Eline Vere (10 page)

. . .

Madame van Erlevoort had decreed that dinner would be early – at half-past five – so that she might take a short rest before dressing for the ball at the Eekhofs, which she would attend with Freddie and her two sons. Mathilda, the quiet, sad-eyed young mother who seemed to have lost the ability to laugh, would remain at home with the children. The unruly foursome had their meals separately with Miss Frantzen, at Mathilda's urgent request, for Madame van Erlevoort would have liked nothing better than to have the whole tribe plus their stout nursemaid joining her at mealtimes, not caring a bit about gravy stains on her damask tablecloth, glasses getting broken, or small fingers being dipped in the preserves. Thus Mathilda had been unable to prevent the youngsters
from stealing into the dining room one by one after their supper, to the dismay of Miss Frantzen, who would put her head round the door, round-eyed with alarm. After they had done this several times without any protest from their grandmamma they had made a habit of it, in which Mathilda would acquiesce with a sigh. Etienne and Frédérique took it all as a good joke and Otto laughed too, and in the end Mathilda gave a shrug and smiled: it couldn't be helped.

‘Thank you, Otto, no more for me,' Frédérique said at table. ‘I can never eat before going to a ball, you know what I'm like.'

‘Still as nervous as ever?' asked Otto. ‘I thought it was only before a girl first comes out in society that she can't eat. You poor girl!'

‘Freddie, what have you been doing to your dress? I do hope you haven't ruined it,' said Madame van Erlevoort anxiously.

‘No, Mama dear, I took Mathilda's advice in the end and left everything as it was. Ooh, I can't wait to show you,' she went on, turning to Otto. ‘I'll be all ethereal in my blue tulle – you know, as if I'm floating. Ah, here come the Philistines!'

She was referring to the Van Rijssel foursome, who were charging into the dining room with little Nico in front, blowing his ear-splitting toy trumpet. They had come to eat their orange with wine and sugar in the dining room; Madame van Erlevoort placed Nico beside her and prepared his dessert with care, after which the flaxen-haired rascal gobbled the sliced fruit while the juice trickled down his chin, pausing now and then to blow his trumpet.

Tina, Jo and Etienne hotly disputed the next portion, getting their forks entangled in the process, while Freddie told Otto about the people they would likely encounter at the Eekhofs.

‘Well, the Hijdrechts will be there, and so will Eline Vere, as well as the Van Larens, and Françoise Oudendijk. Don't you think Françoise is prettier than Marguerite van Laren? Tell me, Otto, which of them will you be courting? Oh, Nico! My poor ears! Nico!'

Tooterootoo
,
tooterootoo
, sounded the trumpet.

‘Nico, you're driving me demented with that din. Put that thing down this instant and eat properly. Look what you've done to your jerkin!' scolded Mathilda.

‘Oh, he just likes his music – don't you, poppet?' gushed Madame van Erlevoort, and she put her arm around the child just as he aimed his trumpet at her ear and gave a loud blast in a shocking show of disrespect.

. . .

Afterwards, Freddie and Etienne played with the children while their grandmother retired to her boudoir and Otto smoked his cigar in the company of Mathilda, who had taken up her embroidery. The table was cleared by Rika, the maid, much hampered by Nico, whom she feared would upset her tray stacked with plates and glasses. The clock struck eight at last and Miss Frantzen came to fetch the children.

‘Ciel de mon âme!' exclaimed Frédérique from the depths of the sofa, where she was half smothered by Tina, Jo and Madeleine, and she extricated herself from their tentacular embraces. ‘I must get upstairs; Mathilda, will you come and help?'

‘Very well,' responded Mathilda, rising. ‘As for you, children, you must be off, it's bedtime!'

‘No, I won't go to bed, first I want to see Aunt Freddie looking all pretty!' Tina bleated. ‘And I want to help, too.'

‘Aunt Freddie doesn't need your help; anyway, she always looks pretty,' said Mathilda. ‘Be off with you now, and go with Miss Frantzen like good children.'

Freddie rushed away, and as Madame van Erlevoort was resting Mathilda was able for once to impose her will. She shooed her foursome up the stairs, pausing on each tread to stop Nico from hopping down again and Madeleine from playing with Hector.

‘I'll be with you in a moment, Freddie!' called Mathilda, ‘just as soon as the children are upstairs!'

