Never Too Late Page 10

  ‘Anyway, Benedict’s loaded, isn’t he?’ observed Nancy. ‘James says he’s more or less a millionaire.’ She glanced at Prudence’s astonished face. ‘Didn’t you know? Probably not, he’s not one to air his private affairs. Nice for you, love!’

  It quite upset Mrs Trent when Benedict came knocking on the door an hour before they were due to go to church. ‘You can’t see her,’ she said agitatedly. ‘It’s not lucky.’

  It was Mabel who led him upstairs to Prudence’s room, flung open the door and cried: ‘Here’s your intended, Miss Prudence—your ma wasn’t liking the idea of him seeing you before you were wed, but maybe you’ve got something to talk about at the last minute.’

  Prudence swung round from the dressing table. ‘Oh, Mabel, thank you, you are a darling!’ Her eyes slid past the devoted prop of the Trent household and fastened on Benedict. He always dressed well, but this morning he looked the epitome of elegance—dark grey suit, silk shirt, Gucci tie. He dropped a kiss on Mabel’s cheek and crossed the room, laid the flowers on the dressing table and bent and kissed her. Mabel, lingering at the slowly closing door, watched and went downstairs to report that the bridegroom was a smasher and kissing the bride with a satisfying degree of enthusiasm.

  Mrs Trent wiped away a tear. ‘Oh, Mabel, I’m so happy! I began to think—you know, when Prudence broke off with Tony—but now it’s going to be all right.’

  Sentiments shared by her daughter as she sailed down the aisle on an uncle’s arm to where Benedict, with Everard beside him, was waiting for her. He turned and looked at her as she reached his side and she wondered if he was remembering that they had met on that very spot not so long ago. He must have done, because he smiled at her, a secret smile, just for her alone.

  There was only a handful of guests, with Mevrouw van der Gulp in a hat which vied with her mother’s and Sibella in her new velvet coat and beret, but the church was full all the same. The village had turned out to a man; Prudence was popular and they wished her well—the women wanted to see what she was wearing and admire the bridegroom. Besides, there was nothing much doing until Christmas; now there would be something to talk about for days to come.

  There was a sit-down lunch after the ceremony before Prudence changed into the Jaeger suit, bade everyone farewell and got into the car with Benedict. It surprised her to find that Sibella was to travel back with Everard and Mevrouw van der Gulp, and as they left the village behind them she remarked on it.

  She wouldn’t admit disappointment when he said matter-of-factly: ‘Well, there are one or two things to discuss, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get them settled on our own.’

  He sent the car racing ahead and they sat in companionable silence for a bit. ‘We’ve never talked about money,’ he said presently. ‘I’ve got plenty...’

  Prudence interrupted him. ‘I meant to have asked you when you came to my room, but somehow I forgot. Benedict, Nancy says you’re almost a millionaire! I didn’t know, truly I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t married you for your money. In fact, if I had known I might not have married you.’

  ‘I imagined that, that’s why I didn’t tell you.’ She felt his great shoulders shake with laughter. ‘Don’t be a goose about it, Prudence. You must take over the household money when we get home. Sitska will expect that. I deal with the big bills and you’ll have an allowance, both for Sibella and yourself. Now that I have a wife, we must do some entertaining. I’ve a number of friends and any number of acquaintances. Then there is my work—I’ll explain that to you in detail; there’s my private practice, the clinic where I work several times a week, and the hospital. I lecture in Holland and I come to England frequently. If it doesn’t interfere with Sibella’s schooling, you’ll come with me. I think perhaps we must have more help in the house.’ He gave her a laughing sidelong glance. ‘You must have the leisure to have coffee with your friends, go shopping, knit...whatever it is women do when they’re at home.’

  ‘I’m not very good at knitting,’ observed Prudence meekly, ‘but if you like the idea I’ll get some wool and needles.’

  He laughed at that, and they whiled away the rest of the journey talking about the wedding. The skies had clouded over by the time they reached the Hovercraft in mid-afternoon, and an early dusk was creeping round them.

