V

About a week had gone by since the tableaux vivants; it was afternoon, and Lili Verstraeten seated herself in the drawing room, where they had been staged. The room had long since reverted to its normal arrangement, and a cheerful fire burnt in the grate. Outside it was cold; a strong wind was blowing, and rain seemed imminent. Marie had gone shopping with Frédérique van Erlevoort, but Lili had chosen to stay at home, and now settled back comfortably in her favourite armchair, which was old-fashioned and ample, with a tapestry cover. She had Victor Hugo’s Notre Dame de Paris with her, but was not really in the mood for reading, so the book, bound in red calf with gilt edges, lay unopened on her lap. How pleasant it was to do nothing but muse and dream, and how silly of Marie and Freddie to go out in this horrid weather! But it was no concern of hers, she was oblivious to the wind and the rain, for indoors it was as cosy as could be, with the subdued, wintry light barely filtering through the heavy curtains. Dien had come in to tie them back, but she had sent her away. Papa was in the conservatory, reading by the window; she could just see the top of his dear grey head, and she noted how rapidly he turned the pages — he was clearly engrossed in his book, unlike her, who had brought hers along for show. She was never bored, even when she was idle. On the contrary, she would sit back and enjoy the notions drifting into her mind: rose petals wafting on a gentle breeze, soap bubbles, fragile and iridescent, which she would watch contentedly as they rose up in the air; then the petals would blow away and the bubbles would burst, but no matter, she would much rather have rose petals for thoughts than smothering tendrils of ivy, and rather a soap bubble than a balloon on the end of a string. Mama was still upstairs attending to numerous household duties. Ah well, she couldn’t be of any help: Mama always insisted on doing everything herself, although Marie did her share as well. She hoped there would be no callers this afternoon; all she wanted to do was daydream, what could be more delightful than that? How fascinating it was to watch the flames curling and twisting around the glowing embers! The hearth was a vision of hell in miniature, the burning peat suggesting great boulders between which yawned chasms filled with fire and brimstone — it was like Dante’s inferno, with the damned gathered together on the precipices, shuddering at the sight of the flames! Smiling at her wild imaginings, she averted her eyes, which prickled from staring into the hellish blaze. It was only last week that they had all taken their poses in this very room, before the eyes of their enthusiastic friends and relations. How different everything had looked then! Now the painted scenery, the lyres, the cross and all the other bits and pieces had been removed to the attic for storage; all the costumes had been carefully folded and put away in boxes by Dien. It had been so jolly, what with all the planning and conferring with Paul and Etienne beforehand, the choosing of the subjects for the tableaux, the costumes, and then the rehearsals, with Paul having to demonstrate each pose in turn! How many times hadn’t they collapsed with hilarity, how much effort hadn’t they put in for the sake of a few minutes of entertainment!

Papa read and read, and she counted how long it took him to turn the pages — first it was twenty-five seconds, then thirty. What a fast reader he was! And how the rain drummed on the windowpane, how it gurgled in the drainpipe! Freddie and Marie had gone out of their own free will, but here she was, feeling snug and safe like a purring kitten instead of bedraggled in the wet. She dug the points of her shoes into in the black fleece of the sheepskin hearth-rug and nestled her blonde head against the back of the old tapestried armchair.

Freddie was going to a ball that evening. How could she bear to go out night after night! Of course she, Lili, enjoyed the occasional ball or amusing soirée, but she also liked to stay at home, reading a book, or doing embroidery, or. . doing nothing at all, without even getting bored. Her life seemed to flow onwards like a calm, rippling stream; she was so happy at home with her parents, whom she adored, and she wanted it always to stay the same, she didn’t even mind if she never got married and became an old maid. . Quasimodo, Esmeralda, Phoebus de Châteaupers. . oh, why hadn’t she brought her copy of Longfellow instead? The Court of Miracles held no appeal for her whatsoever, what she wished for now was some verse from Evangeline, or from The Golden Legend:

My life is little,


Only a cup of water,


But pure and limpid.

