The Golden Tulip: A Novel Part 18

Downstairs he made a tour of inspection. There was a general last-minute bustle of servants, but everything appeared to be ready. The banquet table, now set for forty people, had ten silver candelabra shining down its length to supplement the glow from the crystal chandeliers suspended from the painted ceiling. He stopped in front of the painting of Francesca as Flora, and for a moment he almost hated her for driving him demented in his obsession for her. Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, she was never out of his mind. Well, tonight should settle everything. He intended to hold Hendrick to ransom and the price to be paid was Francesca.

He strolled back to the reception hall expecting to see Amalia in the brocaded chair that had been placed ready for her, but she was not there. This was surprising, for normally she liked a considerable rest after the exertion of moving from her apartment and before the first coach would draw up outside. He had sent his own coach to fetch the Vissers, but when he had established Francesca in a house of her choice-where she could paint to her heart's content when he was not there-she should have a coach of her own. While she was in Delft any serious rival who might seek her favors could be easily disposed of on a dark night. Neither was there any chance of a runaway marriage, because no son or daughter under the age of thirty could marry without a parent's consent and Hendrick would be hamstrung over that.

Ludolf's thoughts switched again to Amalia. Where was she? He looked impatiently down the corridor along which she should come, but she was not to be seen. It would be at least twenty minutes before the first guest could be expected and as yet only the menservants on duty were at their posts in the entrance hall that led to the reception hall. Usually if she needed to be carried from her apartment to the reception hall in the sedan chair, Neeltje would come to let him know, but that annoying creature, who had made such an unwelcome appearance in the library, must still be with her mistress. Normally he never went to Amalia's apartment on these occasions, knowing that sometimes the simple effort of dressing was enough to make her rest again for a while. Never once had she failed in her duties as hostess, except during those periods when she had been totally bedridden in the doctor's care.

He paced up and down. It was important that Francesca, arriving for this occasion of splendor, should see him, a well-built, still virile man, totally uncomplemented by this thin, fragile wife at his side, who would appear almost waiflike in spite of her grand clothes. Francesca could not help but excuse him further for his behavior that morning and would pity him being tied to a poor wretch who could give him neither s.e.xual comfort nor children. It was one thing to see Amalia as an invalid and another to see her failing to match a husband and host of his standing.

Realizing that his increasing annoyance had brought about a need for him to relieve himself, he went from the reception hall into a corridor that ran parallel to that leading in the direction of Amalia's apartment. On the way he met four maidservants hastening to take up their posts for collecting the guests' outdoor garments.

"Hurry up!" he snapped brusquely before entering the privy room. When he came out again a quick glance into the reception hall showed him the maidservants giggling quietly together, their backs turned to him and Amalia's chair still empty. Fuming, he decided he would fetch her, or at least discover the reason for her delay. He took a shortcut through the library, which brought him out by her apartment. When he flung open her door he was amazed to find her still lying p.r.o.ne on the couch and making no attempt to rise. Since she was alone he let his wrath fly.

"In the devil's name, why aren't you in the reception hall instead of lying here?"

Fear had leaped into her strained, white face at his furious tone. "I lack the strength to move, Ludolf. My legs won't support me at the moment."

He came and loomed over her where she lay. "Where's Neeltje?" he demanded. "Why hasn't she sent for your sedan chair?"

"She was worried about me and has gone to Dr. Mattheusz's house."

He saw she did look extremely unwell, as happened during her lapses. It maddened him that it should have occurred on this evening of evenings. "What about that special potion? It always sees you through half the evening and I excuse you the rest."

"I was clumsy and spilt it. That's why I've sent Neeltje for more."

"How long has Neeltje been gone?"

"Only about ten minutes."

She had no inkling that her simply given information should come like a revelation to him. With a terrible rise of exhilaration he saw that, without warning or the least forethought on his part, fate had presented him with a unique and totally unlooked-for opportunity to rid himself of the main barrier that all along had stood between Francesca and him. Every one of the devious ways he had thought of to get around it could be cast aside. The servants were busy. None had seen him come here. Neither could Neeltje return under another quarter of an hour.

