A Summer Wedding (2014 Edition)

College sweethearts, they nipped away and got married this winter, after about eight years of living in poky bedsits in Brighton, fresh flowers always on the marquetry drum table so the various places looked bright and homey.  They decided to gather the clans to celebrate at grandma's New England pond-side summer house, and gosh can the young folks throw a party.
 

The gift table, with its own little marquee in case the partly-cloudy sky got obstreperous.

The bride is a horticulturalist and artist; this wildflower arrangement is hers.

She also did the centerpieces, with help from friends.  The table runners are paper, decorated with the bride and groom's initials handwritten by anyone who was around to write them.  They made a great graphic design; I feel very smart that I managed to figure out they were letters.

The view from the buffet.

And we walked by the marriage vows to get to that buffet.

May there always be a shared adventure rich with moments of serenity, as well as excitement; vital with problems that test as well as successes that lift...

The feast included charcuterie and cheese plates, mezze and salads and sandwiches and really great breads.

On the groom's side, we got to meet Mum and a cousin or something.  On the bride's side, there were Mum and Dad, one and a half sisters, three aunts, two uncles, just one of several cousins, Mum's second ex-husband (effectively bride's stepfather for much of her childhood and adolescence), stepdad's mother, sister and wife and someone who may have been his mother's boyfriend, Dad's mother, sister, wife, two cousins and Dad's daughter by current marriage so that's another half-sister.  There may have been more.  The photo of the bride's mother, father's wife and stepfather's wife together is... let's call it interesting.

Dress varied widely.  One of the wedding gifts was the bride's gorgeous tiara of fresh roses.

Where do I come in?  Through the kitchen door, natch.  I made Mum and Dad's wedding cake more than thirty years ago, and the bride wanted someone to bring dessert.  They hadn't specified a wedding cake, but wedding cakes are fun!  And since they had way fewer than 150 guests, I didn't need to construct a three-tier cake, which I can only vaguely recall how to do.  So I decided to go with two tiers and a cheesecake on the side that would make her dad happy.

Cheesecake o' love.

So having made that first cake, 30-some years ago, I got called on twice more in the ensuing fifteen years.  That, for those of you challenged by the maths-totting, means I haven't made a tiered cake for more than fifteen years.  How hard could it be, I reasoned, and left everything to the last minute.  My wedding cakes have all been chocolate, with fruit filling between the layers and buttercream overall.  The two marriages celebrated with chocolate and raspberry ended in divorce; the one celebrated with chocolate and cherry filling is still going fairly strong.  So there you go.  One of the bride's friends whipped a gallon or two of cream to go with a few gallons of fresh strawberries, plus there were sorbets, so everyone got well-desserted.

Sugaring a cherry is akin to gilding a lily, but sometimes 'fancy' is the right way to go.

They both seem very down-to-earth, reasonably smart, and centered.  I'm betting on happy ever after.

Guests did a little swimming as the sun drew in.

Then there were lanterns.  The groom and bride took theirs out on the pond, lit it...

let it go...

and watched it fly.

 

Betty by the Numbers: The Founding Bettys’ Ratings

Shall we begin with several rousing cheers for Betty Debbie and Betty Keira, the Founding Bettys, who so assiduously worked and worried and read and dreamed and finally brought us the marvelous wonderment that is everyneelsthing.blogspot.com, a/k/a The Uncrushable Jersey Dress.  What a joy and a treasure they have unloosed upon the world, however misguided Betty D. may be about The Fortunes of Francesca (1997) or ditto Betty K. in the matter of Heaven is Gentle (1974).  So here’s to the Founding Bettys, who read 135 books with care and attention, and rated each of them with a magnificently-imagined scale-of-Betty-food (except Betty Magdalen reviewed Fate is Remarkable).  Hip, hip, hooray!  Hip, hip, HOORAY!  Hip, hip, hippety HOORAY-O-RAMA!!!



Betty Debbie's T reads, “You encourage me to fend off the encroaching years;" Betty Keira's reads, "Emily took instant exception to his pink frilled shirt."

