Eline Vere (46 page)

She took the bowl of water and followed Paul into the conservatory, from which all the wedding gifts had been removed save for the blue-satin suite. Now that the lights were out the place resembled a dark, leafy arbour. Paul stood with his hands in his pockets watching Frédérique as she besprinkled the flowers with water.

‘Freddie,' he began, ‘there is something I want to ask you.'

‘Oh? What?'

‘You seem to have taken against me lately. Can you tell me why?'

‘Taken against you? Not at all. It's just that I don't feel particularly fond of you at the moment.'

‘And why not, may I ask?'

‘You'd know if you bothered to think about it,' she replied. She moved away with her bowl of water, but he clasped both her wrists.

‘Don't go off in a huff; put that bowl down and answer me properly.'

With gentle force he sat her down on a chair, and as he took the bowl from her she snatched her hands from his grasp. But she felt a moment's triumph at the imploring look on his face, and made no effort to stand up again.

‘Now will you tell me what you have against me?'

The urgency in his tone flustered her.

‘You know what my main weakness is, Paul!' she began. ‘You know I'm no good at pretending. It's true that I am a bit annoyed with you, and apparently I can't help showing it. I am sorry about that, but I assure you that I don't do it on purpose at all. I shall try harder to hide my feelings then, shall I?'

‘There's no need to be so bitter, Freddie. Why don't you just tell me what's bothering you?'

‘My dear Paul, what is there to say? I might start reproaching you, and I have no right to reproach you for anything at all.'

‘What if I gave you the right? I would rather hear your reproaches than all those snubs and cutting remarks I've been getting lately.'

‘Are you sure you want a lecture from me?' she asked, softening towards him.

‘Oh yes, please, I would love that.'

‘You see? You're joking already. I am perfectly happy to joke, but then let's talk about something else and go back inside.'

‘No, no, not yet, this is the perfect place for a private conversation, and I am absolutely serious, honestly.'

She peered into his eyes, but it was too dark in the sombre shadow of the palm fronds for her to make out their expression. Lately she had noticed an edge of sarcasm creeping into his voice, which made her uneasy, and she could hear it even now, as he pleaded with her to speak her mind.

‘Well, you're rather self-satisfied aren't you? You talk about everything in such a flippant, patronising way these days.'

‘Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Flippant, patronising – no, I was not aware that I spoke in that way. But why should I not be satisfied?'

‘Why not indeed? You lead such a useful life, don't you?'

‘Oh, I can see what you're getting at. You mean that I'm not working at Hovel's any more. Actually, I'm planning to establish myself as a lawyer.'

‘Yes I know, at least, so I've heard.'

‘Well then, doesn't that put your mind at rest?'

‘Put my mind at rest? Nonsense, Paul, there's no need for that. Oh please let's talk about something else. Far be it from me to urge you to make something of yourself. Honestly, I don't care what you do, or if you do nothing at all. Shall we adjourn to the salon?'

‘Oh please, Freddie, don't be so short with me. Georges and Lili are in the salon, spooning, as it happens, and we'd only disturb them if we went in there. I wish the two of us could be friends again, though.'

‘I didn't know we were enemies.'

‘We're not, but I can't say a thing without you taking it amiss. And the fact that I'm not working at the moment can't be the only reason why you're so cool towards me. Go on, out with it, what else is there?'

She felt somewhat embarrassed, but tried not to show it.

‘As I told you before,' she said, ‘what bothers me sometimes is your flippancy, and your patronising tone. You can sound awfully arrogant, you know. Like the other day, when you were talking about Georges and Lili.'

‘You mean because I thought it absurd – and I still do – that they should want to live together while they're as poor as church mice? It's entirely up to them what they do, of course, but why should it be arrogant to say what I think?'

‘Because not everyone is a millionaire, Paul.'

He looked at her intently.

‘I don't know what you mean.'

‘It's hardly difficult to understand, surely!' she retorted with a short laugh.

