Girl Reading (13 page)

But he knows, and Esther knows. It is she. He has gone to some lengths to disguise the fact, but not far enough. What if Jurina should ask outright?

Esther, did you cause my husband to paint you by sitting on one of my chairs and reading one of my books when you ought to have been doing your duties? Did you allow him to stare at you, to memorize your posture and shape, to watch you indulging your lascivious fantasies? Did you ensnare him? Did you flaunt yourself? Did you mean to seduce him?

The honest answer is no. Esther imagines herself denying it, but Jurina is capable of twisting this into something terrible.

Then why has my husband admitted that you are the subject of this painting? Why does he dwell on your image in this way? What have you done to captivate him?

Subject, madam,
subject.
Not
object.
I am not, nor have I ever been, his object. (The distinction will be immaterial.)

Is it a pious scene? Are you reading the Gospels so intently? No. It is voyeuristic. It is fetish.

Esther will implore her to see reason—

Jurina will develop a mental block, conveniently forgetting any sign language she once knew so that she can override the maid’s protests and play her trump card.
Lucas has seen you and my husband making love. He has seen it. Do you deny that something has occurred between you?

Evidence of a physical relationship—evidence of emotional entanglement. Enough to send her packing twice over. When Young Pieter has left, there will be no reason to retain her at all. Esther shakes her head at the treacherous painting. It will not matter that she has never encouraged Elinga. That he has all the power and has behaved improperly. That she is the victim.

She will get rid of me.

Downstairs, Jurina’s temper has cooled and cold logic reigns once more. Whatever has gone wrong here, the leverage of this new baby will set it right.

I will get rid of her.

Lucas toys with his imaginary coin. He senses that its value is not fixed, that if he waits too long it will turn out to be worthless. And there is another question he has been considering in his brilliant mind: Who will be the most eager to sell their wares? Who has the weakest disposition and will therefore put up the least resistance? Which transaction will give the highest yield for the lowest risk? The answer is obvious!

Lucas has decided what he wants—Young Pieter’s bedroom. New shoes with buckles. A globe. His very own sword. And a pony.
He is going to ask Father. No need to say why he wants them or what will happen if he does not have them. He will simply say, Father, I am too grown to share a room with the babies. I need my own room and a pony to ride. And seeing as the new baby will be showered with presents, I think I ought to have some presents because I am the older brother and have many responsibilities. Please?

After the farewell dinner will be the best time. Father will be drunk and suggestible.

Lucas is glad Young Pieter is leaving; anyone can see his half brother does not really fit in. He also likes special occasions, because they have a way of making people less discreet. But it is in Lucas’s interests not to be difficult tonight, so he has thought of some appropriate words to say: My dear brother, I will miss you deeply. Without you as my guiding compass, what path shall I follow into manhood? I will pray for your safe return every day.

He wants the family to hear his speech. After Young Pieter is gone, Lucas will be the eldest child, with all the rights and obligations that entails. Being held in higher esteem by his father and mother, for example. And perhaps . . . a bit more tenderness from Esther (if she survives).

The meal is in Young Pieter’s honor. The youth sits tensely, endures his stepmother’s performance.

Let me toast our son.

The family obediently raises their glasses, apart from Allart, who picks through his food with his fingers.

I drink to you, Pieter. You will see wonderful sights, foreign horizons; I don’t doubt you will return wealthier for it in every respect. If I could wish for anything, it would not be to keep you here, rather that we were all able to go with you and share in your adventure.

The children mutter their agreement, the supporting cast in
Jurina’s play, sip solemnly from their wine. Lucas has to admire their mother’s flair. Elinga drains his glass and waves Esther forward to refill it and remove his plate. She steps out to the kitchen.

