Rags To Riches: Her Duty To Please. Michelle Douglas
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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 closed the door equally quietly, but not before she heard Mevrouw Lutyns’ voice, pitched in a penetrating whisper. ‘What a little dowd, Marcus. Wherever did you find her?’
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