The Golden Tulip: A Novel Part 19

Ludolf was all grat.i.tude. "A most kindly thought, Doctor. I thank you with all my heart. Apart from what my dear wife would have felt, had she known, it would have been a terrible thing if those three young women had entered the room and seen my wife lying dead. The shock would have been most distressing."

Once alone again Ludolf, with his hands on his hips, surveyed Amalia's dayroom. When a suitable time had elapsed he would have the whole decor changed here and the rooms refurnished to become integrated with the main house again instead of being a separate apartment. The Pieter de Hooch painting caught his eye. It had been wasted hanging here. He would have it rehung in a drawing room where it would be better displayed. Naturally he would have to play the role of a grieving widower for a long time to come. Yet he knew to the very day what length that period should be and, as it was already into the early hours of a new day, it would date from tomorrow.

HENDRICK FELT SOMEWHAT uncertain about keeping an appointment in a house so suddenly tipped into mourning, but no message was sent to cancel it and so he set off for the van Deventer house in good time. The manservant who admitted him had bunches of black ribbon on the shoulders of his livery and two maidservants, hurrying across the reception hall, wore black lace ap.r.o.ns. This place of hushed voices was in sharp contrast to his own home, where friends and neighbors were calling in all the time to wish Francesca well with her apprenticeship and hand her little gifts.

Ludolf was waiting to receive him in a room where they had first played cards with Claudius and Otto. Hendrick thought it a poor choice of venue, considering the reason why he was here, but perhaps it had been deliberately selected. The new widower was in unrelieved mourning attire, even to plain black buckles on his shoes.

"It is most courteous of you to see me on such a sorrowful day," Hendrick said after uttering conventional condolences in the sepulchral tones reserved for such times. He had taken the seat that had been offered him, although Ludolf chose to remain standing, resting a hand against the rose marble canopy of the Delft-tiled fireplace, as if showing from the start he intended to dominate this interview.

"There are matters to be talked out that can't be delayed," he began without preamble. "I want to marry Francesca."

Shock and disgust shook through Hendrick. "You dare to stand there in the raiments of bereavement with your late wife barely cold-"

"This is no time for sentiment," Ludolf broke in, his expression hard. "I have set my period of mourning for the minimum six months. After that I shall court her."

"You take a great deal for granted!" Hendrick snorted, outraged.

Ludolf continued as if there had been no interruption. "During those first months I'll not see her at all, except when she is at home on a visit, and then you will invite me there at all times to enable me to start my courtship without giving rise to public gossip."

"That won't be often," Hendrick retorted with grim satisfaction. "Apprentices are only allowed to visit their families at Christmastide or in an emergency."

Ludolf snapped his fingers contemptuously as if those conditions could easily be overcome. "I'll not interrupt her apprenticeship, knowing how important it is to her, and my one aim is her happiness, but at the end of it she shall become my wife."

"I'll not give my consent!"

Ludolf regarded him with mild surprise, much as if a tiny gnat had dared to sting him. "What is your objection? Is she promised to someone else?"

"No."

"Has she spoken of wishing to be anybody else's wife?"

"No. Quite the reverse."

"Well, then?"

Hendrick rubbed his hands uneasily over the arm ends of his chair. "She doesn't want to stay in Holland once she has been granted membership of the Guild of St. Luke. She aims to go to Italy."

"I'll take her."

Hendrick shook his head stubbornly, finding this whole interview far more difficult than the one conducted with Pieter, which had been without selfish demands. Neither had he come prepared for this sudden development. The sooner it was nipped in the bud, the better, because he had come to talk over his debts and he wanted to get on with that quickly. "Francesca is set against marriage. She wants to be an artist first and foremost with no hindrances, emotional or otherwise, to hold her back."

Ludolf left the fireplace and strolled across to the nearest window and stood looking out into the street. "Would you prefer that I make her my mistress?"

Hendrick sprang from his seat with a huge, vibrating roar, shaking his fist. "You dare to say that to me! Her own father!"

Ludolf moved to lean back leisurely against the windowsill and folded his arms. "To whom else should I make my intentions known? They are honorable, are they not? I was simply pointing out that I intend to have her either way."