When Young Pieter does not make a reply, Jurina addresses her husband instead, and conversation turns to the buyers who have already expressed an interest in the genre piece without having seen it. Johannes de Renialme is running a whispering campaign and attracting a few nibbles. Jurina pouts—I knew it was only a matter of time—and flatters her husband relentlessly, going as far as biting his finger under the guise of a kiss. You must show it to me before it is taken away. She feels powerful. Is satisfied to count the hours until her stepson’s departure, to count the days until her baby is due, and then—

(She leans over to cut up Allart’s food and prompts Anna to eat what they have provided for her.)

Jurina resolves to plant the seed with her husband this very night while they are in bed, her hands around his hard cock. It needs to have the appearance of being encouraging but contain the underlying point: I am so relieved good fortune is
finally
smiling on us, my love. I have put off searching for
qualified
help to raise our four children because—oh, now I can do so
confidently.

And tomorrow, after Young Pieter has gone, it will be: My love, the baby is arriving imminently, it is time for us to prepare the house.

The day after, Jurina will initiate her husband’s favorite sexual act but she will find herself distracted, weeping, putting off his moment of climax because what if they cannot afford to pay two salaries . . . ?

Young Pieter’s voice breaks over the hushed table, clear, unexpected: I will not see it.

The lady pushes a ringlet of hair from her face. Pieter, what do you mean?

I will not see my new sibling, it will be born after I have left. I will miss the first two years of his life, I will not be a part of the home he knows.

Jurina hesitates, putting her anxieties aside. My dear son, blessings on you, you are a credit to us. (She reaches over to briefly take his hand in hers.) Do you hear that, Pieter Janssens? Your eldest son would forgo his own future happiness in order to meet his baby brother.

Or sister!

Anna is the one who has chimed in. Mother soothes her only daughter’s displeasure. Esther brings in grapes and cheeses, sets them down. Lucas indicates his own plate for Esther to take away.

Jurina thinks this would be a good time to reaffirm her generosity, asks Young Pieter if there is anything else he needs for the voyage, reiterates he must have whatever he wants from the house, that if there is anything left to buy, Esther can be sent for it in the morning. She sounds firm, as though to mask her own pain. A loving mother putting on a brave face at her first child’s departure.

He answers, Thank you, madam.

Jurina finds she has an appetite.

Father has advice to dispense: You must stay healthy, avoid contact with the sick whenever you can, avoid altercations.

The youth hangs his head. Yes, sir.

Anna declares, I promise I will talk about you to the baby so she will know who you are and know you are coming back one day. Then when you do come back, she will recognize you and, and, we will look at maps of where you are. And I promise only to say nice things, I swear it by Jesus in the Manger.

Jurina tweaks her daughter’s cheek. What a perfect idea! Anna will remind the baby of its big brother every single day.

Elinga Senior manages his first smile of the evening. Perhaps you can do the same for me, Anna?

For his part, Elinga Junior nods in gratitude at the person who, apart from Esther, has been his kindest friend.

Anna does not notice Lucas glowering at her and adds, We can write letters and save them for you. Would you like that, Pieter?

Lucas, not to be outdone: Or put messages in bottles and throw them in the sea so they float all the way to Asia.

He replies that news will be difficult to come by and he should like to know, one way or another, what has been happening at home.

Anna asks, Ought I to come to wave you off from Silly Jack?

Jurina resumes her leadership. Partings are difficult, Anna, and best not done in public. You would not want Pieter worrying about you when he should be concentrating on the journey ahead and making a good impression on his first day. No, of course not, and you are a big girl for understanding. We can say our good-byes here at home.

The child contains her feelings; the reality is taking hold.

And do call things by their proper names, Anna. It is the Montelbaans Tower; only ignorant people call it Silly Jack.

Lucas senses his moment has come. I have something to say to Pieter too.

Indulgently, Jurina focuses on his earnest face. What is it, my pet?

Lucas sits up in his chair and his expression becomes grave. My dear brother, I will miss you deeply. Without you as my guiding compass, what path shall I follow—?

What is wrong with Allart? Anna is the first to have spotted his contorted face. He seems pinkish and confused . . . something unexpected is happening to him.