Dear oh dear, she was waxing quite poetic! She smiled to herself and looked out into the garden, where the bare, dripping boughs were being whipped into a frenzy by the wind.

The doorbell rang out; she heard footsteps and laughter in the hall, and a prolonged wiping of feet on the mat. Marie had returned with Freddie; she supposed they would go upstairs, but no, they were coming this way, and entered a moment later, having divested themselves of their dripping raincoats and muddy overshoes. They were still laughing, and brought with them a rush of cold air and moisture into the warm room.

‘Well I never!’ exclaimed Marie. ‘Behold Milady warming her feet by the fire! And quite right, too!’

‘Would Milady like a cushion for her back?’ teased Freddie.

‘You can laugh as much as you like!’ murmured Lili, nestling herself deeper in her chair. ‘Here I am, warm as toast and my feet all nice and dry, but you’re very welcome to go splashing about in the mud.’

Marie said she could do with some refreshment and went off to make tea, while Freddie stepped into the conservatory to greet Mr Verstraeten.

Then they all sat down together for afternoon tea, and Lili was quite happy to join in, for all that she had not been splashing about in the mud.

‘How dark it is in here, Lili, how could you see to read? You know it’s bad for your eyes to read in such poor light,’ said Marie.

‘I wasn’t really reading at all,’ responded Lili, relishing her dolce far niente.

‘Ah, Milady has been meditating again!’ said Freddie.

‘Mm, divine!’ said Lili, smiling with half-closed eyes. ‘Doing absolutely nothing. . just dreaming the time away.’

They all broke into laughter at this confession of unashamed laziness. Madame Verstraeten came in, looking for the basket of keys Marie had neglected to return, and she came upon the three girls giggling over their tea while the keys lay beside the pastry dish.

Thereupon Frédérique declared that she must be going; she had been invited to the soirée dansante at the Eekhofs that evening, and still had some details to see to regarding her party dress. Madame Verstraeten pronounced it very sensible of Lili to have stayed indoors when it was raining cats and dogs, unlike Freddie and Marie.

. .

Again there was a ring at the door. This time it was Paul, bringing with him so much cold and wet that he was sent out of the room again to wipe his shoes properly.

‘Such abominable weather!’ he sighed, glad to be permitted to settle into an armchair at last.

Leaving the young people to themselves, Madame Verstraeten moved to the conservatory to sit with her husband who, however, hearing of Paul’s arrival, came forward to greet him.

‘Hello, Uncle.’

‘Well hello, Paul, how are you? And how is your mama?’

‘Oh I’m very well, Uncle, and Mama is well too; when I left home she was immersed in a book lent to her by Eline.’

‘Tell me, have you paid a visit to Hovel yet?’

‘No, Uncle, not yet, I’m afraid.’

‘Well, don’t leave it too long. Hovel is anxious to make your acquaintance.’

‘Paul, you said you were going to see Hovel four days ago!’ cried Marie. ‘How can you take so long to make up your mind to do it? It’s not as if it’s a long journey, is it?’

‘I was planning to go tomorrow.’

‘Well, I hope you do. I suggest you call at half-past six, he is always at home at that hour. I urgently advise you not to put it off any longer!’ said Uncle Verstraeten, with a gleam of annoyance in his otherwise cheerful dark brown eyes as he returned to the conservatory with unwonted briskness.

‘Paul, you naughty boy!’ said Frédérique, shaking her head. ‘How could you be so lazy? You’re worse than Lili.’

‘I’ll do it tomorrow for sure,’ said Paul gruffly, lifting his cup of tea.

‘You’re nothing if not lazy,’ Marie pursued, unafraid of his temper. ‘And to be honest, we all disapprove.’

‘You’re not going to give me a lecture now, are you, you old granny?’

‘I don’t care what you call me, I’m just giving you my opinion. You see, I think it’s a shame you’re like that, because there’s such a lot you could achieve if only you had a bit more determination. You mark my words, if you don’t pull yourself together you’ll end up like Henk; he’s good and kind to be sure, but not one for undertaking a great deal, is he? You know I’m not mad about Betsy, but I can quite understand her getting terribly bored at times with your brother doing nothing all day.’

