She stood in the hall, trembling with rage. It was a pity she didn’t understand the doctor’s reply.
‘That is an unkind remark, Christina. Miss Pomfrey is a charming girl and the boys are devoted to her already. Her appearance is of no consequence; I find her invaluable.’
They were speaking Dutch now, and Mevrouw Lutyns said prettily, ‘Oh, my dear, I had no intention of being unkind. I’m sure she’s a treasure.’
They left the house presently and dined at one of Utrecht’s fine restaurants, and from time to time, much against his intention, the doctor found himself thinking about Araminta, eating her solitary dinner in the blue dress which he realised she had put on expecting to dine with him.
He drove his companion back later that evening, to her flat in one of the modern blocks away from the centre of the city. He refused her offer of a drink with the excuse that he had to go to the hospital to check on a patient, and, when she suggested that they might spend another evening together, told her that he had a number of other consultations, not only in Utrecht, and he didn’t expect to be free.
An answer which didn’t please her at all.
It was almost midnight as he let himself into his house. It was very quiet in the dimly lit hall but Humphrey was there, patiently waiting for his evening walk, and the doctor went out again, to walk briskly through the quiet streets with his dog. It was a fine night, but chilly, and when they got back home he took Humphrey to the kitchen, settled him in his basket and poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot keeping hot on the Aga. Presently he took himself off to bed.
The evening, he reflected, had been a waste of time. He had known Christina for some years but had thought of her as an amusing and intelligent friend; to fall in love with her had never entered his head. He supposed, as he had done from time to time, that he would marry, but neither she nor the other women of his acquaintance succeeded in capturing his affection. His work meant a great deal to him, and he was wealthy, and served by people he trusted and regarded as friends. He sometimes wondered if he would ever meet a woman he would love to the exclusion of everything else.
He was already at breakfast when Araminta and the two boys joined him the next day. Peter and Paul rushed to him, both talking at once, intent on reminding him that he had promised to take them out for the day at the weekend. He assured them that he hadn’t forgotten and wished Araminta good morning in a friendly voice, hoping that she had forgotten the awkwardness of the previous evening.
She replied with her usual composure, settled the boys to their breakfast and poured herself a cup of coffee. She had spent a good deal of the night reminding herself that she was the boys’ nanny, just as the hateful Mevrouw Lutyns had said. It had been silly to suppose that he would wish to spend what little spare time he had with her when he had friends of his own.
Probably he was in love with the woman, and Araminta couldn’t blame him for that for she was so exactly right for him—all that golden hair and a lovely face, not to mention the clothes. If Mevrouw Lutyns had considered her a dowd in the blue crêpe, what on earth would she think of her in her sensible blouse and skirt? But the doctor wouldn’t think of Araminta; he barely glanced at her and she didn’t blame him for that.
She replied now to his civil remark about the weather and buttered a roll. She really must remember her place; she wasn’t in Hambledon now, the daughter of highly respected parents, famous for their obscure Celtic learning…
The doctor took off his spectacles and looked at her. There was no sign of pique or hurt feelings, he was relieved to observe. He said pleasantly, ‘I shall be taking the boys to Leiden for the day tomorrow. I’m sure you will be glad to have a day to yourself in which to explore. I have a ground map of Utrecht somewhere; I’ll let you have it. There is a great deal to see and there are some good shops.’
When she thanked him, he added, ‘If you should wish to stay out in the evening, Bas will let you have a key.’
She thanked him again and wondered if that was a polite hint not to return to the house until bedtime.
‘What about the boys? Putting them to bed…?’
He said casually, ‘Oh, Jet will see to that,’ then added, ‘I shall be away for most of Sunday, but I’m sure you can cope.’
‘Yes, of course. I’m sure the boys will think up something exciting to do.’
The days were falling into a pattern, she reflected: school in the morning, long walks in the afternoon, shopping expeditions for postcards, books or another puzzle, and an hour to herself in the evening when the boys were with their uncle.
She no longer expected the doctor to dine with her in the evening.
All the same, for pride’s sake, she got into the blue crêpe and ate her dinner that evening with every appearance of enjoyment. She was living in the lap of comfort, she reminded herself, going back to the drawing room to sit and read the English papers Bas had thoughtfully provided for her until she could go to bed once the long case clock in the hall chimed ten o’clock.
She took a long time getting ready for bed, refusing to admit how lonely she was. Later she heard quiet footsteps in the hall and a door close. The doctor was home.
The doctor and the boys left soon after breakfast on Saturday. Araminta, standing in the hall to bid them goodbye, was hugged fiercely by Peter and Paul.
‘You will be here when we get back?’ asked Peter.
‘Couldn’t you come with us now?’ Paul added urgently, and turned to his uncle, waiting patiently to usher them into the car. ‘You’d like her to come, wouldn’t you, Uncle?’
‘Miss Pomfrey—’ at a look from Peter he changed it. ‘Mintie is only here for a few weeks and she wants to see as much of Utrecht as possible. This is the first chance she’s had to go exploring and shopping. Women like to look at shops, you know.’
‘I’ll have a good look round,’ promised Araminta, ‘and when we go out tomorrow perhaps you can show me some of the places I won’t have seen.’
She bent to kiss them and waited at the door as they got into the car, with Humphrey stretched out between them. She didn’t look at the doctor.
Bas shut the door as soon as the car had gone. ‘You will be in to lunch, miss?’ he wanted to know. ‘At any time to suit you.’
‘Thank you, Bas, but I think I’ll get something while I’m out; there’s such a lot to see. Are you sure Jet can manage with the boys at bedtime?’
‘Oh, yes, miss. The doctor has arranged that he will be out this evening…’ He paused and looked awkward.
‘So she won’t need to cook dinner—just something for the boys.’
He looked relieved. ‘I was given to understand that you would be out this evening, miss. I am to give you a key, although I will, of course, remain up until you are back.’
‘How kind of you, Bas. I’ll take a key, of course, but I expect I shall be back by ten o’clock. When I come in I’ll leave the key on the hall table, shall I? Then you’ll know that I’m in the house.’
‘Thank you, miss. You will have coffee before you go out?’
‘Please,
