Part 32 (2/2)
Josephus sighed as he left the table and paused to speak kindly to Aletta. ”Sara told me what you tried to do and it was high time somebody took the master in hand, but Rome wasn't built in a day, you know. You should have taken your task in easy stages.”
Sara, still full of sobs, drew Aletta to the bench at the table and sat her down. ”Try to eat something before you leave,” she urged brokenly, ladling soup into a bowl. ”I thought my troubles were over, but things can only get worse from now on. I could never stand up to the master as you have done.”
Aletta took a spoon into her hand, but whether she drank the soup or not she did not know, too full of grief that she should have blundered so foolishly. She heard Josephus's footsteps returning but did not look up until he spoke. Then she saw he was smiling broadly.
”I'm to give you a key to the gates, Aletta. What's more, the master said I'm to drive you into town to collect your traveling box and to bring you home here again.”
Joy suffused her face. Sara hugged her and Josephus shook her by the hand. It was as if a battle had been won, even though the war remained.
Josephus took her into town in a sporting cart and they were just drawing up outside the van Buytens' house when she saw Willem de Hartog coming from the Vermeer gallery. She waved to him and he smiled in recognition, coming to help her down from the cart. As she had expected, he knew all about the rift with her father, having been told by Hendrick himself, but he had not known until coming to Delft and speaking to Francesca in the studio that she had turned her back on art.
”I don't like to think of you letting all these months go by without drawing or painting,” he said. ”But it will come back to you once you start again.”
”That was another life and I've put it behind me.”
”Nothing can destroy talent when it's only lying dormant. The day will come when you'll not be able to hold back from painting once more. Whatever your father said about your work it was voiced in anger in the heat of the moment and not heartfelt.”
”Has he said that to you?” she asked distantly.
”No,” Willem admitted, ”but you could prove yourself again.”
”I think not. He condemned my meager talent all too vehemently.” She was full of pain at these reminders of a time in her life she wanted to forget.
”It grieves me to know of this gulf between father and daughter.”
”Why? Is he ailing?”
”No, he is well and so is Sybylla. As for Maria, she looked just the same as usual when I saw her at your home only a few days ago. How shall I report back to them about you?”
”My father won't want to hear my name mentioned, but tell Sybylla and Maria that I'm in good health and have secured new employment.” She explained what she was doing and he noticed a rise of enthusiasm in her tone.
”Francesca told me she intends to take a long-delayed visit home soon. Will you be accompanying her?”
”No.” She was adamant. ”It will be a long time-if ever-before I see Amsterdam again.”
”Then I'll hope to see you whenever I'm in Delft. In the meantime I wish you good fortune. Just remember one thing-once an artist, always an artist. I've dealt with enough painters to know that.”
The old adage he had quoted lingered with her after they had said farewell, he to visit another gallery in Delft and she to go with Josephus into the master baker's house. But, she thought, there were exceptions to every rule.
When Aletta returned to her new place of employment she found that Sara had made ready a bedchamber and an adjacent parlor for her that had previously been occupied by the housekeeper. They were the two most comfortable rooms in the domestic quarters of the house, and her status had been established. On a table was a large bunch of keys on a ring.
”These are yours now,” Sara said, gladly resigning all authority to her. ”Josephus and I will call you 'ma'am' in future, as befits your position.”
Thoughtfully Aletta picked up the keys. ”I'm going to make changes.”
”Whatever you say.”
”There will be no more meals served to the master on trays. He's not an invalid. His lolling on that day couch will have to stop. From now on he can eat buckled into an armless chair with the table in his room drawn close to his chest. There will be a clean damask cloth and napkin every time as well as the best silver and porcelain. Josephus can carry a tray with the heavy silver dishes of hot food under covers to that long side table in the anteroom and I will serve the master from there.”
”Yes, ma'am.” Sara was smiling. This issuing of orders was like old times.
”Before I unpack I want to make a tour of the whole house and the cellars.”
”Only the wine cellar is open. The rest, taking up about two-thirds of the s.p.a.ce under the house, have been locked up for many years.”
As Aletta began her tour with Sara she thought how her family would have recognized her commanding tone. It would have prompted Sybylla to taunt again that she was destined to be a sharp-tongued spinster for the rest of her life. Going from room to room, Aletta found the dust sheets and shuttered windows depressing. ”How long have these rooms been like this?”
”Since after the house was opened up for the last party held here about three years ago. Previously the master always preferred living in Delft or in Amsterdam. That's why only a skeleton staff was kept on here.”
”It will take us time, Sara, but gradually we'll work our way through all the rooms and make each clean and polished and habitable as we go. The master is never going to be tempted out of his own pleasant apartment if the rest of the house remains in shrouds.”
”He ordered that they should be kept closed.”
Aletta made no reply, only setting her chin more determinedly, and Sara saw at a glance there was to be a tussle of wills between the new housekeeper and the master.
When viewing the wine cellar Aletta spared Sara any more stairs and went down alone. It was a large and square s.p.a.ce with racks in a number of alcoves, two locked doors leading into the closed sections under the house. She tried the largest keys on the ring, but none opened the locks. As with most cellars, including that of her own home, sound was cut off from the rest of the house and she did not hear Sara call to her until the woman shouted from the top of the stairs.
”The oldest French brandies are in the far alcove. The master likes them when he asks for brandy.”
”I thank you for telling me. Where are the keys to these cellar doors?”
”I don't know. They've never been opened in my time. You don't want to clean in there too, do you?”
Sara sounded so incredulous that Aletta laughed. ”No! But the flagged floor here must be washed regularly, even though the bottles must remain undisturbed in their dust and cobwebs.”
”Some of those wines were put down years and years ago.”
Aletta noted carefully where all the rarer wines were stored. Lastly she took a bottle of the old French brandy back to the kitchen with her. A gla.s.s of it would make a fitting end to the dinner Constantijn should have in style that evening.
THE NEXT SUNDAY afternoon, when Francesca expressed a wish to see Aletta, Geetruyd was more than ready to escort her.
”It will be a most pleasant walk, Francesca. Naturally you want to tell your sister that you are going home for a week.” Geetruyd particularly wanted to see inside the de Veere country house and this seemed a splendid opportunity, although she suspected they would not be shown into the main part of the house. She had also heard of the manservant and the two ferocious dogs that kept guard. What she had not antic.i.p.ated was that after Aletta had been fetched by the watchman to the gates they were not even admitted inside the grounds. Aletta came outside the gates to talk to them.
”I regret I can't invite you in, but n.o.body except Sara, Josephus and myself is allowed in any part of the house. Even the gardeners are not permitted to enter the kitchen.”
”Is it true that most of the rooms are shut up?” Geetruyd inquired inquisitively, her gaze roaming over the front of the house.
”Yes, they are, but I'm keeping them fresh and clean.” Aletta took her sister's hand. ”It was good of you to walk all the way out here to see me.”
Before Francesca could reply, Geetruyd spoke again. ”Where are the rooms that Constantijn de Veere uses?”
Aletta's expression hardened. ”I don't think he would care to be discussed at his own gates.”
Geetruyd's eyes glittered with annoyance. ”It certainly shows a lack of courtesy that he doesn't allow his maidservant's own sister and her chaperone to be received with some refreshment.” Then she added on a vicious note, ”Is he a slave driver? I've never seen you look more tired. It's a pity you didn't consult me before you accepted employment here.”
”I haven't been sleeping well,” Aletta replied truthfully. There was conflict with Constantijn every day, and at night she could not dismiss it from her mind.
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