"Never mind, Amalia," he said thickly and on a dangerously gentle note. "You did right to send for the potion. I'm very pleased that you did."

Those were the last words she was ever to hear. Even as terror swept through her at the sudden glint of murder in his eyes, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the satin cushion from under her head and a second later was holding it pressed down over her face. Her arms flailed helplessly, her cries m.u.f.fled.

She struggled longer than he had expected. Then abruptly she became limp, one slim hand dangling. Slowly he lifted the cushion away. She might have been sleeping. Apart from a slight dishevelment of her hair and a smear of carmine left by her lips on the cushion there was no sign of violence. He raised her head and slipped the cushion back into place. Then he turned her face sideways into it, making sure the smear was exactly level with her lips. He tidied a strand or two of her hair, smoothed her skirt where it had become twisted in her struggle and then stepped back from the couch. He felt excited and released, intoxicated with liberty, but he had yet to return to the reception hall without being observed.

Swiftly he went to the door and opened it a crack to look out. The corridor was deserted. He slipped out of the apartment at once and closed the door silently after him. Within seconds he was in the library, where he drew breath and wiped the ball of his hand across his brow. He had murdered before and killed more men than he could recall with his sword during the years he had absented himself from Holland, but surely no death could have been less premeditated than that of his own wife. He had done the one thing he had vowed never to do, but then he had never supposed such perfect circ.u.mstances would deliver her into his hands.

Leaving the library, he hastened back to the privy room. Once inside he listened until he heard another clack of heels. Then he emerged, adjusting his coat. There had been witnesses to his going in there and this witness to his coming out again was the maidservant who had her own way of obliging him. She had a raw cut on her lip where he had probably bitten her and one eye was swollen and closed, purple as a plum, while her kitchen attire showed she was to be kept out of the guests' sight. She stopped to let him go by, but her gaze was reproachful. He slid a pearl ring from his little finger and slipped it down her cleavage. Then he patted her cheek meaningfully before strolling on into the reception hall. Almost in the same instant the first guests were being admitted and he was there to welcome them.

Half of those expected had arrived when Hendrick appeared with his daughters. The artist's face was so hangdog with anxiety that Ludolf could have laughed. He went forward swiftly to clap a hand on Hendrick's shoulder and speak in a low voice into his ear.

"Take heart, my friend. All is not lost. The promissory notes are mine."

Hendrick's relief was like the sun coming out. From a dragging walk he seemed to bounce on his toes. Ludolf's hooded lids hid the incredulous look in his eyes at the change in the man. Hendrick was still as deep in the mire as before, but the fact that he believed himself in debt to a more tolerant person had created the most extraordinary upsurge of good humor. But Ludolf had no time to think more about the father when there were the daughters to greet, and Francesca in particular. From the moment of her entry her desirable beauty had hit him as it always did. She was attired in a currant-red velvet gown she had not worn in his presence before. The effect of it with her brilliant hair, dressed this evening with seed pearls wound into the coil, was dazzling. Out of caution he greeted her sisters before turning to her.

"My dear Francesca, you do me more honor by coming this evening than you could ever know."

She read the apology in his words, but was not softened by it. The incident in itself had been nothing. Ardent young men had embraced her and sought her kisses many times in the past and in reality there should have been no difference in this incident. But there had been and it lay with Ludolf himself, impossible to define and pinpoint, except in the certain knowledge that he was a man too sophisticated and ruthless to be easily diverted from whatever he wanted.

"Where is Amalia? I can't see her anywhere and I'm most anxious for Aletta to meet her."

Ludolf looked around and raised his eyebrows as if in surprise that his wife was not present. "Is Amalia not here yet? No, I can see her chair has been put back against the wall. When she has not appeared by a certain time it means she has decided not to be present after all."

Francesca became anxious. "Then she is not as well as she had hoped to be?"

"I fear not."

Aletta, who with Sybylla was still at Francesca's side, shook her head regretfully. "I've heard so much about your wife," she said to Ludolf, "and I was so sure that I was about to meet her at last."

He leaned toward the sisters in order that other guests should not hear. "I daresay she would like to see the three of you on your own for a few minutes later on. Her nonappearance usually means she is not up to talking to many people throughout a whole evening."

