Little Girl Lost (7 page)

‘Of course,' he murmured. ‘Do not hesitate. I can be here within a day.'

‘You have been a good friend,' she said. ‘To both of us. It is appreciated; you have gone beyond the bond of friendship.'

He shook his head. ‘I have done nothing. I wish that I could have done more.' He kissed her on both cheeks and then, without thinking, he put his arms around her. For a moment only, he held her close. He felt her take a sudden breath before he released her.

‘I beg your pardon,' he began, but she gave a tremulous smile.

‘It is best not to be too kind to me, Frederik, or my questionable resolve to be strong will weaken,' she whispered.

As the carriage bowled along the road to Amsterdam, he mused on the week just past. He'd felt like one of the family as they had sat and chatted after supper. Cornelia had found him a pair of slippers and a woollen jacket belonging to Nicolaas so that he could be more comfortable than dressed in his formal coat, and after Nicolaas had gone to bed she had taken off her white cap as she talked and unplaited her braids, running her fingers through her thick hair without a thought for the impropriety of such conduct in front of a man who wasn't her husband. He had never seen Rosamund with her hair undressed except in bed, and more often than not she wore a bed cap. There was something, he reflected, quite pleasurable about such long, soft and luxurious tresses. With the undulating waves falling around her shoulders, Cornelia was not the usual image of a Dutch woman one might see in a painting, calm and peaceful, her passions and emotions controlled in much the same way as her hair was confined beneath a cap.

Lost in his musings, he barely noticed the familiar landscape of rich green fields interspersed with dykes and ditches and only vaguely glanced at the polder mills in the distance as their sails turned and the pumps drained the land. It was all so familiar and well loved, and although it seemed not to have changed since he was a boy he was aware that there was constant renewal as engineers worked to keep the low-lying land safe from the invading sea.

Making a quick decision, he asked the driver to take him to his mother's house. After the time he had spent with Nicolaas and Cornelia, his conscience told him that he didn't see enough of his family, and that business could wait.

She was delighted to see him even though she was entertaining guests. He greeted them all, then drew his mother aside to tell her that this was a fleeting visit only and he would come again next time he was over. ‘I didn't want to leave Amsterdam without seeing you,' he said. ‘But you know how it is when business calls.'

‘Of course I do. Your father was just the same, but you must make time for friends and family as well. They are important too.'

He told her about Nicolaas, whom she remembered well. She clasped her hands together and murmured ‘
God zegene hem
', then patted her son's arm. ‘Go, then. Next time I'll ask your sister to come too.'

He travelled back to England on the evening tide and the following morning strode home the short distance from the dock. He ran up the steps, rang the doorbell and let himself in with his key just as Florrie came hurrying to the door, pushing her hair beneath her cap. He smiled, remembering Cornelia's long tresses.

‘Oh, sir,' she said. ‘You startled me. Mrs Vandergroene is still abed. I've taken her breakfast.'

‘And Margriet?'

‘She's up and dressed, sir, and having her gruel. Shall I tell her you're here?'

‘No. I'll go up and surprise her, but perhaps you will tell my wife I'm home. She won't like a surprise,' he added jokingly.

‘No, sir, mebbe not.' Florrie dipped her knee and ran up the stairs in front of him.

Frederik continued up the staircase to the top floor and was about to knock on Margriet's door when he heard voices. He paused. Who was in there with her? Miss Ripley? But she didn't usually come so early, and Florrie would surely have mentioned her. He put his ear to the door and listened. Margriet was saying, ‘What I think we should do, Anneliese, the next time we visit the garden, is to say quite emphatically' – she pronounced the word firmly – ‘that we would like a little dog of our own to play with.'

Another voice replied, a child's voice but shriller than Margriet's. ‘Oh, but Margriet, we must ask
emphatically
for two little dogs so that we can have one each.'

Frederik frowned. Who was that? He tapped softly on the door and slowly opened it. Margriet was sitting at her table with her back to him, a dish of gruel in front of her, but there was no one else in the room. She hadn't heard him come in, so he slowly backed out again, knocked briskly and entered once more.