  There weren’t many cars, and they were going on board when Prudence saw Everard’s car behind them. They joined up during the crossing, but once on the other side, the Aston Martin raced ahead. They were home before the others. Prudence had had time to tidy herself, admire the buffet supper Sitska had laid out in the dining room and look at the cards waiting for them. When Everard’s car stopped before the door, Benedict took her arm. ‘Come and welcome your guests, my dear,’ he told her, ‘into your home.’

  Chapter 6

  The touch of Benedict’s hand on her arm sent a thrill of pleasure through her; the day had been so full, so much had happened in it that she hadn’t quite realised until that moment that she was really his wife. She had listened to Ork and Sitska and Betje offering congratulations, been led upstairs by Sitska and shown into a vast bedroom in the front of the house, surprised to find her cases in it, and gone back downstairs to Benedict, but before she could utter a word, they were standing in the porch, side by side. She was Mevrouw van Vinke now, and this was her home.

  Sibella came tumbling out of the car, huge eyes in a small tired face, talking excitedly. She kissed them both and ran inside to find Sitska, while Everard helped Mevrouw van der Gulp into the house.

  ‘We stay only a very short time,’ declared the old lady. ‘You should be alone, the two of you. You make a very handsome couple, you know. I shall look forward to dining here, but not just yet.’

  Benedict took her arm. ‘Sitska has laid out supper for us all—we mustn’t disappoint her, and I for one am famished!’

  He led the old lady into the dining room and Prudence followed with Everard. There was a splendid buffet supper set out for them and Prudence said: ‘Oh, I must fetch Sibella; she must have something before she goes to bed. What a gorgeous spread—whose idea was it?’

  Benedict smiled. ‘It seemed to me that we’d have to do something to mark the occasion; there wasn’t much time at your place. We’ll give a party to celebrate, but this will have to do for the moment.’

  ‘But it’s super!’ She beamed her gratitude at him, then gave a little gasp as Sibella came carefully into the room, carrying a small wedding cake. There had been a wedding cake at the reception, of course, but this was rather special. Prudence looked across at Benedict, her lovely eyes sparkling. ‘Benedict, how kind of you! I can’t imagine a nicer way to end the day.’ She smiled rather tremulously, and he said:

  ‘Come over here, my dear, and cut the cake.’

  They stood side by side, cutting the cake together with Ork and Sitska and Betje there too, and presently they drank more champagne and finally the party broke up. Sibella was very tired by now, she bade everyone goodnight and Prudence, excusing herself on the plea of getting the child to bed, said goodbye to her guests at the same time, and went upstairs with her. By the time she went down again the house was quiet, the remains of the party had been cleared away and Benedict was sitting in his chair, reading his letters.

  He got up when she went in, pulled a small easy chair to the fire and begged her to make herself comfortable. ‘But if you’re tired,’ he suggested kindly, ‘do go to bed. Have you everything you want?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m in another bedroom...a very beautiful room...’

  He raised his eyes briefly from the letter he was reading. ‘It was my mother’s, I’m glad you like it.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I feel as though we have been married for a long time. That’s a compliment, by the way.’

  Prudence smiled and murmured ‘Thank you.’ She rather shared that feeling too; it didn’t seem in the least strange, sitting here on the opposite of the fireplace, just keeping him company. She would really have to get some embroidery or
tapestry work or, better still, a Dutch phrase book. Neither of these being at hand, she picked up a copy of The Lancet and began to read. Parts of it were rather off-putting, but on the whole it was quite absorbing. Benedict’s amused voice cut short her study of something called Pacini’s corpuscles.

  ‘I didn’t know you were interested in my work, Prudence.’

  She reminded him with some dignity: ‘I’ve got my First Aid badge, you know,’ and waited while he roared with laughter. ‘What is a Pacini corpuscle?’

  ‘Well now, that’s perhaps a little difficult to explain, they’re receptors in the deeper connective tissue of the skin, they register vibration and pressure... Are you really interested, Prudence?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’d like to know a lot more about your work, so that when you come home and perhaps want to talk about it, I’ll be able to understand.’ She smiled a little. ‘And make intelligent comments.’