Francesca was uncertain. "We wouldn't want to tire her still further."

"Amalia has told me that your company and Sybylla's never fail to lift her spirits." His gaze switched to Aletta. "And I can be sure that you would be as welcome as your sisters." Briskly he stepped back with an extravagant gesture. "There are many here wanting to meet you this evening. Now let me present a few of these people to you."

He saw them into one group and then left them with another, returning to greet more arrivals. Just as the last of his guests had been welcomed, Ludolf saw that a number of them had gathered in front of the imposing fireplace and were admiring and discussing his portrait. "Ah, my friends," he said, crossing the hall to join them, "I see you have discovered this remarkable addition to my collection of paintings. Now let me introduce the very gifted young artist who has recently completed this striking work-Francesca Visser, daughter of Master Visser, who I'm sure is known to you all and whose abilities she has undoubtedly inherited."

He would have taken Francesca's hand to lead her forward, but she moved swiftly to avoid his touch. There was a general clapping of hands, exclamations and congratulations, which she acknowledged with a graceful curtsy.

Ludolf would have liked to take Francesca into the banqueting hall, but wisdom had prevailed ahead of this evening's unexpected development. It would only cause offense if he did not take in the wife of the city's most prominent burgomaster. When all were seated at table he saw that Francesca was much farther down than he would have wished, but perhaps it was as well in the present circ.u.mstances.

It was from then onward that he began to keep check of the pa.s.sing of time, having estimated that by now Neeltje should have returned. He kept expecting a manservant to approach him un.o.btrusively or, if the doctor had decided to check on his patient's condition, for that little man to appear from the corridor. Perhaps even Neeltje might rush in hysterically, with tears streaming. He was quite pleased that he would be in everybody's gaze when the message was eventually brought for him to go to Amalia's room. His expression would be either that of gravity at the summons or of absolute shock, according to the manner in which it was delivered, and he was fully prepared. He had done many things in his life and a spell of acting as a lad with a band of strolling players had stood him in good stead throughout the years.

At first he was in high spirits. Amalia's empty place at the far end of the table might have been a silent accusation to any other man, but Ludolf had only to raise his eyes to see The G.o.ddess of Spring hanging on the wall behind the vacant chair and the thought of who was to replace her made his blood sing. After the first course he did have Amalia's chair removed together with the place setting, which emphasized to the company that until then he had hoped his wife would make a last-minute appearance.

Francesca was seated on the opposite side of the table to her sisters and none of them were near enough to converse, but all three were marveling at the change in their father. He was now in the most buoyant of moods, eating more heartily than he had done since he had first cut his hands, flirting outrageously with the women on his left and right, both of whom were responding to him, and his roar of laughter at any joke frequently punctuated the general buzz of conversation.

Ludolf noticed the glances the sisters gave toward their father and then at each other with smiles and puzzled raising of eyebrows. He could have explained everything. His paid henchman Claudius was present that evening and had been most cordial to Hendrick, which came easily to him, for he had served a prison sentence as a confidence trickster, after which Ludolf had decided the rogue would be useful to him, coming from Antwerp as he did and being unknown in Amsterdam. Otto had not been included in the guest list, for even after the number of years that had elapsed, Amalia might have recognized him as one of the so-called merchants introduced to her during their courtship.

Francesca was happy to see her father enjoying himself. Perhaps this social occasion had turned the scales for him in such a way that from now on he would be his own self again. She could see that her sisters were also having a very good time. Aletta was in animated conversation with the gentleman on her left. This evening her hair was concealed by a gold-beaded cap and in profile only a small, shining V of her tresses showed drawn back from her brow, coral earbobs setting off her elegant neck. As for Sybylla, seated farther along, she was being her usual exuberant self, although there were no handsome young men present such as she had hoped to meet. An older man in a dark periwig, aged about forty-five, was seated next to her and had that familiar besotted look that Sybylla could induce in any male face whenever she tried.

