his face, and he felt that he was in heaven.
It was not as if he had never felt any affection for Rosamund, he told Lia many weeks later on one of his many return visits. She was the mother of his daughter, after all, but he felt that she didn’t return his affection and his feelings for her had dwindled after so many years of her reluctance to share her bed or have another child.
He turned to Lia as she stroked his cheek. Her thick luxuriant hair was strewn across her pillow and he told her again how much he loved her.
‘I would gladly give you a child, Frederik,’ she whispered. ‘But I fear that because you are a part-time husband and I am a widow it would not be to our advantage.’
‘I could leave her,’ he said. The prospect of that had filled his mind constantly. ‘I have every reason to do so.’
‘Nee, lieveling,’ she said. ‘I would not wish that on any woman. Your wife would be ostracized, and from what I gather about her she would not cope with that. She would be condemned to living a life without friends or family.’
They were alone in the house. Klara had gone to stay with Lia’s mother and Hans was now at school in Amsterdam, but before he had departed the boy had asked to have a private word with Frederik. He had blushed, and said, ‘I wanted to tell you, Uncle Freddy, that I’m pleased that you have brought my moeder some happiness, but I wonder what will happen to her if you return to your wife.’
Frederik was startled. He and Lia had tried to be discreet, but Hans was old enough – and mature enough, it seemed – to see through their veil of discretion. Honesty appeared to be his only option.
‘I haven’t actually left my wife, Hans. We are still married, and although I am willing to leave her your mother is against it. She says that my wife would be shunned by society if I follow that line, and she doesn’t want that.’
Hans gave a little smile. ‘Mijn moeder always thinks of others. It is a generous trait.’
‘I love your mother,’ Frederik said. ‘And I would give anything to be with her, but she is right. I must think not only about my wife but about my daughter too, for our separation would reflect on her as well.’
Hans nodded. ‘Margriet. Yes. I wish we could meet her.’
‘I promise that I’ll bring her one day. She is coming to stay with her oma again in the summer; perhaps I will bring her then.’
And so he did. When summer came along he once again asked Florrie to accompany Margriet to his mother’s and she agreed immediately. She liked Gerda Vandergroene, and her daughter too, and her plans for improving her position were still in her mind. Mrs Simmonds asked Jane to step into the breach once more.
Margriet stayed for a week this time, visiting her cousins and learning to speak Dutch. Often Floris, as the Dutch called her, took the children out alone without Gerda or Anna. Then Frederik arrived from his office one day and told Margriet he would like her to come with him to meet a friend and her children.
‘Do you recall, Margriet, that a very dear friend of mine died and you asked if I would tell his children, Hans and Klara, that you were very sad for them?’
‘Yes, I do remember,’ she said. ‘I said that I would cry if you died.’
‘Well, I would expect at least a bucketful of tears, Margriet,’ he joked, patting her head. ‘I’ve seen Hans and Klara a few times since then and they would like to meet you, so could Oma spare you for a day, do you think?’
Although he wasn’t meeting his mother’s eye he was conscious of her gaze, but she said mildly, ‘We haven’t planned anything for tomorrow, Margriet, so perhaps then? Were you thinking of taking Floris, Frederik? If not, she could come shopping with me.’
‘No, no. Margriet and I will be fine together, and tomorrow will be perfect as Gouda has the cheese market on Thursdays. We must go early, though, as it closes at half past twelve prompt.’
He didn’t want Florrie to go with them. She was an astute young woman, and she must have realized that the bedroom situation at home was not normal. He was not yet ready to have it known that he was being unfaithful, although he was sure his mother suspected the truth.
Margriet skipped alongside her father to the railway station the following day. ‘You like it here in Netherlands, don’t you, Papa?’ she said as they boarded the train. ‘I think you’re happier here than at home in Hull.’
‘No, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I like Hull very much, and it is my home and where you are, but I’m happy in my own country too, and especially now that you’re here with me. I’ve wanted you to come and meet your relatives for such a long time.’
She smiled and nodded. ‘And now I’m going to meet some new friends and I’m really looking forward to that, although I expect that Hans is too old to play games.’
They were in time for the cheese market and Margriet was delighted by the colourful costumes of the porters and the way that the traders clapped hands to seal a bargain. Her father told her that this part of Netherlands was called Holland, and that she would probably see many people in traditional dress and wearing clogs like the ones she had at home.
‘I ought to have another pair, Papa,’ she said. ‘I’ve grown out of the old ones.’
He laughed and said he’d buy her another pair and a winged cap too, and then she’d feel like a proper Dutch girl. He bought them both waffles and they ate them sitting on the canal wall before he took her to see the weigh house and the ancient town hall. She licked syrup from her fingers and he gave her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth and hands. ‘I don’t think we should tell Mama that we’ve been eating outside, Papa,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t think she would like it.’
He nodded solemnly. ‘I quite agree, Daisy. I think this must have to be our special secret.’
Klara had been watching for Margriet’s arrival, and opened the door to them. ‘Hello, Margriet. Are you going to stay with us? Can she, Uncle Freddy?’
‘I’m sorry, but not this time, Klara,’ Frederik answered, seeing Margriet’s eyes open wide at ‘Uncle’. He knew there would be questions later. ‘Margriet’s oma is expecting us back tonight.’
‘Well, come up to my room now.’ Klara reached for Margriet’s hand. ‘But first you have to meet Hans. He’s up in his room studying, even though it’s the holidays, but he wants to meet you too.’
‘Wait, wait.’ Cornelia came out of the kitchen. ‘I must say hello to Margriet first.’
Margriet dipped her knee. ‘Hoe doe je, Mevrouw Jansen?’ she asked in perfect Dutch.
Cornelia smiled delightedly. ‘I’m very well, thank you, Margriet. You’ve been practising your Dutch!’
‘Papa taught me,’ she said. ‘He said it would be polite if I knew a few words.’
‘You have a very good accent,’ Cornelia said. ‘But we can all speak English, so that will be easier for you, and you may call me Tante Lia if you wish. Klara and Hans call your papa Uncle, but they have known him a long time, of course.’
‘Ah, I see!’ Margriet exclaimed. ‘I thought they might be more cousins. I’ve met my Amsterdam cousins already.’
‘No, not cousins,’ her father said. ‘But very good friends, which is why they call me Uncle.’
The two girls ran up the stairs to see Hans, and Lia led Frederik into the sitting room. He closed the door and kissed her tenderly. ‘I can’t bear being away from you,’ he whispered. ‘It’s agony to be within a few miles and not able to hold you in my arms.’
‘We must be careful,’ she said. ‘Margriet is young, but she just might say something untoward to her mother.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t think Rosamund would care, quite frankly. But you’re right: I wouldn’t for the world want Margriet to be confused or worried.’
‘She won’t be, lieveling.’ She kissed him. ‘We’ll be discreet.’
Back home in Hull Rosamund already had her suspicions. Frederik was much more light-hearted than he had been for some time; in fact more like the man he had been before and during the early days of their marriage. It was her fault, she confessed only to herself; the change began in their marriage bed. She wouldn’t mind his having an affair if he were discreet, especially if his lover lived abroad. She had noticed how eager he was to be back in Amsterdam. Separation, on the other hand, was unthinkable. What if he were to leave her on the grounds that she had refused him his conjugal rights? Her friends had long noses for scandal and would soon put two and two together; even a hint that her marriage was not as perfect as she made it out to be would be all over town in no time, and she couldn’t bear that. She nipped the skin on her fingers with her teeth in her anxiety. She really couldn’t.