Little Girl Lost (2 page)

‘Yes,' Frederik continued after Margriet had left the room, ‘Nicolaas didn't look at all well. I'm quite concerned about him. He's very sallow, and doesn't have much appetite even though the meal was delicious.'

Rosamund wore a resigned expression. ‘Herring?'

Frederik laughed. ‘Of course herring. And pea and ham soup, sauerkraut and waffles – not together, of course! Cornelia had arranged a buffet with many different dishes. And then there was apple cake and rye bread, and you know how I love my bread.' He stood up. ‘I must go back to the office. There's huge potential for business. Why don't you come with me next time I go over? I shall be visiting Amsterdam: you could go shopping. We could take Margriet.'

‘I have things to do,' she said coolly. ‘I'm on several committees, and besides, you know I don't like to sail. I get very claustrophobic as well as seasick.'

‘But the weather is calm now. I wouldn't ask you to come in winter as it can get very cold and the sea is rough, but it's lovely at the moment and the tulips are in flower; they are such a wonderful sight.'

‘Well, I'll see,' she said, and he turned away, knowing that she wouldn't come.

Margriet ate her supper at a small table in the nursery schoolroom on the top floor of the house. She hated it to be called the nursery, for that implied that she was still a baby. The room was the schoolroom during the day and she sat at the table with Miss Ripley opposite her. After she had finished her lessons and Miss Ripley had gone home, Florrie came up to move the table and chair nearer the fire to make it into a nursery again. A fire-guard was placed in the hearth so that there was no fear of Margriet's burning herself. An interconnecting door led into her bedroom, and apart from the twice-daily visits downstairs to see her parents, once after breakfast and once before bedtime, and being taken for a walk on a fine day, this was where she spent most of her life.

Margriet was convinced that her father would have allowed her downstairs more often had he not spent his days at his office near the estuary, but in practice her mother was in total control of her daughter's well-being, which encompassed the type of book she should read, the food she should eat, her religious instruction, her piano lessons and her health, which meant not going out if the weather was wet or cold in case of catching a chill, or if it was too hot in case of becoming overheated. All of these things Mrs Vandergroene had been taught by her own mother, and so must be right and proper.

Her father was much more lenient. Margriet knew that the daughters of her mother's friends rarely saw their fathers, and when they did it was only when they came downstairs in their dressing gowns before bedtime, and put up their clean and shiny little faces to receive a peck on the cheek. They were certainly not read to by their papas as Margriet was; whenever he was at home her father would sit in an easy chair by her bed and read her a story he had loved when he was a child. He had once quite memorably sat beside her on the bed and she had snuggled beneath his arm to follow the words in one of her favourite books, and both had fallen asleep halfway through it. When Florrie had come up to tuck Margriet in she had had to shake his arm gently and tell him that the supper bell had been rung.

This evening he arrived home early, but not early enough for Margriet to join them for supper; that would have been a rare treat indeed and not an indulgence she expected. Her mother considered that her father spoiled her, and her behaviour today, running down the stairs to greet him, had been quite reprehensible, despite Frederik's pleasure at receiving, as he called it, such a joyous welcome home.

Frederik didn't understand, Rosamund thought. When Miss Ripley had taught her pupil to the best of her ability she would leave, and it would become Rosamund's task to teach their daughter to be an obedient, well-mannered young woman who knew her place in society. Rosamund alone must teach her the important things in life, such as running a household, in preparation for when she married and had her own establishment. She must teach her to respond intelligently to conversation but not to give an opinion lest she be thought forward, a failing which would reflect back upon her mother and not on her indulgent father.

Rosamund's friends constantly reminded her of how lucky she was to have such a tolerant husband, to be married to a man who didn't spend every night at home. She could be invited out to dine or to make up a card party whilst he was away, knowing that Frederik wouldn't object as some husbands might. But what they didn't understand was that Frederik expected her to be interested in what he was doing, and even worse to discuss business or current affairs with him, when she had no interest in either.

