Part 17 (1/2)
The coach servant looked worried. ”Pray pardon me, mejuffrouw. Anyone of your acquaintance has the right to ride with you.”
”I know.” She was stepping out, Pieter having put out his hand to her. ”You were only doing your duty, but this has nothing to do with that.” It was obvious to her why Pieter had come and she did not want to talk to him in Ludolf's coach, almost as if somehow it would taint their conversation. This instinct reminded her of her first impression of Ludolf. All her efforts over the past weeks to overcome her initial dislike of him were swept away and she realized how her dread of him had never lifted. She drew closer to Pieter than she had intended and he threw his cloak over hers for added protection. Rain was running off the wide brim of his hat, but she was close enough to him to escape the drips.
”I was lucky to catch you at this moment,” he said. ”I understood from your father that you usually leave a little later.” Beside them the coach rolled away.
”I do. There was a slight change of program today.”
”I was far down the street when I saw you come out of the house and I sprinted all the way. I had to talk to you on our own. I called at your home half an hour ago and Master Visser told me that you would be giving me your decision about my seeing you in Delft. I'll take you to a hostelry out of the rain.”
”No, we can't talk with other people around. Let's walk.”
”I'll not see you soaked. Come home with me.”
She agreed. They hurried along, heads down against the increasing downpour, and finally they broke into a run along the last stretch of the street that brought them to his house. Vrouw de Hout came hurrying to take their wet cloaks, pleased to see Francesca again, and having a pair of buckled shoes ready for Pieter to change into. She darted away to return a minute later bringing Francesca a pair of house slippers from a cupboard of such footwear kept for guests in almost every home.
Pieter took Francesca through to the same parlor she had sat in after his rescue of her from the mob. The curtains were drawn against the early twilight and there was a good fire burning. This time she did not sit down, for Pieter, after closing the door behind them, held her lightly to him within the circle of his arms. Her face, upturned to his, bore an expression of intense seriousness.
”How shall I begin?” she said as much to herself as to him.
”Be totally frank with me.”
”That's how I would want to be now and at all times.” She wished that his eyes were not looking so deeply into hers and that she was less conscious of his physical presence so near her. ”I value your friends.h.i.+p most highly, and I will even say most dearly, but there is no room in my life for commitment in courts.h.i.+p or in any other way, except that which I hold for my work. I have an aim to fulfill, which has been with me since I was a child and there is no turning away from it.”
”I understand that and also I know of your hopes of living in Italy for a while.”
”I don't remember mentioning that to you.”
”You haven't. But the day I delivered the bulbs and saw you for the first time there in your father's studio, you were speaking to him of your dreams of going to Florence one day. I've not forgotten the enthusiasm with which you spoke of it.”
She spread her hands outward a little and then put palms and fingers together. ”For all I know, when that chance comes I may decide to live there permanently.”
”I can't believe from what I know of you that you would ever be able to cut yourself free from your Dutch roots. But I'm not asking for promises now or tomorrow or at any specified date in the future. I'd never cage a bird. Do you think I'd do less for the woman I love?”
She caught her breath at his tender words and stepped away from him. ”Don't speak of love!”
He eyed her keenly. ”Why should that alarm you?”
”Because it's only friends.h.i.+p that I want to discuss or even to consider. Nothing more.”
”I'm not against that, but why should I not try to make you see that I'd never allow myself to be a barrier to your art?”
”You haven't begun to comprehend the situation!” She was vehement. ”Don't you see? It is my work itself that would divide us, not you! My need to paint would take hours from any life we might share! The studio would take priority over the kitchen. Grinding pigments would come before playing hostess to company. How could I create on canvas when the only creating that you or any other man in Christendom expects from a wife is the conception of children!”
He showed no surprise at her outspokenness, because it was what he had asked of her, but he raised an eyebrow, his lips curling wryly. ”What an argument! You must have given a great deal of thought to the matter.”
”I have over the past three or four years-long before we met. I decided that in fairness to any man I would never be a wife. It would only cause trouble and unhappiness. If you can accept my decision-and you must be sure about it-then we can meet sometimes in Delft and it will gladden me to see you.”
He shrugged resignedly. ”Then I'll abide by your terms. Friends.h.i.+p it shall be. Let the future look after itself. Neither of us knows what it will bring, but we should place a seal on our agreement.”
He took her about the waist with one arm and placed a quick, light kiss upon her lips. She was relieved that all had gone so well and was about to speak when his other arm went about her and he almost lifted her from her feet as he crushed her to him, his lips sweeping hers apart. She felt a swift, unbidden flame of yearning sear up from the pit of her stomach and she clung to him as his warm mouth possessed hers in a deep and pa.s.sionate kiss such as she had never experienced before. It was an awakening for her, a releasing of emotional and physical desires that she had long kept subdued. Swept away by the moment, she surrendered to the fierce glory of his mouth on hers.