Margriet jumped, startled, but on seeing her father pushed back her chair and ran into his arms.

‘Hello,
lieveling
.' He kissed her cheek. ‘Are you pleased to see your papa?'

‘Oh, yes!' she said. ‘You've been gone such a long time.'

‘Not really,' he said. ‘Only a week.'

‘It seems much longer,' she pouted. ‘Miss Ripley has been sick and hasn't been for our lessons, so I haven't had much to do and the days were very long, even though Mama set me some work to do.'

‘Did she? Was it interesting?'

Margriet sighed. ‘Not really.'

‘When I came upstairs,' Frederik said casually, ‘I thought I heard you talking to someone.'

Margriet's mouth opened and then closed. ‘Oh?'

‘Yes. I thought that perhaps you had a friend here.'

She looked at him, her eyes wide, and then she licked her lips. ‘N-no.'

He made a pretence of looking round the room and under the table and then raised his eyebrows. ‘She's disappeared! I must have frightened her away.'

She gave a nervous laugh, as if unsure how he was going to react, which bothered him. He wanted her to know that she could always confide in him.

‘I was thinking whilst I was away,' he remarked, and sat down in the other chair at the table. He noticed that she watched him carefully, as if trying to anticipate what he was going to say. ‘I was thinking about you being taught on your own, without any other children to exchange ideas with.' He thought she seemed to relax, although her eyes remained alert. ‘And I wondered if you'd like to go to school,' he continued. ‘The children in Gouda I told you about go to a local school, and I understand they enjoy it. What do you think? I haven't discussed it with your mama yet, but I'm sure we could find a good school in Hull.'

Her face brightened. ‘Oh, yes please, Papa. I would. I really would like that. When? When could I start?'

‘Perhaps next term. We must find somewhere suitable first and make sure there's a place for you.' He got to his feet. ‘I'll speak to Mama later and ask her opinion.'

‘Will she mind, do you think?' she asked anxiously. ‘She likes me to be at home.'

He patted her head. ‘I'll persuade her.' He smiled conspiratorially. ‘I know how.'

Closing the door behind him, he stood for a moment, pondering, and then heard Margriet saying eagerly, ‘What do you think about that, Anneliese? Won't that be such splendid fun?'

And then the other piping voice, but undoubtedly Margriet's own, saying, ‘But will I be able to come with you, Margriet? It won't be fair if you leave me behind.'

‘I won't do that,' Margriet replied. ‘Not ever. You are my very best friend.'

Rosamund was dubious. ‘She might pick up bad habits at a dame school,' she complained. ‘She will not be taught to be a lady.'

‘Perhaps not,' he said. ‘But you are able to teach her those attributes. I'm more concerned that she's always alone and doesn't know any other children. She needs to be integrated with others.' He didn't tell Rosamund what he had overheard. He knew she would be concerned and would probably question Margriet about it.

But he told her about the Jansen children, and about Nicolaas. She was horrified. ‘But he is still young, is he not? Much too young to die. Your age, if you were at school together. That is so sad, so difficult to comprehend.' He was heartened by her sympathy for his friend, although musing that it was unusual. ‘And his wife,' she continued in the same dismayed and apprehensive tone. ‘How ever will she manage without her husband's support? Is she young enough to marry again? Can she go back home to live with her parents?'

‘Her parents?' He frowned. ‘Why would she do that? She's not a young girl; she has a home and children to take care of. Nicolaas will have made provision for her and the children, but she will have to make a new life without him.'

‘But how can she?' Rosamund said. ‘Who will make decisions for her?'

He shook his head in bemusement. ‘Women can make their own decisions,' he said. ‘You make decisions. You will decide whether or not Margriet should attend dame school.'

‘But I might choose the wrong school,' she floundered. ‘And besides, I meant on important matters. I can make rules for Margriet and attend to the servants, but affairs of significance are left to you.'