When Margriet came downstairs to say goodnight, her father beamed at her. ‘Tomorrow I am taking a day's holiday,' he announced, turning to his wife. ‘I thought we could take a walk about town and see what's happening – buildings being pulled down and others going up. Margriet can see the ships in the dock and then perhaps we could walk down to the Corporation Pier and look at the Humber.'

Margriet's face lit up, but Rosamund's lips turned down. ‘It's very breezy down there,' she said. ‘We might catch a chill.'

‘Nonsense,' Frederik said briskly. ‘You can take a warm shawl, and the weather is fine. It will do us good to walk. It will blow the cobwebs away.'

‘I wish we could go for a ride on the ferry,' Margriet said. ‘Could we, Papa?'

Frederik glanced at Rosamund. ‘Well, perhaps another day. Mama doesn't like going on the water. You know that she has never been to my country, or even to Lincolnshire.'

‘Poor Mama,' Margriet said.

‘I'm so sorry that I can't, Frederik,' Rosamund murmured. ‘And I regret only meeting your parents on our wedding day.'

‘Yes.' He lowered his eyes. It was remiss of him too not to have taken Margriet to his homeland before his father died a year ago. His parents had never met their granddaughter, but he hoped that when his mother was out of mourning perhaps she would come back with him after one of his visits.

‘Come, give Mama a kiss goodnight.' Rosamund held out her hand to Margriet. ‘Sleep well.'

‘Goodnight, Mama,' Margriet said dutifully and offered her cheek, glancing at her father. He nodded.

‘I'll be up in five minutes,' he told her, ‘and we'll have a story.'

‘A short one,' Rosamund reminded him. ‘Supper will be almost ready.'

‘Yes,' he said irritably, bending to give Margriet a kiss. ‘I know.'

After Margriet had gone up, he said, rather testily, which was unlike him, ‘Please do not begrudge the child an extra ten minutes of my time, Rosamund. She must get lonely with only the company of servants, for she has little of yours!'

‘I don't understand what you mean, Frederik,' she said primly, which didn't delude him in the least. She knew very well what he meant and how irritated he was that she spent so little time with their daughter. ‘I cannot indulge or cosset her in the way that you do or she will grow up to be outspoken and unconventional, which will ruin her chances of making a suitable marriage.'

He said nothing more. Rosamund was inflexible, entrenched in traditional rules of what women should and shouldn't do. For eight years he had offered her the opportunity to speak her mind and enjoy the equality and companionship of a good marriage, and she had chosen not to accept. Well, he would not in future pander to her; she could go to the devil, he thought resentfully. In a few more years, when Margriet was old enough to travel with a maid, he would take her to visit his mother and siblings and show her what family life could be like.

After giving Margriet time to get into bed, he went upstairs and pulled an easy chair closer to her bedside. ‘Your mama thinks it too cold to walk out tomorrow.' He saw her expression close up. ‘But you and I will still go.' He smiled at her obvious delight. ‘You can ask Florrie to give you a warm scarf to wear with your coat in case you need it, though I don't think you will. It's May, after all, and quite warm.'

Margriet nodded. ‘I'd like to wear my grey bonnet, because Florrie has put a new blue ribbon on it. She said it needed prettying up and that blue would match my eyes. It's not as pretty as Mama's new hat with the flowers and feathers, but I'll have to wait until I'm grown up to wear one of those.'

‘I'm sure your bonnet will look lovely,' he said, ‘and so will you. Now, what shall we read tonight?'

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I'm a little tired of the ones we always read. You can choose, Papa.'

‘Well, I was thinking that maybe I'll tell you something about history, about the old days, or perhaps Miss Ripley does that?'

She nodded and sighed. ‘She tells me about kings and queens, but it's a bit boring because all she wants me to learn are the dates when they were on the throne.'

‘Mmm. And has Miss Ripley told you about our young queen, or of the time when King Henry had a palace in Hull?'

Margriet considered. ‘I know when Victoria came to the throne. It was in June 1837, after her uncle William died. I don't remember it because I was only a baby, but I think I remember seeing all the flags in the streets when she married Prince Albert and we went to parties to celebrate, didn't we, Papa?' Her eyes widened. ‘But Miss Ripley never said that King Henry came to live in Hull. Where is his palace? Can we go and see it?'