‘Now don’t you say a word against Henk! He’s such a dear!’ cried Frédérique.

‘And besides,’ Marie went on, ‘you’re much more talented than Henk, which makes your laziness and your lack of energy doubly inexcusable.’

‘Just leave him be, Marie,’ said Lili, rising from her seat, ‘don’t get cross with poor old Paul.’ Then, turning to Paul, she whispered: ‘Now make sure you go and see Hovel tomorrow, do you hear? Then everything will be all right.’

He gave her a grin and promised to better his ways if that was what they wanted.

‘It looks as if I am to be placed under the guardianship of my cousins and Miss van Erlevoort,’ he said good-humouredly. ‘Well then, perhaps they will be so kind as to grant their young ward another cup of tea?’

. .

The downpour had come to an end, but the dripping boughs were still swaying in the wind. At half-past five the doorbell sounded yet again.

‘Half-past five already!’ cried Frédérique. ‘I must dash, because I bought some ribbons this afternoon that I still I want to put on my dress. Oh, it’s going to be lovely tonight — me wearing all that floaty tulle! Where did you leave my parcels, Marie?’

‘Did you hear the bell?’ asked Lili. ‘Another visitor, do you suppose?’

Frédérique waited a moment, as she had to put on her raincoat in the vestibule, and Dien came in to enquire whether they were at home to Mr de Woude van Bergh.

‘I rather think not, Dien, but go and ask in the conservatory.’

‘Oh, not him again!’ cried Lili. ‘He’s such a prig!’

‘He’s not so bad,’ retorted Paul. ‘And not in the least priggish, either.’

‘Anyway, I have no wish to see him!’ she said, and made to close the sliding door when Dien was dispatched to show the visitor in.

‘Lili, don’t be absurd, come along now!’ said Marie.

‘No thank you very much, you go yourself,’ she said, and slid both doors together just as De Woude stepped into the salon. He was welcomed by Marie, who led him to the conservatory.

Paul and Frédérique laughed and bade Lili goodbye, then all three passed through the dining room to the hall.

‘Au revoir, please convey my respects to Uncle and Aunt, and tell Uncle I shall certainly go and see Hovel after supper tomorrow,’ said Paul.

‘Please give them my regards too, and tell them I had to rush!’ said Freddie.

‘All right then, goodbye, have fun this evening, in your floaty tulle! Brr, how cold it is here in the hall!’

Paul and Freddie left, and Lili returned through the dining room. Georges de Woude? Oh, he was making a courtesy call after last week’s soirée, that was all! No, she couldn’t abide him. So affected, so stuck up! How could Paul see anything in him? Paul she thought a thousand times more agreeable and more spirited. How Marie had lectured him! Paul was all right, and if he had turned out a bit on the lazy side, what of it? He had money, after all, and could afford to enjoy himself for a time; he would get himself a position eventually, she was sure. She would tell Papa that Paul had promised to call on Hovel tomorrow, and he always kept his word.

She sat down again in the old armchair and leant forwards to poke the fire, then put on some more coal and peat, and another log. She warmed her fingers, which had grown cold, and rubbed her small hands, cool as white satin. Through the closed door she could hear the muffled exchange going on in the conservatory. Mostly she could distinguish Georges’ voice — he was obviously in a very talkative frame of mind. Her curiosity being aroused, she stood up and carefully opened one of the sliding doors a crack so she could peep into the conservatory, past the broad-leafed palms. Papa and Mama were not in view, but she could just see Marie’s face and Georges’ back. How funny it would be if Marie saw her spying on them like this, but her sister appeared to be absorbed in what that fop Georges had to say for himself. Lili could just make out the shiny edge of his collar and the tails of his coat — very smart! There, Marie was looking up, yes she’d noticed her! She waved gaily, dropped a little curtsey, then pulled a face which made Marie frown and purse her lips so as not to burst out laughing.

. .

It was getting dark as Frédérique hurried home to the Voorhout. Willem, the manservant, let her in, and she flew down the spacious hall and up the broad staircase. She almost tripped over her niece and nephew, Madeleine and Nico van Rijssel. Their mother was her elder sister Mathilda, who, since her separation from her husband, had taken her four children to stay with Madame van Erlevoort.

