The Golden Tulip: A Novel Part 35

Adriaen was relieved that his amorousness with Sybylla was to be overlooked so readily. "I don't carry money to social affairs such as this evening, but a loan can be arranged. How much do you require? A few hundreds?"

"That's not enough! I'm not talking in hundreds, but in thousands!"

The banker in Adriaen came to the fore. "In that case let us meet at my office tomorrow and we can go into the matter. I'll help you in any way I can."

"I need your promise now! For mercy's sake, I'm going to be your father-in-law. Surely you won't refuse me?"

"At least tell me the reason why you require the loan." Adriaen was more than prepared to step in for a critical emergency, but he wanted to know what it was all about.

"To settle gambling debts to van Deventer. If I can't return to the library free of all I owe him there will be dire consequences for Francesca."

Immediately Adriaen began to doubt the wisdom of becoming involved. Gamblers were a bad risk and he could foresee that if he made a loan to Hendrick now he could face a future of endlessly settling his father-in-law's debts. It must be every gambler's dream to have a banker in the family, but he must make no promises until he had discussed the matter with his father.

"I'm sorry, Master Visser," he said firmly, "but I see no cause for you to come to me. Van Deventer seemed pleased enough to be your daughter's betrothed at the table and I can't believe he'll negate on his wish to marry her just because you owe him money."

"You fool!" Hendrick was wild with fear and exasperation. "You haven't understood! She'll have to marry him against her will if I don't pay him. I want her released from that contract."

But it was too late. The handle of the locked door was tried and Francesca spoke. "Please let me in, Father."

Hendrick clapped his hands to his head with a groan and turned away, making no attempt to answer his daughter's request. Sybylla, having become hysterical when he had started shouting even louder, had rushed to fetch Francesca and met her, somber-faced, coming from the library with Ludolf. Again Francesca rapped on the door, but it was Sybylla who shouted through it.

"Are you all right, Adriaen? Answer me!"

In the room Adriaen looked coldly at Hendrick. It rankled with him that he had been called a fool by a reckless gambler incapable of handling his own affairs. Deliberately he strode to the door and unlocked it. As it opened, Sybylla rushed to him and he began rea.s.suring her that he was unharmed.

Francesca went toward her father, Ludolf remaining close to her. "Look at me, Father," she said quietly out of her own shocked state. She thought of Pieter's warning and how true it had proved to be.

Slowly Hendrick faced her. He spoke wearily. "Ludolf has told you?"

"He has. I only wish you had told me yourself long ago."

"I kept hoping to find a way out."

"I realize that. Let us go home now."

Hendrick and his daughters seated themselves in the van Jansz coach while Adriaen bade his host a courteous good night. As he came down the steps he could hear Sybylla shrieking at her father, but when he entered the equipage she stopped. No doubt she would prove difficult at times after they were married, but after glimpsing her beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s in those minutes when they were alone together, he felt he would be able to forgive her any amount of tantrums.

After Adriaen had seen the Vissers to their door and left again, Sybylla was still confused as to the cause of the uproar that Hendrick had created. She had believed he was about to use his fists on Adriaen and her relief that it had nothing to do with her or her betrothed's indiscretion made her overwhelmingly sympathetic toward Francesca when everything was explained to her. She uttered a long wail. Francesca put an arm about her shoulders and spoke to Hendrick again.

"Were all those restrictions placed on me in Delft at Ludolf's instigation?"

"They were," he admitted wearily, "and there's nothing I can do to lift them."

"Oh, my poor sister!" Sybylla cried out to her.

"Would you be very disappointed if I didn't stay for your betrothal party?" Francesca asked her. "I feel I have to see Pieter as soon as possible to talk everything over with him."

Sybylla was relieved. Her father would have to be present at the party, but he appeared too broken now ever to cause a scene again, whereas Francesca would be a reminder to Adriaen of the uproar in the van Deventer house and she wanted that forgotten as soon as possible. "No, I'll let you go if you promise to be at my wedding."

"I asked Master Vermeer if he could allow that before I came this time and he agreed."

"What will you do about Griet's wedding tomorrow?"

"I'll go with you and Father and Maria to the church and stay awhile at the festivities afterward to wish her well. Then I'll catch a stage wagon that should get me to Haarlem by early evening. There's one thing I wish you'd do for me."