"d.a.m.nation to you! I'm going!" Hendrick started for the door, but he did not reach it, for Ludolf had drawn the promissory notes from his sleeve.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Ludolf inquired drily, flicking them to and fro in the air.

Hendrick's heightened color took on a grayish hue. "That's a different matter altogether," he spluttered. "My debts are between the two of us. n.o.body else comes into them."

"That's not entirely correct. I'll remind you that you said on oath that I could have any collateral that I required and I've chosen Francesca."

Hendrick became desperate. "You surely didn't imagine I had included my own daughter?"

"Why should I suppose otherwise? Women are men's chattels. You have every legal right to dictate whom your daughters should marry."

"But I have never held that att.i.tude toward them. I'm a freedom-loving man myself and when Anna was first pregnant she and I decided that our sons and daughters should be brought up on an equal footing. We had no boys, except the stillborn infant who cost her life, but our girls have grown up with independent spirits and been encouraged to have opinions of their own!"

"But Francesca will obey your will."

"She would never be forced into anything! You know nothing of her if you haven't discovered that!"

"Why not try persuasion? If she should have to be told what the alternative to marrying me would mean for you and her sisters, as well as that old nurse of whom she is so fond, I can't see her refusing me."

"What alternative is that?" Hendrick queried cautiously, slack-mouthed with fear.

Ludolf slowly paced the room as he answered. "I would drag you through the public debtors' court into bankruptcy and claim everything you own from the roof over your family's heads to your paintings of Anna. You'd languish in prison, because that's where I would put you, and your womenfolk would be confined to an almshouse for the poor."

Hendrick dropped back into his chair and began to weep abjectly. "Merciful G.o.d! What have I done!"

Ludolf came to stand nearby and allowed time for the wretched man's misery to sink deep into his body, mind and soul. The only sounds in the quiet room were of Hendrick's distress and the subdued noises from the street outside. Then Ludolf spoke again.

"Take heart, my friend. I'll be a good husband to Francesca when the time comes. There's not another father in Amsterdam who would not jump at the chance of giving a daughter as a bride to me. She'll want for nothing and if my generosity to her should spill over to you and her sisters I'll raise no objection. What's more, I'll make a marriage gift to her of the promissory notes and she can tear them up in front of you."

Hendrick, his face sagging like a hound's, his eyes red-rimmed, gave a choked appeal. "As I said once before, I don't want her or her sisters to know of my losses. That must never be!"

"Then I'll give the notes to you. Think of it! From this day forward your debt to me is in abeyance and you may continue your life as if nothing had ever been amiss. On the day that I wed Francesca you can rejoice as you burn these sc.r.a.ps of paper. Your future will be a.s.sured and secure as you wish it to be. By that I mean that never again would I step in to save you from your own stupidity."

"I've learned my lesson." Hendrick bowed his head brokenly.

Ludolf eyed him cynically. Gamblers always made such vows, but at least it was certain that never again would the artist be such a fool as to go to stakes that were beyond him. A few paltry guilders would be all he would allow himself from now on. "Then it is agreed?"

"It is." Hendrick's head sank still lower and his voice was slow and heavy. "At the end of Francesca's apprenticeship, and if she has not already agreed to marry you, I will inform her that she must become your wife."

"By then my courtship will have taken full effect and I'm confident that it will never be necessary for you to make such a stipulation. Now we shall sign the marriage contracts. A lawyer was here early this morning and I had them drawn up while he was dealing with Amalia's will and other papers as well."

Dull-eyed and full of loathing, Hendrick looked up to see his patron take two doc.u.ments from a drawer, for they would each keep one of them after signing. What sort of a man was this who could callously engage a lawyer to handle his late wife's estate, whatever was left of it, and prepare contracts for a new marriage at the same time? Hendrick was aware of not being particularly perceptive in everyday life when his "inner eye" was not in use as when he was painting, but he knew that here, in this room in private interview, he had seen a side of Ludolf's character that was not normally revealed. The lawyer, whose discretion could be relied upon, would have seen it that morning, but the rest of the world had no inkling of a heartlessness beyond measure.

Listlessly Hendrick took the contract Ludolf handed to him and read it through. While this was happening Ludolf flicked open the lid of a silver inkwell in readiness and tested one of the quill tips against a finger.

Hendrick looked up with a questioning frown. "Who's this widow mentioned here?" He peered closely at the name again. "Vrouw Geetruyd Wolff?"