Ithe Founding Bettys.  Now, about those ratings...

  

Almost two-thirds of the Neels oeuvre warrants, in the FBs view, a boeuf en croute or better.  One suspects a smidgeon of partisanship.  Zero, that’s right, zero, rate a tinned soup or digestive biscuits, and only 6% rate a cheese board or below.  The average score is something like a small serving of boeuf en croute with a large mince pie for afters (7.75).  The median score is boeuf en croute (8).

Time out for a quick reminder on the rating system:

The best books warrant a lashings of whipped cream rating, which equates to ten points out of ten.  A handful get lashings-plus.  Then, in descending order, we have:

9	queen of puddings	delightfully named, but really just super-custardy bread pudding with jam underneath and meringue on top
8	boeuf en croute	most excellent if you like beef...
7	mince pies	if genuine mince, with suet and organ meats and other disgusting yuk, I’d rather have tinned soup; if just nice fruits and booze and minimal citron, I may take seconds
6	treacle tart	bleargh
5	madeira cake	tasty, but too often dry
4	the cheese board	gosh, I love a good cheese board, but I suppose if you’re comparing it to a confection of meringue, almonds, cream and chocolate, it may lack something
3	beans on toast	DELICIOUS served hot with cheese melted on top, but quite unpalatable if allowed to get soggy
2	digestive biscuits	actually quite tasty, but unfortunately named
1	tinned soup	typically very salty, and no real flavor of whatever it’s supposed to be – especially sad with things like asparagus

So, here we go:  four books, or 3%, warrant lashings-plus:  Blow Hot, Blow Cold/Surgeon from Holland/Visiting Consultant (1969) – lashings of whipped cream with cherries on top; Winter Wedding (1979) – mountains of lashings of whipped cream; Caroline’s Waterloo (1980) – lashings of whipped cream with a cherry on top; and A Christmas Romance (1999) – lashings and lashings of whipped cream.  Note the broad range of publication dates; note too that we have 75% nurses, 75% Dutchmen, 25% MOCs, average heroine age of 24 and average hero age of 38, all of which are reasonably representative of the broader canon.  There’s 50% barons represented here, which is a bit high, but probably not to an expert on statistics.

The unadorned, regular-sized lashings go to 13 books, from 1970’s Fate is Remarkable to 2001’s An Ordinary Girl.  That’s 10% of the total.  After the lashings, the curve starts to go a bit top-heavy, as 24% of the books, 32 in total, get the coveted Queen of Puddings rating.  Two, in fact, get a bit higher, as Cassandra by Chance (1973) warrants Queen of Puds with a dollop of whipped cream, and Roses Have Thorns (1990) gets the pudding with a full serving of cream.  

Betty Kylene dishing up a heaping helping of Hannah, or maybe An Ideal Wife.

Down a rung we go, but still up on the top-third of the scale, and we get 36 books, or 27%, earning boeuf en croute or slightly better.  Both the beginning Betty, Sister Peters in Amsterdam (1969), and the final one, Emma’s Wedding (2001), win 8’s from our judges.  Six books win ratings like the “boeuf en croute with dollop of queen of puddings” awarded to Heaven Around the Corner (1981), although I vote “tinned dog-meat soup with a scummy crust” for that one.  Cheerfully and respectfully, I vote “tinned dog-meat soup with a scummy crust.”  And non-fat sour cream with chokecherries for afters.  But I’m on board with most of the others.

So we have covered 63% of our novels, or 85 books, as we descend unto the mince pies.  There are 16 books, or 12% of the total, in or near this category.  There’s some confusion with the volumes No Need to Say Goodbye (1989) and The Awakened Heart (1993), as the former is rated treacle tart for the first half and Queen of Puddings for the second, and the latter rated just the opposite.  Turning up my hem to tot up some maths, I get an average of 7.5, or mince-pies-plus, for each.  Grasp a Nettle (1977) was a bit simpler, as it rated halfway between pies and beef.