Francesca glanced toward Ludolf and saw him take a swift, surrept.i.tious look at his watch. He put it away immediately and resumed eating and conversing. She would have thought no more about it, except that not long afterward she noticed him turn slightly in his chair to look at the clock by the wall. It hardly seemed likely that he was in a hurry for the banquet to end, for he was expansive in his role as host and full of ready humor. She supposed that even though he had had Amalia's chair removed he was half expecting she might appear. Not wanting to catch his eye by chance, she returned her attention to her neighbors at table, both of whom were lively conversationalists.

As one course followed another, Ludolf became increasingly tense. Why had n.o.body come to him? Had Amalia not been quite dead when he left her? But that was impossible, for he had checked her pulse twice and there had been nothing. It was almost two hours now since he had left her. Was Neeltje grieving privately and waiting until the evening was over before she broke the news to him? His anxiety was becoming acute.

In another part of the city Neeltje was recovering consciousness on a cushioned bench in a room she had never seen before. Her whole head was aching and there was an excruciating pain in her side. She would have put a hand to her brow, but her wrist was seized gently.

"Lie still. You were attacked in the street."

She recognized Dr. Mattheusz's voice and cried out on a sob, "I was trying to find you. My mistress-"

"Yes, you told me when I found you outside my door that she had need of that special potion in order to attend her husband's banquet." It was his own opinion that Amalia van Deventer should be spared all large social gatherings and he was well pleased that without his potion she would be resting quietly as she should be. In any case the feasting would be over by now. "You needed immediate medical treatment that had to have priority over all else. Apart from the gash on your head, you have two broken ribs, which I have bound up."

A wave of horror swept through her and she clutched the doctor's hand. "Was I-?"

"No, Neeltje, you were not raped. Your attacker wanted your horse and nothing else."

Neeltje closed her eyes again. That hateful horse. She was a nervous rider and it had known that, tossing its head and trying to get the better of her. It had taken any excuse from a drunken shout to somebody running across the street to make her haul on its reins, fearing the animal would bolt. Had one of the grooms selected a mount for her it would have been a gentle and placid animal, but they had all been in their best livery to attend the guests' coach horses and she had had to leave the choice to a stableboy to saddle up for her. She recalled now that it was a lad whose ears she had once boxed for impertinence and guessed this had been his means of revenge. His ears would be stinging again the next time she was in the stables!

"I must get home. My mistress will be anxious about me."

"Not yet, I think. She will a.s.sume I have been called out and you are waiting here for my return. I'll take you home myself when you have rested a little longer. Then I can see how Vrouw van Deventer is at the same time."

Neeltje closed her eyes thankfully again. She could understand more fully now how her mistress must dread rising from her couch when she felt least like doing so. But a certain disquiet remained. Why was that? Then it came back to her. In the meager street lighting she had taken a wrong turning, which had delayed her arrival at the doctor's house. All the details were coming back now. Just near her destination a man had leapt from the shadows, grabbed the bridle and with one huge hand had hauled her from the saddle, letting her crash down on the cobbles. Dazed and bleeding, she had heard her attacker ride away and, terrified of being run over by a coach in the darkness, she had crawled from the street to the house steps. Somehow she had stretched up to reach the knocker, collapsing from pain as the door opened. She could not remember now who had been standing there or what she had said before she fainted. But she must have been away from home for a very long time!

"I must get back now!" she exclaimed, attempting to sit up. "I took longer in the dark to get here than I had expected and my mistress was very poorly indeed when I left."

He took more notice then and soon afterward she was being a.s.sisted down the steps, the doctor on one side and a manservant on the other. She felt giddy and it was difficult to breathe, which she blamed on the tight binding about her ribs, but soon her mistress would be rea.s.sured about her and she would be in her own bed.

When the van Deventer house was reached, Dr. Mattheusz could hear that dancing was in full swing in the reception hall. The music drifted on the night air and he considered it wiser to instruct his coachman to drive around to a rear entrance. He was one of many of his fellow countrymen who disapproved of dancing, believing that it raised pa.s.sions that led to immorality, but he did not wish to disrupt the gathering by appearing with this injured woman in her bloodstained clothing. He had no personal malice against those enjoying themselves. He had come to this house to care for the patient at his side and to attend to the one who awaited him.