‘Miss Frantzen, do take care, the children will fall!’ panted Frédérique when she came upon the stout nursemaid on the first-floor landing, searching high and low for the mischievous youngsters. ‘Madeleine and Nico are playing on the stairs.’

‘Have you seen Ernestine and Johan, by any chance?’ asked Miss Frantzen, looking very fraught.

‘No, of course not, I only just got back!’ replied Frédérique indignantly, and dashed on. She burst into her room, flung aside her raincoat and, with nervous fingers, set about opening one of small parcels she had carried home in her coat pocket and muff.

‘I shall never be ready in time!’ she muttered nervously, sweeping aside the green damask curtain of her bedstead, where her ball gown, a diaphanous cloud of pale-blue tulle, lay spread out on the coverlet.

Frédérique’s ball dress had been delivered by the dressmaker that morning, and she wanted to add a few bows but scarcely dared touch the garment for fear of tangling the filmy material.

‘Oh, what shall I do?’ she moaned. Then, on an impulse, she ran out of the room and called from the landing:

‘Tilly, Tilly, Mathilda!’

A door opened and her sister appeared in some alarm.

‘But, Freddie, whatever is the matter? Is the house on fire?’

‘No, no! If it were I wouldn’t be calling you specifically, now would I? The thing is, I need help, I’m at my wits’ end and I’ll never be ready!’

‘Help? What with?’

‘With my dress! I told you I wanted some little bows as a finishing touch. I thought it looked rather bare on the side, and I’ve bought some ribbons.’

Before Mathilda could answer, the door of another room opened to reveal Madame van Erlevoort, demanding to know what the commotion was about. At the same time a shrill burst of children’s laughter came from the second floor, followed by the loud patter of small feet. Frédérique’s seven-year-old niece came tripping down the stairs with her six-year-old brother in hot pursuit.

‘Mama! Mama!’ screamed the little girl, clearing the last steps with a jump.

‘Now, now, Tina and Jo! What a dreadful noise you’re making! What are you doing here?’ chided their mother.

‘Jo keeps teasing me, he wants to tickle me and he knows I can’t stand it!’ explained Ernestine breathlessly, and she hid behind her grandmother’s skirts while Frédérique caught hold of her brother.

‘How many times have I told you not to run about indoors, and to keep your voices down!’ scolded Mathilda. ‘You know Granny isn’t getting any younger, and all this noise is too much for her.’

‘Never mind,’ soothed Madame van Erlevoort. ‘They were only playing.’

‘You’d better be careful, young man, or I shall tickle you!’ cried Frédérique, and she tickled Jo under his short arms so that he fell about laughing.

‘Mais comme vous les gâtez, toutes les deux; ne les choyez donc pas, quand je suis fâchée. Je perdrai tout mon pouvoir, si vous continuez ainsi!’ fretted Mathilda. She leant over the banisters, where Madeleine and Nico were driving fat Nurse Frantzen to distraction with their disobedience.

‘Madeleine and Nico! Stop that at once!’ she cried.

‘Oh, Mathilda, never mind the children, just come and look at my dress!’ pleaded Frédérique.

‘It’s impossible to keep them in order!’ sighed Mathilda.

‘You had better hurry up, Freddie; dinner will be early today — hopefully in half an hour,’ said Madame van Erlevoort.

The front door opened and in came Otto and Etienne van Erlevoort, their cheerful voices mingling with the children’s excited shrieks, Miss Frantzen’s fruitless admonitions, and the barking of Hector, Otto’s black dog.

‘Mathilda, please come and look at my dress, just for a second!’ Freddie wheedled in her sweetest voice.

Mathilda abandoned further attempts to discipline her brood and allowed herself to be led away by Frédérique.

‘Really, I mean it; they’re getting completely out of hand.’

‘Now, now, children, stop fighting! Be good, now!’ said Madame van Erlevoort to Ernestine and Johan. ‘Come with me, come downstairs with Granny. It’s freezing cold out here on the landing.’

