The Painter's Apprentice (21 page)

‘War?’ Beth felt her face pale.

‘You’re too young to remember what it was like last time but already the King has manoeuvred his papist toadies into positions
of importance. No one, or their possessions, will be safe.’ He looked straight at Beth. ‘How will you feel if he confiscates
Merryfields from your family and gives it as a bribe to a Roman Catholic?’

‘He couldn’t! It wouldn’t be fair!’

‘Fair?’ The Bishop gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Don’t expect justice from the King while he is gripped with this fixation. He
believes he is above the law. King Charles may have been a secret papist but he learned that the people of this country will
not have a tyrant Catholic on the throne. His Majesty is determined there shall be an absolutist monarchy, just as in France.
Mark my words, there will be terrible bloodshed if the Queen has a son.’

On Sunday morning Beth dressed carefully in one of the gowns that Princess Anne had given her. She peered into the mirror,
pleased to see that the dress, made of the finest wool the colour of lapis lazuli, made her eyes look as sapphire as her ring.

‘You look enchanting,’ said Cecily, eyeing the embroidery on Beth’s skirt with jealous eyes. ‘Would you like to borrow my
shawl that Grandmama bought for me?’ She rummaged in the coffer for a piece of lace, as delicate as a spider’s web, which
she draped around Beth’s shoulders. ‘There! I knew it would be perfect.’

‘Why, thank you, Cecily.’ Touched, she kissed her sister’s cheek.

‘And perhaps you will lend me one of your fine gowns that the Princess gave you? I think the green one would suit me, don’t
you?’

‘I might have known you wanted something from me!’ Beth glanced at her reflection again and smiled. The lace shawl really
was very pretty.

‘We’ll be a credit to Grandmama, won’t we? All heads will turn to look at us when we arrive at the church.’

‘Cecily! We don’t go to church to be admired.’

‘Don’t we? I don’t know why you’re scolding
me
when you’re all dressed up in your best things.’

Across the fields, the church bells began to peal.

‘Have you forgotten I’m going with Noah on an excursion to the city after church?’

‘To look at St Paul’s, you said.’ Cecily took the green gown out of the coffer and stepped into the skirt. ‘What a waste of
a trip to the city! Don’t you want to go to the shops?’ Cecily sighed and turned her back for Beth to pull her bodice laces.
‘Don’t ruin your beautiful dress, traipsing around a building site.’

Beth said nothing but she did wonder if, in this instance, vanity had perhaps overridden her usual good sense.

Smoothing down her skirt with a self-satisfied smile, Cecily gave Beth a sharp look. ‘Is there something you’re not telling
me? You don’t usually care much what you wear; it all ends up covered in paint anyway. Why this sudden change?’ She gripped
her sister’s arm. ‘
Please
tell me it’s not Harry!’

‘I’m not remotely interested in Harry.’

A wide smile broke out across Cecily’s face. ‘It must be Noah then!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! Just because I’m going to look at St Paul’s with him …’

‘It is Noah! It is! Your blushes give you away, Beth.’ She hopped up and down in delight.

‘Stop it, Cecily. And hurry up and put your shoes on or we’ll be late for church.’ Beth turned away from her sister’s prying
eyes and hurriedly pinned up her hair with clumsy fingers. It was true. Cecily had only said what Beth had been too afraid
to admit to herself.

She was saved from having to enter into any more conversation about the matter when Samuel hammered on the door.

‘We’re just coming,’ said Cecily.

‘Mama and Sir George are leaving. Mama says she has no intention
of sitting at the back of the church because you’ve made them late.’

They scrambled down the stairs and hurried along the lane towards the church.

The bells were still ringing as they walked up the aisle. Lady Arabella raised an eyebrow when they slipped into the pew beside
her.

As the bells ceased Beth felt a touch on her arm and looked up to see Noah standing in the aisle.

‘Move along a little,’ he whispered.

The service seemed interminably long to Beth as she sat wedged into the pew with Cecily on one side of her and the warmth
of Noah’s thigh pressed tightly against her other. She kept her eyes firmly upon the parson but a pulse fluttered in her throat.

She stood and knelt and made her responses almost unconsciously while she came to grips with this strange new feeling. Was
this what drove perfectly sane women into foolish behaviour in the presence of the object of their desire? Sneaking a sideways
look at Noah from under her lowered lashes, she was disconcerted to find him looking back at her. He glanced away but Beth
noticed that the tips of his ears had flushed as pink as the delicately furled and velvety petals of her favourite cabbage
rose.

