Part 12 (1/2)
”You always have wanted everything cut and dried. That's why there's nothing romantic in you. You never expect to find anything waiting round the corner for you, not even love.”
Aletta rolled up her eyes. ”Spare me your philosophizing at this hour.”
Sybylla was pondering another point and paid no attention. ”I suppose it's just possible that Father said you'd be getting an apprentices.h.i.+p later on to make sure Francesca accepted hers. She would never have agreed otherwise to preferential treatment with you the loser.”
”Don't malign Father on that point. He always means what he says at the time. It's not that I don't think he wants me to have my chance, it's simply that he may not be able to arrange it for me when the time comes.” Aletta sat up abruptly. ”You must keep what I've said to yourself! Francesca must not suspect my uncertainty. You are quite right in thinking that if she should start questioning Father it could end up with her refusing to go to Delft.”
”I won't breathe a word. I haven't given the secret of your commissions away and I'll keep all that's been said here to myself too.”
Aletta lay awake long after Sybylla's regular breathing showed that she slept. She had known that as soon as Willem had been mentioned in connection with the arranging of her sister's apprentices.h.i.+p it would be secured. He was the most reliable man and would make no false promises about what could be done, but for herself it was a different matter. Her apprentices.h.i.+p depended on her father's work pleasing Ludolf van Deventer indefinitely and there was no guarantee of that. Only yesterday Hendrick had started a painting of a tax collector. Who would want such a picture? Tax was a sore point with everybody and with the rich most of all. He had alienated so many would-be patrons in the past with his temperamental outbursts and his inflated pride. No matter how good his intentions, or how deep his love for those involved, circ.u.mstances of his own making all too frequently defeated him.
She was not looking forward to the morrow. Facing Pieter without having spoken to Francesca was going to be difficult. All she could hope was that he would understand how the events of the evening had created a barrier that she had not antic.i.p.ated and would be satisfied with her promise that as soon as Francesca's apprentices.h.i.+p was confirmed she should be told everything.
Aletta had another thought. Sybylla was wrong about there being no romance in her. She was fully aware of Pieter as just the man whom she might have loved, for she admired everything about him from his looks to his kindness and his integrity, but she must close the door on those feelings and turn the key. Only a fool would fall in love with a man whose heart was almost certainly centered on her sister.
Chapter 8.
PIETER RECEIVED THE NEWS FROM ALETTA OF FRANCESCA'S apprentices.h.i.+p in Delft with surprise and mixed reactions. ”I understand this is a wonderful chance for her,” he said thoughtfully, ”even if I deeply regret it means she will be leaving Amsterdam. Nevertheless, I still cannot agree to anything being done behind her back. She has to know.”
In desperation Aletta pleaded. ”It may only be for a short time that I have to keep her in ignorance, and maybe not. I can't make any promises about that. For all I know, my apprentices.h.i.+p may never materialize and then without those cla.s.ses I should have lost every chance I ever had to reach the standard for which I am aiming.” She put her hand on his arm where they sat again in the coffeehouse, her face desperately anxious. ”Please, Pieter! Give me a time limit of twelve months if you must, but in mercy's sake don't take from me the one opportunity I have to get where I want to be.”
He could be hard and obdurate when there was need, but in this case her argument was such that the just side of his nature questioned his conscience about refusing her. He knew what it meant to be able to fulfill an ambition and had he been denied the career he had chosen he would never have gained satisfaction in life. Although his silence while he considered her plea was of little more than a minute's duration, it seemed like an hour to her. Finally he gave a slow nod of his head.
”You shall have that section of my stall. I'll not set a time limit, because it's immaterial whether it's a week or a year when we are both keeping from Francesca what she has a moral right to know.” He frowned ruefully, although he had spoken without reproach, simply stating a fact. ”This business sets me at a disadvantage with her. The conspiracy between you and me will be at the back of my mind every time I see her.”
She was glad he was not looking at her at that precise moment or he might have seen the searing regret twisting her face that he should care so much about keeping her sister in the dark. ”I know that.”