"I investigated the family Francesca was to stay with and considered the atmosphere there to be too lax. Therefore I've canceled her going to that house and arranged for Vrouw Wolff to meet her off the stage wagon tomorrow and take charge of her. One thing further." Ludolf placed another sheet of paper before Hendrick. "This is a letter to Vrouw Wolff setting out the rules that Francesca is to obey. I wish you to copy it, so that the woman knows it comes with your parental authority. I shall see that she receives it by a special messenger, who is waiting to depart."

As Hendrick's eyes followed Ludolf's writing, he gave a mirthless and exasperated laugh. "What's this condition of Francesca being chaperoned unless she is with her sisters, or me, or with you and also being forbidden to be alone in male company at any time? My daughter is going to Delft to work. Not to jeopardize her chances by dillydallying with young men!"

"She must be protected at all times."

"So," Hendrick said bitterly, "you couldn't have done all this today. You've been working on this agreement for some time. If your wife hadn't died last night it would have been a bill of sale awaiting your receipt that I'd be holding now instead of a more honorable marriage contract."

"That's correct. I actually had one ready, but there is a clause in it that if I became a widower in the interim of three years, then Francesca would marry me as we have arranged."

Hendrick could contain himself no longer. "You ruthless b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" he yelled with all the power of his lungs, shaking the contract that he held. "May you rot in h.e.l.l!"

Ludolf sneered at him contemptuously. "I thought you'd come to that kind of verbal abuse sooner or later, but let there be no more of it if you want me to continue as your patron. Finish reading what has been written, copy and sign it, and then we will complete the contracts."

There was nothing more Hendrick could say. His eldest daughter had been trapped even before marriage became possible. It had always been his hope that when she had achieved her ambition of becoming a master of a Guild, she would find happiness in marriage with a man of her choice, supposing that otherwise she might be tempted to take a lover when she was a mature woman. But this coercing of her while still a girl was the other side of the coin entirely. In this case he must be thankful she was to become a wife and nothing less, and even then he had his doubts that Ludolf would allow her to complete her apprenticeship but might attempt to buy off Vermeer.

He copied the letter and then went with it to the table where the marriage contracts had been laid. Both he and Ludolf signed the doc.u.ments and duly exchanged them. Hendrick left the house immediately afterward. As he walked homeward through the busy streets, he was too wrapped up in mulling over what had happened to be aware of the pa.s.sing traffic, the shouts of the peddlers or the clash of cymbals for a dancing bear. He hoped that Francesca's apprenticeship would be blissful and carefree. In spite of all Ludolf's promises of what she should have as his wife, it was unlikely that love and happiness would ever be hers.

When he reached home he could tell by the chatter in the parlor that still more company were gathered there and the stack of gifts on the table in the reception room had increased during the time he had been out. He went straight to Anna's portrait in the studio and stood before it, wanting her forgiveness and understanding of what he had done. As he studied her laughing face, set off by the swirl of her gleaming hair, he realized that Ludolf's threat of annexing her portrait had affected him more deeply than having to accept the fate that had been allotted to Francesca. He had thought his heart must stop.

Chapter 11.

AT DAWN THE WHOLE VISSER HOUSEHOLD WAS ASTIR IN READINESS to have breakfast with Francesca before her early departure. Alone in her bedchamber she finished lacing up the back of her bodice and smoothed her collar into place while she tried to think if there was anything in the organizing of domestic affairs in her absence that she might have overlooked. Maria had been given charge of the household funds and Aletta the little box that always contained some cash for personal needs. All had promised her that everything would be run as if she were still in charge. She wanted the flower beds to continue to thrive, for her tulips were in full and glorious bloom, the new ones adding their rich red and feathery petals to the beauty of the courtyard. To herself she had long since given them the new name of "Pieter's tulips." Aletta was to care for the flower beds with the help of Sybylla, who had already given an a.s.surance she would mind her manners, would not misbehave and would respect whatever instructions Aletta gave her for her own good.

It was Hendrick who worried Francesca most. There had been a brief respite when he had seemed his normal self again at the banquet, but the tragedy of that night must have revived his melancholia again. His hands were almost back to normal, causing him little discomfort, but he had agreed to continue with the treatment. Although he complained that Maria's concoction was foul enough to poison him, the fact that he never failed to take a dose each morning showed he had faith in it. At least he was working hard, giving himself no rest at the present time, which was a helpful sign in itself.