‘You're not saying I'm arrogant about not being penniless myself, are you?'

‘Well, yes I am, in a way.'

‘Oh come now, don't be silly!'

‘Well, you do seem to be throwing your money around. You have a circle of friends, I gather, who take advantage of your purse, and you hold orgies with them at home, too, making it impossible for your poor mama to get any sleep.'

‘Who told you that?'

‘You seem to forget that I have a brother who's in the same set as you. And that your mama sometimes needs to let off steam.'

‘Oh, I'm planning to move out in any case. I'll find a place of my own. It's hard being young and having to adjust to a so-called orderly household. Actually, I've seen an apartment that looks suitable, so Mama needn't be kept awake by my orgies any longer.'

‘An apartment? Well, if I were you I'd take an entire hotel, with plenty of rooms for all your penniless friends.'

‘I wish you'd stop harping on my penniless friends! Who do you mean, anyway? Hijdrecht isn't penniless, nor is Oudendijk!'

‘Those two are the only decent chaps in your set.'

‘You haven't met the others, Frédérique.'

‘No, thank goodness I haven't!'

‘So what do you know of them? How can you judge them if you don't even know them?'

‘What I do know is that they are parasites, only after your money.'

‘Oh, is that what you think? I expect Etienne happened to mention that there's someone I used to help out now and then. Etienne ought to know better than to tell tales about his friends. It's perfectly normal for young men to lend each other small sums of money when they need it. He doesn't know what he's talking about.'

‘If you say so. Let's drop the subject then, shall we?'

There were sounds in the salon, and the gas light was turned up. Frédérique rose.

‘So we have not made peace, then?' asked Paul, likewise rising.

‘We were not at war, Paul,' responded Frédérique. ‘You said you wanted to talk with me, and you have. If I have offended you in any way, please just forget we ever had this conversation. As I said, I have no right to reproach you, and I wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't asked. You're old enough to make your own decisions. What would I know about anything, anyway? You don't need any advice from a young girl, I'm sure.'

She went into the salon, where Georges and Lili had been joined by Madame Verstraeten and Marie. Just then Dien came in with the tea tray, and Lili asked Frédérique what had kept her.

‘Paul and I were in the conservatory, waiting for teatime. I'm dying for a cup,' replied Freddie.

Paul, however, took his leave. He would seek out Etienne and his friends after all, he said with a defiant edge to his voice.

‘Until tomorrow, then. Goodbye, everyone! Goodbye, Freddie!'

‘Goodbye, Paul, I hope you enjoy yourself. Till tomorrow,' Freddie replied coolly, her fingers barely touching his outstretched hand.

. . .

Feeling not a bit pleased with himself, Paul made his way along Prinsessegracht. He tried hard to shake off his unease, initially without success, for it had cast a grey shroud over his usually carefree attitude, and the more he struggled to free himself from its hampering folds the more constricted he became. There was no reason why he should be so bothered by Frédérique's disapproval: after all, she was just a girl who happened to have heard some gossip about what he got up to with his friends and who had got quite carried away, imagining him to be leading a life of romantic dissolution, complete with rivers of champagne, showers of gold coins and ladies with beckoning arms. What had Frédérique's criticism amounted to, really? That he was not at present gainfully employed? What was wrong with enjoying life if he could afford it? And what was the use of looking for a position which he did not need, and which, if taken by him, meant denying some poor chap the opportunity of earning his living? That would be rather unfair, wouldn't it? He for his part would be glad to work in congenial surroundings, but interesting positions were few and far between, and so Frédérique should by rights be commending him for his unselfishness instead of lecturing him about his bad behaviour. As for his so-called penniless friends, Frédérique had quite rightly observed that not everybody was a millionaire, so she could hardly expect him to consort exclusively with nabobs! What was wrong with helping
one's friends when they were in need, if all it took was a visit to his banker? But what a blabbermouth Etienne was when it came to matters which one did not discuss with ladies or relatives! He badly needed telling off for his indiscretion, the young blackguard! Little did Frédérique know that Etienne himself was no better: for ever asking him for small sums of money, and sometimes quite large ones, too.

Squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, he went on his way in the gathering dusk. A devil-may-care glint came into his eyes. What a burden it was to be rich, he thought to himself, chuckling under his breath. It was too bad the way one was under pressure from some to spend freely and from others to keep a tight rein on one's purse. Still, it made for a certain popularity, especially among ladies with daughters of marriageable age, such as Madame Eekhof, who seemed determined to pair him off with Ange or Léonie, and Madame Oudendijk, who invited him at least once a week and then left him alone with Françoise for hours on end, and now that Cateau was coming of age Madame van der Stoor had likewise taken to fawning on him. So many mamas with so many daughters to be married off – he saw them file past in his mind's eye, a procession of matrons all wreathed in smiles, presenting to him their appropriately blushing daughters as though he were a Pasha with a mind to forming a harem. He had only to put out his hand and he would have ten comely fortune-hunters clinging to each finger. Oh, the burden of being rich!

He turned into the Korte Voorhout, feeling much better for the entertaining vision of eager matrons vying with each other to extol their wares. He would have none of it, of course; he had no intention of giving up his freedom for a long time yet. Supposing he were poor, though, how many of those pretty young things would still want him? Françoise would, he thought, because she was always making eyes at him as if she were truly smitten. Then there were Ange and Léonie with their trim little figures, who kept hovering around him wanting to play catch-me-if-you-can: had he gone after them they would certainly have swooned away in his arms. And then there was Cateau, the youngest of them all and the only one to put on airs with him.

While he was thus reviewing all their charms with affectionate derision, his thoughts drifted to Frédérique, who appeared to him as a lone princess towering above the ranks of mere odalisques. For her he felt no derision, nor was she attended by a matron offering her for sale. She stood alone, regarding him with calm self-assurance; she would not have fallen into his arms or knelt at his feet like the others. For her he felt respect.

‘At least I didn't leave her cold, or she would not have been annoyed with me,' he mused as he went past the theatre and turned into Houtstraat. ‘It's all very well her saying that she doesn't care what I do or don't do, whether I live in this way or that, but if it really made no difference to her then why was she so cool towards me? Why did she bother to tell me what she thought? Ah well, we have known each other for such a long time, so I suppose it's hardly surprising that she should take an interest. And she obviously hears an awful lot of bad things about me from Mama and Aunt and the cousins. She's a sweet, sensible girl, and I like her very much indeed.'

He almost felt flattered that such a sweet and sensible girl should have taken it upon herself to voice her criticism of him, and he looked forward to a reprise of their tête-à-tête beneath the overhanging palm fronds in the conservatory.

‘Of course, she's quite young, and so she knows nothing about the world apart from what she reads in novels, probably bad ones at that, but what she said about those parasites being after my money was rather clever. She's bound to have read that somewhere! She sounded just like a professor! Little Miss Know-it-all . . . I think I'll call her “professor” from now on.'

He began to laugh inwardly once more, but for all that he was tickled by what he saw as Frédérique's pompousness, in his fancy she remained on her pedestal, aloof from the other girls who were being pressed into his arms by their eager mammas.

As he approached the Witte club where he would join his friends, he could not help thinking again, with secret relish, oh, what a burden it was to be rich!

. . .

The dance party at the Verstraetens' the following evening was very animated. As only friends and relations had been invited, the atmosphere had the relaxed familiarity of a family gathering, notwithstanding the lavish decorations and the formality of the young people's dress: floaty evening gowns for the ladies and white tie and tails for the men. Most of the guests knew each other quite intimately, and so it was that both young and old indulged in lighthearted chitchat and sparkling repartee.

Paul's late arrival meant that he was too late for the polonaise and the polka, and when he greeted the bride with a stiff little bow, she responded by berating him.