”I admire her,” he said as if she might not have grasped fully how he felt.
She managed a cheerful smile. ”That's to be expected. She's a fine person. You granted the favor to me originally because I happened to be her sister, didn't you?”
”Yes. I'll not deny it.”
”Do you intend to court her?”
”I do.”
”Others have wanted to,” she warned, ”but Father has shown them all the door at her wish.”
He laughed under his breath. ”I'm not easily discouraged.”
”You'd be wiser to look elsewhere. There must be plenty of pretty girls in Haarlem and wherever else you go.”
”Plenty,” he agreed, the creases appearing at the corners of his smiling eyes causing her to guess he had explored that discovery to the full.
”Are you saying there's only one Francesca?”
”That's it.” Again he laughed quietly. ”I'll take my chance with her just as you are going to take yours at my stall.”
”I wish you well,” she said genuinely, suppressing whatever might have arisen within her at the moment.
”As I do you, Aletta.”
She reached for her gloves, it being time to leave. ”Shall you be able to come home with me to see my hyacinth painting today?”
”I've been looking forward to it.”
On the way she told him of the commission Francesca had received from Ludolf van Deventer the previous evening and how it had all come about. ”I don't envy her having that man as a sitter,” she said thoughtfully, ”but maybe all will go well for her.”
”Is there any reason why it shouldn't?” He had his own reservations about Ludolf van Deventer. n.o.body in Amsterdam appeared to know where he had come from and there was talk at the Exchange that not all his business dealings were quite aboveboard.
Aletta meditated for a few moments. ”He has an interesting face, but it's like a mask, never showing much feeling. With people like that it can often be very difficult for an artist to bring character to the face. It's almost as if there's a s.h.i.+eld behind which they are protecting their private selves from the world.” She shrugged, slightly embarra.s.sed. ”I'm not trying to sound profound. It's just that a painter learns to observe people in this way.”
”I'm impressed. I know van Deventer by sight. You say he bought a painting of Francesca as Flora?” It galled him to think of such a man possessing a likeness of her. ”Do you know anything about his roots or his background?”
”No. He talked a lot at dinner, but now that I think about it he rarely mentioned himself in any situation. All we know at home is that he's rich and a s.h.i.+p broker and has traveled extensively.”
”That's all anyone seems to know. I've wondered about his origins, where he made his money and so forth. From what I've heard he has only lived in Amsterdam for about ten years, although he gives the impression he has owned the business he has now for much longer elsewhere.”
”Probably he moved to Amsterdam when he married. He is starting a collection of paintings for his house now.”
”Doesn't that strike you as odd? Why should a wealthy man only be collecting now?”
”He told Father that he had never had time before. Business has occupied him completely.”
”I suppose that's logical,” Pieter admitted.
”He may still be at my home when we get there. Father planned to show him every single painting in the studio this morning.”
When they arrived at her home a red-and-gold coach was drawn up outside. ”I can see he is still here,” Aletta remarked. Once indoors she asked Griet the whereabouts of the visitor in the house.
”He's still in the studio with the master and Juffrouw Francesca,” Griet replied. ”They've been there for ages. When I went past the door just now I saw that pictures were ranged all around the studio for Heer van Deventer's inspection.”
”That probably means they will be there a while longer.” Aletta turned to Pieter. ”Sit down by the fire. I'll go upstairs and fetch my painting.”
She hastened away. Left alone, Pieter did not sit down, preferring to remain standing. He wondered if he would see Francesca before he had to leave again.
In the studio there had been a few tense minutes for Hendrick and Francesca when Ludolf had first entered with them and had seen the painting of Anna on the wall. He had strode across to it immediately, gesturing toward it with his fas.h.i.+onably long cane.
”I'll take that! It's magnificent! There's one of the same model in your reception hall. I'll have that too.”
”Your pardon,” Hendrick had replied stiffly. ”Neither is for sale.”
Ludolf turned sharply to him with a frown of displeasure. ”You brought me in here to show me your work, didn't you?”
”Yes, but that is my late wife.”