When their kiss ended she opened her eyes dazedly and was instantly aware of where she was and that he was still holding her. She spoke huskily. ”I didn't know it was to be such a special kind of friends.h.i.+p.”
His smile was serious. ”Have no fear. It will not make lovers of us.”
She nodded, knowing she should be rea.s.sured. ”I must go home now or else everyone will start worrying about me.”
As on the previous occasion when she had been in his house, he escorted her home. The rain had stopped and the sky had cleared. At her door he drew back, emphasizing the distance she had put between them. As she bade him farewell and entered the house, she was conscious of a sense of loss, almost as if she had left something of herself with him. Then she dismissed the notion determinedly. n.o.body questioned why she had not come home in the van Deventer coach, for Pieter had not been seen.
Later in the evening when she was on her own with Hendrick she told him of the agreement that had been made. He nodded and patted her hand, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. His unrelieved melancholia was having a dampening effect on the whole household and was worrying Aletta and Sybylla as well as Francesca. It had been hoped that his spirits would lift when he began painting again, but this was not proving to be the case. Francesca was reminded all too vividly of his state of mind after her mother's death. She tried to talk to him about his dreadful gloom.
”Take heart again, Father,” she urged. ”Damaging your hands as well as the painful swelling in your fingers was a frightening experience for you, but they have healed and are becoming more mobile every day. I believe that the special concoction of herbs that Maria made for you to drink each morning is having more effect than the treatment with warm oil.”
He gave a heavy nod. ”I know.”
”Just try to remember that we have no worries at the moment. Everyone is well, which is more important than anything and we are not in debt. You have an enthusiastic patron in Ludolf and you told me yourself that the two gentlemen with whom you played cards expressed an interest in your work. It seems as if it is the start of a new stage in life for you.”
She was not to know that every word she spoke pierced him through. He managed what he supposed was a ghastly smile, but she did not seem to notice anything amiss. ”Don't let any mood of mine blight your excitement over going to Delft,” he insisted, still smiling. ”I rejoice that you are to have your great chance. I'm a little low at the present time, but all will soon be well again.”
”Indeed it will!” She thought she detected a spark of his old optimism in his voice and took it to be a good sign. He had made an effort to smile again, forced though it was.
He was relieved when, after a little more conversation, she left him to himself. There was so much he had to think about. He had heard nothing from Ludolf. Almost hourly he had expected word to be sent, but nothing had happened. All day he had worked on his tax-collector painting, but each brushstroke had been almost automatic, for he kept an ear primed for a knock on the door, having instructed Griet to bring him any message immediately.
He stole a glance at the clock. At this hour tomorrow he would be in the midst of the festivities at Ludolf's house and he did not doubt that Otto and Claudius would both find a chance to challenge him about his debts to them. His whole future was hanging in the balance. He gazed into the parlor fire. Why had Ludolf not been in touch with him?
LUDOLF ENTHUSED OVER his portrait to Francesca and applauded it exuberantly as if it had been unveiled for him in a public place. ”Your work should be displayed in the best public gallery in Amsterdam!”
”Oh no!” she protested, shaking her head.
”But you have captured me exactly. My bad points are there as well as my good ones and I wouldn't have it otherwise.” Stepping forward, he lifted the portrait in its newly carved and gilded frame from the easel. ”Now you shall see where I intend to hang it.”
Together they went downstairs to the reception hall, where a pair of library steps had been placed by the marble-canopied fireplace. A French landscape, which had hung above it previously, had already been removed and propped against the wall. Ludolf went up the steps and hung his portrait in its place.
”Is it straight?” he asked her.
”Not quite. Adjust the top right-hand corner. Yes! That's it!”
He climbed down again and stood at her side, looking up at the portrait with her. ”What do you think?”
There was no doubt but that it made a striking impact on the eye. The austere composition, Ludolf posed in a broad-based triangle, gave drama to the portrait. That face of marred good looks was all the more arresting through having been painted without any concessions, further dramatized by the plumed black hat and the flow of periwig, the white lace collar, the sheen of velvet, the glitter of braid and jeweled rings, all against crimson drapery. The whole picture was set off against the dark green silk-paneled walls of the reception hall with the white marble canopy below and the snow-bright plasterwork of the ceiling above.
She had had Hendrick's permission to sign the painting if she made her signature inconspicuous. In the lower right-hand corner it was just visible. Only if one peered closely was it possible to see that the ”r” of Visser swept downward to curve at the end and enclose a tiny cream-colored tulip.
”You've done me much honor by hanging my work in such an important place. Everyone who comes into the house will see it,” she commented.
”That's what I want. I'm particularly pleased that it will be viewed by so many people this evening.”
She went across to the French landscape. ”Where shall you hang this one now?”
”Help me decide.” He s.n.a.t.c.hed it up. ”Let's go from room to room until we find the right place.”