"I must go to my mistress," Neeltje insisted when helped from the coach, but she was almost fainting with pain and the doctor forbade her.

"Go straight to bed. I'll explain everything and another maidservant can wait on Vrouw van Deventer tonight."

Neeltje was reluctant, but she had to obey.

Ludolf was dancing a slow courante with Sybylla, their hands linked shoulder high and the steps slow and graceful. Out of a jealous whim toward Francesca he had invited no youngish bachelors on this occasion, and the only men present without partners were widowers, two in their forties and the rest older than himself. All three Visser girls danced well, Aletta having informed him during an earlier dance that Sybylla kept both her and Francesca abreast of all the new dances. He had not yet danced with Francesca, wary now of the slightest risk of gossip, but he had partnered five other women in addition to her sisters.

"Whatever did you say to Father to make him so merry?" Sybylla questioned with a giggle. "Look at him over there." She indicated where Hendrick was all smiles in the dance.

"Why not ask him?" Ludolf suggested, knowing that whatever Hendrick replied the true reason would not be given.

She looked at him quizzically. "Aletta did and he said you were going to buy his painting of the tax collector."

"Well?"

"I think that's most unlikely." She glanced upward and around at the sumptuous room. "Why should you wish to hang a painting of a representative of those for whom you surely have no liking?"

He laughed heartily, deciding that he would endorse Hendrick's lie by buying it. "Perhaps that is the very reason. I can put the painting facing the midden or the most costly item in the house that I possess. The joke will be mine."

She giggled. "You are the most outrageous man!"

"Don't deny that you like me all the better for it!"

Her eyes twinkled at him, but she did not take the bait. "Do you think Amalia is able to sleep with this music playing and all the noisy chatter?"

He could guess what was coming. Aletta had hinted at it, but he had brushed aside her reminder of his half-promise. "She doesn't sleep well at the best of times. Why do you ask?"

"You did say when my sisters and I arrived this evening that we might see Amalia later. It seems so hard that she should have tried to gather enough strength for this evening and then, when she failed, not to have a single visitor."

Sybylla was honest enough to admit to herself that had there been any dashing young men present she might have forgotten Amalia completely. But she was genuinely fond of her new friend and was glad that she had remembered her lying in her apartment away from these exciting festivities with only Neeltje for company.

Ludolf thought quickly. Suppose he did take the three girls to Amalia's apartment? He was convinced that his wife's death would not be attributed to foul play, but why not strengthen his apparent innocence still further by going willingly, and seemingly unsuspectingly, to find his wife had expired at last from her illness. He could count on hysterics from Sybylla, to which he would add his own restrained display of bravely borne grief. Most important of all, he would be able to satisfy his curiosity as to why he had not been called away to the apartment.

"Then gather your two sisters when this dance is ended and we'll find out if Amalia will see you. If so, I'll have to return to the dancing, but you may judge how soon you should leave her again."

As the music stopped Sybylla left his side to summon both Francesca and Aletta. Before Ludolf could make any move himself Hendrick blocked his way.

"I was hoping we might have a little chat on our own for a few minutes," Hendrick said significantly.

Ludolf struggled with his annoyance that the artist should approach him at this particular time. "I realize you are eager to know the details, but they can't be hurried through."

"I'm at your command. Shall I call on you?"

"Yes. We don't want to be overheard or disturbed. Come tomorrow at three o'clock. It's not a very convenient time for me, but I will cancel another appointment."

Cheerfully Hendrick accepted this arrangement. Then his daughters went with his patron to the invalid wife's apartment and he strolled away to watch some games of cards at tables in one of the drawing rooms. He longed to be playing too, but a man with empty pockets and debts deeper than the Amstel could only be a wistful spectator.

Ludolf opened the door of Amalia's room, the sisters behind him. With a rush of dreadful apprehension he saw that the couch was empty, the carmine-stained cushion having fallen to the floor.

"As I expected," he stated after a fractional pause, "my wife has retired. I'll go first on my own into her bedchamber."

The girls waited as he strode for the double doors, which opened before he could reach them. Both Francesca and Sybylla recognized the short man in black clothes and a white periwig who stood there, having been presented to Dr. Mattheusz when he had called on Amalia one day.

