Winter of Change

‘Presumably in the name of progress, but what a pity. I shall telephone her now.’ Which he did, with a masterly mixture of authority and charm. Mary Jane listened with interest to his exact explanations, which he delivered unembellished by sentiment and without any effort to enlist sympathy. It didn’t surprise her in the least that within five minutes he had secured her resignation as from that moment.

When he had replaced the receiver, she remarked admiringly, ‘My goodness, however did you manage it? I thought I would have to go back.’

‘Manage what?’ he asked coolly. ‘I made a reasonable request and received a reasonable reply to it—I fail to see anything extraordinary in that.’

He returned to his writing, leaving her feeling snubbed, so that her manner towards him, which had begun to warm a little, cooled. It made her feel cold too, as though he had shut a door that had been ajar and left her outside. She went to the kitchen presently on some excuse or other, and sat talking to Mrs Body, who was glad of the company anyway.

‘You’ve not had time to make any plans, Miss Mary Jane?’ she hazarded.

‘No, Mrs Body. You know that Grandfather left me this house, don’t you? You will go on living here, won’t you? I don’t think I could bear it if you and Lily went away.’

The housekeeper gave her a warm smile. ‘Bless you, my dear, of course we’ll stay—it would break my heart to go after all these years, and Lily wouldn’t go, I’m sure. But didn’t I hear Doctor van der Blocq say that you would be going back to Holland with him?’

Mary Jane explained. ‘It won’t be for long, I imagine—if you wouldn’t mind being here—do you suppose Lily would come and live in so that you’ve got company? I’m not sure about the money yet, but I’m sure there’ll be enough to pay her. Shall I ask her?’

‘A good idea, Miss Mary Jane. Supposing I mention it to her first, once everything’s seen to? I must say the doctor gets things done—everything’s going as smooth as silk and he thinks of everything. That reminds me, he told me to move your things back to your old room.

Mary Jane looked surprised. ‘Oh, did he? How thoughtful of him,’ and then because she was young and healthy even though she was sad: ‘What’s for dinner—I’m hungry.’

Mrs Body beamed. ‘A nice bit of beef. For a foreign gentleman the doctor isn’t finicky about his food, is he? and I always say there’s nothing to beat a nice roast. There’s baked apples and cream for afters.’

‘I’ll lay the table,’ Mary Jane volunteered, and kept herself busy with that until Mr van der Blocq came out of the study, when she offered him a drink, prudently declining one herself before going upstairs to put on the grey dress once more. The sight of her face, puffy with tears and tense with her stored-up feelings, did little to reassure her, and when she joined Mr van der Blocq in the sitting room, the brief careless glance he accorded her deflated what little ego she had left. Sitting at table, watching him carving the beef with a nicety which augured well for his skill at his profession, she found herself wishing that he didn’t regard her with such indifference—not, she told herself sensibly, that his opinion of her mattered one jot. He wasn’t at all the sort of man she… He interrupted her thoughts.

‘It seems to me a good idea if you were to call me Fabian. I do not like being addressed as Mr van der Blocq—inaccurately, as it happens. Even Mrs Body manages to address me, erroneously, as Doctor dear.’ He smiled faintly as he looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

She studied his face. ‘Well, if you want me to,’ her voice was unenthusiastic, ‘only I don’t know you very well, and you’re…’

‘A great deal older than you? Indeed I am.’

It annoyed her that he didn’t tell her how much older, but she went on, ‘I was going to say that I find it a little difficult, because Grandfather told me that you were an important surgeon and I wouldn’t dream of calling a consultant at Pope’s by his first name.’

The preposterous idea made her smile, but he remained unamused, only saying in a bored fashion. ‘Well, you are no longer a nurse at Pope’s—you are Miss Pettigrew with a pleasant little property of your own and sufficient income with which to live in comfort.’

She served him a baked apple and passed the cream. ‘What’s a sufficient income?’ she wanted to know.

He waved a careless, well kept hand, before telling her.

She had been on the point of sampling her own apple, but now she laid down her spoon and said sharply, ‘That’s nonsense—that’s a fortune!’

‘Not in these days, it will be barely enough. There’s your capital, of course, but I shall be in charge of that.’ His tone implied that he was discussing something not worthy of his full attention, and this nettled her.

‘You talk as though it were chicken feed!’

‘That was not my intention. I’m sure you are a competent young woman and well able to enjoy life on such a sum. The solicitor will inform you as to the exact money.’

‘Then why do I have to have you for a guardian?’

He put down his fork and said patiently, ‘You heard your grandfather—I shall attend to any business to do with investments and so forth and have complete control of your capital. I shall of course see that your income is paid into your bank until you assume full control over your affairs when you are thirty. It will also be necessary for me to give my consent to your marriage should you wish to marry.’

