Never too Late. Бетти Нилс

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СКАЧАТЬ in the dining room and going down to the cellar to bring up the wine while James carved a chicken.

      They were half way through the meal when Nancy asked: ‘Did you really mean that, Prudence? I mean about not marrying Tony and getting a job?’

      Prudence shot a look across the table to Benedict, whose calm face showed no interest whatever. ‘Yes, of course I did,’ and then she tried a red herring: ‘What a success your party was!’

      ‘Yes, wasn’t it? Does Tony know?’

      ‘No. I’ll—I’ll tell him when I see him…’ She was interrupted by the telephone, and when James came back from answering it, he said cheerfully:

      ‘Well, you’ll be able to do that almost at once—that was Tony saying he can spare us half an hour. He’s on his way.’

      ‘No,’ said Prudence instantly, ‘I can’t—how can I? I haven’t got a job—he’ll never believe me unless I can prove that I’ve found work—I mean, that’ll make him see that I mean it.’ She stared round at them all. ‘I expect I sound like a heartless fool, but I’m not—I’ve felt—I feel like some Victorian miss meekly waiting for the superior male to condescend to marry me.’ She added strongly: ‘And I won’t!’

      ‘No, of course not,’ said James soothingly. ‘No one will make you do something you don’t want to do—but it’s a good opportunity to tell him.’ He thought for a minute. ‘If he’s off to the States it’ll make the break much easier—telling people, you know’

      Prudence tossed off her wine, choked, spluttered and said between whoops: ‘Could I tell a fib and say I’d found a job, do you think?’

      For the first time Benedict spoke. ‘That would hardly become a parson’s daughter,’ he observed mildly, ‘and perhaps there’s no need. It just so happens that I’m badly in need of a general factotum—someone to type—you do type, I hope? My English letters, make sure that I keep appointments, do the flowers, keep an eye on the household and my small daughter. Not much of a job, I’m afraid, but a very necessary one.’

      Prudence had her eyes on her face. She said slowly: ‘You’re married?’

      He smiled a little. ‘A widower—Sibella is six years old. I live in an old-fashioned rambling house which I am told is sheer hell to cope with, in Appeldoorn.’

      ‘Holland?’ queried Prudence.

      ‘That’s right,’ he answered her seriously, although his eyes were dancing. ‘Although I spend a good deal of time over here. You could start at once or within a few days, just as you wish.’ And as the doorbell rang, ‘You’ll have to decide here and now; that sounds like Tony.’

      Nancy had gone to open the door and Tony followed her into the room. His eyes swept the rather untidy table and came to rest on Prudence. ‘I see you’re enjoying yourself, Prudence,’ he remarked, and nodded to James and Benedict. ‘Lucky little girl, aren’t you, while I spend my days hard at work!’

      She didn’t answer him, she looked across the table at Benedict. She said very clearly: ‘Yes.’ Being called a little girl had been the last straw; she stood five feet seven in her stockings and she was a big girl.

      James broke the silence with some remark about Tony’s trip and they listened to his pompous reply before Nancy asked: ‘Will you have a drink, Tony? Or I’ll make some fresh coffee. James and Benedict were just going to wash up in the kitchen—I expect you two would like to be alone for a bit.’

      Prudence cast her sister a telling glance, but before she could answer Tony said: ‘As to that, I don’t give much for these sentimental partings and I won’t stay for coffee—there’s a man I have to see before I leave…’

      ‘I’m not going to marry you,’ said Prudence suddenly, and the four of them looked at her, Nancy and James with sympathy Tony with outraged astonishment and Benedict van Vinke with faint amusement.

      ‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ said Tony sharply.

      ‘It’s not rubbish.’ Prudence took the ring off her finger and put it on the table. ‘We could have been married a dozen times in these last four years, Tony, and now it’s too late.’

      ‘You’ve decided to be a dutiful daughter and live at home?’ he asked with a faint sneer.

      ‘No, I’ve got a job.’

      ‘You’ve never done a day’s work in your life—what can you do?’

      ‘Prudence has agreed to join my household as a personal assistant to me and companion to my small daughter.’ Benedict’s voice was quiet, but there was a hint of steel in it which made Tony pause before he answered.

      He said stiffly: ‘We don’t need anyone interfering in our affairs. I’ll talk to Prudence.’ He turned to her. ‘Come into another room and we’ll settle this once and for all.’

      ‘No need—it’s settled. I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m not the right wife for you—you must know that, because if I had been, you’d have married me years ago.’ She picked up the ring. ‘Here you are. I hope you have a successful trip.’

      She went out of the room rather quickly and went into the kitchen and shut the door. Even though she knew she had done the right thing, it was a little frightening to find herself alone after almost four years, and now she had committed herself to a job she knew nothing about in a country she had never been to with a man she had met only for the second time that evening. She felt lightheaded with relief and regret for what might have been, and at the same time scared of the future.

      CHAPTER TWO

      PRUDENCE WAS vaguely aware of voices, the faint thump of the front door closing and a moment later the door behind her opening.

      ‘Tea?’ Benedict’s voice sounded matter-of-fact as he crossed to the sink, filled the kettle and set it to boil. He didn’t look at her as he went on: ‘Your habit of drinking tea at all times is one to which I strongly subscribe.’

      ‘You’re Dutch?’ Prudence hadn’t given it a thought until now. ‘Why is your English so good?’

      ‘Perhaps because I spend a good deal of time in England. I went to school here and then Cambridge, but I am still a Dutchman, through and through.’

      ‘I don’t know a thing about you.’ And then because she couldn’t help herself: ‘Has he gone?’

      ‘Yes.’ He gave her a lightning glance and poured water into a teapot. ‘There’s not much to tell—I’m a G.P. My home is in Appeldoorn, a rather pleasant town in the centre of Holland—I’ve already told you that, haven’t I?’ He found a mug and filled it to the brim. ‘Drink that—we won’t talk any more about it tonight, you’re not registering anyway. I’ll come round tomorrow morning and we’ll go for a walk and discuss your duties.’ And when she looked at him in a puzzled way: ‘You agreed to come and work for me.’

      ‘Yes—yes, and I meant it, that is if you think I could cope?’

      ‘Why shouldn’t you cope?’ he wanted to know coolly. ‘There’s almost no skill involved.’

      Prudence СКАЧАТЬ