Eva Ibbotson - The Morning Gift

Oh, Quin , she thought, and hugged herself, and Fräulein Lutzenholler, furiously waiting, looked at her, startled, remembering the existence of something she seldom came across in her profession: joy.

Giving up hope of the bathroom, Ruth went into the kitchen where all of them, since Heini’s arrival, kept a spare toothbrush. Her mother was laying the breakfast and Ruth stood for a moment in the doorway watching her. Leonie looked tired these days, there were lines on her face that had not been there when they left Vienna, and strands of grey in her hair, but to her daughter she looked beautiful. And with the love that enveloped Ruth, with the ecstasy of her remembered night, there came an overwhelming gratitude, for now she would be able to help her parents, help Uncle Mishak… pay back at last.

Her mother would not want to live at Bowmont — Ruth smiled, thinking of the surging sea, the cold wind, the draughts. Her parents would visit, but they would want to stay in town and now they should do so in comfort. She would be an undemanding wife — no grand clothes, certainly no jewels or trinkets which she did not care for anyway. She would learn to be frugal and sensible, but there were things she would ask Quin for and that he would grant in their shared life, she knew that. A cottage for Uncle Mishak — Elsie had shown her an empty one in the village — sanctuary for her friends when they needed a place to rest or work… and she might just mention the problem of the sheep! And she, in exchange, would not whine to be taken on his journeys. It was not easy to see how she was supposed to live away from him for months on end, but she would — somehow she would.

Now she embraced her mother who said: ‘You look very happy. Did you have a good time with Pilly?’

‘Yes, I did. A lovely time.’

Ruth blushed, but it was her last lie. They had not made plans in the night — it was a night outside time — but when they did she would announce her marriage and then she would never need to lie again!

It was as she was cutting herself a slice of bread that she came out of her dream of happiness to notice that Leonie was clattering the crockery in a way which had boded ill in Vienna.

‘Is anything the matter, Mama?’

Leonie shrugged. ‘I’m silly to be surprised — I should have expected it from the stupid, pop-eyed Aryan cow! But even so one couldn’t quite imagine that she would treat him like that after all he did for her and that loutish family of hers. When you think how she chased him in the hospital — a junior nurse as thick as a plank — and the way she showed off about being a Frau Doktor.’

‘Is this Hennie? Dr Levy’s wife?’

Leonie nodded. ‘She’s written to say she wants a divorce on racial grounds. You should have seen him yesterday; he looks ten years older — and even so he won’t hear a word against her. The man’s a saint.’

Ruth was silent, cupping her hands round her mug, in sudden need of warmth. How could anyone hurt this modest, gentle man — a brilliant doctor, a generous friend. She had seemed to love him, the foolish Hennie, echoing his words, basking in his status. Was it so strong, the pull of her family with their pernicious views?

‘Aren’t you going to college?’

‘Not till later.’

Quin had told her to be lazy, to have the morning off. It had surprised her, but she would heed him. When she did go, she would have to be careful not to levitate in the lecture room and float over the carafe of water into his arms. Levitating during lectures was almost certainly bad manners and she could only repay the gods now by being very, very good.

She was still sitting dreamily over a second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang, insistent and shrill. For a moment she thought it might be Quin and in an unconscious gesture of coquetry, she shook out her hair, making it into an offering. But that was silly; Quin had left her saying he had something important to do. He had sounded mysterious, almost preoccupied. He wouldn’t, in any case, have followed her to Belsize Park — not till they had decided what to do.

‘Go down, darling,’ said Leonie. ‘Ziller’s out — he’s gone to the Day Centre.’ She brightened. ‘Perhaps it’s the rodent officer!’

But it was not the rodent officer. A messenger stood there in a dark blue pageboy’s suit and a peaked cap. He must have come in the van that stood parked near by, also dark blue, with scrolled writing saying Cavour and Stattersley and surmounted by a crown.

‘I’ve a package for Miss Ruth Berger. It’s got to be delivered to her personally.’

‘I’m Ruth Berger.’

‘Can you give evidence of identity?’

Ruth, in her dressing-gown, sighed. ‘I can go up and get a letter or something. But I’m not expecting anything. Are you sure it’s for me?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s a special delivery. Got to be handed over personally and had to get here first thing — and came in an armoured car, and that only happens when we’re delivering stuff that’s worth a fortune!’

‘I think you must have got it wrong,’ said Ruth, puzzled.

But the driver now leant out of the van and said: ‘It’s okay, I’ve got a description. You can hand it over — just get her to sign.’

Ruth took the parcel and signed her name. The delivery boy looked at her, impressed. ‘We haven’t had to hustle like that since we delivered a tiara to the Duchess of Rockingham before the state visit of some bigwig. I wish it was me going to open the box.’

Ruth, still bewildered, said: ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to give you — but thank you all the same. Only if there’s a mistake…?’

‘If there is, just get in touch with Cavour and Stattersley. They can change it for you maybe… shorten it or something. But you won’t want to mess about with what you’ve got in there!’

The van drove away. Left alone, Ruth opened the box.

She didn’t, at first, take in what she saw: a necklace of green stones, each ringed by diamonds and linked by a golden chain. Emeralds, green as the sea, as the eyes of the Buddha and perfectly matched.

Then suddenly she understood.

This was a gift… a gift hurried to her through the London streets so that it should reach her the morning after the bridal night. Obscenely valuable, because Quin was generous and would not buy her off with anything cheap, but unmistakable in what it signified.

‘The word comes from the Latin matrimonium ad morganaticum ,’ Quin had told her in the Stadtpark, explaining the concept of a morganatic marriage. ‘It’s a marriage based on the morning gift with which the husband frees himself from any liability to his wife. A morganatic wife doesn’t share any of her husband’s duties or responsibilities, and their children don’t inherit.’

That was why he had urged her to stay home this morning; so that she would be certain to receive it. So that she should understand at once that she was not wanted at Bowmont. A girl with tainted blood might be fit to share his bed, but not his home. A refugee, a foreigner, part Jewish… of course, it was unthinkable. If it could happen to Dr Levy, that saintly man, then why not to her?

She shut the box, hid it in the pocket of her dressing-gown. How physical it was, this kind of pain, like being terribly ill. Why couldn’t one stop the shivering, the giddiness? And if one couldn’t, why didn’t the next part follow — the part that would have made it right again? Just dying? Just being dead?

‘Look at this!’ said Lady Plackett. ‘It’s outrageous! Professor Somerville must be informed immediately and take the necessary steps!’

Unaware of Verena’s expectations over Africa, she was no longer so pleased with Quinton who seemed to be doing nothing to further his involvement with her daughter.