Garlands of Gold (11 page)

‘Yes, madam. I shall start work straight away.’

‘Good. Then do your best, but you must not chatter and disturb my son’s concentration in any way. We shall pass by here later this afternoon for you to ride back with us, but on other days you must walk. Be sure to make a very detailed drawing of the overmantel,’ she said before adding on a hint of sarcasm, ‘however long it may take.’

It was a veiled barb directed at her son for what she saw as an excuse for refusing her what she had wanted so much. As she and her cousin left the cottage he saw them to the coach before returning to Saskia with a mischievous grin.

‘I have drawings in plenty of everything I carve,’ he said, lapsing into Dutch, ‘and could have given my mother all she wanted, but I thought that I’d do you a good turn by giving you an excuse to get away on your own sometimes. It cannot be easy to be at someone’s beck and call every minute of the day.’

He is, she thought, the dearest of men in every way. ‘Yet that is what I am paid for and your mother is very good to me. However,’ she admitted honestly, ‘it will be wonderful to have the chance to draw and to be out for a while by myself without a strict time limit.’

She could have added that most marvellous of all was the prospect of being alone with him and she saw his kindly intervention as yet another sign of the depth of his feelings towards her. She wondered how soon she might ask him about the portrait medallion of herself and decided that she must be patient.

‘I want you to see what I’m working on now before you start your sketching,’ he said, crossing to the workbench where he unfastened the reversed carving. He lifted it and as he turned it around for her to see she recognized it instantly with a little gasp of mingled surprise and admiration. It was the Tintoretto etching transformed into a relief carving, fully three-dimensional and pulsating with its original drama and astonishing beauty.

‘That is wonderful!’ she breathed.

‘It is not finished yet and I don’t get a lot of time to work on it with all my other commitments, so I do what I can whenever I have a spare hour or two.’

‘I’m so pleased you have shown it to me.’

‘I remember how fascinated you were by the etching, which was why I wanted you to see this work.’ He replaced it on the bench. ‘Now where are you going to start your sketching?’

She glanced up from taking a drawing pad, charcoal and writing-sticks from the basket she carried. ‘As it is such a pleasant day I thought I’d start by sketching the cottage outside from across the lane.’

‘That’s a good idea. I’ll take a chair across for you.’

When she was settled he went back indoors. The afternoon sun shone full on him through the window as he worked on the Tintoretto carving and she caught glimpses of him whenever she glanced up from her sketching pad. She did not spare the cottage in her drawing, making the thatch as ragged as it was, the weeds thick around the walls and the fallen bricks on a corner showed its need of repair. Yet all the time she thought what a wise choice he had made in selecting this south-facing cottage as his workshop, for she could see that its enlarged window would not only capture the maximum amount of light, but would catch whatever sun there was at various times of the day to assist him immeasurably in his intricate work.

It was not such a quiet site as might have been expected in the countryside, for although the cottage lay well back from the road it was on a route in and out of London and traffic of every kind passed along it. There were private equipages with coachmen in livery, public vehicles with noisy passengers, and riders on horseback and people on foot, including pedlars, some of whom left the road to try to persuade her to buy some trinket from their trays. Local farming folk also went by, sometimes with a herd of cows or a flock of sheep. Although she glanced up from her sketching now and again she did not see the approach of a man on horseback as he rode across the grass in her direction.

Robert Harting thought with satisfaction that his time of waiting was over at last. He had been unable to forget her, even though he was never short of female company. He had been on the point of returning to Rotterdam specially to see her, but Grinling had dissuaded him.

‘You’ll make no progress if you do that. Saskia doesn’t know you except as a friend of mine. She will not have forgotten that you were first to reach her on the night of the assault on her or that you had that short conversation with her in the library, but that would be the end of it. I’m certain it would never occur to her to see more into such a short acquaintance. I admit that the few occasions when I talked to her I thought her an intelligent girl and that means that she would have no illusions about the difficulties of an association with you. She would most certainly know you were attempting to seduce her.’