Freddie shouted from her room that she was waiting, and began to brush her long, wavy hair, Cleopatra's cascading tresses . . . Mathilda was to do her hair; she was so clever at it. Then she laid out her accessories: fan, gloves, pocket handkerchief, and slipped on her dancing shoes of pale-blue satin. A nervous blush coloured her milk-white complexion as she beheld herself in the cheval-glass,
curving her lips into a smile to make the dimples appear in her cheeks. Not too bad, she thought, not too bad.

Half an hour later Mathilda appeared, accompanied by Martha, the upstairs maid who did duty as a chambermaid, and Frédérique sat down at her dressing table in her chemise and her blue dancing slippers.

‘Just as simple and pretty as last time, please, Tilly!' said Frédérique, with Martha standing at the ready with combs, curling tongs and hairpins. ‘Oh, how chilly it is in here! Martha, put something on my shoulders, will you?'

Martha draped a brightly coloured shawl about her shoulders, and before long Mathilda's deft fingers had completed her hairdo.

‘There!' she said, adjusting the curly fringe on her brow. ‘Simple, neat, and it won't sag, either. Happy now?'

Frédérique studied her reflection and touched her fingertips to the sides of her hair.

‘Yes, very,' she said. ‘And now . . . now for my floaty tulle.'

The shawl was flung aside and rapidly retrieved by Martha, who bustled about tidying the garments that lay scattered about the room. Mathilda lifted up the cloud of delicate azure and let it sink, light as a sigh, over Freddie's head.

‘It's like being a fairy, or a water nymph!' said Freddie with raised arms, while Tilly and Martha went down on their knees to fluff out the billowing skirt. La, la, la, hummed Freddie, tapping her feet.

‘Do keep still, Freddie. Martha, hand me a pin; that bow has come undone.'

‘How do I look, Martha?'

‘Ooh, lovely, Miss!'

‘Isn't it a bit bare at the side now, Tilly?'

‘Not at all, it's all ribbons and bows anyway. What more do you want? You're all aflutter. Oh for goodness sake, Freddie, do try and keep still.'

The door began to creak, as an unseen hand gently pushed it ajar.

‘What is it this time?' exclaimed Mathilda crossly when she saw Ernestine in the doorway, shivering and wraithlike in her white nightdress.

‘Please, Mama,' she said timidly yet with an undercurrent of mischief. ‘I only meant to . . .'

‘Ernestine! You'll catch your death of cold out there in your nightdress! How disobedient you are!'

‘Quick, Tina, hop into my bed, you'll be nice and warm there; mind my bodice, though!' cried Freddie, adding in a whisper: ‘Oh, Tilly, never mind.'

Tina had already clambered into Freddie's bed and proceeded to nestle down like a dove among the blankets, happily reaching out her little fingers to touch the blue satin of Frédérique's bodice, which was still lying on the pillows.

Mathilda sighed and shrugged, resigned as ever, but moved the garment out of harm's way. With a rustle of moiré skirts, Madame van Erlevoort was the next to appear in the doorway.

‘Doesn't Mama look lovely!' cried Frédérique. ‘You'll see, Tilly, I'll be the last to be ready! Oh, do hurry up!'

Mathilda laced up the back of the blue-satin bodice while Madame van Erlevoort looked on, smiling proudly at her diaphanous water nymph. Then came a light, scuffling sound from the landing, and looking round she spied Johan and Madeleine, both shivering in their nightwear.

‘This is the limit! You're driving me to despair!' Mathilda burst out; she left Frédérique standing with her bodice half-laced and flew to the door. ‘How could you be so naughty? You're making Mama very sad. You'll be ill tomorrow, all of you. Go upstairs at once, this minute!'

Her voice was so sharp that the youngsters almost began to cry, but Madame van Erlevoort came to their rescue.

‘Oh, Mathilda, do let them stay just a little while!'

‘Get into my bed, then, quick!' said Frédérique between shrieks of laughter. ‘But don't you dare touch my tulle!' she added, recoiling from the outstretched paws of the two little vandals intent on clutching the filmy fabric and pulling the ribbons.

Mathilda could see that, under the circumstances, the best place for the youngsters was in Freddie's bed; for the umpteenth time she gave up with a sigh, and resumed lacing Freddie's bodice, making the satin creak as it tightened. Johan and Madeleine snuggled down
under the quilted blanket beside Ernestine, and all three, starry-eyed, gazed up at the blue fairy.