. .

Madame van Erlevoort was used to the bustle and turmoil of children, which had never caused her the slightest displeasure. As a mother of seven she had always been surrounded by laughter, squabbling and excitement, and could not imagine a large family growing up in an atmosphere any calmer than that which she had known herself. Her house had been filled with shrill jubilation, noisy disputes and the constant running to and fro of her youngsters until they grew up, all aflutter with youthful high spirits. Then, with the passing of her husband Theodore Otto, Baron van Erlevoort ter Horze, member of the Second Chamber of the States General, a period of unprecedented calm had set in, when four of her children in succession had married and left home. The first to go was Theodore, the eldest, who now managed their estates in Gelderland, and who, in possession of a young wife and numerous offspring, appeared to have transformed into a gentleman farmer as well as a youthful patriarch. Next had been Mathilda, her third daughter, whose brief marriage had been very unhappy; she was followed by the two eldest girls, Catherine and Suzanne, the former married to an English banker by the name of Percy Howard and now residing in London, and the latter to the Honourable Arnold van Stralenburg, registrar at the court of law at Zwolle.

Thus Madame van Erlevoort was left with two sons and a daughter — Otto, Assistant Commissioner at the Ministry of Home Affairs, Etienne, studying law in Leiden, and her youngest, Frédérique — and without the novel charm and refreshing emotions of being a grandmother, the comparative calm that ensued would certainly have rendered her despondent, accustomed as she was to the patter of light feet on the stairs and the song and laughter of clear voices in her spacious hall.

And now Mathilda had returned home with her children, over whom she had been granted custody after her divorce from Van Rijssel. He had gone abroad, and little had been heard of him since.

Madame van Erlevoort sympathised with her daughter, who had so long and with such dignity borne her lot of wronged wife, and received her with open arms, inwardly delighting in the fresh, burgeoning life the four grandchildren brought into her house. She spoilt them all, more than she had ever spoilt her own children, and even their wildest pranks failed to rouse her anger. Mathilda, for her part, was concerned about the effect this might have on her young foursome, and begged her mother not to oppose her when she meted out some well-deserved punishment. Madame van Erlevoort conceded to this readily enough, but would forget all about it the next minute, and while Frédérique, herself a pampered child, took her sister’s side, she made little attempt to instil any discipline in them either. It was only from her brother Otto that Mathilda could expect firm support, and it was indeed only to their uncle that the four rascals showed any respect. Otto had inherited his mother’s kind heart and his father’s common sense, and with his calm demeanour seemed older than his twenty-eight years. But his manly features were cast in such a genial, sincere mould, and there was so much sympathy and trust in those dark, shining eyes, that his general air of earnestness and sound sense was by no means unattractive. Etienne, by contrast, was all cheer and light-hearted restlessness, his mother’s favourite and the very sunshine of her existence. Frédérique was devoted to both her brothers, but often called Otto ‘Daddy’, while she would romp with Etienne much as Madeleine did with Nico and Tina with Jo.

. .

Madame van Erlevoort had decreed that dinner would be early — at half-past five — so that she might take a short rest before dressing for the ball at the Eekhofs, which she would attend with Freddie and her two sons. Mathilda, the quiet, sad-eyed young mother who seemed to have lost the ability to laugh, would remain at home with the children. The unruly foursome had their meals separately with Miss Frantzen, at Mathilda’s urgent request, for Madame van Erlevoort would have liked nothing better than to have the whole tribe plus their stout nursemaid joining her at mealtimes, not caring a bit about gravy stains on her damask tablecloth, glasses getting broken, or small fingers being dipped in the preserves. Thus Mathilda had been unable to prevent the youngsters from stealing into the dining room one by one after their supper, to the dismay of Miss Frantzen, who would put her head round the door, round-eyed with alarm. After they had done this several times without any protest from their grandmamma they had made a habit of it, in which Mathilda would acquiesce with a sigh. Etienne and Frédérique took it all as a good joke and Otto laughed too, and in the end Mathilda gave a shrug and smiled: it couldn’t be helped.

