Eline Vere (43 page)

But she pushed her way doggedly onwards against the gale until she reached Javastraat, where she turned right towards Laan van Meerdervoort. A gust of wind almost made her lose her footing, and a broken branch came flying through the air, striking her on the shoulder and grazing her cheek, at which she let out a scream. Fear, pain and utter despair took possession of her as she laboured to make her legs go faster . . . To the Ferelijns'! To the Ferelijns'! But the raging wind was against her, compelling her to fight every step of the way.

‘Oh God! What have I done?' she moaned in helpless agony. The streets so familiar by day had been transformed into a diabolical maze of darkness and clamour, in which she felt like a lost soul, ghostlike and God-forsaken, and when she found herself going past old Madame van Raat's house she had to summon all her fortitude not to ring the bell, by which she would have gained immediate admittance to warmth and light. But no, it was too late in the night, Madame would be asleep by now, and besides, she would not take kindly to Eline's flight from Nassauplein. And she trudged past the door without stopping, driven onwards by the wind as much as by her newfound passion to reach the Ferelijns, frantically putting one foot in front of the other in her mud-clotted evening shoes. She
turned into Van de Spieghelstraat – how much longer would she have to endure this torment? There, at long last, Hugo de Grootstraat!

With the rain stinging her face and the wind tearing harder than ever at her cloak, she found herself – thank Heavens! – standing on their doorstep. The house was in total darkness, but she did not hesitate. This was her only salvation. She seized the bell-pull and rang for all her worth, wildly, passionately, and rang again, and again.

. . .

How long it was taking! It seemed like an eternity, but at last she heard someone thumping down the stairs, then the squeak of the bolt being drawn across the door. It opened a crack, and a face appeared.

‘For the love of God!' she cried, thrusting the door open and rushing inside. ‘It's me, Eline!'

The door fell to behind her. She stood in the unlit stairwell, face to face with Frans Ferelijn, who cried out her name in disbelief. Jeanne appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a lamp. All Eline could think of at that moment was the promise of light, warmth and comfort, and, mustering the very last of her energy, she ran up the stairs.

‘Jeanne! Jeanne! I beg you, help me! It's me, Eline! Oh, please help me!

‘Good heavens, Eline!' gasped Jeanne.

‘Help me, I beg you! I – I have run away! Oh please, help me, or I'll die!'

She sank down in a wet, crumpled heap at Jeanne's feet.

‘Eline! Eline!' cried Jeanne in dismay.

Breaking into violent sobs, Eline remained hunched on the floor, where puddles were forming about the hem of her cloak. Jeanne struggled to lift her to her feet.

‘Oh Eline! What have you done? What's happened? You're wet through! And quite frozen! Heavens above!'

She led Eline, who could barely stand, into Frans' little study, and set down the lamp. Eline collapsed onto a chair, muddy water oozing from her clothes.

‘I've run away! I've run away from Nassauplein!' she wailed. ‘I couldn't bear it any longer – and I came here because . . . well, because I had nowhere else to go. Oh, Jeanne, please, you will help me, won't you?'

Jeanne was overwhelmed with pity.

‘You can tell me about it later, Eline. Come, let's get you out of those wet clothes, or you'll catch your death of cold.'

‘Oh yes, please, help me take them off. Here's my cloak. Oh, and my shoes! What a disgusting state I'm in, all covered in mud! Lord in heaven, I wish I were dead!'

She slumped against the back of her chair, weeping.

‘Frans, just look at her!' said Jeanne tremulously. ‘I do hope she won't fall ill – she didn't even have a hat, and look what she's wearing, just a flimsy evening dress!'

‘I'll go down and light the stove, then, while you get her some dry clothes,' said Frans, in a subdued voice. He too was profoundly moved by the sight of Eline slumped in their armchair, her dripping hair in streaks across her marble-white throat and jaw, her black silk dress clinging wetly to her limp form. He went off, glad for something to do.

Outside, the storm raged unabated.

. . .

In the Ferelijns' sitting room, lying on the couch, which Frans had moved up close to the glowing stove, Eline shivered feverishly under a blanket. Nonetheless, in that room suffused with light and warmth she experienced a grateful sense of well-being, and her relief at having escaped from the diabolical powers of darkness knew no bounds. With a start, she drew herself up.