‘What makes you think that should be the limit of what I would desire from her?’

Grinling had narrowed his eyes and drawn a deep breath. ‘Do you mean that with time you would consider a more serious move?’

Robert shrugged. ‘All I can say is that I have not been able to put her from my mind.’

Grinling gave a deep sigh, shaking his head. ‘Then the advice I give you is to be patient. Sooner or later my mother will be unable to stay away any longer from attempting to interfere in my life, whether it is where I work, what I eat or even whom I bed if she can possibly find out! And when she comes you can wager that she will bring Saskia with her.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘Simply because she has never gone anywhere without a personal maid in tow and it will be the same when she comes to England.’

Now, as Robert brought his horse to a standstill, his gaze was fixed on the girl seated with her sketch pad. She made a picture herself in her blue-grey gown, her apron as white as the Nordland lace cap that she wore on her neatly dressed, wheat-bronze hair. He knew of a very tranquil painting by a Delft artist, named Vermeer, which was of a young woman standing in rays of sunshine pouring in through a window. Now he thought how perfectly that artist’s brush would have captured the similar scene of beauty with the girl who sat on a chair ahead of him now, her lace-capped head bowed over her task.

He dismounted and began to lead his horse the rest of the way towards her. She was so absorbed in her task that she was taken by surprise when his shadow fell across her work.

Startled, she looked up. Even though he was standing against the sun she knew him instantly, every nerve becoming tense. His masculine presence seemed to overwhelm her as it had that day in the library.

‘Master Harting,’ she said almost inaudibly.

‘Good day to you,
Juffrouw
Saskia,’ he said in Dutch, doffing his hat as he bowed to her. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you again.’

She answered firmly in English. ‘I’m instructed to speak only the language of this kingdom while I am here.’

He thought her Dutch accent charming and, as he looked down into her lovely, upturned face as he had done once before, he knew she still had that extraordinary power to dazzle him with her unusual beauty.

‘Grinling told me you would be coming here to make some sketches for his mother,’ he said, speaking in English as she had directed. ‘May I see what you have done?’

But Grinling had sighted him and came to the door to wave them in. ‘It’s time the artist has a rest from work,’ he called out, ‘and I’ve an excellent bottle of wine here that we can share.’

But it was too late. The Rushmere coach had come into view along the road. In any case, Saskia thought, she would have not dared to risk even a sip of wine in case it lingered on her breath, for then his mother would most surely have barred her from coming to the cottage again. So she put her drawing materials back in the basket and went to stand ready at the roadside.

‘It is Robert, I do declare!’ Mistress Gibbons exclaimed as the coach drew up and he forestalled the coachman by opening the door. They did not alight, but when greetings had been exchanged Mistress Henrietta issued an invitation for him to join Grinling in dining with them that evening. He accepted at once, often being invited with Grinling to what was always a pleasant evening with plenty of intellectual and stimulating conversation, for Mistress Henrietta was an excellent hostess and knew how to gather guests that would enjoy one another’s company.

Saskia had taken her seat in the coach and did not look in Robert’s direction. As the equipage rolled forward on its way the two ladies returned Grinling’s wave as he collected Saskia’s chair and went back indoors with it, Robert following him.

‘Let me see what you have drawn this afternoon, Saskia,’ Mistress Gibbons said, holding out her hand.

‘It’s not finished yet,’ Saskia said as she produced her sketch pad.

The drawing was carefully studied by both women and Mistress Gibbons gave an approving nod. ‘You have captured the cottage’s dilapidated state most accurately.’ She turned to look at her cousin. ‘This sketch alone should shame James into the realization that he must buy a fine house that Grinling could use until such time as he and I come home again.’

Cousin Henrietta made no reply. She believed that if there should be such a house Grinling would still prefer his cottage workshop and wish to be left alone to make his own way in the world.