She didn't say what affairs of significance she was referring to and he thought she meant money matters. She was clearly agitated, and he wondered if she had awoken to the possibility that she too might be left a young widow. It was plain, he considered ruefully, that she wouldn't stay widowed for long but would look for a husband to take his place. Although he was mildly amused, he reminded himself that he still hadn't been to see Hugh Webster and must do so immediately, for if such an unlikely event did occur Rosamund would be a very rich widow indeed.

He made enquiries about dame schools, for he knew that Rosamund wouldn't, and came up with several quite close to home. He asked some of his associates if they knew anything about them, but it seemed their wives attended to the schooling of their daughters; sons, of course, went away to their father's choice of school. But one day as he was crossing Market Place he saw Hendrik Sanderson, a businessman whose mother was Dutch, taking his leave of a man in cap and gown outside the grammar school.

‘Good day to you, Sanderson,' he called out as he caught up with him. ‘How nice to see you.'

Sanderson greeted him warmly; he had gained much by helpful conversation with Vandergroene in the past. They chatted about this and that until Sanderson said, ‘I must tell you – I'm so delighted. The headmaster of the grammar school – my old school – has just told me that my son has gained a place there.'

‘Excellent,' Frederik exclaimed. ‘A very prestigious school, I understand.'

‘Indeed yes; so many illustrious past pupils. It was an honour for me to receive my schooling there and I'm thrilled that my son will do so too.'

‘Do you have daughters?' Frederik asked. Here was a man who had given thought to his son's education and hadn't just sent him away to boarding school because that was the thing to do.

‘Yes.' Sanderson's face lit up with pride. ‘I have two intelligent, beautiful daughters. Imogen is ten and Julia is eight.' He pointed down North Church Side. ‘They attend the dame school with George, just along here. Excellent headmistress; I can't recommend her enough.'

‘Oh, tell me more!' Frederik exclaimed. ‘I'm looking for such a school for my own daughter.' He hesitated. ‘Does your wife approve?'

‘Oh, indeed. She's a very forward-thinking woman, believes in girls having the same opportunities as boys.' He grimaced. ‘She's in the minority, I fear, and will have to wait a long time to see her ideas come to fruition, if they ever do.'

‘Well, perhaps for our daughters?' Frederik suggested.

‘I'm a realist, Vandergroene.' Sanderson shrugged and shook his head. ‘Not even for them, but it's a start, isn't it? We must do what we can.'

Frederik was so uplifted by the conversation that he went immediately to the school to see the headmistress, Miss Dorothy Barker, who requested that he bring his wife and daughter to talk to her.

‘I have only a small school, Mr Vandergroene,' she explained, ‘and I must be sure that my pupils will not only integrate well, but also be willing to learn.'

‘Excellent.' He rubbed his hands together. ‘Margriet is six and can already read and write well.' He thought how wonderful it would be that she would have at least six more years of education to improve her mind and vocabulary as well as her knowledge.

He couldn't wait to get home and tell Rosamund and Margriet. Rosamund was still unsure about the prospect. ‘Can you be certain that Miss Barker has the proper credentials to be in charge of children? Will she insist on good manners and correct behaviour? We don't want Margriet to become lax in matters of decorum.'

Frederik sighed. ‘She won't. But you can judge for yourself when we take her to see Miss Barker.'

‘But surely I don't have to come with you? Not when you have already met Miss Barker?'

‘You do,' he insisted. ‘If you want to be sure that Miss Barker comes up to your exacting standards, of course you do.'

Rosamund was shirking her responsibility, he thought as he climbed the stairs to Margriet's room; it was clear that she didn't want to be pressed into giving her opinion. Regretfully, Frederik concluded that she probably didn't have an opinion to give.

Margriet, on the other hand, was overjoyed. ‘Will there be other little girls there, Papa? Will I be able to play with them?' Her expression became cautious for a moment, as if she was thinking of something else.

‘You will be there to learn, Margriet, but I dare say there will be a chance to play too.'

‘And who will take me?' she said. ‘Will Mama? Oh, but then she would have to walk home alone and she can't do that.' Her face clouded for a moment, and then cleared. ‘Florrie will take me, I expect. She doesn't mind walking by herself; she's quite used to it.'