Glancing around the room, Francesca checked that nothing was forgotten that she wished to take with her. The traveling chest with her clothes and other possessions had been taken downstairs the night before and only a small casket, which she would carry herself, still stood open on the cushioned bench. In it she had placed last-minute things, such as her comb and hairbrush. She added her hand gla.s.s to the casket and, as she did so, noticed in its reflection that her face was drawn. A natural sadness at leaving home for the first time was also touched by the sorrow of Amalia's demise. Even yesterday, amid all the excitement of friends and neighbors coming and going, she and Sybylla had exchanged a look that showed they had not forgotten her.

Firmly she closed the casket and picked it up by the handle. Then she gathered up her cloak, which she had put ready earlier, and left the room where she had slept since she was twelve months old, the birth of Aletta having removed her from the cot in her parents' bedchamber into a little bed that had once stood in the place of the four-poster of her growing years.

At breakfast there was a strained atmosphere. Everyone was making conversation as if they were strangers, needing to cover what her leaving meant to them. Never before had she been away from her sisters, or Hendrick, or even Maria for more than a day or slept a night under any other roof.

"You must write and tell us all about your work," Aletta said with feigned brightness, "and then I'll know what to expect when my turn comes."

"I will," Francesca promised. She glanced with concern at her father. Yesterday evening when she had been alone with him after all the well-wishers had departed he had become very emotional, actually having tears in his eyes when he spoke of her going away. He had said she was always to know that whatever happened her happiness mattered more than anything to him. It had been an odd sort of conversation, almost as if he were keeping back the whole reason for it. Just as she was getting to her feet he had added suddenly, "Oh! One other small matter. I decided to change your accommodation in Delft and so I've arranged for you to stay with a widow, Vrouw Wolff, who will welcome your company. She will be meeting the stage wagon."

Francesca was taken aback and puzzled, but the sight of Hendrick's increasing distress, his head dropping into his hands, had convinced her this was not the moment for questions or arguments. She had put a gentle hand on his head and a.s.sured him that she knew he only wanted the best for her.

Sybylla was voicing a request to her. "Willem said that Master Vermeer always paints his wife in handsome clothes. Be sure to describe her gowns to me in detail."

"Yes, of course."

Maria spoke in gruff disapproval. "You always get people to gossip, Sybylla."

"I like to know whatever is interesting," Sybylla retorted pertly, "so I ask the right sort of questions. There was nothing tattletale about what Willem said. He had heard it from Catharina Vermeer herself after he had admired a painting of her drinking from a gla.s.s in a rose-and-red velvet gown."

"I expect the setting was an interior," Hendrick commented, helping himself to more of the good white bread that Griet had earlier taken hot from the baker's tray at the door. "My only reservations on what I've heard of Vermeer's work is that he is not much interested in landscapes. So, Francesca," he added with emphasis, "make sure that aspect of your training is not ignored."

"I'm sure it won't be," Francesca replied. Then she shot a fond smile at Aletta. "If it is, I shall have to go out by myself at times as you do to sketch your outdoor scenes." She missed seeing how deeply her sister flushed at her remark, for there had come a knock on the front door. She gave Griet no time to move but sprang up from the table herself. "I'll go."

She flew through the house to fling the door wide. As she had hoped, Pieter stood there. "I'm so glad you've come," she said openly.

"What are old friends for if not to see one another off on journeys?" he queried with a half-teasing grin as he stepped into the house, handing her a bunch of violets tied with a flowing ribbon. "I knew you would be busy yesterday and so I thought I'd come this morning instead."

"I'm so pleased that you did. These violets are beautiful." The delicate scent of them hung in the air between them and she cupped the dewy posy in both hands to raise it to her nostrils. "Such a fragrance."

"Are you quite ready for leaving?"

"Yes, I am. Come through to the dining hall."