Now we arrive at the quarter of the novels that rate the lowest, with 34 books remaining.  Eighteen of those, or 13% of the oeuvre, are in the treacle-tart segment.  These range all the way from 1971’s Tangled Autumn (but I love Sappha!  the causeway!) to 2001’s Always and Forever.  They also include two 6.75 scores, for Last April Fair (1980), “almost mince pies,” and The Right Kind of Girl (1995), “mince pie that’s been dropped on the ground.”    Did I mention Ithe Founding Bettys?

There are just seven madeira cakes (5%) and five cheese boards (4%).  The cheese-board scores include the unfortunate The Edge of Winter, which was headed for a boeuf en croute, but sadly detoured into a tinned-soup ending, resulting in a score of... hand me that apron and a pencil, please... 4.5.  The cheese boards are all from the mid-1970s (1973-1976).

A mere three books warrant beans on toast:  Winter of Change/Surgeon in Charge (1973), A Small Slice of Summer (1975) (WHAAAAT?!? so wrong!), and Not Once but Twice (1981).  They are followed by the sad and lonely The Gemel Ring (1974) in last place at a 2.5, or midway between beans on toast and digestive biscuits.  You can sense Betty Debbie’s more-in-sorrow as she wields her pen on this one:  “I honestly don't know what rating to give this book. I could never work up any liking or sympathy for Everard.  He was rude, insulting, hyper-critical, irritable and cranky...when he wasn't being mocking and supercilious.  The best things about him are things (cars, Gemel Rings, good looks)...but none of those really add up to any kind of real reason to fall in love with him.  His one redeeming feature is that he operates a rest home (which is all well and good, but Charity didn't know that when she fell in love).  The character of Charity was lovely - as long as we ignore the 600-pound gorilla in the room.  Why would a smart, talented, good looking Olivia fall for such a putz? There was no saucy flippancy to her remarks...she comes off sounding a wee bit desperate.  I did love Mr. and Mrs. Boekercheck (very awesome) and Corrie Blom was a brief, but fun, interlude.  Granny was also fun, she's got one of the best lines in Neeldom (speaking of a girl that Everard had dated)...’she's only half alive and the live half isn't at all to my liking.’
“I think I will have to resort to doing maths again.  Mr. and Mrs. Boekerchek get a queen of puddings, Corrie - boeuf en croute, Granny - lashings of whipped cream, Charity - treacle tart (I would have rated her higher if I thought she would be happy with Everard) and Everard - a great big ‘tinned soup.’  Overall it lands somewhere between digestive biscuits and beans on toast (for me...).”

Let’s have it, Bettys – where do you uncover the coagulated aroma of tinned soup in the oeuvre?  How many of the Novels Neels earn mountains of lashings with cherries and berries and chocolate shavings from you?

The Fortunes of Francesca - 1997

I can't believe this is my last review. I was a little nervous about doing The Fortunes of Francesca - I know it's not a universal favorite (as if there is such a thing!). There are no 'other women', no pet rescues, no adorable kiddies...the romance is really long in coming...despite all (or perhaps because of) that, I adore this book. Adore it. Let's dig in.

Francesca Bowen (23) is sorely in need of work.  She's had two years worth of nurses training, that and a dollar bill will buy you your hearts desire (as long as your heart only desires things from the dollar store).  She's the breadwinner of a family that includes, a) her aunt, Mrs. Blake and b) her younger brother (and medical student), Finn. Auntie can't work (health issues), and Francesca and Auntie won't allow Finn to work. Their household is oddly devoid of animal companionship.

Francesca answers an ad seeking a 'girl Friday'. Lady Trumper is not willing to engage her, Francesca is not deemed suitable. She is however, suitable enough to do a spot of heroic rescue work in Lady Trumper's kitchen wherein Elsie (a servant) is bleeding from a nicked artery. Professor Marc van der Kettener (35) is impressed with Francesca's sangfroid-i-ness. It's not every day that you meet a small mousy stranger who's that cool in the face of adversity.





Working for Lady Trumper is not particularly fun, but Francesca manages to spread a little sunshine, endure what must be endured and enjoy whatever little pleasures are offered - and she's a pro at recognizing the good things in life. Editor's Note: If you don't like characters like Pollyanna, you probably won't like Francesca - she seems to go through life playing The Glad Game (see first paragraph of the plot summary on wiki if you're not familiar with this game).