‘Thank you, Otto, no more for me,’ Frédérique said at table. ‘I can never eat before going to a ball, you know what I’m like.’

‘Still as nervous as ever?’ asked Otto. ‘I thought it was only before a girl first comes out in society that she can’t eat. You poor girl!’

‘Freddie, what have you been doing to your dress? I do hope you haven’t ruined it,’ said Madame van Erlevoort anxiously.

‘No, Mama dear, I took Mathilda’s advice in the end and left everything as it was. Ooh, I can’t wait to show you,’ she went on, turning to Otto. ‘I’ll be all ethereal in my blue tulle — you know, as if I’m floating. Ah, here come the Philistines!’

She was referring to the Van Rijssel foursome, who were charging into the dining room with little Nico in front, blowing his ear-splitting toy trumpet. They had come to eat their orange with wine and sugar in the dining room; Madame van Erlevoort placed Nico beside her and prepared his dessert with care, after which the flaxen-haired rascal gobbled the sliced fruit while the juice trickled down his chin, pausing now and then to blow his trumpet.

Tina, Jo and Etienne hotly disputed the next portion, getting their forks entangled in the process, while Freddie told Otto about the people they would likely encounter at the Eekhofs.

‘Well, the Hijdrechts will be there, and so will Eline Vere, as well as the Van Larens, and Françoise Oudendijk. Don’t you think Françoise is prettier than Marguerite van Laren? Tell me, Otto, which of them will you be courting? Oh, Nico! My poor ears! Nico!’

Tooterootoo, tooterootoo, sounded the trumpet.

‘Nico, you’re driving me demented with that din. Put that thing down this instant and eat properly. Look what you’ve done to your jerkin!’ scolded Mathilda.

‘Oh, he just likes his music — don’t you, poppet?’ gushed Madame van Erlevoort, and she put her arm around the child just as he aimed his trumpet at her ear and gave a loud blast in a shocking show of disrespect.

. .

Afterwards, Freddie and Etienne played with the children while their grandmother retired to her boudoir and Otto smoked his cigar in the company of Mathilda, who had taken up her embroidery. The table was cleared by Rika, the maid, much hampered by Nico, whom she feared would upset her tray stacked with plates and glasses. The clock struck eight at last and Miss Frantzen came to fetch the children.

‘Ciel de mon âme!’ exclaimed Frédérique from the depths of the sofa, where she was half smothered by Tina, Jo and Madeleine, and she extricated herself from their tentacular embraces. ‘I must get upstairs; Mathilda, will you come and help?’

‘Very well,’ responded Mathilda, rising. ‘As for you, children, you must be off, it’s bedtime!’

‘No, I won’t go to bed, first I want to see Aunt Freddie looking all pretty!’ Tina bleated. ‘And I want to help, too.’

‘Aunt Freddie doesn’t need your help; anyway, she always looks pretty,’ said Mathilda. ‘Be off with you now, and go with Miss Frantzen like good children.’

Freddie rushed away, and as Madame van Erlevoort was resting Mathilda was able for once to impose her will. She shooed her foursome up the stairs, pausing on each tread to stop Nico from hopping down again and Madeleine from playing with Hector.

‘I’ll be with you in a moment, Freddie!’ called Mathilda, ‘just as soon as the children are upstairs!’

Freddie shouted from her room that she was waiting, and began to brush her long, wavy hair, Cleopatra’s cascading tresses. . Mathilda was to do her hair; she was so clever at it. Then she laid out her accessories: fan, gloves, pocket handkerchief, and slipped on her dancing shoes of pale-blue satin. A nervous blush coloured her milk-white complexion as she beheld herself in the cheval-glass, curving her lips into a smile to make the dimples appear in her cheeks. Not too bad, she thought, not too bad.

Half an hour later Mathilda appeared, accompanied by Martha, the upstairs maid who did duty as a chambermaid, and Frédérique sat down at her dressing table in her chemise and her blue dancing slippers.

