To Dream of Snow (40 page)

Suddenly there seemed to a commotion ahead and her carriage stopped abruptly. Before she could make any move to look out of the window the door was jerked open and Jan, his clothes dust-streaked from days of hard riding, threw himself into the carriage and on to the opposite seat.

‘Now,' he said, frowning at her as she sat speechless with astonishment, ‘I gave you a year to discover for yourself whether or not it was I whom you wanted or . . . somebody else. I believe you have made your decision.'

She drew a deep breath. ‘Yes, although I thought I was never going to see you again and that the painting you gave me would remain unfinished.'

A guard had come to the window, looking anxious. ‘Are you all right, madame? This gentleman insisted on coming to your carriage.'

‘Yes, indeed,' she replied with a smile.

As the guard disappeared and the carriage rolled on again, Jan moved across to sit beside her. ‘So what is missing?' he asked urgently. ‘Tell me, Marguerite.'

‘I had been searching for some hidden symbolism such as there has been in so many Dutch paintings, but finally I solved the mystery on the morning that I thought I had lost you for ever. You had painted me standing alone, but there should have been a second figure at my side.' She rested her palm against his face as she looked deeply into his eyes. ‘You, whom I love, my dear Jan.'

He answered her softly, drawing her to him. ‘I have waited a long time to hear you say those words and,' he added with a smile, ‘to finish that painting. Now I have a great deal to tell and much to hear from you.'

That night in the Riga hostelry she was awake for a little while after their passionate reunion, Jan's arm around her as he lay sleeping. Careful not to disturb him, she raised herself on one elbow to gaze down at him.

Already she was looking forward to living in the house with the stained-glass windows that overlooked an Amsterdam canal. She could picture how reflected sunlight on the water would make rainbow patterns dance across the ceilings. It would be a place to put down roots and raise a family. As for the house in Paris, that would always be a pied-à-terre for them both. Maybe in time to come when the heir to the French throne was old enough to marry, she would design for his young bride. In the meantime the ladies of the Netherlands would want fine clothes created for them too.