The Professor sees Francesca walking down a busy street - so he pulls over and picks her up.  She's her usual outgoing self, but he's not sure what to make of her.  It's like she doesn't have an off switch.

'I trust Lady Trumper doesn't have to listen to your chatter?'
'No, no...I speak only when spoken to. Sorry to have bored you, but you did look like the kind of person one could chat with.

I'm not sure that you could call the Professor a kindred spirit - at least not when it comes to chatting, but he is intrigued by Francesca's indomitable spirit. When life hands her lemons, she doesn't just make lemonade, she makes a friggin' lemon meringue pie.

What kind of medicine does Professor Marc specialize in? He's a heart surgeon, that's what. In Neeldom, where heart surgeons flourish, can heart attacks be far behind? Nope, they can't. In this case, the revelation that Marc is a heart specialist comes only 4 pages before Auntie has a heart attack.  It's clear to Francesca that Auntie will need more supervision when she leaves hospital - so Francesca starts to contemplate getting a new job working the graveyard shift - she'll just have to forgo sleep for the foreseeable future.

Franny, being Franny can't help but be forthright.  When Lady Trumper discloses her unethical bill paying strategy, Franny corrects her.  Faster than the grass is growing in my front yard (the van der Stevejincks have an embarrassment of lush greenery at this time of year), Lady T sacks her. Francesca isn't overly fussed - after all, she was planning on quitting in a few days. Lady Trumper threatens non-payment of wages, but Franny very reasonably counter-threatens to take her to court.

The Haven in Pimlico. It sounds to me like a place where old racehorses are put to pasture - which is sort of what it is.  The Haven is a small rest-home/geriatric facility, conveniently located only a short bus ride from Francesca's home on Fish Street. The pay isn't great - neither are the hours, but at least it's a job.  At least it's a job right up until Francesca slips and sprains her ankle. Then loses her job. The little household is firmly wedged between a rock and a hard place. There's simply not enough funds to go around. Truly the low point for Francesca, Auntie and Finn. If only the Professor was around to chat with...


Francesca could have whipped the winged Nazgul all by
herself...if she hadn't needed to protect Auntie. 

 SirWilliam Meredith, the Winged Nazgul of Opportunity comes a-calling. He offers a home to Franny and Auntie. Francesca has grave misgivings, but what's a breadwinner to do, when she can't earn any bread?  Uncle William has spent his life planning revenge and simply can't pass up such a rare chance to get back at his sister and the daughter of his other sister.  If he had a mustache, it would be twirling like a cordless drill with a new battery. Things are looking dire for Auntie - no medical attention, no money, no home of her own - and a brother who would just like her to die ASAP. As for Franny, Evil Uncle plans for her to be an unpaid servant for the rest of his life - and not receive a penny piece afterwards. Where, oh where, is the Professor...?



You have no power here. I plan to marry Francesca.

He's back in London and Franny is on his mind, but where is she?  Not on Fish Street, that's for sure. She's gone without a forwarding address. The Professor is not without resources...and by resources I mean Finn. Finn has been uneasy about Franny - her letters don't sound like her. The two men cook up a rescue plan. Leaving at the crack of dawn, the men drive down to Dorset and beard the dragon in his den. Uncle William doesn't care if they take Mrs. Blake, but for some reason he feels that keeping a 23 year-old niece is his right. The Professor says, I have that right, we're to be married. Franny just about swallows her tongue - but Finn shushes her - leave it to the professor.  Auntie is dropped off at the hospital and Francesca is to stay at Marc's place.

