Eline Vere (45 page)

The groom, sporting a white rose in the lapel of his tailcoat, likewise offered thanks, inwardly longing for the parade to end but nonetheless wreathed in smiles. Madame Verstraeten stood beside her daughter while Emilie de Woude hovered restlessly near her brother, disappearing frequently for brief forays among the buzzing crowd of well-wishers. The bridesmaids were Marie
and Frédérique, in pink, and the best men were Paul and Etienne, in tails with flowers in their buttonholes. The latter took turns escorting guests to the conservatory, where the wedding presents were displayed on a long table. Old Mr de Woude's gift of a silver tea service occupied the centre, surrounded by further offerings of silverware, cut glass and fine porcelain from friends and relations. From the Van Raat cousins, Henk and Paul, they had received a pretty suite of drawing room furniture upholstered in glossy blue satin, the various components of which stood about, cluttering up most of the space. The gift from the bride's parents was not on view as there was simply not enough room: it was an entire bedroom suite, of fine quality but not overly luxurious, which, as Emilie explained to Madame van der Stoor and Cateau, was as it should be for a young couple who had yet to make their fortune.

‘They will be going to live in Atjehstraat, will they not?' asked Madame van der Stoor, her eyes riveted on an agate-handled serving spoon and fork.

‘Yes, a small apartment in Atjehstraat, quite suitable for two young things like them. Just imagine, mere children! And getting married, too! Ah well, they know best, I suppose,' responded Emilie with a rueful smile, and Madame van der Stoor smiled in return. Cateau was full of admiration for the satin suite.

‘This was given by your brother and sister-in-law, wasn't it, Master Paul?' she said.

‘And by yours truly!' responded Paul, pointing to himself. ‘But how ladylike you've grown, Cateau!' he continued, surveying her approvingly. ‘With your hair piled up like that – most impressive!'

‘Well, why shouldn't I be a lady and wear my hair up?' Cateau said loftily. She was piqued by his familiarity; she was almost seventeen now, and there was no reason why he should always address her by her first name while she never knew what to call him – Mr van Raat, Master Paul, or simply Van Raat? Indeed, she found him decidedly disagreeable lately, and then there was his bad behaviour, for ever gadding about and squandering money!

‘But you are a lady!' said Paul with a sarcastic smile. ‘You're every inch a lady; did you think I hadn't noticed? I say, Cateau, do you
remember me draping those robes around you for the tableau of the five senses? How long ago was that?'

Cateau blushed.

‘Oh, that was ages ago. Let me think – it must have been at least two and a half years since we did the tableaux. I was only a child then. I wouldn't let you dress me up now, I can assure you!'

How dare he bring up that subject! With a toss of the head she turned away, while he smiled at her indignation. Then, catching sight of Frédérique, he made his way to the main salon, where his mother was taking leave of her.

‘Is Mama going already?' he wanted to know.

‘Yes, she's a little tired!' she replied tartly, without meeting his eye.

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.

She was now free to think about Otto, there was nothing to stop her admitting to herself that she loved him. And it seemed to her that the pity she felt for him made her love him even more passionately than before, when she had been racked with secret jealousy of the fiancée who had so cruelly tossed him aside as if he were some worthless object.

He still seemed to be mourning his loss, but that did not mean there was no hope, and the hope in her heart rose up to infuse her face, lending beauty to her smile.

. . .

That evening, when the reception was over, the Verstraetens were worn out. They exchanged their formal wear for more comfortable clothing, and Mr Verstraeten retired to his study while his wife went upstairs to take some much-needed repose. Lili, overtired from hours on her feet giving effusive thanks to everyone for their gifts and good wishes, flung herself in her favourite armchair with the old tapestry cover, and leant back, half-closing her eyes.

‘Lili, why don't you go upstairs and lie down for a while?' said Marie.

‘Oh no thanks, I can't be bothered. I'm so tired, as tired as can be.'

Georges looked concerned. He sat down beside his bride, took her hand in his, and whispered to her in the dimmed light. Frédérique, Paul and Etienne had stayed to supper, as had Georges, but now Etienne came to take his leave as he had a prior engagement to meet some friends.

‘Are you coming, Paul?' he asked.

Paul lifted his head, turning the question over in his mind, then stretched his limbs.

‘No thanks, I don't feel up to it.'

‘But they're expecting you!'

‘Well, I'm not in the mood. You'll have to excuse me.'

Etienne left, somewhat disgruntled. Marie hummed to herself as she sauntered about the salons with Frédérique, tidying up the various bouquets and flower baskets and dipping her fingers into a bowl of water to flick the drops onto the blooms. Marie was the only one still wearing her party clothes, but now she too went off to exchange her pink frock for something simpler, as the atmosphere was becoming so dull anyway, with Lili's head lolling on Georges' shoulder and Paul sprawled in an armchair with his legs flung wide.

‘Freddie, be a dear and put that big basket on the side table in the conservatory, will you? It will only get in the way of the dancers tomorrow. I'm off upstairs now,' said Marie.

‘All right,' said Frédérique.

Marie left the room and Frédérique made to lift the flower basket, whereupon Paul drew himself up.

‘Need some help?' he offered.

‘Yes, you could put this on the side table over there. Thank you.'