"Anything!"

"Could you manage to keep a civil tongue in your head and convey my apologies to Hans Roemer for not returning to view the group painting again as I said I would, but I'll not have time to spare now."

Sybylla was not at all sure that she wanted to do what she had been asked. The prospect aroused disquiet in her while at the same time she felt a curious thrill at the idea of seeing the impudent rascal again. "Very well. I'll go one day."

"Don't forget."

Sybylla reflected that there was little chance of that. Then she kissed Hendrick good night, feeling a rush of love for him that brought tears to her eyes. He had been foolish, but then so had she on many occasions. The tears fell when she embraced Francesca, who had been landed in such awful straits by events in which she had had no part.

"Everything is not lost, Francesca." She wanted to offer the kind of comfort and the sense of hope that her sister had given her so often in the past. "Surely something will happen in the next few months to release you. Perhaps Pieter will think of a way."

"Maybe he will." Francesca smiled fondly at her sister attempting to cheer her. "Go to bed now. Father and I will be talking for a little while. Don't worry. I have no intention of upbraiding him."

As Sybylla went up to her bedchamber she marveled that Francesca could talk rationally and without recrimination to their father. If he had put her in the same situation, preventing her from marrying Adriaen, she believed she would have gone on screaming until she drowned all the bells of Amsterdam, even the carillon of the Zuider Church.

GRIET'S MARRIAGE TO Sijmon was a happy occasion. She had been true to him since they first met in spite of his two long absences at sea. Her gown was of blue velvet made up from a length saved from a time when Hendrick had tossed lengths of fabric to every female in the house after a win at cards. Its delicate lace tr.i.m.m.i.n.g had been made by Maria and had a symbolic design of lovers' knots and roses. After the ceremony a merry time was had by family and friends, the food plentiful and barrels of beer set up to quench everybody's thirst. There was dancing to a flute, a lute and a drum, heavy feet making the floorboards shake at the home of Griet's brother and wife, where the festivities were held. Francesca had no difficulty in slipping away unnoticed after a word with the bridegroom and a kiss from the bride.

When she returned home to change for traveling and to collect her hand baggage and her painting, a neighbor, who had been watching out for her, came waving a sealed note in her hand.

"A woman named Vrouw de Hout was here looking for you. She said you mentioned going to Haarlem and asked if you would take this hand-delivered note with you whenever you leave."

Francesca saw it was addressed to Pieter and took it indoors with her to put it away in her purse, where she had already put Aunt Janetje's gift bracelet for Aletta. She gathered her baggage and made her way to Dan Square, where she boarded the stage wagon for Haarlem.

Throughout the two-hour journey she mulled over the events of the previous evening. What Ludolf had said to her drummed in her mind. All her and Pieter's hope to take flight to Italy as a last resort had been swept away.

"If the marriage contract is not upheld," Ludolf had said, "through any refusal by you to become my wife, or if you should hide away or run off somewhere, I'll take your father to court and do my utmost to see that he gets thirty years at least for his unpaid debt to me!"

She felt almost faint as she remembered his words. Shock still vibrated in her veins, but nothing should spoil her time with Pieter. The five days that were left to her before her return to Delft would now be his instead of the mere twenty-four hours she had thought originally were all she could take away from her family.

The stage wagon drew up near the Butchers' Hall in Haarlem and she set off at once to walk the two miles to Pieter's home. It was a clear evening, but dusk had already fallen and her baggage, into which she had packed additional belongings she needed in Delft, and the linen-wrapped painting were proving heavy and tiring. She went into the last tavern in the town to get a lantern, and this added to her burdens. By the time she reached the lane that led to his home it was dark, the stars were out and she was glad to reach her destination.

She pa.s.sed the office, which was closed, and continued on past the cl.u.s.ter of trees to come in sight of Haarlem Huis for the first time. She could see that it was much larger than the average farmhouse with two floors and an attic, the thatch coming low over the upper windows, one of which shone with candlelight. Another window downstairs held an even brighter glow. She went up the path to the main door and banged on the knocker. Standing back, she saw the candlelight upstairs fade away as someone came with it to answer her knocking. When the door swung open Pieter stood there, a candlestick in his hand, his hair damp as if he were newly bathed after his day's work. The joyful surprise on his face at the sight of her was something she would always remember.