• Francesca might be too thin, too pale and too tired, but she had the light of battle in her eyes.
• Marc's secretary, Mrs. Willett, will chaperone (and thus preserve Francesca's reputation).
• Marc gives Francesca carte blanche at Harrod's for a new wardrobe, including wedding outfit. Francesca sensibly agrees to it - she has no money of her own.
• Marc watches Francesca walk back to his place looking 'as though she intended to conquer the world'.
• Francesca tries to be more of a silent type...I find your silence quite terrifying.  Francesca has a knack when it comes to chatting with absolute strangers. She gets to hear about all sorts of interesting things - how proud the saleslady at Harrods is that her son got into cathedral choir school, which hospital the cabby had his appendix out at, the butler's sister's chilblains, etc...Her effort at being quiet is to try and fit herself into a mold - a mold of what she perceives as the ideal wife for Marc. Although he's not able to articulate it yet, he just wants her to be herself. He's had glimpses into her awesomeness - just enough to know that while she may be small and plain and mousy, she is also happy, courageous and, well, awesome.
• Oh, and she realizes she's in love with him. Has been for some time.

The wedding is, of course, by special licence.  Finn and Auntie along with Mrs. Willett and Crisp make up the wedding party.  Then it's off to Holland for a bit. Marc admits to himself that he is getting fond of Francesca. He thought of her often and with pleasure. He drops her off for a day of shopping in Den Haag, but neglects to give her any money.  Francesca is resourceful enough to survive the day with ten pounds in her purse - enough for morning coffee, a sandwich for lunch and the entry fee for the Mauritshuis.  Not enough for a trolley ride all the way back to the hospital.  Marc is a little put out that she is late, until he finds out why - then he grovels quite nicely. Franny, being Franny doesn't hold a grudge about it.

Truer words were never spoken.

Marc has to go away for a few days - he leaves Franny at their home in Holland. She misses him, but more importantly, he has been looking forward to coming home and finding her waiting for him.

Back in London Marc tells Francesca that they are going to a dinner party at Lady Trumper's. No! says Franny. Yes! says Marc.  He's not ashamed of her.  Franny finds her friendly salesgirl at Harrod's and together they find The Amber Chiffon Dress of Destiny.  It turns Franny into a stunner. Marc is somewhat gobsmacked at how pretty she is. She can see the unspoken compliment in his eyes, which helps carry her through the cocktail hour.  Lady Trumper can't help but be spiteful and rude about Francesca - to Marc, who won't stand for anyone to insult Francesca.  He invents a medical emergency and takes Francesca out to dine and dance.  Editor's Note: Marc has been very gradually leading up to falling in love with Francesca - I think this evening is the critical eye-opener for him. He's still not quite ready to admit it to himself, but he does very soon hereafter.

Marc has to go to Israel for a week or so. On the brink of leaving, he nearly confesses his love - but is interrupted. Dang. There's just time to give Franny a kiss.

The final scene is as cute as it is short...

• Marc hides out in his downstairs office - Franny knows he's there because she can see his car. She finally goes downstairs to see him.
• Franny thinks Marc is happy because he's fallen for someone - she tells him she just wants him to be happy.
• Why?
• Because I love you more than anything in the world.
• I love you too - and I was sitting here wondering how to tell you.



Family van der Kettener, the later years.

• I'll tell you how to do it, said Franny...(brilliant, absolutely brilliant)

Future pledges of affection are discussed.
'...Two of each, said Franny, then they can make up a tennis four.'
'...At least you don't hanker after a cricket eleven.'
The End.

Francesca reminds me of a doll I owned in the early
1960's .

