Sun And Candlelight Part 30

"You see I wanted everyone here to see just exactly how you looked at our wedding.

' Alethea had no time to reply.

Everyone had surged forward to shake their hands and wish them well; the children first with hugs for their father and polite handshakes for herself, and then Al and the rest of them.

And presently they all went into the drawing room, and that was filled with flowers too, with a sofa table drawn up under the windows, laden with champagne buckets and gla.s.ses.

There was even a wedding cake, a masterpiece made by Mrs McCrea.

Alethea stood among them all, being toasted and complimented on her dress and recounting the wedding to Al and Mrs McCrea while Sarre, with Sarel and Jacomina hanging on each arm, did the same for Nanny and Nel and Juffrouw Bril.

It was hours later, when she was in her lovely bedroom lying awake, that Alethea recalled uneasily how the children had cold shouldered her.

She had hoped that once she was married to Sarre, they would accept her.

It was still too early, she reminded herself, and turned her thoughts to her wedding.

It had been a happy affair and she had enjoyed the long journey back to Groningen with Sarre.

He had said that he would take her to Hamburg, that would be fun too.

She slept at last, still speculating about it.

She discovered very quickly that being married to Sarre was very nearly the same as being engaged to him.

True, she was now addressed as Mevrouw, and Mrs McCrea was punctilious in discussing the menus each day, as well as asking her her wishes about the running of the house.

"T'll leave that to you, Mrs McCrea," said Alethea, going hot and cold at the idea of taking over the management of such a large establishment.

"Perhaps you would show me exactly how you go on, though.

You see, you're an expert and I've never kept house in my life--all the same, I should like to learn.

Could we go through cupboards and stores and so on when you have the time to spare?

' Mrs McCrea beamed at her.

"A very sensible suggestion, ma'am, if I may say so.

Even if a lady doesn't run her household herself she should know

exactly what goes on in it.

I'll be delighted to tell you anything you want to know.

And as to the menus, ma'am, if you'll just say if there's anything you

don't like or would prefer.

' "T eat anything," stated Alethea.

"Don't forget I've been in hospital for years and you get used to

eating what's on your plate.

' "Ugh--you'll have what you fancy here, ma'am, you only have to say.

Now, the master likes his meat--the gentlemen do, I've found, but if

you fancy something lighter, that's easily seen to.

' "Thank you, Mrs McCrea.

I don't know much about anything at present, but if you want something,

you will ask, won't you?

Pots and pans and equipment and so on, I mean.

I expect you've always gone to the master for those, but it would help

him if I dealt with the everyday requirements, wouldn't it?

' "Indeed it would.

He has enough on his plate without bothering about the house.

' And Al took her firmly under his wing; he appeared un.o.btrusively with

sound advice on the occasions when she found herself in doubt about something or other and he sat beside her in the Colt Sapporo which Sarre had given her.

She had protested at such an expensive car and he had heard her out with his usual calm and then silenced her with the remark that as she was British she would naturally prefer a British car.

"It is for your own use," he pointed out.

"T fully intend that you shall drive the Jaguar and the Bristol when we can get out together.

But take Al with you until you have your licence.

' So she drove carefully round the city while Al sat beside her regaling her with snippets of Sarre's life, rendered all the more colourful by his cheerful c.o.c.kney voice.

He initiated her into the serious matter of the family silver, too, a collection of great age and beauty which made her eyes sparkle.

"The Guv likes it used every day," explained Al, "e says wot's the use of 'having it if we ain't goin' ter use it." But Nanny avoided her and although the children had their lunch and tea with her each day, they remained strangers to her; always polite, always watching her. She did her best to ignore the fact and she said nothing to Same--indeed, when he was there too their manner towards her, on the surface at least, was friendly. All the same, she was fast coming to the conclusion that they didn't like her. And Anna--there had been no whisper of her--and no sign. For an old friend she was very reluctant to visit the house.

Perhaps she and Sarre had quarrelled, perhaps Anna was upset because he had married again.

Alethea longed to ask Sarre about her, but if she did he might think that she was jealous of someone he had quite reasonably called an old friend.

She had been married for just three weeks when she and Sarre were invited to dine with the burgermeester.

"Get yourself a pretty dress," Sarre suggested in his kind way.

"Never mind if you're extravagant, I want you to look nice.

' So she went to town, combing the boutiques and the fas.h.i.+onable stores until she found something she thought Sarre would consider 'nice'.

It was a pale lavender silk with a high frilled neck, long full sleeves gathered into tight cuffs, and delicate lace frills outlining its square yoke.

The price made her feel quite faint, but mindful of Sarre's words, she bought matching slippers and a little dorothy bag, an extravagant trifle of lavender silk and lace to match the gown.

She bore them home in triumph, deciding not to let Sarre see them until the next evening at the very last moment before they left the house.

It was as well she had made up her mind to this, because he didn't come home all day and when she went down to breakfast the next morning, he had been home, Al told her, slept for an hour or so, had an early breakfast, and gone again.

Alethea ate her breakfast unhurriedly, talked to the children, although they had very little to say in return, and wished that she saw more of Sarre.

They hadn't been out together once, and although he was pleased to have her with him when he was home, it was never more than for an hour or two.

It wouldn't have been lonely if Wien and had been there, but he was away in New Zealand, visiting his parents.

Sarre didn't come home to lunch either, and the children were gloomy and inclined to be peevish.

She felt peevish herself; for some reason she had been thinking about Nick all the mo ming, although she had been making valiant efforts not to do so.

It was silly and a little dangerous, she knew that, and if only she saw more of Sarre she might be able to forget him more easily.

Intent on cheering up the children and herself as well, she asked: "Would you like to see the dress I've bought for this evening?

' The response was hardly enthusiastic, but she persevered.

"T'll come up to the playroom before we go, shall I?

' They agreed half-heartedly, looking at her with their inimical eyes and she thought suddenly how pathetic they were; so determined not to like her.

If only she knew the reason.

But at tea time, out of doors in the garden with a tea tray on the elegant wrought iron table under the trees, they were surprisingly friendly, reminding her that she was to dress early for their benefit, asking her what jewellery she was going to wear.

That was easy to answer; she had none, only her engagement ring and the heavy gold chain she had inherited from her mother, and that wouldn't be suitable.

"But it's such a pretty dress," she explained, "T don't think I shall need any.

' Sarre had telephoned to say that he would be delayed, that she was to dress whether he was home or not, so she made a leisurely toilet, soaking herself in a hot bath for far too long, brus.h.i.+ng out her newly

washed hair, making sure that her nails were just right.

But at length she was ready and the result, she had to admit, was more than satisfactory; her hair shone with a rich brown gloss, her make-up was just enough, excitement had given her a nice colour.

She swept upstairs to the floor above, quite pleased with herself.

The children were waiting for her, and so was Nanny, who got up from her chair, giving her a look from pebble-hard eyes as she muttered a greeting, so that a little of Alethea's pleasure faded.

She advanced rather awkwardly into the centre of the room, and asked:

"Well, do you like my dress?

' and then added a few words in her stumbling Dutch to Nanny.

The children murmured something or other and Nanny said quite a lot,

although Alethea didn't make sense of any of it.

"May I touch?

' asked Jacomina.

Alethea walked over to where the little girl was standing.

"Of course--look, take some in your hand--it's silk.

Perhaps Papa will buy you a dress of the same stuff--it would be pretty