Little Girl Lost by Val Wood Read Free Book Online

heard it isn’t good news.’
    Frederik was shocked. Nicolaas hadn’t been well on his last visit but Frederik had hoped that he would have regained his health since then. He made one more call and then decided he would visit Nicolaas and continue with his business activities the following day.
    He took a carriage to the house on the outskirts of Gouda. A maid answered the door to him, but Cornelia was already hurrying down the stairs and through the hall to greet him, having seen him arrive from an upstairs window.
    â€˜What a tonic,’ she exclaimed. ‘Nicolaas will be so delighted. We were only saying a few days ago that we hoped you would call soon. He wants to talk to you.’
    Her voice broke as she spoke and Frederik saw her eyes, suddenly full of grief, well up with tears. He caught her by the hand. ‘How is he?’ he asked anxiously.
    She shook her head, strands of thick auburn hair escaping from her cap. ‘Much better,’ she murmured. ‘Much better today,’ and he thought that she was saying it for the benefit of the maid rather than him. ‘Will you have coffee before you go up?’
    â€˜He’s in bed?’
    â€˜In his chair in the bedroom. He likes to stay up there for the view, he says.’ She lowered her voice as the maid slipped away down the hall. ‘But really it is because he finds the stairs so difficult. Come, I will make the coffee and you can have it up there with him. Can you stay? We would be so pleased if you could.’
    â€˜Thank you, if it’s convenient. I wouldn’t want to trouble you.’
    â€˜It is and you won’t,’ she said. ‘It will be a pleasure. Nicolaas must tire of my company sometimes, and – well, friends – people, they don’t always come when there is sickness.’
    The Jansens’ home had once been a farmhouse and although little had been changed structurally, the dimly lit rooms with their tall shuttered windows and mullioned glass were enlivened by brightly coloured cushions and patchwork covers on dark and heavy furniture and tapestry hangings on the walls. The kitchen where Cornelia now led him was tiled in blue and white, a deep-set inglenook with cooking accoutrements held a cheerful fire and a great oak lintel supported the chimney above it. In the centre of the room was a large table scattered with cups, plates and books.
    Cornelia invited him to sit whilst she put water on to heat, ground coffee beans, took a pewter jug from a tall cupboard and set a wooden tray with cups, saucers and plates. Lastly, she lifted a sweet cake from a tin and put it on the largest plate.
    He watched her admiringly. Nicolaas was able to afford servants, there was no doubt about that; the maid who had answered the door and then taken herself off to the other end of the hall would not have been the only help they employed, yet his wife clearly preferred to carry out some of the housewifely duties herself. He tried to imagine Rosamund doing anything of the kind but no image came to mind.
    â€˜There,’ she said. ‘All done.’ She smiled as she poured hot water on the coffee grains. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking why does she do this herself instead of asking one of the maids!’
    â€˜I was indeed thinking that,’ he laughed. ‘You are a mind reader,
ja
, as well as a coffee maker?’
    â€˜I make good coffee,’ she said simply and without conceit. ‘Much better than Miriam does.’ She turned to him. ‘Will you carry it upstairs?’
    He rose from the chair, took the tray from the table and followed her up the wide staircase. On the landing Cornelia went to an open doorway and in a cheerful voice proclaimed, ‘Look who we have here,
liefje
. A new manservant for you.’
    Frederik felt a sudden pang of envy. Never in their life together had Rosamund used a term of endearment and certainly never such a word of