Rating: If you were hoping for a love story, The Fortunes of Francesca might disappoint. It doesn't disappoint me.  I adore Francesca.  She's such a fun character - indomitable, chatty, cheerful - a glass half-full kind of girl.  She's not entirely sweetness and light - she does have a fierce side.  I love her when she's calling bad Uncle William a tyrant. I love her when she shares a few truths with Lady Trumper - and is willing to do so even in the face of being sacked. Brother Finn is a surprisingly consistent character - in many of Betty Neels other books, he would have barely rated a mention - but in The Fortunes of Francesca he hangs around for an unusually long time. It's rather adorable that he has a bit of a man-crush on Professor van der Kettener.  It's also adorable that while he thinks the Professor will make Franny a good husband, he also hopes that Franny won't be pig-headed about it. Marc is a fine hero - but let's face it - the story is not really about him...Francesca steals the show each and every time she makes an appearance. Marc will spend the rest of his life see-sawing between a wish for peace and quiet and wondering how he ever got so lucky as to be married to Francesca. Lashings of Whipped Cream!
Food: Eggs, bacon and fried bread, fish and chips supplied by the Professor, steak and kidney pudding (twice), tea and crumpets, 'warm milk laced with the best brandy', fairy cakes, sprits, roast pheasant, red cabbage and a rich pudding with whipped cream. Franny makes three kinds of sandwiches - Gentleman's Relish, cucumber and egg and cress.
Fashion: navy skirt with a white blouse topped with a navy cardigan, a sodden woolly hat and a mac that clings damply, TWO pre-wedding shopping trips to Harrods - fully financed by Marc! At her first post-wedding dinner party she wears a dark red velvet dress. To go to Lady Trumper's dinner party, Francesca splurges on the Amber Chiffon Dress of Destiny that pretty much stops Marc in his tracks.

Never Say Goodbye--1983

Grrr. Yet another name for a book that fails to disclose a hint of the awesomeness beyond.  I did a Google-image search for the cover and no less than four other authors had the same title.  The Great Betty herself had three other titles that began with 'Never'.  In the interests of disclosing the delights within, might I suggest another? (cough* feelfreetousethecoverart*cough) 

Isobel Barrington, 25, doesn't like private nursing.  (What Neels heroine does?)  She's plain but pert and due to her seven year stint hitch-hiking through India as a practitioner of Bikram Yoga she's also wicked-agile and in unity with the universe.  (Though that could be the ankle tattoo talking.)

No, I jest.  Isobel is a little starchy in her neat blue uniform and she's not about to let herself be pushed around by this disapproving, if hot, hot, kill-joy.

Dr. Thomas Winter is as cold as his name.  He lives in a gorgeous and frigid ice palace and takes one look at the young woman warming up his sitting room and just knows she's trouble.  But the pickings are slim and he needs someone fast.  His old Nanny, Mrs. Olbinski, lives in Poland (in 1983!) and since her husband has died she needs to be smuggled out of the country. 

No, not smuggled.  (Dang it!  I had just jury-rigged a diversionary device made from sugarless gum, a book of matches and a men's XXL wool suit coat.)  There are papers and processes but they should just be able to sail out of Gdansk.  And so, leaving her widowed mother (and public school fee-needing shadow sibling, Bobby) behind, she heads to their first stop, Sweden, with Dr. Winter.  

On the way there, she attempts to solve the enigma wrapped in a riddle that is her employer.  'I expect you're married.'  His look was meant to freeze her bones, only she wasn't that kind of girl.  She returned his stare with twinkling eyes.  'You expect wrongly, Miss Barrington.'  He looked down his patrician nose.  'Perhaps it would be better if I were to address you as Nurse.'  'Yes, Dr. Winter.' The twinkle was so disconcerting that he looked away still frowning. 

And their relationship goes on from there.  He attempts to be quelling (which she regrets as she sees the warm and kind man he can be while they stay with his friends) and she just refuses to be anything other than herself--restful, full of common sense and able to meet any circumstances.

And then they set off for Poland...in the midst of The Cold War.

Mr. Olbinski was a Polish dissident possibly like 1983 Nobel Peace Prize winner (and mustachioed babe) Lech Walesa

Perhaps you are wondering what The Great Betty had to say on the subject of the Cold War.  Answer:  Next to nothing.  We get an entire Polish interlude wherein the words communism, Cold War, Soviet Russia, Iron Curtain and NATO are not mentioned.  The closest we get to any concrete discussion of the repressive  regime is the factoid that Nanny's husband was a dissident (and lived a nice long life and presumably died of natural causes) and this little gem from Isobel's mother:  'Poland?  But isn't that,' she paused, 'well, eastern Europe.'  Well, yes, Mrs. Barrington.  It was.  It still is, as a matter of fact.  And the Poles themselves?  La Neels essentially compresses the lyrics of 'Russians Love Their Children Too' into a quip about how well the British are liked in Poland.  (Just go with it.)