Frederik smiled. ‘I'm not sure if he ever lived in Hull, but monarchs had houses and palaces all over the country, so that they could stay in them if they were visiting the area.'

‘Could they not have stayed with friends?' she asked. ‘I'm sure people would have loved to have them visit. Mama would be very pleased to have the queen here to stay if ever she came to Hull, and her friends would be very jealous, but …' She frowned and contemplated. ‘I'm not sure which bedroom she would have. I wouldn't mind if she had mine, but of course she would bring lots of servants, so perhaps we wouldn't have room – maybe that's why they have their own palaces to stay in.'

‘I think you have worked that out very well, Margriet. So where do you think she would stay if she did come to Hull?'

Margriet shook her head. ‘I don't know. I don't think there is anywhere that would be suitable. Perhaps someone should build a palace for her, just in case.'

He saw that she was getting sleepy, so he tucked her blankets around her. ‘I think that tomorrow we'll look at all the buildings and think about where she might like to stay, and about what went before.' He smiled. ‘Do you know the name of the street that was here before Parliament Street?'

‘No,' she murmured, her eyelids drooping. ‘It's always been called Parliament Street.'

‘It was called Mug-House Entry!'

‘Oh, Papa,' she chided sleepily. ‘You are joking of me!'

He kissed the top of her head. ‘No,' he said softly. ‘I am not joking of you. Sleep well,
mijn lieveling.
And tomorrow we will go and look for King Henry's palace.'

The following morning was bright and sunny. Margriet had an early breakfast and was dressed and ready for their walk when her mother came into her bedroom.

‘Why do you have your coat on, Margriet? Where are you going?'

Margriet licked her lips. ‘For a walk, Mama. Don't you remember?'

‘Don't be impertinent,' her mother admonished her. ‘Of course I remember, but I don't recall that we agreed that you should miss your lessons with Miss Ripley. You must do at least an hour's work before you go out.'

Margriet's mouth trembled. ‘I'm so sorry, Mama,' she mumbled. ‘I – I didn't realize – I thought Papa meant after breakfast.' She began to unbutton her coat and take off her bonnet. She looked up at her mother. ‘Will you be coming too?'

‘Of course I will. Why not?'

Margriet managed a smile, though she would rather have had just her father's company. ‘Oh, good,' she murmured. ‘That will be very nice. We're going to look for King Henry's palace.'

‘What?' Her mother frowned. ‘A palace?'

‘Papa said. He said that King Henry had a palace in Hull.'

‘Your father fills your head with stuff and nonsense. I have never heard of such a thing and I have lived here all my life. Miss Ripley!' Rosamund called as she heard the governess come into the adjoining schoolroom. ‘Have you ever heard of a king's palace in Hull?'

Miss Ripley patted her mouth. ‘Erm, I vaguely recall something,' she offered hesitantly, not knowing whether yes or no would please her pupil's mother.

‘Well, have you or haven't you?'

‘It's possible,' she said. ‘I believe King Henry commandeered a manor house in medieval times. It – erm – isn't here now.'

‘So there you are, Margriet. What did I say? Miss Ripley,' Rosamund continued, ‘Mr Vandergroene wishes to take Margriet out this morning, but first she must have an hour's lesson. You may then take the rest of the morning off, but I will expect you to make up the lost time on another day.'

Miss Ripley dipped her knee. ‘Of course, ma'am,' she said. ‘Thank you. Well,' she said to Margriet, ‘we'd better get started and then you can go off and enjoy the sunshine.'

‘I expect there's a chill wind, isn't there?' Rosamund asked.

‘Oh, no, ma'am,' Miss Ripley smiled, unable to believe her luck at being given the morning off on such a lovely day. ‘It's warm and sunny. Just perfect for a walk.'

Rosamund left the room and met Frederik coming up the stairs. ‘Miss Ripley has arrived,' she told him. ‘She's going to give Margriet an hour's lesson before we go out.'

‘Oh, is she?' He seemed astonished. ‘I would have thought she would have jumped at the chance of having a day off. Well, I suppose I could have another cup of coffee whilst we wait.'