She was bereft of words. ‘Your consent—if I should choose’ She almost choked. ‘It’s not true!’

‘I am not in the habit of lying. It is perfectly true, set down in black and white by your grandfather, and I intend to carry out his wishes to the letter.’

‘You mean that if anyone wants to marry me he’ll have to ask you?’

He nodded his handsome head.

‘But that’s absurd! I never heard such nonsense…how could you possibly know—have any idea…?’

His voice had been cool, now it was downright cold. ‘My dear good girl, let me assure you that I find my duties just as irksome as you find them unnecessary.’

This shook her. ‘Oh, will you? I suppose they’ll take up some of your time. I’ll try not to bother you, then—I daresay there’ll be no need for us to see much of each other.’

His lips twitched. ‘Probably not, although I’m afraid that while you are at my uncle’s house you will see me from time to time—he’s too old to manage his own affairs, and my cousin, who lives with him, isn’t allowed to do more than run the house.’

They were in the sitting room drinking their coffee when she ventured: ‘Will you tell me a little about your uncle? I don’t know where he lives or anything about him, and since I am to stay there…’

Mr van der Blocq frowned. ‘Why should I object?’ he wanted to know testily. ‘But I must be brief; I’m expecting one or two telephone calls presently. He lives in Friesland, a small village called Midwoude. It is in fact on the border between Friesland and Groningen. The country is charming and there is a lake close by. The city of Groningen is only a few miles away; Leeuwarden is less than an hour by car. You may find it a little lonely, but I think not, for you are happy here, aren’t you? My uncle, I have already told you, is difficult, but my cousin Emma will be only too glad to make a friend of you.’

‘And you—you live somewhere else?’

‘I live and work in Groningen.’ He spoke pleasantly and with the quite obvious intention of saying nothing more. She had to be content with that, and shortly after that, when he went to answer his telephone call, Mary Jane went into the kitchen, helped Mrs Body around the place, laid the table for breakfast and went up to bed.

Now if I were a gorgeous creature with golden hair and long eyelashes, she mused as she wandered up the staircase, we might be spending the evening together—probably he had some flaxen-haired beauty waiting for him in Groningen. For lack of anything better to do and to keep her thoughts in a cheerful channel, she concocted a tale about Mr van der Blocq in which the blonde played a leading part, and he for once smiled frequently and never once addressed the creature as ‘my dear good girl’.

The next few days passed quickly; there was a good deal to attend to and Major had to be taken for his walk, and time had to be spent with the Colonel’s friends who called in unexpected numbers. The lawyer came too and spent long hours in the study with her guardian, although he had very little to say to her.

It wasn’t until after the funeral, when the last of the neighbours and friends had gone, that old Mr North asked her to join him in the study and bring Mrs Body and Lily with her. Mary Jane half listened while he read the legacies which had been left to them both, it wasn’t until they had gone and she was sitting by the fire with Fabian at the other end of the room that Mr North gave her the details of her own inheritance. The money seemed a vast sum to her; she had had no idea that her grandfather had had so much, even the income she was to receive seemed a lot of money. Mr North rambled on rather, talking about stocks and shares and securities and ended by saying:

‘But you won’t need to worry your head about this, Mary Jane, Mr van der Blocq will see to everything for you. I understand that you will be travelling to Holland tomorrow. That will make a nice change and you will return here ready to take your place in local society. I take it that Mrs Body will remain?’

She told him that yes, she would, and moreover Lily had agreed to live in as well, so that the problem of having someone to look after the house and Major was solved.

‘You have no idea how long you will be away?’ asked Mr North.

‘None,’ she glanced at Fabian, who took no notice at all, ‘but I’m sure that Mrs Body will look after everything beautifully.’

The old gentleman nodded. ‘And you? You will be sorry to leave your work at the hospital, I expect.’

She remembered Sister Thompson. ‘Yes, though I was thinking of changing to another hospital.’ She smiled at him. ‘Now I shan’t need to.’

He went shortly afterwards and she spent the rest of the day packing what clothes she had with her and making final arrangements with Mrs Body before taking Major for a walk by the lake. It was a clear evening with the moon shining. Mary Jane shivered a little despite her coat, not so much with cold as the knowledge that she would miss the peace and quiet even though she had it to come back to.

She went indoors presently and into the study to wish Fabian good night. He stood by her grandfather’s desk while she made a few remarks about their journey and then said a little shyly, ‘You’ve been very kind and—and efficient. I don’t know what we should have done without your help. I’m very grateful.’

He rustled the papers in his hand and thanked her stiffly, and she went to her room, wondering if he would ever unbend, or was he going to remain coldly polite and a little scornful of her for the rest of their relationship? Eight years, she told herself as she got into bed, seemed a long time. She would be thirty and quite old, and Fabian would be…she started to guess and fell asleep, still guessing.

CHAPTER THREE