We get the teensiest glimpse of a bona fide apparatchik when someone, who doesn't even have the decency to sound much like a commie goon, comes to the shabby apartment to tell Dr. Winter that Nanny's papers are not entirely ready.

They do some sight-seeing to pass the time and (we find out later) Thomas buys an amber necklace that Isobel admires.

Editorial Note: I don't know what was going through his head at this point.  I like to think that, even then, he recognized her as someone special (they do share a hand squeeze over some sublime organ music) but I can't quite bring myself to believe that he's already been bitten by the love bug.

They eventually return to Sweden and Isobel has a chance to showcase her exceptionally good cooking skills, formidable work ethic and ability to bond with old ladies.

And then they're back in London.  Almost as soon as they've taken their coats off, a whirl of blonde and pampered loveliness flings herself at Thomas.  Meet Miss Ella Stokes.  Ouch, you're thinking.  Isn't she a bit beneath his dignity?  Yes, she is.  But he's not shopping for a wife and Ella is at least manageable.  The doctor is well able to control his feelings around her so she's suitable as far as maintaining his lonely and independent existence goes.

Nanny proceeds over the next week to develop a thorough disapproval of that immodest 'saucebox' and an abiding attachment to Isobel--who treats Nanny like a treasured relation instead of a paycheck.  And for her part, Nanny can see that Thomas and Isobel are made for each other.

Thomas is 'preoccupied'--a clue so subtle that if you blink you will miss it.  Nanny has told him to mend his wicked ways and get married (anyone but the saucebox!) and he's grappling with feelings which approach attraction to that impertinent but warm-hearted nurse.  What to do?  What to do?

'Do you have a boyfriend, Isobel?'

That did not just come out of his own mouth, he must be thinking.  She answers him calmly enough but he's spooked enough to be gone before Isobel has to leave in a few days.

And that's when Isobel realizes that she's in love with him.  

Nanny's in tears.  (You have to put on your detective hat to realize that she's been sure that Thomas and Isobel would get together and if he's taking off now...Hankies!)

But Isobel sees him one more time before he goes.  'You feel I should have wished you goodbye, Isobel?  By all means let us do the thing properly, then.'  And he kisses her into next week.

Fast forward a week or two.  Thomas has sent a parting gift with a stiff little note--the amber necklace which she wears beneath her blouses.  She's just finishing another maddening private nursing job when Thomas shows up to collect her from Mother's house.  Nanny has been contracting pneumonia.  Thomas has been wrestling his demons.  And when Mrs. Barrington asks 'How long will Isobel be with you?' it is all he can do not to enunciate slowly, 'For.ev.er.'

She nurses Nanny and they are eventually moved to his 'cottage' (read: des res, Hat tip, Betty Magdalen) by the sea for further recuperation--an excuse for Thomas to surprise her in a bikini and surprise her with Mother and Bobby (oh yeah, Bobby).  Everyone is thrilled to bits with everyone else and Mrs. Barrington and Nanny are already sewing baby-layettes out of daydreams.  (Heck, so is Thomas at this point.)

They reconvene briefly in London and Thomas corners her about that suspicious bump under her neckline. (Haul your minds out of the Brighton sewer system!)  'Why don't you want me to see that you wear the amber necklace?' 'It reminds me of Poland.'  His response is aggravated.  Why won't she just admit she likes him?  'I need nothing to remind me of Poland--or, for that matter, of you.'  And then he kisses her into next month.

But the next month isn't a very fun place to be.  Thomas has gone on a prolonged vacation (presumably with Ella in the Caribbean--Doesn't he know how near America that is?!) and Isobel returns home to find her mother laid out on the floor with a stroke.  She grows thin with worry over money and nursing her mother around the clock and longing for Thomas to come when she knows that he won't.

He finally does and ruthlessly shames her into letting him admit Mother into a rehabilitation hospital.  (I'm sure he hates doing it but plain speaking is the only thing that will force her to accept the help he is dying to give.)  And when Isobel has rested herself at Thomas' house she sets off to find another job--hopefully one that deals with night shifts or mental patients so it will pay well.