‘Aren't you going to put any more clothes on, Auntie?' Johan wanted to know. ‘Or are you staying half-naked?'

‘Silly boy!' scoffed Ernestine, giving him such a hard push that he tumbled over Madeleine, who began to scream as Frédérique's bed became a heaving, tumultuous mass of woollen blankets, blond curls, pillows and rosy limbs.

Madame van Erlevoort and Frédérique laughed so much they almost cried, much to the annoyance of Mathilda, who was having great difficulty tying the laces properly, and Madame called out to Otto and Etienne, who were already in their overcoats descending the stairs, to come and witness the spectacle.

‘Come into bed with us, Uncle Etienne, over here!' shouted Johan, but Etienne declined the honour, saying he was dressed to go out, not to go to bed.

‘You look ravishing, Freddie!' smiled Otto.

‘As if I'm floating on a puff of air, don't you think? Puff . . . Tilly, haven't you finished with those laces yet?'

‘How can I if you won't keep still?'

Tilly was ready at last, and everyone else was, too. Madame van Erlevoort started down the stairs to the front door, where the carriage was waiting.

‘Now, children, don't all get out of bed, I will not have you running about in the cold!' cried Mathilda with authority. Meanwhile Frédérique, having charged Otto with her fan and Etienne with one of her gloves, was helped into her cloak by Martha.

‘Hurry up, Freddie, Mama's waiting downstairs,' said Otto, tapping the fan on the palm of his hand.

‘Are you sure you've got everything?' asked Mathilda.

‘I say, Freddie, where's your other glove, or will you go out wearing only one?' said Etienne, raising his voice to make himself heard over the pandemonium of the children in bed.

‘Oh, how nervous you're all making me! Look, I've got the other glove half on already! Martha, my hanky! Thanks; all ready? Good! Bye-bye my little darlings!'

‘Freddie, you've forgotten something!' cried Etienne.

‘Oh dear, what now?'

‘Your umbrella!'

‘Don't be such a tease! Mama's waiting for me, and all you can do is tease and make me late! Well, goodbye everyone, bye, Tilly, bye, darlings, yes Otto, I'm coming . . . Goodbye, Tilly, thanks for your help. Goodbye, Martha.'

‘Enjoy yourself, Miss.'

‘Have fun, Freddie, bye-bye . . .'

Freddie sallied forth, followed by Otto and Etienne. The youngsters promptly leapt out of bed.

‘Come here, children, at once!' cried Mathilda.

She threw some wraps about their shoulders: a shawl, a comforter and Freddie's raincoat, which trailed on the floor behind young Ernestine like a train.

‘And where is Miss Frantzen? She should never have allowed you to come here!' she said testily.

‘She's in the nursery with Nico, Mummy, and Nico's asleep,' said Ernestine. ‘Please, Mummy, don't be cross!'

And she held out her little arms in the flapping raincoat sleeves, wanting to fling them about her mother.

Mathilda smiled and allowed herself to be hugged.

‘Now you must all go to bed!' she said, mollified.

‘Look at the state of Miss Freddie's bed,' said Martha, shaking her head. ‘I shall have to make it up all over again, thanks to you naughty children!'

‘Nice children!' countered Madeleine.

Mathilda took the child in her arms; Ernestine and Johan followed her, tripping over their improvised dressing gowns and chortling with glee that their ruse had worked.

‘Shush now, children, or you'll wake Nico!'

Miss Frantzen, unaware of the youngsters' escapade, was quietly knitting with Hector at her feet while Nico lay sleeping in his crib, and was greatly distressed to see the excited cavalcade approaching. The little rogues, sneaking away like that, while she thought they were fast asleep in the next room!

The threesome were tucked into bed, shivering with cold and excitement, and Miss Frantzen had to caution them several times
to stop talking and go to sleep like good children.

Mathilda gazed into the cot where her little Nico lay snugly under the covers, his eyes tightly shut, his moist lips slightly parted, his flaxen curls straggling over the pillow. How angelic he looked! And the others, too – how delightful they were! A handful of course, and quite out of control, especially with their grandmother and Freddie, and yet they were a blessing! A fourfold blessing!

She bent over and touched her lips to Nico's small mouth; she felt his light, sweet breath caressing her cheek, and her tears dropped on his forehead, so white and transparent, so soft . . . her little angel!

From time to time old Madame van Raat would call on her son at Nassauplein for an evening cup of tea; she would arrive in her coupé at seven, and leave again at half-past nine.