They found that only Hendrick was still at the table. Everybody else had moved from it. When they heard that Pieter had ridden from Haarlem, starting before dawn, Hendrick waved him to a seat and Griet set food before him. Francesca, who wanted a final word with Aletta and Sybylla, went from the room to find them. They were to accompany her, and now it seemed Pieter, to the stage wagon. Maria also went hobbling off, taking Griet with her, for the porter had arrived to collect Francesca's traveling chest and there were other final matters to supervise.

Hendrick was well pleased to have the opportunity to speak to Pieter far sooner than he had expected about seeing Francesca in Delft, for yesterday's development had changed a number of things. It was necessary now to try to crush at all costs the relationship between his daughter and this young man. If Pieter had not been paying for her tuition he would have forbidden him to see her ever again, but that was scarcely possible in the circ.u.mstances with all the financial arrangements completed. It was a great nuisance that Pieter had become involved, because there was no doubt now that if Ludolf had been asked at the time he would have forked out the money to be her sole benefactor. Not that it wasn't a good thing to be free of an even greater debt to him.

"I have to speak to you about visiting Francesca in Delft," Hendrick began authoritatively after clearing his throat. "I must insist on her work being uninterrupted and I would prefer you to stay right away from her."

Pieter was dangerously quiet in his reply. He had finished eating and rested an arm on the table as he looked penetratingly at Hendrick. "It was arranged with your consent and Francesca's agreement that she and I should meet occasionally. How can you go back on that now?"

"I've had time to think things over," Hendrick bl.u.s.tered.

Pieter was studying him. "Has something happened?" he asked perceptively. "Have your financial matters deteriorated still further? You and your family never need to be homeless. I have a property in Haarlem."

"No!" Hendrick a.s.sured him hastily. "Everything is in hand again. I still have my huge debts, but I've been given a long time in which to settle them."

"Is it all being properly handled? I'm not a professional financier, but I have a good grasp of money matters in all forms and would willingly guide you. You're not being charged interest at an exorbitant rate, I trust? I'd change that, for a start."

Hendrick shook his head vehemently. "All you can do for me is to keep away from Francesca. I have good reason, Pieter, and I implore you to heed my request. You want her to be a great artist as much as I do. Put her first. Think of her future before you consider your own wishes. I warned you not to raise your hopes."

Pieter felt he had been tricked. His skin had stretched over his strong facial bones and the set of his mouth was angry. "I shall think over what you have said. I make no promises and that is all I can say now."

There was a tap of heels approaching and Francesca returned cloaked and gloved for her journey. "I'm ready now," she announced. Then as Hendrick pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, she flew into his arms, hugging him tightly. "Take care, Father! If ever anything should happen that means you should have need of me at home I'd come at once."

"Of course you would, dear child, but I don't foresee any catastrophes." He kissed her brow, heavy-hearted with shame at the conditions to which he had consigned her and of which she was unaware.

As she stood back from him her face was full of filial love. "I can never thank you enough for this marvelous chance you've given me. You alone are enabling me to take this great step toward the fulfillment of my dearest ambition."

Pieter left father and daughter together and went into the reception hall, where both Aletta and Sybylla were in their cloaks and waiting by the open door. He felt no resentment that Francesca should suppose her father to be entirely responsible for giving her the apprenticeship. It was enough for him that he had been able to step in and secure it for her when it had almost been lost. If staying away from her should benefit her work he would have to do so, but later on, after she had settled down at Vermeer's studio, he would be better able to judge whether he was an interloper and a hindrance to her progress.

Francesca reappeared on her own. "Father and I have said our farewells." She went to kiss and embrace Maria, who wept all over her and released her reluctantly. Even Griet was full of tears. Francesca had been a buffer between her and Maria's wrath in the early years of her employment, and had been specially kind to her more times than could be remembered.

"May good fortune attend you, Juffrouw Francesca."

"I thank you, Griet." Francesca felt choked. Then, as if physically tearing herself away from home, she went at such speed out of the house that Pieter, carrying her hand casket and already on the doorstep, just managed to catch her hand in his as she darted by. He squeezed it in understanding and she gave him a grateful little smile, slowing her pace to let her sisters catch up with them.

It was a windy morning and their cloaks billowed out like colorful tulip petals when they reached the square where the stage wagon was waiting. Francesca's traveling chest was already aboard the long open wagon, the roof of waxed cloth stretched over hoops of iron. She had a few last words with Pieter, telling him of the change in her accommodation in Delft.