He noted her coolness towards him, and felt hurt. They all seemed to be against him these days, first Cateau, and now Freddie, too.
‘Ah, Freddie!’ he said with forced gaiety. ‘You aren’t in a very festive mood, are you?’
‘Why do you say that?’ she asked blankly.
‘You haven’t said anything in the least nice to me all day. You’re not angry with me are you?’
‘Me? Oh no, not at all. Why should I be?’
‘Can’t I make it up to you? If only I knew what I’ve done wrong.’
Etienne came towards them.
‘I say, you two: please remember your duties! Two old ladies have just arrived, whom I’ve never seen before; they can’t take their eyes off the wedding presents, and I’m afraid they might be light-fingered or something, you never know. Come on, Marie has also been looking for you everywhere!’
They followed him to the conservatory, which was thronged with guests. Paul was annoyed that Etienne had interrupted his moment with Freddie; for days he had been meaning to have a word with her, because all she did was pout, and it was getting on his nerves.
Henk and Betsy entered the dining room, where they encountered the groom’s father deep in conversation with Otto van Erlevoort. Old Mr de Woude had dull, kindly features and thinning grey hair; he sat with his cane propped between his knees and, being hard of hearing, with his head cocked to his interlocutor, whom he kept asking to repeat himself. Otto and the Van Raats no longer called on each other these days, but they did meet from time to time at the Verstraetens’ or at the homes of other mutual friends, and had remained on amicable terms. They found little to say to one another, for there was a mist of unhappiness between them. Betsy and Henk moved on, having extended their good wishes to Mr Verstraeten, who was chatting with Mathilda van Rijssel in the drawing room.
‘Well then, goodbye Betsy, goodbye Henk. Thank you so much! By the way, did you hear what Madame van Rijssel just told me?’
‘No, what did she say, Uncle?’ asked Betsy.
‘That your old friend Jeanne, Ferelijn’s wife, is gravely ill.’
‘Jeanne? Is she ill?’
‘A letter arrived yesterday, from Ferelijn in Bangil,’ Mathilda said softly.
‘Where’s Bangil?’ asked Betsy.
‘In Pasoeroean. Jeanne had just given birth to another baby when he wrote the letter, and her life was apparently in danger.’
‘Really? Oh dear, poor girl! We have not been in touch lately, but I have always been very fond of her, and. .’
It was on the tip of Betsy’s tongue to add: ‘and we owe her a great deal,’ for she was thinking of Eline. But all she said was:
‘Please, Mathilda, if you hear any more news, you will let me know, won’t you? I’d be most grateful.’
‘Yes I will,’ said Mathilda, and Betsy moved away with Henk in search of the bride and groom. Mathilda’s thoughts turned to Jeanne, her hapless friend who had followed her husband to the Indies six months ago, and whom she might never see again.
Henk and Betsy approached Georges and Lili.
‘Ah, Betsy and Henk!’ exclaimed Lili. ‘How you have spoiled us! It was such a splendid surprise, too! A truly beautiful gift!’
She gave them both a hug of thanks for the blue-satin suite.
‘Let’s hope it won’t look too grand!’ said Georges, after expressing his thanks.
‘Nonsense!’ cried Lili. ‘Men are such ungrateful creatures, aren’t they, Betsy? But I’m awfully grateful; I’m thrilled with it, truly thrilled!’
‘She’s as happy as a little girl with a new doll’s house!’ Emilie chuckled, glancing at Betsy.
Meanwhile, in the conservatory, Marie and Etienne were testing the blue satin suite for comfort and plumpness. Marie had been in remarkably good cheer lately, quite elated even. They bounced up and down, giggling merrily, with no regard at all for the creaking springs.
Well, there was every reason to be light-hearted, even if it was her sister’s wedding and not her own. Once Lili had gone there would be time enough to be glum, for it would be lonely without her, but Marie had no intention of letting that prospect spoil her enjoyment of this happy day.
Mathilda and Otto wandered into the conservatory to view the wedding gifts, and Marie promptly pointed out each item in turn, announcing who the giver was.
‘Why don’t you come to the dance tomorrow?’ she asked Otto. ‘It would be so nice if you were there.’
He smiled and shook his head.
‘It’s no use insisting. Forgive me for refusing the invitation, but my decision is final. My dancing days are over.’
‘You’re becoming a veritable recluse!’
‘I am getting old.’
‘Fiddlesticks! Doesn’t it amuse you any more to see people amusing themselves?’
‘Yes it does, now and then, but on the whole I prefer to stay at home.’
His tone was wistful, and she desisted from further effort to persuade him. To change the subject, she indicated a large basket of flowers with a wave of her hand.
‘Just look at those lovely roses! And so early in the season, too. I do so love it when all the flowers come out. It looks as if we’ll be having a wonderful summer.’
‘Yes, and we are having a wonderful spring, too,’ he said dully.
She was somewhat piqued by his tone, despite the pity she felt for his quiet sorrow, and kept silent. He must have been thinking of a previous spring, a previous summer. .
. .
The ‘union of hearts’ between Georges and Lili, for which Emilie had sought permission from the Verstraetens on her brother’s behalf some eighteen months before, had quite quickly developed into a stronger alliance, for although Georges kept his promise to observe due discretion in the affair, it had become common knowledge in The Hague. Lili’s parents had been in something of a quandary, what with their daughter chafing at the restrictions they imposed on her dealings with her beau, and Emilie beginning to exert pressure on them as well. Madame Verstraeten had approached her sister Dora, Madame van Raat, in the hope of some moral support, but had not received it. Why not have a formal engagement, Madame van Raat had suggested in her soft, sad voice, then everything would surely sort itself out. Lili had been overjoyed when she heard of her elderly aunt’s advice, pronouncing her to be the dearest, sweetest aunt in the whole world.
And so it happened that, as soon as Georges had passed his Vice-Consular examination, the engagement was officially announced. Georges had gone off to Paris and Hamburg on tours of duty, and upon his return Emilie and Lili joined forces in persuading her parents that it was time to contemplate the next step. After much deliberation it had been decided that, provided Georges, now at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, was as careful with money as he claimed to be, and provided Lili became a little more sensible — for she was by no means sensible enough according to her mother — they might entertain the idea of marriage with a small financial contribution from the Verstraetens. The big day was planned for the 20th of May. Madame Verstraeten, Emilie, Marie and Lili devoted themselves to assembling the trousseau, and no one was happier in The Hague than Georges and Lili, whom Emilie insisted on calling ‘the babes in the wood’, much to Marie’s amusement.
Marie had grown so vivacious lately that Frédérique quite forgot how nervous and moody her sister had been only a short while ago, shutting herself up in her room for hours, purportedly to work on her travelogue. Nowadays she ran up and down the house bubbling with laughter, playing jokes on Lili and Jan and taking Dien by the shoulders to whirl her around. Her rather plain features seemed to glow with a new freshness, her hazel eyes sparkled, and everyone in her set noted the change — Marie looked positively pretty these days!
The radiance of her expression reflected the new hope that was dawning in her heart. Nowadays, when she stood by her window looking out over the avenue glistening with morning dew in the mild May sunshine, and at the Wood beyond, swathed in myriad shades of vibrant green, her heart no longer ached — it sang.