Is he breathing? Lucas’s tone is curious.

Jurina’s heart constricts, and inside her, the baby squirms. Allart makes a tiny gurgle.

Father announces, Yes, he is fine, it is only wind.

Is it? Jurina, shrill. Are you sure?

In truth, he is not sure. Allart’s face reddens further. The little boy mutely suffocates under the diner’s gazes. Esther comes back to the awful tableau at the dinner table. She drops the ceramic jug—it smashes on the tiles, breaking the hypnotic spell. Jurina tries to move from her chair (she insisted they buy these huge carved chairs, she insisted upon it), hindered by heavy gown and cumbersome body.

Lucas wonders whether he is about to watch someone die.

The small body is jerked into the air by strong arms and struck on the back with controlled blows,
thump, thump,
for choking,
thump,
for not breathing.
Thump.

Allart spits out a piece of maimed meat. The silence lasts a second more, then lifts as he wails his distress and the family give way to their own startled reactions. Jurina overcomes her enormous bulge at last, lifts Allart from Esther’s grasp as though she were the real danger and this were the real rescue. There, there, my darling one, there, there. She coos and purrs, comforting him, coddling him. Allart bellows with all his might.

Father is pale and shiny. Young Pieter trembles. Anna tries to come to terms with what she has just witnessed by attending to her meal as she was urged to do before.

Esther sees she is no longer required, goes to fetch a bucket and a mop. (There on the floor a whole jug of the second-best wine, shards of pottery, chewed food, and a mouthful of vomit.)

And Lucas . . . Lucas’s mind races, clicking like the beads of an abacus, and arrives at several conclusions in rapid succession, confirmed by the way Mother fusses over Allart and Father wordlessly leaves the room. First, Lucas has missed his chance to gain from what he saw and what he suspects; second, Father does not love Jurina’s children the way he loves Pieter; and finally—

Allart whimpers, rocked back and forth by Mother.

Lucas leans close to Jurina and whispers it: Now you will never get rid of her.

Please come in, Esther.

The maid lingers in the doorway of the studio.

Pieter Janssens Elinga beckons her, Do not be afraid, come in.

She hesitates then obeys, standing before him.

He sits by his workbench strewn with brushes, linseed oil jars, powders, and paper. At the far end of the room, the painting, virtually completed, rests on the easel, drying.

I thought it was time for us to have a talk. Do you understand what I am—?

She nods.

For a time he does not speak. Perhaps this is the conversation that has been waiting to happen since she was first employed by him. Heaven knows it was not meant to last this long.

Remind me, I have forgotten, where is your mother?

She signs it and when he does not understand, fingerspells it instead.

Forgive me, I am out of practice.

He indicates for her to sit down opposite and take up a pen, which she does, reluctantly. He repeats his question.

paradise

And your father?

asylum

The one at Kloveniersburgwal?

She signs, Yes.

Elinga thinks this over. You visit him sometimes.

Yes.

He asks how her father is but she declines to respond, so he asks if she sends him money regularly.

Yes.

You always have?

A pause. Haughty, Esther raises her chin to him. Yes.

It must be hard seeing Pieter leave home. It is hard for me too.

The flash of rage in her does not go unnoticed.

You think I should have intervened by now, that I have sent him into the abyss. You think he is leaving because Jurina is making him go and because he does not want to disappoint me, that Pieter could be my apprentice or I could find him a trade if I tried. You think I have not done enough by him. Is that so?

Esther does not disabuse him of it. He leans on his hand and she notices how old her master has come to look.

If you do think that, then you do not appreciate the extent to which we all rely on Jurina’s income. (The master sighs, picks up a stained rag, and wipes his palms.) Despite any bad opinion you have of her, Jurina has not been ungracious to Pieter. She is a tolerant lady, virtuous, constant, a devoted mother. She has the well-being of her own children to consider. Their futures. And despite what you might think of me, I do care what becomes of my son. However, I have made errors—and my wife keeps fastidious accounts.