  Benedict stared at her thoughtfully. ‘You know, I’ve missed that, someone to talk to—and I don’t mean social chat, just someone to listen.’

  ‘But you work in the evenings, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but only because it gives me something to do. Even when I am working it will be nice to have someone sitting there, just to look at from time to time.’

  Prudence took a good look at him, sitting there in a muddle of envelopes and paper. It struck her that he must have been lonely since his first wife’s death. Oh, there were always girls to take out for an evening, but she quite understood that that wasn’t the same as going home to your own fireside with a willing listener to absorb your grumbles and comments about the day’s work. And I’ll be a willing listener, she promised silently, and a good wife, seeing that your house is run as you like it, and welcoming your friends and loving little Sibella, and being a friend too.

  ‘If you’ve finished the letters, will you tell me about your day’s work so that I know exactly...’ she began.

  Benedict put down the last of the letters. ‘Each day’s different; you’ll be a great help jotting down reminders on my desk—there’s always a notebook there. I’ll leave you phone numbers so that you can reach me if you should need to and we can plan my free time together so that we make the most of it. Now this is my day, more or less...’

  He told her very precisely so that by the time he had finished she had a good idea of his routine.

  ‘But you’re not always free on a Sunday?’

  ‘I’m now on call every third weekend, which means that we can go out and about as long as there is a phone close by and I’m not more than twenty minutes or so away from the hospital.’

  ‘And at night?’

  ‘Well, I’m only called if it’s really urgent. My registrar is a good man, he copes with almost all the cases at hospital, but I’m always available. I can be called to private patients at night, of course, and often am.’ He gave her a questioning look. ‘Do you suppose you’ll be able to cope with delayed meals, broken dates and a bad-tempered husband when he’s been out all night?’

  ‘Of course I can. And we’re so lucky, we’ve got Ork and Sitska and Betje, haven’t we?’ She glanced at him so briefly that she missed the sudden gleam in his eyes. ‘And at least I do come from a household where there was a good deal of coming and going at awkward hours.’

  Benedict said quietly: ‘I believe we are going to have a very pleasant life together, Prudence.’

  She smiled widely at him. ‘So do I. Do you want to work now? I’ve delayed you...’

  ‘Not tonight—everything has happened so quickly it’s rather nice to have a breathing space.’ He got up and pulled the old-fashioned bell rope. ‘Let’s have some coffee, shall we?’

  So they sat and talked, quiet talk about the house and Sibella and his friends, so that Prudence felt, by the time she got reluctantly to her feet, that she really was Mevrouw van Vinke, about to embark on a pleasant married life. And Benedict’s light kiss as she wished him goodnight clinched the matter.

  He was, she decided, as she got ready for bed, the very nicest person she had ever met; she felt as though she had known him all her life. So it was possible to like a man very much without being in love with him— Nancy and she had argued about that years ago, when they were in their teens and full of ideas. She wandered about the lovely room, admiring the mahogany four-poster, the elegant tallboy and the Pembroke table between the windows with its triple mirror and silver candlesticks. There was a great gilded mirror on one wall and facing it a pillow cupboard, and under the mirror a steel fireplace with a small fire burning and a little buttonback chair drawn up to it. There were flowers too, and pale apricot-shaded lamps. Presently when she had had her bath, she wandered across to the Empire sofa and sat down on it to brush her hair. The sofa was upholstered in striped apricot silk and was in the Grecian style; Prudence decided then and there that she would find a dressing gown to match, and presently, nicely tired, still thinking about the clothes she would buy, she climbed into bed and closed her eyes. ‘My wedding day,’ she told the room. ‘Not quite like most, perhaps, but I’m happier than I’ve been for a long time. I wonder why?’

  Naturally there was no answer; she went to sleep.

  She woke early. The morning’s routine would be the same as any other, she supposed, but in this she was wrong, for hard on the heels of Betje with her morning tea came Sibella, to climb into bed beside her, sip tea from her cup and chatter. ‘I have seen Papa,’ she told Prudence. ‘Always I go to say good morning to him when I wake, and then I say it again when I go downstairs. Now I shall do it for you also.’

