"Margareta has cooked the fatted calf," said my father; and we spent the evening talking of our adventures. We sat up late and I think Father and Margareta were a little sad contemplating Jan's departure.
I said: "It is so good of you to let him come. Remember the distance between us is not so very far. It is not as though we were on the other side of the world."
Margareta said: "It is sad for us that he is going, but like little birds they must leave the nest and learn to fly on their own. And when they do it is natural that sometimes they fly far away."
"He is quite passionate in his desire to become a cartographer," I said.
My father agreed. "I recognize the passion," he said.
"Granny will love him. Believe me, she needs him. I need him. And he needs to be where he can learn what he longs to."
"You are right, of course," said my father. He looked at Margareta and she nodded, smiling rather sadly at him.
"You are so fortunate," I told them. "Being here I have felt the harmony, the happiness, in this home. You have each other, Charles and Wilhelmina. And Jan is there too... just across a little stretch of water."
"That is true," said my father. To tell the truth we have often wondered about Jan. I was going to see someone in this town about what he wants to do. He is fifteen so it is time to be thinking about that."
"And when he has a desire which is undoubtedly born in him it cannot be ignored," added Margareta.
"You want the best for him," I said.
"Yes. We must put aside our selfish feelings," Margareta said. "I have wanted to keep the children round me ... "
"Alas, time passes. Perhaps you will come and see us... all of you. Granny would be delighted. It is just a matter of breaking the ice, of forgetting these foolish differences."
"Well, it seems you have done that, Annalice," said my father.
"We must make sure that I have."
"And you are leaving tomorrow," said Margareta. "Your friends are charming people."
My father smiled and looked at her. I knew what they were thinking. They had already decided that I was going to marry Raymond.
I said nothing. But seeing their joy in each other made me wonder if I was being very foolish indeed to hold back.
I kept thinking of all Raymond had done for me. He had even brought this about. But for him I should now be at the Manor, watching for the news which never came.
Everyone thought I was lucky to be loved by Raymond Billington. Surely everyone could not be wrong.
The experiment was successful as I knew it would be. When I arrived home with my half brother, Granny was astounded and a little piqued I think because it had all been arranged without her knowledge; but her joy very soon overcame all other feelings.
In a very short time Jan had won her heart. His likeness to Philip was both saddening and heart-warming. "He is a Mallory from head to toe," she told me. "There doesn't seem to be anything Dutch about him."
I said: "You would like his mother, Granny. She is a sweet, homely and loving person."
"I can see that you have been completely bewitched by them all."
She was deeply moved and in spite of herself could not help showing it.
"You're quite audacious, Annalice," she said almost angrily. "Slyly going over there and arranging all this. I think you had it in mind right from the first."
"Well, Granny, it has always seemed a little silly to me. Family feuds always are. It is my family, don't forget ... as well as yours."
"I can see I shall have to be watchful or you will be managing us all before long."
But she was delighted; and I think she admired me for what I had done.
I said: "Let us ask them all over for Christmas. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"I'm not sure. We'll see how Jan feels about it here."
"He loves it. Benjamin says he reminds him so much of—"
"I know. I can tell. He's got it in him. Heaven knows what happened to his father."
"Jan can't get to the shop quickly enough. He is into everything. Benjamin says it is What's this? What's that? all the time."
"I know. And he is certainly fond of you. I don't think he exactly dislikes his old grandmother either."
"He told me he had always wanted to come to England and that his father had talked about us and the Manor, and he thought about England as his home."
"He is a sensible boy."
He was good for us. We had to hide our grief from him and we did not talk of Philip in his presence.
It was the beginning of May when we visited the Billingtons again. Jan went with us. He had settled in amazingly well. It was true he spoke rather nostalgically now and then of his family but when I asked if he would like to go back, he was emphatic in his assurances that he wanted to stay.
He spent most afternoons at the shop.
Granny had been in correspondence with my father and they were writing regularly to each other now. He wanted to hear about Jan's progress, and she was happy to be on friendly terms again. Jan's education had given some anxiety but Granny had engaged the curate, who was a scholar and eager to earn a little extra money, to take Jan in the mornings until other arrangements could be made and we knew how long he was going to stay with us. Granny said that if he was going to make maps his career, he could not start too early and surely the ideal opportunity was in the family business.
My father agreed with that but it was decided that, for the time being, Jan should study with the curate.
"You see," said Granny to me, "when people make arrangements so hastily, they are inclined to forget the practical details."
"Which," I reminded her, "can always be worked out later."
She nodded, looking at me with that mingling of affection and grudging admiration.
But she thought I was very foolish to continue to refuse Raymond Billington.
I still went up to the room and would sit there thinking of Ann Alice. I was almost twenty now, and I still had the uncanny feeling that our lives were linked. I could not talk to anyone about it. Granny would have thought the notion quite ridiculous and would not have hesitated to say so. Raymond might too, but he would try to understand.
It was a great pleasure to arrive at the station and be greeted by Raymond and Grace.
"We have visitors," Raymond told us. "Old friends of the family. Miss Felicity Derring and her aunt, Miss Cartwright. You'll like them."
He asked Jan how he was getting on and Jan enthusiastically told him.
"Jan's days are full," I said. "Shop in the afternoon and Mr. Gleeson the curate in the mornings."
Jan grimaced.
"A necessary evil," I reminded him.
"I'd like to be at the shop all day," he said.
"There's enthusiasm for you," I commented.
"So all goes well. I'm glad of that."
When Raymond helped me down from the carriage which had brought us from the station, he whispered: "Our little plan worked."
"You should have been a general."
"Wars are more difficult to manage than family reconciliations."
We went into the house to be greeted by the family and introduced to Miss Felicity Derring and her aunt.
Felicity was pretty—about my age, I imagined. She had soft brown hair and big brown eyes. She was small-boned and not very tall, very dainty and completely feminine. I felt quite large and a little clumsy beside her. The aunt was small too, with a rather fussy manner.
"Felicity and Miss Cartwright are very old friends of the family," said Mrs. Billington. "I've heard all about your adventures on the Continent. And this is Jan. Jan, it is good to meet you. I am so glad you came to visit us."
It was the same warm atmosphere which always made me feel cosily content.
But there was a difference this time because of the visitors, and I learned something about them at dinner.