The service came to an end at last and Beth shivered at the light touch of Noah’s hand on her elbow as they filed outside
into the sunshine.

Lady Arabella held out her hand to Noah and he lifted it to his lips, causing Beth to experience a sharp stab of jealousy.

‘My dear Noah!’ said Lady Arabella, deftly elbowing Beth aside and gripping Noah’s arm. ‘I understand you are taking Beth
into the city today?’ You’ll not be too late back, I hope? I wish to discuss some further ideas for the improving of our house
in Windsor before we go to the service in the chapel at St James’s this evening.’

‘My wife talks of nothing else but the proposed renovations,’ said Sir George with his usual urbane smile. ‘The house has
served my family for generations but I have been persuaded that it is time to make changes.’

‘Of course it needs changes, Sir George,’ said Lady Arabella. ‘It’s damp and draughty and extremely old-fashioned. I intend
to enrich the drawing room with new panelling and decorative plasterwork to the ceiling.’

Noah gave a small bow. ‘I shall be delighted to discuss the additional works with you later.’

Beth swallowed her disappointment. She had so looked forward to this precious day out and Lady Arabella was going to cut it
short to suit her own avarice for self-aggrandisement.

Lady Arabella clapped her hands together. ‘In fact, I have a better thought! Sir George and I insist you join us for dinner
before you go out and we can discuss my ideas afterwards.’

‘How very kind,’ said Noah, ‘but unfortunately Beth and I have a prior engagement with Sir Christopher Wren.’

‘I’m sure he won’t mind if you arrive an hour or two late.’

‘Nevertheless, we must decline your invitation. I regret to say that Sir Christopher is a busy man and sometimes of an impatient
disposition.’ Noah leaned forward to Arabella, his eyes twinkling conspiratorially. ‘Since I rely upon his good nature for
my opportunity to learn from a man of such stature, I fear I cannot take the risk of offending him.’

‘We quite understand,’ said Sir George, deftly prising Lady Arabella’s fingers off Noah’s sleeve and tucking them in the crook
of his own elbow. ‘My dear, shall we return home? I intend to open a bottle of the best wine in the cellar, in celebration
of His Majesty’s tolerant and liberal-minded stance relating to those of all faiths. We’ll see young Leyton when he returns
Beth into our care later on today.’

Lady Arabella pursed her lips in disappointment. ‘Well, go on
then, if you must, Noah! Cecily, you shall walk by my side and keep me company this afternoon.’

‘Yes, Grandmama.’ Cecily fell into step beside Arabella.

‘Shall we go, Noah?’ said Beth. ‘I wouldn’t wish us to be late and displease Sir Christopher.’

They took the path towards the river and, once Lady Arabella and the others were out of sight, Noah let out a sigh of relief.
‘I thought we’d never escape. A fearsome woman, your step-grandmother!’

‘What time is your appointment with Sir Christopher?’

‘I don’t have one. Did you really want to spend the entire afternoon indoors with Lady Arabella, discussing the finer points
of embellished plasterwork, on such a lovely day?’ Noah’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘I thought not.’

Noah had arranged for a covered skiff to wait for them at the public stairs. Beth rested her feet on a floating plank and
hoped the scummy water in the bottom of the boat wouldn’t soak into her shoes and the hem of her beautiful skirt. Then the
boatman pulled away to the middle of the river, which shone like molten lead in the sun. Forgetting her small worries, Beth
began to simmer with excitement at the joy of being out and about on such a glorious spring day.

Noah pointed out Westminster Abbey, Whitehall Palace and other landmarks of interest as they passed.

‘Princess Anne’s apartments are in the Cockpit in Whitehall Palace, aren’t they?’ she said.

Noah nodded. ‘Bishop Compton told me of her sad news. He had pinned a great deal of hope on the child being a son.’

Beth stared at the windows of the palace, glinting gold in the sunshine. Perhaps Anne was sitting lost in melancholy thought
by one of them, watching the river traffic pass by.

The sound of church bells floated across the river and Beth turned her face into the invigorating breeze. The sun shot sparks
of copper
off Noah’s chestnut hair as it whipped about in the wind and he laughed when a sudden gust made Beth snatch at her hat. She
gave a great sigh of contentment at the prospect of a whole day in Noah’s company.

The river was quiet since it was a Sunday; there were no wherries ferrying passengers from Gravesend to the shires and few
barges queuing up at the quays to unload their wares. The tide was against them so the boatman had to work hard, straining
against the stream but, after they passed Bridewell, he began to row towards the shore. The boat cut through the stinking
rubbish that bobbed about on the oily green water, collecting up in mounds against the beach of exposed tidal mud. Before
long they were tying up at Blackfriar’s Stairs.

