In this spirit of elation she saw happiness wherever she turned; everyone she knew seemed to her to be kind and considerate, they all seemed to be living in harmony, never flying into passions or showing the least sign of egotism. Scenes with Betsy were a thing of the past, she was sure, for she was now able to respond to her sister’s disparaging remarks with mild good humour, as though there were nothing in the world that could mar her newfound joy. Her nerves were greatly soothed, and she herself was surprised to note her bright, even temper, quite undisturbed by the periodical fits of melancholy and fatigue of the past. Gone were the lowering clouds of grey-and-black gloom, for the very air that she breathed seemed changed; it was azure, flower-scented, shot through with sunbeams.
For several days after his contretemps with Vincent, Henk felt very uneasy. Being uncharitable was quite at odds with the general kindliness of his disposition, and he feared that he had hurt Vere’s feelings — he might simply have been having a run of bad luck, after all. So Henk had called on Vincent to extend him the requested loan. Vincent, however, declined the offer, despite Henk’s entreaties, and instead paid back a considerable portion of what he owed. Where he had procured the funds to do so was a mystery to Henk, as was everything else about Vincent.
Returning home, Henk was berated by his wife for having been tactless with her cousin. Betsy felt vaguely apprehensive about Vere, sensing in him a secret power beside which her own dominating nature paled to insignificance, and she was determined that he should not bear a grudge against her husband. Eline was going away: she had been invited to spend the month of August at De Horze by Theodore, and would travel there with the Van Erlevoorts and the Howards late in July. It would be rather dismal in the big house on Nassauplein, mused Betsy. She did not wish to go on holiday with Henk just now, she preferred a trip to the South of Europe in the winter, after Eline’s wedding, and so it was for reasons of both distraction and diplomacy that Betsy decided to ask Vincent to stay with them for the duration of Eline’s absence. She told him how dreadfully lonely she would feel without Eline and how much she always enjoyed Vincent’s company, what with all those interesting stories he had about his wanderings, so he would be doing her a great favour by coming to stay. Vincent was secretly delighted at the prospect of temporary respite from his aimless, impecunious existence. What luxury! A whole month of peace and quiet, and it would not cost him a penny. So he accepted Betsy’s invitation, concealing his pleasure with a veneer of gracious condescension, as though he were deigning to allow her to make amends for her husband’s heartless behaviour.
XVIII
Lili was very cross; her lips quivered and she was close to tears.
‘I really can’t see why we shouldn’t ask him along,’ she complained to Marie. ‘He calls here often enough.’
‘Oh, Lili, have some sense! Mama already invited him to the house several times this winter, and it’s not as if we know him well enough to take him on a country outing with us. Asking him along would make things stiff.’
‘But he’s not in the least stiff!’
‘No, he’s not. He’s much nicer than I thought at first, but still, we don’t know him half as well as we know Paul and Etienne.’
‘Oh, them! All they do is saunter back and forth between the Witte club and the other one, dropping in at the Bordelaise or the Bodega on the way, and nowadays they’re always with that wretched Vere. We haven’t seen much of them at all lately. I know Paul comes by once in a while, but Etienne has become a myth as far as I’m concerned. Why don’t you ask Vere as well, while you’re about it?’
Marie shrugged.
‘It’s no use getting cross with me, Lili, just because Mama hasn’t asked De Woude. It’s nothing to do with me,’ she said gently.
‘No, of course not. But it’s always the same, whenever I think of something no one will hear of it. Well, I give up. I couldn’t care less about the outing.’
Fighting back her tears, Lili left the drawing room; Marie took up her book with a sigh.
Madame Verstraeten, seated in the conservatory with her husband, had overheard Lili’s angry words, and a look of concern crossed her kind features.
‘Is anything the matter?’ he asked.
‘Oh, it’s just that De Woude,’ whispered Madame, so as not to be heard by Marie. ‘Lili wants me to invite him for the day after tomorrow.’
‘Why don’t you, then? I have nothing against De Woude, although he is a bit of a fop. And he’s rather jolly with the girls.’
‘But Karel, really, I don’t think it would be wise. I always treat him with proper civility when I see him, but there’s no need to encourage him any further, is there? What good would it do? Lili’s still so young, and full of childish notions, too.’
‘Aren’t you getting rather carried away? Why would they think of marrying? It’s only a matter of an invitation, after all.’
‘I suppose you are right. But you never see them together the way I do. If only you’d come with us to Scheveningen some evening!’
‘No, thank you very much.’
‘Then you’d see for yourself. He keeps hovering around our table. He’s discreet enough not to accept every time I offer icecreams, but he always stays until we leave, and hardly talks to anyone else. He takes a turn with Marie now and then, to be polite, but apart from that it’s Lili, Lili, all the time. I don’t think it’s very suitable, as you can imagine.’
‘And do you believe that Lili—?’
‘Yes of course, it’s perfectly clear! Everyone has noticed, and people are beginning to talk. I don’t know quite what to do about it,’ said Madame Verstraeten, again looking concerned.
Mr Verstraeten sat a moment in contemplation, after which he and his wife resumed their discussion, their voices dropping to whispers.
Marie found it impossible to concentrate on her book, so she went upstairs in search of Lili. She found her lying on her bed, sobbing into the pillows.
‘Lili! Whatever’s the matter?’ she called softly.
Lili started at the sound of Marie’s voice.
‘Oh, leave me alone!’ she cried.
But Marie took her hands and forced her to look up.
‘Lili, don’t be absurd! You’re so unreasonable, going off into a huff at the least provocation. Lili! Listen to me!’
‘Oh, please, just leave me alone.’
‘Why make yourself even more miserable by coming up here to cry all alone? Why don’t you just tell me what’s upsetting you? It’s so much better to trust each other, to be open and frank and speak your mind.’
Marie herself dearly wished she could be open and frank, she would have loved to speak her mind to Lili, to Mama, to anyone, but there were some things that were best left unsaid.
Lili sat up and brushed her tousled hair from her tear-stained cheeks.