"Francesca, my love! Come in!"

"I'm here to stay for a while!"

She stepped inside, dropping her hand baggage, her painting and the lantern as he put down the candle on a cupboard. The next second they were in each other's arms, their mouths meeting in a kiss of pa.s.sionate reunion. When they drew apart they began laughing and talking, asking and answering questions together. While he shut the door and rebolted it, she threw off her cloak and crossed the hall to pause on the threshold of the lighted room. Her artist's eye took in its hues and proportions. There were cream-washed walls, a ma.s.sive cupboard, an ancient chest thick with carving and a table covered by an Oriental rug in colors from her own palette of vermilion and indigo, lemon yellow, purple and Veronese green. A few old paintings on wood were comfortably at home in the general harmony.

"This is a lovely room!" she exclaimed, still looking about her.

"When my father built this house out of his tulipomania gains he concentrated on s.p.a.ce. To please my mother, then a bride, he purchased stylish furniture, but he didn't want to part with what had been in the old farmhouse, and he stored it all in a barn. When the place became mine I decided to reinstate most of it. Over the years I've added a few extra things here and there."

She had gone to hold her hands to the fire, not because she was cold but simply to enjoy everything that was in the room. "How happy you must be here! The house has such a welcoming atmosphere."

"I think the house has been waiting for you."

"I'd like to think that is true."

He had come to take her by the waist and swivel her gently around to face him. "This is where you belong, my love. Here with me under this roof where I've long wanted you to be. There is a splendid room at the north end of this house that would make you a fine studio. It has three good windows, one with an east-facing view across the bulb fields." He saw a look he could not define flicker in her eyes. "What is it?"

She dipped her head, letting her brow come to rest against his shoulder. "I know that Father has signed a contract of marriage for me."

He held her close to him, stroking her hair. "How did you find out?"

She told him what had taken place. "Ludolf made it clear that any disappearance on my part would result in his taking Hendrick to court immediately. I could never, for the sake of my own freedom, let my father go mad chained up in a dungeon. Even flight is impossible."

He cupped her chin for her to look up at him again. "Not if he went to Florence too."

"Would that be possible?" She wanted to believe it, crus.h.i.+ng down a wrenching feeling that it could never be. "He has always sworn he would never live anywhere else except Amsterdam and he intends to die there, but in these desperate circ.u.mstances he would surely be willing to leave!" She seized on the idea. "Maria could have a home with Sybylla, and Griet could easily find a new place. Hendrick has always spoken of Florence as Michelangelo's city. He would be able to paint there!"

"I'd say there is no doubt about it."

She was already planning, clinging to hope. "He could bring what he treasures most in his home-the paintings of my mother, the Frans Hals and the one by Rembrandt of t.i.tus. They could all be taken from their frames and easily packed. He would never leave his favorite palette and brushes behind, but those wouldn't take much s.p.a.ce and so he could travel light."

"You can talk it over with him next time you're home."

"That will be for Sybylla's marriage, which is to be soon." She frowned slightly, pursing her lips. "Of course, I have to allow for his unpredictability."

"In what way?"

"It may take a long time to persuade him to tear up his roots." n.o.body knew better than she how perverse her father could be. "He will procrastinate, always hoping that a more agreeable solution will present itself. It isn't as though I could take any extra tuition now. I have to gain Guild members.h.i.+p at the end of two years."

"Why is that?"

She looked amazed that he should ask. "Think of my father's debts. I couldn't inflict more on him!"

"That extra time has been already financed should it be needed."

Her expression was puzzled. "How do you mean?"

He grinned at her. "Can't you guess?"

"By you, Pieter?"

"I can tell you now how it all came about, which I couldn't do before."

When she had heard all the details she took his hand and pressed it to her lips. "So all I've achieved, and hope to achieve, is through you. I couldn't have wished for a better way, because it makes you an integral part of my work and my life. Yet you scarcely knew me when you committed yourself to that bond."

"I already loved you."