  ‘How very nice,’ said Prudence, and meant it. They emptied the tea pot between them before the little girl went away to get dressed, leaving Prudence to shower and dress quickly and go along to the child’s room to brush her hair and tie her shoelaces. That done, they went downstairs together and found Benedict already there, eating his breakfast and reading his letters.

  He got up, kissed his daughter and then kissed Prudence with a placid: ‘Good morning, my dear,’ and smiled at them both. ‘I’m in a hurry, I’m afraid, Prudence, go through the letters for me will you? If you can sort them out it would be a great help. I’ll be home for lunch. Have a nice morning?’

  He had gone, and the room seemed empty without him. The pair of them ate their own breakfast, taking too long over it because they talked about the wedding, so that they had to hurry to school through the blustery autumn morning.

  ‘I’ll be here at twelve o’clock,’ said Prudence, and bent to kiss the little face. ‘We’ll take Henry for a long walk after lunch. Be good.’

  Sibella beamed at her. ‘Tot ziens, Mama.’ She scampered off and Prudence watched her disappear inside the school entrance before she started back home. Once there, she went along to the little room where she had worked and began to sort the letters. There were quite a few; she puzzled out the bills and circulars and set them on one side, made a little pile of the letters, then read the two from England. The first asked Benedict to give a lecture in Bristol in six weeks’ time, the second was from a doctor in London, asking for the notes of a patient Benedict had seen while she was staying in Holland. Prudence, hoping that she was doing the right thing, looked through the filing cabinet against one wall, found the notes and put them with the letter. Perhaps she was overreaching herself, but Dr Baxter’s wife in the village at home always did the paper work for him; she presumed that most doctors’ wives did. Anyway, if he didn’t want her to do so, he could tell her.

  He was pleased and a little surprised, and she felt a glow of pleasure when he thanked her. ‘But you don’t have to do this, you know,’ he observed, ‘although I must say it is very nice for me.’ He laughed at her gently. ‘You’re a lady of leisure now, whatever that means. Do you suppose we should get someone to help with Sibella? Take her off your hands?’

  Prudence looked at him in horror. ‘Heavens, no! She’s no trouble, and we have such fun together—besides, what would I do all day? I’ve got quite
quick with my typing and I’m beginning to find my way around the shops and understand what Sitska says. And walking in the afternoon with Sibella and Henry is such fun.’

  ‘Don’t you want to shop? For clothes, I mean. Which reminds me, I’ve opened an account for you at my bank. I’ll take a couple of hours off tomorrow and we’ll go there together. I’m free this next Saturday, we’ll go to Arnhem, the three of us, and do some shopping then.’

  Her eyes sparkled. ‘Oh, Benedict, how super!’

  ‘Yes—well, I must get back to work. I’ll be home for tea, but I’ll have to pay a couple of visits before dinner.’

  He didn’t kiss her this time, and she felt disappointed.

  It was chilly outside; they came racing in from their walk, tidied themselves quickly and joined Henry in front of the playroom fire. Benedict was due at any moment. Prudence found herself listening for his tread on the stairs and turned to smile at him when he came in. He stood by the door for a moment, a look on his face she couldn’t understand, then bent to swing Sibella into the air before sitting down by the fire.

  ‘I saw Ork in the hall, tea’s on the way,’ he told her. ‘Did you have a good walk?’

  ‘Lovely! Henry’s exhausted—he goes twice as far as we do, of course.’

  ‘We’ll take him for a run on Sunday morning before church—all three of us. We missed you, did you know?’

  Her green eyes met his steady blue ones. ‘No, I didn’t. I’d love to come with you.’

  Ork came in then with the tea and she poured for them all and handed round buttered toast, sitting back on her heels like a small girl with Sibella beside her. ‘Why do you have a nice old-fashioned English tea?’ she asked. ‘Mevrouw Brand said they only drank tea and ate a biscuit.’