Her next case is a twofer: an insomniac head case that provides her ample opportunity to think.  To forget him was going to be impossible, but to encourage thoughts of him was just plain stupid.  Thomas comes breathing hellfire down on her head for taking 12-hour-shifts.  He confiscates her pets and Isobel's control slips enough to suck her into an Ella-induced death spiral (Pull up!  Pull up!) wherein she babbles about honeymoons and best wishes and a lot of other old trot.

Isobel's Death Spiral

The Venerable Neels thrusts one more child (it's quite a habit with her) under the careening bus of True Love's Bliss.  She arranges for Thomas' godson to have the measles.  Isobel takes the case and never guesses that Thomas was behind the hiring (as he was also secretly behind having Bobby (you remember Bobby) sent off on vacation).  She has a lovely time (getting fat and rested) and at the end is collected by Thomas.  Why can't she seem to shake him?
Because he loves her.
They seal the deal on a hillside overlooking her childhood home (which he has just repurchased for Mother and what's-his-name to live in).
The End


Rating: I didn't remember loving this one all that much when I first read it--I think I was thrown a little off-balance by how unusual it is (Polish dissidents!), I had read Nanny as a more dour personality than she is and maybe I'd missed the subtle but numerous clues that Thomas' heart was lost early on.  So, I'm not speaking lightly when say that after this read this might be my new favorite Neels.  (I left a ton of wonderfulness out of the review.)
Thomas is deeply lonely (lonely enough to undertake a trip to Poland to bring back an old Nanny and lonely enough to tolerate Ella and Her Dance of the Seven Veils Shtick at all) and doesn't quite believe that he needs a wife (which is why we're okay with Ella being so awful...Thomas wasn't looking for deep and informative 7-part docudramas.  Instead, was channel surfing and she was the midnight infomercial he tuned into.  ('Set it and Forget it!)). The Great Betty was so consistent with him--he never, late in the book, says anything like, 'He really didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about her...', negating all those signs he's given that he is being purposeful. (And you know La Neels did that a time or two.)  Nope.  He's in love and maybe flounders for a bit but that's as far as it goes.  And yes, Ella is draped like a stinking red herring all over the place but, aside from using her to get a little response from Isobel, her clinging is explained as just that.
Isobel is perfect--she's plain enough to never consider chasing Thomas (so, oddly, had she been prettier, she never would have got her foot in the door) and never loses her nerve or common sense.  Sure, she can't bring herself to be so twinkling at him after she realizes that he's the one for her (being caught in a never-to-be-reciprocated-love would put the damper on anyone's sense of humor), but she doesn't let her feelings for him send her back into any sort of shell. And if he needs telling off, she's still happy to do it.
Mother and Nanny are darling--watching the proceedings with enough knowing smiles and indiscretion to let the reader in on their secret. 
Bobby is a shadow sibling par excellence.  (Providing the important plot device of being a  financial drain with no pesky hanging about.)
Lashings of whipped cream, for this Betty.

Food: There was a lot but here is some of the more interesting offerings--Sprats, pancakes with jam, Aquavit 'for the men', smörgåsbord, hot beet soup, crayfish, pork knuckle, vastkustsallad, seafood pancakes and apricot flan.

Fashion: A coffee-colored skirt paired with a shrimp pink blouse, a Liberty print blouse, a cream linen dress which douses her coloring, neat blue uniforms, and her treasured amber necklace that she tucks away inside her bodice (which is such a wonderful metaphor for the whole thing).  Ella is a 'vision' in a sky-blue suede skirt and blouse ('its buttons undone to what Isobel considered to be a quite indecent level').  She also dons a sheer silk blouse with nothing on underneath but her flesh!
Highlights for Isobel are the bikini (which I don't even approve of in real life but thank The Great Betty for on my knees) and a faded but flattering sundress.  The lowlight is when he walks into her house after mother's stroke to see her wearing a plastic pinny with 'All Hands on Deck' across the front.