She smiled and kissed his hand again before moving away from him to wander about the room looking at everything. Instinct told her not to waste a moment of these precious hours. It was why she had come. Ludolf was such a powerful and evil force in her life that a chance to be on her own with Pieter in this way might never come again, no matter what plans they made. "I'll be able to picture you here now when I get a letter from this house. That reminds me." She returned to where she had left her purse on one of the green upholstered chairs set back against the wall. "I have a letter for you that Vrouw de Hout asked me to bring here. Don't hesitate to read it."

He recognized Neeltje's handwriting and broke the seal. When he had scanned the contents he folded the note again and put it on a ledge. "Fortunately it's nothing urgent," he said.

"Where do you write to me?" she asked.

"At a desk in the next room."

"May I see it?"

"Come with me."

He took her by the hand. The rooms followed the usual pattern of opening one into another. In the dining hall adjacent to the kitchen a cold supper had been laid for him by a local woman who came in daily to cook, clean and prepare his meals when he was there. Francesca expressed a wish to freshen herself after her journey before eating and he showed her upstairs to a bedchamber where there was all she would need. It also had a fine old wall bed, enclosed on three sides, and he told her that all the upper rooms had a similar one. According to what she had been told, there had once been wall beds in her own home, but not long after her parents were married, Hendrick, enjoying one of his early gambling wins, had had them all removed and replaced by four-posters, including the one with extravagant giltwork that he had shared with her mother. She wondered if those original wall beds had had the same carved canopies as the one in this room.

Pieter had gone downstairs again, where he had set another place at the table for her and put a chair ready. When she reappeared in the dining hall she had changed into the tawny velvet gown that she had worn earlier in the day to Griet's wedding, bunches of ribbons holding back the curls that danced over her ears. With ceremony he drew back the chair for her.

"If I had known you would be here this evening I'd have had a feast prepared," he said smilingly.

"This is feast enough," she declared. The crisp white napkins covering the dishes had been removed to reveal prepared lobsters, smoked meats, salads, fruit, bread and an almond tart with a jug of cream. Pieter poured the white wine that he had brought chilled from the cellar.

"Normally the good woman who prepared this supper for me cooks a stout repast, but these days when I'm working until dark I tell her to leave me something cold on the table or a hot dish by the kitchen firebox."

"I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be here, Pieter." She met his eyes over the salad he was holding for her and then looked down as she took some onto her porcelain plate.

"Neither would I," he said softly, his eyes holding hers when she looked at him again. "We've never been alone before. There has always been someone else near at hand."

They talked while they ate, each wanting to know all that had happened to the other since the last letters they had exchanged. She related Aletta's difficult task in waiting on Constantijn, spoke about Griet's wedding and described Sybylla's excitement over the forthcoming betrothal, which she had chosen to miss in order to come straight to him. He told her of the books he had read, the plays he had seen and the games of golf and kaatsen he had played with friends in vigorous compet.i.tion until the momentum of work had cut out those pastimes. He also informed her of his conversation with Neeltje, only withholding the woman's tale of murder and suspected murder, not wanting to cast a shadow over Francesca's first evening in his home.

"Incidentally, that note you brought was from her. She wrote that by chance she had found a contract of marriage between Ludolf and your father among his papers."

Francesca smiled wryly. "She's a little late with that information."

He turned their conversation to lighter matters again and she told him about the Civil Guard painting she had seen, teasing him that she had viewed its progress before him, even though, as he was in the reserve, he would not be in the painting.

"It's coming on well, then?"

"Oh yes," she replied merrily, "and it's going to include a little mouse."

He chuckled with her over Hans Roemer's audacity and they tried to guess where it would appear. "Perhaps it will be under somebody's lace-edged collar!"

"Or peering through the captain's plume!"

All the while they had been talking and laughing each was aware of the enormous feeling of tenderness between them and that time was slipping swiftly toward the moment that had been inevitable since their first meeting.

As they rose from the table, he drawing back her chair, their eyes full of love for each other, she made a request.

"Show me the studio now. I want to set down roots here that nothing can ever wrench free." She needed to make some defiant gesture of her own against the great threat that loomed over her.

He took her face between his hands and kissed her tenderly. "I'll take you there. You'll be able to see something of the view too."

"Won't it be too dark?" she asked as he took up the candelabrum from the table to light the way.