‘Just as simple and pretty as last time, please, Tilly!’ said Frédérique, with Martha standing at the ready with combs, curling tongs and hairpins. ‘Oh, how chilly it is in here! Martha, put something on my shoulders, will you?’

Martha draped a brightly coloured shawl about her shoulders, and before long Mathilda’s deft fingers had completed her hairdo.

‘There!’ she said, adjusting the curly fringe on her brow. ‘Simple, neat, and it won’t sag, either. Happy now?’

Frédérique studied her reflection and touched her fingertips to the sides of her hair.

‘Yes, very,’ she said. ‘And now. . now for my floaty tulle.’

The shawl was flung aside and rapidly retrieved by Martha, who bustled about tidying the garments that lay scattered about the room. Mathilda lifted up the cloud of delicate azure and let it sink, light as a sigh, over Freddie’s head.

‘It’s like being a fairy, or a water nymph!’ said Freddie with raised arms, while Tilly and Martha went down on their knees to fluff out the billowing skirt. La, la, la, hummed Freddie, tapping her feet.

‘Do keep still, Freddie. Martha, hand me a pin; that bow has come undone.’

‘How do I look, Martha?’

‘Ooh, lovely, Miss!’

‘Isn’t it a bit bare at the side now, Tilly?’

‘Not at all, it’s all ribbons and bows anyway. What more do you want? You’re all aflutter. Oh for goodness sake, Freddie, do try and keep still.’

The door began to creak, as an unseen hand gently pushed it ajar.

‘What is it this time?’ exclaimed Mathilda crossly when she saw Ernestine in the doorway, shivering and wraithlike in her white nightdress.

‘Please, Mama,’ she said timidly yet with an undercurrent of mischief. ‘I only meant to. .’

‘Ernestine! You’ll catch your death of cold out there in your nightdress! How disobedient you are!’

‘Quick, Tina, hop into my bed, you’ll be nice and warm there; mind my bodice, though!’ cried Freddie, adding in a whisper: ‘Oh, Tilly, never mind.’

Tina had already clambered into Freddie’s bed and proceeded to nestle down like a dove among the blankets, happily reaching out her little fingers to touch the blue satin of Frédérique’s bodice, which was still lying on the pillows.

Mathilda sighed and shrugged, resigned as ever, but moved the garment out of harm’s way. With a rustle of moiré skirts, Madame van Erlevoort was the next to appear in the doorway.

‘Doesn’t Mama look lovely!’ cried Frédérique. ‘You’ll see, Tilly, I’ll be the last to be ready! Oh, do hurry up!’

Mathilda laced up the back of the blue-satin bodice while Madame van Erlevoort looked on, smiling proudly at her diaphanous water nymph. Then came a light, scuffling sound from the landing, and looking round she spied Johan and Madeleine, both shivering in their nightwear.

‘This is the limit! You’re driving me to despair!’ Mathilda burst out; she left Frédérique standing with her bodice half-laced and flew to the door. ‘How could you be so naughty? You’re making Mama very sad. You’ll be ill tomorrow, all of you. Go upstairs at once, this minute!’

Her voice was so sharp that the youngsters almost began to cry, but Madame van Erlevoort came to their rescue.

‘Oh, Mathilda, do let them stay just a little while!’

‘Get into my bed, then, quick!’ said Frédérique between shrieks of laughter. ‘But don’t you dare touch my tulle!’ she added, recoiling from the outstretched paws of the two little vandals intent on clutching the filmy fabric and pulling the ribbons.

Mathilda could see that, under the circumstances, the best place for the youngsters was in Freddie’s bed; for the umpteenth time she gave up with a sigh, and resumed lacing Freddie’s bodice, making the satin creak as it tightened. Johan and Madeleine snuggled down under the quilted blanket beside Ernestine, and all three, starry-eyed, gazed up at the blue fairy.

‘Aren’t you going to put any more clothes on, Auntie?’ Johan wanted to know. ‘Or are you staying half-naked?’

‘Silly boy!’ scoffed Ernestine, giving him such a hard push that he tumbled over Madeleine, who began to scream as Frédérique’s bed became a heaving, tumultuous mass of woollen blankets, blond curls, pillows and rosy limbs.

