with her; she had been a fool to imagine that he would do so. Good manners had obliged him to do so yesterday, since it had been her first evening there, but it wasn’t as if she was an interesting person to be with. Her mother had pointed out kindly and rather too frequently that she lacked wit and sparkle, and that since she wasn’t a clever girl, able to converse upon interesting subjects, then she must be content to be a good listener.
Araminta had taken this advice in good part, knowing that her mother was unaware that she was trampling on her daughter’s feelings. Araminta made allowances for her, though; people with brilliant brains were quite often careless of other people’s feelings. And it was all quite true. She knew herself to be just what her mother had so succinctly described. And she had taught herself to be a good listener…
She might have had to dine alone, but Bas treated her as though she was an honoured guest and the food was delicious.
‘I will put coffee in the drawing room, miss,’ said Bas, so she went and sat there, with Humphrey for comfort and companionship, and presently wandered about the room, looking at the portraits on its walls and the silver and china displayed in the cabinet. It was still early—too early to go to bed. She slipped upstairs to make sure that the boys were sleeping and then went back to the drawing room and leafed through the magazines on the sofa table. But she put those down after a few minutes and curled up on one of the sofas and allowed her thoughts to wander.
The day had, on the whole, gone well. The boys liked her and she liked them, the house was beautiful and her room lacked nothing in the way of comfort. Bas and Jet were kindness itself, and Utrecht was undoubtedly a most interesting city. There was one niggling doubt: despite his concern for her comfort and civil manner towards her, she had the uneasy feeling that the doctor didn’t like her. And, of course, she had made it worse, answering him back. She must keep a civil tongue in her head and remember that she was there to look after the boys. He was paying her for that, wasn’t he?
‘And don’t forget that, my girl,’ said Araminta in a voice loud enough to rouse Humphrey from his snooze.
She went off to bed then, after going to the kitchen to wish Bas and Jet goodnight, suddenly anxious not to be downstairs when the doctor came home.
He wasn’t at breakfast the next morning; Bas told them that he had gone early to Amsterdam but hoped to be back in the late afternoon. The boys were disappointed and so, to her surprise, was Araminta.
He was home when they got back from their afternoon walk. The day had gone well and the boys were bursting to tell him about it, so Araminta took their caps and coats from them in the hall, made sure that they had wiped their shoes, washed their hands and combed their hair, and told them to go and find their uncle.
‘You’ll come, too? It’s almost time for tea, Mintie.’ Paul sounded anxious.
‘I’ll come presently, love. I’ll take everything upstairs first.’
She didn’t hurry downstairs. There was still ten minutes or so before Bas would take in the tea tray. She would go then, stay while the boys had their tea and then leave them with their uncle if he wished. In that way she would need only to hold the briefest of conversations with him. The thought of dining with him later bothered her, so she began to list some suitable subjects about which she could talk…
She arrived in the drawing room as Bas came with the tea things, and the doctor’s casual, ‘Good afternoon, Miss Pomfrey. You have had a most interesting walk, so the boys tell me,’ was the cue for her to enlarge upon that. But after a moment or so she realised that she was boring him.
‘The boys will have told you all this already,’ she observed in her matter-of-fact way. She gave the boys their milk and handed him a cup of tea. ‘I hope you had a good day yourself, doctor?’
He looked surprised. ‘Yes—yes, I did. I’ll keep the boys with me until their bedtime, if you would fetch them at half past six?’
There was really no need to worry about conversation; the boys had a great deal to say to their uncle, often lapsing into Dutch, and once tea was finished, she slipped away with a quiet, ‘I’ll be back presently.’
She put everything ready for the boys’ bedtime and then went quietly downstairs and out of the kitchen door into the garden. Jet, busy preparing dinner, smiled and nodded as she crossed the kitchen, and Araminta smiled and nodded back. There was really no need to talk, she reflected, they understood each other very well—moreover, they liked each other.
The garden was beautifully kept, full of sweet-smelling shrubs and flowers, and at its end there was a wooden seat against a brick wall, almost hidden by climbing plants. The leaves were already turning and the last of the evening sun was turning them to bronze. It was very quiet, and she sat idly, a small, lonely figure.
The doctor, looking up from the jigsaw puzzle he was working on with the boys, glanced idly out of the window and saw her sitting there. At that distance she appeared forlorn, and he wondered if she was unhappy and then dismissed the idea. Miss Pomfrey was a sensible, matter-of-fact girl with rather too sharp a tongue at times; she had her future nicely mapped out, and no doubt, in due course, she would make a success of her profession.
He doubted if she would marry, for she made no attempt to make herself attractive; her clothes were good, but dowdy, and her hairstyle by no means flattering. She had pretty hair too, he remembered, and there was a great deal of it. Sitting there last night in her cotton nightie she had been Mintie, and not Miss Pomfrey, but she wouldn’t thank him for reminding her of that.
The boys took his attention again and he forget her.
The boys in bed, Araminta went to her room and got into the blue crêpe. A nicely judged ten minutes before dinner would be served, she went downstairs. She could see Bas putting the finishing touches to the table through the half-open dining room door as she opened the door into the drawing room. The few minutes before he announced dinner could be nicely filled with a few remarks about the boys and their day…
The doctor wasn’t alone. The woman sitting opposite him was beautiful—quite the most beautiful Araminta had ever seen; she had golden hair, a straight nose, a curving mouth and large eyes. Araminta had no doubt that they were blue. She was wearing a silk trouser suit—black—and gold jewellery, and she was laughing at something the doctor had said.
Araminta took a step backwards. ‘So sorry, I didn’t know that you had a guest…’
The doctor got to his feet. ‘Ah, Miss Pomfrey, don’t go. Come and meet Mevrouw Lutyns.’ And, as she crossed the room, ‘Christina, this is Miss Pomfrey, who is in charge of the boys while Lucy and Jack are away.’
Mevrouw Lutyns smiled charmingly, shook hands and Araminta felt her regarding her with cold blue eyes. ‘Ah, yes, the nanny. I hope you will find Utrecht interesting during your short stay here.’
Her English was almost perfect, but then she herself was almost perfect, reflected Araminta, at least to look at.
‘I’m sure I shall, Mevrouw.’ She looked at the doctor, gave a little nod and the smallest of smiles and went to the door.
‘Don’t go, Miss Pomfrey, you must have a drink… I shall be out this evening, by the way, but I’ll leave you in Bas’s good hands.’
‘I came down to tell you that the boys were in bed, Doctor. I’ll not stay for a drink, thank you.’ She wished them good evening and a pleasant time, seething quietly.
She