‘Forgive me!' she cried hoarsely to Jeanne, who was preparing a hot toddy. ‘Please, please, forgive me for disturbing you in the middle of the night like this! I am so sorry! But where else could I go? There I was, out in the dark street, in the wind and the rain! I can't bear to think of it! It was terrible, the most terrible night in my life! But you must understand, I simply had to leave . . . I couldn't stay there another minute! Oh, Betsy's so mean! How I hate her!'

‘There, there, Eline, you must try to get some rest now.'

‘Why did she have to bring Otto into it? She had no right to do that! I hate her! I hate her!'

‘Eline! Eline!' said Jeanne, clasping her hands beseechingly.

She fell to her knees before the couch. ‘I beg you, Eline, for Heaven's sake calm yourself! Lie down, now. You really must rest.'

Eline stared a moment, wild-eyed, then wrapped her arm around Jeanne's neck.

‘You must try and relax, Eline. Lie down and repose yourself, if you can't sleep.'

A hollow sob rasped in Eline's throat.

‘You're an angel!' she whispered hoarsely. ‘I shall never forget what you've done for me, not as long as I live. You saved my life! Oh, all that horrible mud! You do love me, Jany, don't you?'

‘Yes, Eline, I love you, but you must take some rest now.'

‘Ah . . . rest!'

The word pierced Jeanne's soul. Eline had uttered it in a voice full of despair, as if to say that there would be no rest for her ever again, but she lay back in the cushions obediently, and drank the hot toddy proffered by Jeanne.

‘Thank you . . . thank you,' she faltered.

Jeanne tucked her up in the blanket and sat down beside her. The window panes rattled in their frames, whipped by the branches outside. The mantel clock struck three.

. . .

It had also struck three in the Van Raat residence when Frans Ferelijn pulled up at their front door. The storm was still raging like a wounded monster in the sky over the darkened city. Frans sprang down from the cab and rang the bell. He could see that the light was on in the vestibule.

‘I have no money on me, I'm afraid, so please come to my house in the morning to collect what I owe you!' he called to the driver.

The door was opened almost immediately by Henk, who appeared to be expecting someone. But on seeing Frans rush inside, he stepped back in wonder.

‘Why, is that you, Ferelijn?' he exclaimed.

‘Yes, it's me, don't be alarmed,' said Frans. ‘It's all right, Eline is at our house.'

He stepped forward, crushing the broken glass that lay scattered on the floor.

‘At your house? Oh, thank God for that!' cried Henk. ‘I was worried sick, I didn't know what to do. What a relief!'

‘Do come through, Ferelijn,' Betsy called from the dining room door. The maids and Gerard, who had crept into the hallway to hear what was going on, were likewise relieved, and withdrew to the kitchen whispering among themselves. Henk ushered Frans into the dining room.

‘There is no cause for alarm, Madame van Raat. Truly, this is the best solution for the moment. Eline was soaked to the skin, but Jeanne has taken good care of her. You can't imagine what a fright it gave us to hear the doorbell at such a late hour, and then to find her on the doorstep, dripping wet,' said Frans, his voice trailing off as he stared at Henk.

‘What on earth has happened to you? Your cheek – it's bleeding!'

‘Oh, nothing serious. When Eline ran out of the house I wanted to go after her, but the wind slammed the vestibule door shut, shattering the glass. Some fragments sprang into my face and eyes, so I couldn't go in pursuit of her at once, but as soon as I was able, Gerard and I ran out, meaning to drag her home again if necessary. But it was so confoundedly dark – the gas lamps had all gone out in the storm – and she was nowhere to be seen. I didn't know what to do. In the end we went to the police station on Schelpkade, and they sent out a party of nightwatchmen to search for her. She was in a terrible state when she left – I thought she might do herself an injury, and in this infernal weather anything could have happened. My eye is still hurting. I think I'd better see an oculist tomorrow.'

Betsy sighed and fell into a chair. ‘Dreadful! How very upsetting all this is,' she said. ‘Eline must have taken leave of her senses.'

‘And you're the one who drove her to it!' fumed Henk, with his hand to his painful eye.

