Etienne kept his head bowed as they went on their way, his customary high spirits dampened. He felt a sting of conscience.
‘Another thing: it’s time you started thinking about graduating. Because you don’t seem to have been at all busy lately.’
‘Well, it’s summer now, isn’t it?’ said Etienne.
‘What about last winter? Did a lot of studying then, did you?’
Etienne sighed.
‘No I suppose not, but I wish you’d stop nagging! You know I will graduate eventually. Wait and see. I’ll work harder.’
Otto smiled, feeling a twinge of pity for his young brother. Work and Etienne didn’t seem to go together at all!
‘All right, that’s a promise!’ persisted Theodore. ‘I can take your word for it then, can I? Come on, let’s shake on it!’
Etienne put out his hand.
‘Good. And no more sulking now, please, no long faces!’
‘I wasn’t sulking,’ said Etienne crossly. Theodore’s admonitions had touched a raw nerve. Thinking of his exams, he realised how unprepared he was, and how hard it was going to be to keep his promise. It had never occurred to him that he had been letting them all down — Mama, Mathilda, Theodore and the children — simply by enjoying himself in Leiden and indulging in all those lavish dinners with his fraternity, and he was at a loss as to how to repair the damage. Meanwhile they had arrived at the terrace, where Truus was replenishing the glasses.
‘Ah, there you are! Just in time, too, because I wouldn’t have saved any punch for you if you’d made us wait much longer!’ she declared with feigned vexation. ‘Eline was wondering what was keeping you, Otto; she was afraid you’d fallen into the pond!’
‘That’s not true!’ huffed Eline, whereupon Catherine, Cor and the girls raised a riotous chorus of protest at her denial. There was so much jollity that Etienne quickly forgot his cares and could not resist joining the fray with whoops of laughter. Frédérique tried in vain to calm him down, while Mathilda explained to Howard what was going on.
Madame van Erlevoort shook her head in dismay.
‘It is most unkind to tease her so!’ she chided gently, but her defence of Eline only increased Etienne’s hilarity.
. .
The last few days had been hot and muggy. After coffee the youngsters dispersed. The doves circled round the storks’ nests atop a pair of tall poles in the middle of the lawn. On the veranda with steps leading to the garden sat the old lady with her daughters, while Eline and Frédérique were inside, playing billiards with the men.
‘Where are the children?’ enquired Catherine, gazing out over the freshly mown lawn, deserted now but for Theodore’s three dozing hounds.
‘They’ve gone for a stroll; to the White Hollow, I believe,’ replied Truus.
‘The White Hollow?’ Mathilda cried out in dismay. ‘But that’s an hour’s walk! And I’m sure it’s going to rain.’
Truus stood up and peered at the sky.
‘You may be right, Tilly. I shouldn’t have allowed it, I suppose, but Hetty was so insistent and your little ones so eager that I gave in, without thinking of the weather. I can’t think of everything, I’m afraid. All the bustle and excitement of the children makes my head spin now and then — which is not to say that I don’t love having you here, mind you!’
Heavy, slate-grey clouds were massing in the sky. The light dimmed, the leaves rustled on the boughs and the surface of the pond rippled in the rising wind.
‘I hope they took umbrellas!’ said the old lady, standing up. Catherine and Mathilda followed suit.
‘Umbrellas! I doubt it! Children don’t think of such things, they won’t even have taken their hats, I wager! What shall we do? There’s a heavy downpour on its way.’
‘We can’t just leave them to their fate. Are you sure they have gone to the White Hollow?’ fretted Catherine.
‘Sure? Well, not really, but they were talking about it. Wait, I’ll go and tell Klaas to take the covered wagon to the White Hollow.’
Off she went to speak to the coachman.
Scattered raindrops began to fall. The dogs on the lawn got up, stretched, and ambled into the house one after another. Madame van Erlevoort paced the floor while Catherine and Mathilda grew increasingly nervous as they waited for Klaas to hitch the horses.
The gloomy sky lit up with a sudden flash of lightning, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. Hardly had it died away than the clouds burst forth in a heavy downpour. The billiard players hurried out to the veranda, where they all stood close together in the shelter of the awning, united in their concern for the youngsters and heedless of the raindrops blowing in their direction. There were more flashes of lightning and the ensuing thunderclaps became deafening.
‘I don’t think we should stay here,’ said Catherine anxiously. ‘Let’s go inside. Oh, my poor Kitty!’
Truus was very fraught, blaming herself for having allowed the children to go out, and in her nervous condition she snapped at Catherine and Mathilda, then at her husband, even at her mother, and finally at Etienne, who had suggested going after them with umbrellas. Umbrellas! The boy had taken leave of his senses! Why had no one thought to warn her? Why did everything go wrong the minute her back was turned? How could she possibly run this household properly under these conditions? Suddenly she rounded on Eline:
‘Eline, don’t just stand there by the pillars, you’ll get all wet, and it’s dangerous with the lightning. Oh dear, it can’t be helped, so do let’s go indoors! What if they’ve had an accident! I can’t bear it! Oh, Mathilda, why didn’t you warn me? I can’t take responsibility for everything, you know!’
She shooed them all into the drawing room, for there was no sense in standing around getting wet, it would only make the waiting harder to bear. Nevertheless, she kept running out to the veranda to see if the youngsters were coming, while the thunderstorm continued unabated.
Inside, they seated themselves. Little was said, and the atmosphere was charged with restless expectation. They all heaved a sigh of relief when at last the old wagon returned. The hood was secured on all sides, but small hands could be seen parting the flaps and small, wide-eyed faces peering out. The ramshackle vehicle rumbled past the house on its way to the covered entrance at the back, and there was a general rush to welcome the bedraggled passengers.
One by one they emerged: first Marianne and Henrietta, then Willy and Gustaaf, after which they helped the Van Rijssel foursome and Memée to alight. Catherine flew to Kitty, who was crying. They were all soaked to the skin, their shoes and hands were covered in mud and their straw hats soggy and dripping. Bedlam broke loose as the children swarmed through the vestibule into the large dining room shouting at the tops of their voices, the three barking dogs bounding alongside.