Madame van Erlevoort and Frédérique laughed so much they almost cried, much to the annoyance of Mathilda, who was having great difficulty tying the laces properly, and Madame called out to Otto and Etienne, who were already in their overcoats descending the stairs, to come and witness the spectacle.

‘Come into bed with us, Uncle Etienne, over here!’ shouted Johan, but Etienne declined the honour, saying he was dressed to go out, not to go to bed.

‘You look ravishing, Freddie!’ smiled Otto.

‘As if I’m floating on a puff of air, don’t you think? Puff. . Tilly, haven’t you finished with those laces yet?’

‘How can I if you won’t keep still?’

Tilly was ready at last, and everyone else was, too. Madame van Erlevoort started down the stairs to the front door, where the carriage was waiting.

‘Now, children, don’t all get out of bed, I will not have you running about in the cold!’ cried Mathilda with authority. Meanwhile Frédérique, having charged Otto with her fan and Etienne with one of her gloves, was helped into her cloak by Martha.

‘Hurry up, Freddie, Mama’s waiting downstairs,’ said Otto, tapping the fan on the palm of his hand.

‘Are you sure you’ve got everything?’ asked Mathilda.

‘I say, Freddie, where’s your other glove, or will you go out wearing only one?’ said Etienne, raising his voice to make himself heard over the pandemonium of the children in bed.

‘Oh, how nervous you’re all making me! Look, I’ve got the other glove half on already! Martha, my hanky! Thanks; all ready? Good! Bye-bye my little darlings!’

‘Freddie, you’ve forgotten something!’ cried Etienne.

‘Oh dear, what now?’

‘Your umbrella!’

‘Don’t be such a tease! Mama’s waiting for me, and all you can do is tease and make me late! Well, goodbye everyone, bye, Tilly, bye, darlings, yes Otto, I’m coming. . Goodbye, Tilly, thanks for your help. Goodbye, Martha.’

‘Enjoy yourself, Miss.’

‘Have fun, Freddie, bye-bye. .’

Freddie sallied forth, followed by Otto and Etienne. The youngsters promptly leapt out of bed.

‘Come here, children, at once!’ cried Mathilda.

She threw some wraps about their shoulders: a shawl, a comforter and Freddie’s raincoat, which trailed on the floor behind young Ernestine like a train.

‘And where is Miss Frantzen? She should never have allowed you to come here!’ she said testily.

‘She’s in the nursery with Nico, Mummy, and Nico’s asleep,’ said Ernestine. ‘Please, Mummy, don’t be cross!’

And she held out her little arms in the flapping raincoat sleeves, wanting to fling them about her mother.

Mathilda smiled and allowed herself to be hugged.

‘Now you must all go to bed!’ she said, mollified.

‘Look at the state of Miss Freddie’s bed,’ said Martha, shaking her head. ‘I shall have to make it up all over again, thanks to you naughty children!’

‘Nice children!’ countered Madeleine.

Mathilda took the child in her arms; Ernestine and Johan followed her, tripping over their improvised dressing gowns and chortling with glee that their ruse had worked.

‘Shush now, children, or you’ll wake Nico!’

Miss Frantzen, unaware of the youngsters’ escapade, was quietly knitting with Hector at her feet while Nico lay sleeping in his crib, and was greatly distressed to see the excited cavalcade approaching. The little rogues, sneaking away like that, while she thought they were fast asleep in the next room!

The threesome were tucked into bed, shivering with cold and excitement, and Miss Frantzen had to caution them several times to stop talking and go to sleep like good children.

Mathilda gazed into the cot where her little Nico lay snugly under the covers, his eyes tightly shut, his moist lips slightly parted, his flaxen curls straggling over the pillow. How angelic he looked! And the others, too — how delightful they were! A handful of course, and quite out of control, especially with their grandmother and Freddie, and yet they were a blessing! A fourfold blessing!

She bent over and touched her lips to Nico’s small mouth; she felt his light, sweet breath caressing her cheek, and her tears dropped on his forehead, so white and transparent, so soft. . her little angel!

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