"Heer van Deventer," the doctor said in solemn tones, "I arrived here only a few minutes ago and was on my way to find you. I regret that I have the gravest news for you."

"What's happened?" Ludolf's question was almost inaudible.

The doctor looked toward the girls and then back at Ludolf. "Do you wish me to say in the presence of others what I have to tell?"

Ludolf gave a nod, relief at what he was obviously about to hear giving him a soaring sense of power that once again he had manipulated events to his benefit. "I believe you have already prepared us. Two of these young women have drawn close to my dear Amalia quite recently."

"Then with great sorrow I have to say that your wife died alone here this evening after sending her maidservant to fetch a potion from me. Unfortunately the woman was violently attacked and injured just as she reached my house and collapsed as I opened the door. It was not until she had recovered her senses that I understood your wife was in an extremely low state, and so I decided I should visit her while bringing the injured woman back at the same time."

Ludolf groaned in a heartbroken fashion, bowing his head, and the sisters drew closer together, Francesca and Sybylla pale with shock and with tears in their eyes. Only Aletta spoke. "The poor lady!"

The doctor stepped forward and, being too short to guide Ludolf by the shoulder, placed a hand on his back. "Come now and see her. She is at peace."

Ludolf dropped his hands to his sides and, like a man bereft of all he had cherished, went slowly into the bedchamber. The doctor did not accompany him but stayed in the dayroom, closing the doors to let him be alone with his late wife. Then, seeing that two of the sisters were thoroughly distressed, the third with an arm around each in comfort, Dr. Mattheusz went across to them.

"It may ease your grief to know that Vrouw van Deventer did not suffer," he said kindly.

Sybylla, who had not behaved as Ludolf had expected, looked at the little doctor with swimming eyes. "How terrible that she was on her own! To think that we were all in the banqueting hall and then dancing while she-" She broke off, covering her face with her hands.

Aletta spoke to her soothingly and thought, as she had many times before, that Sybylla, for all her superficiality, had a tender heart. "As Vrouw van Deventer was in bed, it's almost certain she went in her sleep."

"That is sound thinking," the doctor confirmed. It was not for these young women to know that he had found Amalia half fallen from the couch. The satin cushion under her head had slipped, taking her with it. Having known her as a woman always fastidious about her appearance, he had guessed how she would have hated to be found in an ungainly position and, out of charity, he had picked her up and carried her through to lay her on her own bed. His personal regret was that the delay in Neeltje's errand of mercy had prevented him getting to Amalia in time to summon her husband to her bedside for her last moments.

The bedchamber doors opened again and Ludolf emerged. The doctor noted that he looked extremely sad, but not totally devastated, and he supposed that Amalia had been in such a weak state for so long that this devoted husband had been partly prepared for her demise at any time.

"Would you be so kind as to make an announcement to my guests, Dr. Mattheusz?" Ludolf requested brokenly.

"Of course, mijnheer. I'll do it at once." The music had been jarring on the doctor's ears, for this was now a house of mourning. He hurried from the room. Francesca guided her sisters to follow while all three of them murmured condolences. Ludolf thanked them with a bow. Away in the reception hall the music trailed away and silence fell. As they went to receive their cloaks Francesca knew afresh the horror of the struggle in the library. To think that it should have happened almost within Amalia's last hours. If Ludolf felt any remorse it had not shown in his eyes when he had looked at her. Her loathing of him made her flesh creep. When she and her sisters reached the reception hall the same stricken look was on every face. Hendrick came to them at once and spoke sympathetically. Francesca, her heart heavy with grief at Amalia's lonely pa.s.sing, was glad of his comforting arm about her shoulders and saw how Sybylla cuddled up to him on his other side as if she were a child again.

While all the guests had made their departure, Ludolf remained alone in the apartment. The one question that was still causing him anxiety was who had entered the room and moved Amalia's body from the couch to her bedchamber. It was greatly to his relief when Dr. Mattheusz returned and explained what he had done.

"I knew you would be puzzled when, in time, your wife's maid told you she had left her mistress on the couch in a very weak state, virtually unable to have moved to her bedchamber alone."