‘Oh, so now it's my fault, is it?'

‘Van Raat, there are a few things we ought to discuss,' interposed Frans. ‘I came here without a moment's delay, of course, because I thought you would be frantic with worry.'

‘My dear chap, I can't thank you enough.'

‘Never mind about that. The thing is, Eline has positively declared that she has no intention of going back. Needless to say, an affair such as this is bound to be talked about. People will gossip, which is most disagreeable! Gossip only makes things worse. The servants know what has transpired, I presume?'

Betsy cast Frans an approving look for raising that point.

‘Well, it can't be helped!' said Henk impatiently. ‘People always gossip.'

‘That's true. Still, I think it would be a good idea for you to come round to our house in the morning. See if you can persuade Eline to return home – at least if she's well enough, because she seemed rather feverish to me when I left. I suggest you let her get some rest now, but come over as soon as you can in the morning.'

‘Very well,' said Henk, looking dazed.

‘I believe she may have been delirious when I left the house in search of a cab, but she seemed very determined. She gave me her house keys, and kept saying that she would never go back. She also asked me to settle her affairs here,' he said, looking askance at Betsy, ‘and to arrange for her clothes to be sent on, but I think she said all this in the heat of passion. In any case, I hope we will have come to some amicable arrangement by this time tomorrow.'

‘Look here, Ferelijn,' said Betsy uneasily, ‘I hope you realise how upsetting this is for me. Goodness knows this is not the first time Eline and I have fallen out, but who could have imagined that she would go and do something so silly? And as you say: it will be the talk of The Hague! So if you can manage to persuade her to change her mind, I'd be eternally grateful. Our house is always open to her. As for her keys, you can leave them here. Yes, I expect it will turn out all right in the end. I'm so glad it was you she went to! But can you imagine – in the middle of the night, in that storm? How could she do it? How on earth could she do it?'

Frans and Henk resumed their conversation, and Henk suggested he stay the night, as Frans had sent away the cab and the
storm had not abated. Gerard showed Frans to Henk's dressing room for a dry set of clothes.

‘Henk, you might ask Ferelijn discreetly how much he paid for that cab,' Betsy suggested when she was alone with her husband once more. ‘It must have cost him a pretty penny, and it was very kind of him to come at once.'

‘Discreetly, you say – you don't know the meaning of the word!' spluttered Henk, and he left the room, shuddering to think of what people were going to say.

. . .

Early the next morning Henk drove with Frans Ferelijn to an oculist. There was slight damage to the veins in one eye, and after the removal of a small splinter of glass he felt greatly relieved. His cheek, however, displayed a nasty gash.

‘I look as if I've been to war!' he jested grimly when they were back in the cab on their way to Hugo de Grootstraat. ‘And indeed, my dear Frans, at the moment my house does seem like a battlefield! I, for one, have had quite enough of it.'

Ferelijn's heart went out to Henk, whose kindly, honest face now wore an expression of utter despondency.

Henk was clearly dreading his interview with Eline. In the event, however, he was spared the ordeal. Eline refused categorically to see him, and from the adjoining room he listened anxiously as she remonstrated with Frans. Why had Frans brought Henk to see her, and why had he taken her keys? Was there no one she could trust? Not even Frans?

Eline sounded hoarse and strident, and it seemed to Henk that she must still be delirious. He could hear Jeanne trying to pacify her, although he could not distinguish the words, then Eline sobbing with self-recrimination and remorse.

Presently Frans returned, raising his shoulders apologetically.

‘She won't see you. You'd better resign yourself to it for the moment, as she seems to be running a high fever. Do you think Reijer might still be at home at this hour? Perhaps you could drive there and ask him to come over.'

‘Very well,' said Henk forlornly. ‘I'll do that.'

Eline moaned softly as she lay on the couch, her limbs twitching restlessly under the woollen comforter. Jeanne had told the children to keep out of the way.

‘You're so good to me, Jany! But, you see, I can't possibly stay here and put you to so much trouble!' she said. ‘You haven't much room to spare; I'd only get in your way. I shall go to a hotel this afternoon.'

Jeanne sat down on the edge of the couch and took Eline's hands in hers.