‘I thought we’d walk past St Bride’s and approach the cathedral from Ludgate Hill,’ said Noah.

Beth gathered up her embroidered skirts in an effort to keep them from trailing in the bilge water and stepped off the boat.
The stench of the mud was overpowering as they picked their way along the slippery jetty towards the stairs. Seagulls screamed
raucously from above, swooping down over the scattered detritus.

Beth lost her footing on the slime-covered timber then gasped as Noah caught her, snatching her against his chest. Her cheek
was pressed against the slight roughness of his jaw and his arm was tight around her waist. His hair smelled of the open air
together with an underlying male muskiness that set her senses reeling. Her heart began to pound and she wondered if she’d
ever be able to breathe again, overtaken with an almost irresistible desire to turn so that their lips could meet.

‘I thought you were going to fall on your face in the mud,’ he said, releasing her.

His gaze was fixed on her but Beth daren’t look at him. ‘I would have fallen, if you hadn’t been there,’ she murmured, making
a show of brushing imaginary mud off her skirts.

He tucked her arm firmly through his so that her hip brushed against his as they walked.

Unable to speak for the tumultuous thoughts tumbling around in her head, it was all Beth could do to keep moving. In spite
of everything she believed in, in spite of dear Johannes’s advice, she was irresistibly drawn to Noah.

Barely noticing her surroundings, she clung to Noah’s arm as they made their way along the narrow lane leading away from the
river.

‘There’s St Bride’s church,’ he said. ‘It’s one of Sir Christopher’s projects, too.’

Beth forced herself to concentrate as she looked at the pale stone building. ‘There’s no steeple.’

‘The funds are still being raised for that. The church itself was built in only nine years, making it one of the first to
reopen after the Great Fire. There’s an interesting story about how it was completed so quickly.’ He smiled in amusement.
‘It was because Sir Christopher built the Old Bell Tavern nearby.’

‘How did building a tavern make the building works finish faster?’ asked Beth.

‘The tavern was for the labourers so that they were close to hand and could work longer hours.’

‘What a mine of information you are, Noah! But it was a gamble for him. The labourers might have spent so much time in the
taproom that they were too drunk to work.’

Noah laughed. ‘Sir Christopher likes to talk about what happened after the fire. A new city had to be built very quickly to
provide homes and to allow businesses to continue. It’s fascinating,’ he said as they climbed up the hill. ‘You can be walking
along a street full of higgledy-piggledy timber-framed buildings and then, halfway along, the houses change to a flat-fronted
brick terrace. You can see the extent of the Great Fire very clearly.’

‘Mama watched St Bride’s burn,’ said Beth. ‘It was terrifying. The whole landscape was unrecognisable under rubble and burning
thatch. She says she’ll never forget the roaring of the fire and the smoke and the feeling of utter helplessness as St Bride’s
went up in flames. It was the church where she was christened and where she married my father. Henry Savage, that is.’

‘And your birth father died of the pestilence just before the fire, I believe?’

Beth nodded. ‘I wish I’d known him. Mama never speaks of him.’

‘But she is happy with Dr Ambrose?’

‘Devoted. And he has been a kind and loving father to me, in spite of anything I may have said to you before.’

Noah looked at her consideringly. ‘I have never seen him act with any less affection for you than for your brothers and sister.’

‘But I’m ashamed to say that after Johannes died I accused him of that.’

‘Sometimes we say things we don’t mean when we are grieving,’ said Noah.

‘I hurt Father badly.’ She drew a quivering breath at the memory. ‘But in the end we talked of it and it lanced the boil of
my hurt. And I realised that, for all that time, I’d been wrong.’

Noah smiled. ‘Then there’s no need to look so woebegone.’

She sighed, suddenly embarrassed at opening her heart to him. Looking around her at the houses, all lightly brushed with sooty
deposits, she said, ‘It’s almost impossible to imagine the destruction caused by the fire now. It’s even harder to imagine
that these buildings are only twenty years old. They look as if they’ve been here much longer.’

‘City smoke is the culprit,’ said Noah. ‘It amazed me when I arrived in this anthill of a city as I’d never smelled anything
like it in Virginia where the air is so clean and there’s so much more space.’

‘I wish I could see Virginia. I’d love to be able to picture Kit in his new home.’

‘Who knows? Perhaps one day you’ll visit.’

They reached the top of the lane and turned into Ludgate Hill, a much wider cobbled road, full of people and carriages.