That evening quite a number of guests came to dine and Saskia judged by the laughter and lively buzz of conversation that the evening was a success. Yet when Mistress Gibbons came to bed she was in a dangerous mood. Not a word was said, but Saskia guessed that she had spoken to Robert about the overmantel and had failed to persuade him that it should be hers.

A week later Mistress Gibbons found a house in Deptford to replace the property she had lost in the Great Fire and which would be ideal for her and her husband’s comfort in their old age. It was in the same pleasant residential area as Rushmere House with a formal garden and graced by trees. She was bitterly disappointed when Grinling refused to take up residence there.

‘No, Mother,’ he said sternly. ‘When I move I intend to be in the heart of the city and its commerce. Not in a fancy house away from everything.’

Yet the house would not be left empty, for it was owned by one of Cousin Henrietta’s widowed friends, who had her own plans to move nearer her daughter living in the county of Berkshire, but was willing to remain as a tenant until such time as the new owner wished to move in.

Bessie Gibbons had not informed her husband of her intention to purchase. The deal went through and contracts were signed. Saskia had been instructed to make a drawing of the exterior of the house. Some interior redecoration had to be carried out, but when Bessie returned to Holland she knew that she could rely on Henrietta and Grinling to see that it was all done satisfactorily. In the meantime she would continue to enjoy her visit, her pleasure increased now that she had a house that James would like as soon as he saw Saskia’s drawing of it, for her mind was made up that before long he should return to their homeland with her.

Five

S
askia did not go every day to sketch, for there were times when she had to be on hand to perform various duties for Mistress Gibbons and most days Grinling was busy at the workshops of the Royal docks. Fortunately Bessie Gibbons was taking such savage satisfaction in gathering drawings of her son’s working conditions that she spared Saskia for her sketching more than she might otherwise have done. She did not really care for the drawings the girl made at the workshops of the Royal docks, for they showed Grinling as just one carver amongst many others as if he had no special talent to make him stand out from the rest.

Yet Saskia knew that was not the case, for she soon noticed how often he alone worked on an intricate piece, even though he kept to the same workbench alongside all the rest of the carvers.

Henrietta’s friend, Sir Arthur Garner, had been surprised by her request that a young female artist should be allowed access to the workshops. He warned of bad language and coarse talk that the girl would inevitably overhear, quite apart from the likelihood of being subject to unwelcome overtures. In her own mind Henrietta supported all his reasons why Saskia should not be there, but once her cousin had her mind set on something there would be no peace until it was fulfilled. In the end an agreement was reached whereby Saskia would have a chaperone with her at all times and Henrietta herself hired a reliable woman, named Dolly Hoskins, to keep guard.

Dolly was sharp-nosed and sharp-tongued, plump-bosomed and wide-hipped. She took her duties seriously and sat knitting at Saskia’s side all the time.

‘Clear off!’ she would snarl at the lecherous men that came too near. To those who swore within hearing she would roar at them to keep their filthy traps shut, often forgetting that her own language was little better.

Grinling always came for a word or two with Saskia and sometimes he sat with her and Dolly while the three of them ate their noontime bread and cheese or whatever else they had brought with them. One day Saskia asked him where in the docks she could see the ship with the figurehead that he had carved, thinking that her viewing of her likeness would have to bring whatever he felt for her out into the open, but he shook his head regretfully.

‘That ship sailed from here a couple of months ago. I believe she is docked at Plymouth at the present time.’

She thought to herself that it might as well be docked on the moon for all the chance she would have of viewing it. Slowly she was coming to believe that Grinling would never speak of his innermost feelings for her. She should have remembered from what she had first learned about England in her English lessons that social gulfs were far wider and deeper in this country than in bourgeois Holland and could never be bridged. Clearly Grinling had taken on English views now that he was living here. Sadly and with agonizing heartache she began to resign herself to going back to Rotterdam with all her hopes crushed and her love for Grinling stronger than ever.