The Golden Tulip (59 page)

“I’m afraid I let my love for Sybylla run away with me, Master Visser. I did kiss her several times—”

“Shut up! I haven’t time to deal with that now! I’m in a desperate situation. Will you make me a substantial loan? I didn’t intend to ask you until Sybylla was your wife, but events have precipitated matters.”

Adriaen was relieved that his amorousness with Sybylla was to be overlooked so readily. “I don’t carry money to social affairs such as this evening, but a loan can be arranged. How much do you require? A few hundreds?”

“That’s not enough! I’m not talking in hundreds, but in thousands!”

The banker in Adriaen came to the fore. “In that case let us meet at my office tomorrow and we can go into the matter. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“I need your promise now! For mercy’s sake, I’m going to be your father-in-law. Surely you won’t refuse me?”

“At least tell me the reason why you require the loan.” Adriaen was more than prepared to step in for a critical emergency, but he wanted to know what it was all about.

“To settle gambling debts to van Deventer. If I can’t return to the library free of all I owe him there will be dire consequences for Francesca.”

Immediately Adriaen began to doubt the wisdom of becoming involved. Gamblers were a bad risk and he could foresee that if he made a loan to Hendrick now he could face a future of endlessly settling his father-in-law’s debts. It must be every gambler’s dream to have a banker in the family, but he must make no promises until he had discussed the matter with his father.

“I’m sorry, Master Visser,” he said firmly, “but I see no cause for you to come to me. Van Deventer seemed pleased enough to be your daughter’s betrothed at the table and I can’t believe he’ll negate on his wish to marry her just because you owe him money.”

“You fool!” Hendrick was wild with fear and exasperation. “You haven’t understood! She’ll have to marry him against her will if I don’t pay him. I want her released from that contract.”

But it was too late. The handle of the locked door was tried and Francesca spoke. “Please let me in, Father.”

Hendrick clapped his hands to his head with a groan and turned away, making no attempt to answer his daughter’s request. Sybylla, having become hysterical when he had started shouting even louder, had rushed to fetch Francesca and met her, somber-faced, coming from the library with Ludolf. Again Francesca rapped on the door, but it was Sybylla who shouted through it.

“Are you all right, Adriaen? Answer me!”

In the room Adriaen looked coldly at Hendrick. It rankled with him that he had been called a fool by a reckless gambler incapable of handling his own affairs. Deliberately he strode to the door and unlocked it. As it opened, Sybylla rushed to him and he began reassuring her that he was unharmed.

Francesca went toward her father, Ludolf remaining close to her. “Look at me, Father,” she said quietly out of her own shocked state. She thought of Pieter’s warning and how true it had proved to be.

Slowly Hendrick faced her. He spoke wearily. “Ludolf has told you?”

“He has. I only wish you had told me yourself long ago.”

“I kept hoping to find a way out.”

“I realize that. Let us go home now.”

Hendrick and his daughters seated themselves in the van Jansz coach while Adriaen bade his host a courteous good night. As he came down the steps he could hear Sybylla shrieking at her father, but when he entered the equipage she stopped. No doubt she would prove difficult at times after they were married, but after glimpsing her beautiful breasts in those minutes when they were alone together, he felt he would be able to forgive her any amount of tantrums.

After Adriaen had seen the Vissers to their door and left again, Sybylla was still confused as to the cause of the uproar that Hendrick had created. She had believed he was about to use his fists on Adriaen and her relief that it had nothing to do with her or her betrothed’s indiscretion made her overwhelmingly sympathetic toward Francesca when everything was explained to her. She uttered a long wail. Francesca put an arm about her shoulders and spoke to Hendrick again.

“Were all those restrictions placed on me in Delft at Ludolf’s instigation?”

“They were,” he admitted wearily, “and there’s nothing I can do to lift them.”

“Oh, my poor sister!” Sybylla cried out to her.

“Would you be very disappointed if I didn’t stay for your betrothal party?” Francesca asked her. “I feel I have to see Pieter as soon as possible to talk everything over with him.”

Sybylla was relieved. Her father would have to be present at the party, but he appeared too broken now ever to cause a scene again, whereas Francesca would be a reminder to Adriaen of the uproar in the van Deventer house and she wanted that forgotten as soon as possible. “No, I’ll let you go if you promise to be at my wedding.”

“I asked Master Vermeer if he could allow that before I came this time and he agreed.”

“What will you do about Griet’s wedding tomorrow?”

“I’ll go with you and Father and Maria to the church and stay awhile at the festivities afterward to wish her well. Then I’ll catch a stage wagon that should get me to Haarlem by early evening. There’s one thing I wish you’d do for me.”

“Anything!”

“Could you manage to keep a civil tongue in your head and convey my apologies to Hans Roemer for not returning to view the group painting again as I said I would, but I’ll not have time to spare now.”

Sybylla was not at all sure that she wanted to do what she had been asked. The prospect aroused disquiet in her while at the same time she felt a curious thrill at the idea of seeing the impudent rascal again. “Very well. I’ll go one day.”

“Don’t forget.”

Sybylla reflected that there was little chance of that. Then she kissed Hendrick good night, feeling a rush of love for him that brought tears to her eyes. He had been foolish, but then so had she on many occasions. The tears fell when she embraced Francesca, who had been landed in such awful straits by events in which she had had no part.

“Everything is not lost, Francesca.” She wanted to offer the kind of comfort and the sense of hope that her sister had given her so often in the past. “Surely something will happen in the next few months to release you. Perhaps Pieter will think of a way.”

“Maybe he will.” Francesca smiled fondly at her sister attempting to cheer her. “Go to bed now. Father and I will be talking for a little while. Don’t worry. I have no intention of upbraiding him.”

As Sybylla went up to her bedchamber she marveled that Francesca could talk rationally and without recrimination to their father. If he had put her in the same situation, preventing her from marrying Adriaen, she believed she would have gone on screaming until she drowned all the bells of Amsterdam, even the carillon of the Zuider Church.

G
RIET’S MARRIAGE TO
Sijmon was a happy occasion. She had been true to him since they first met in spite of his two long absences at sea. Her gown was of blue velvet made up from a length saved from a time when Hendrick had tossed lengths of fabric to every female in the house after a win at cards. Its delicate lace trimming had been made by Maria and had a symbolic design of lovers’ knots and roses. After the ceremony a merry time was had by family and friends, the food plentiful and barrels of beer set up to quench everybody’s thirst. There was dancing to a flute, a lute and a drum, heavy feet making the floorboards shake at the home of Griet’s brother and wife, where the festivities were held. Francesca had no difficulty in slipping away unnoticed after a word with the bridegroom and a kiss from the bride.

When she returned home to change for traveling and to collect her hand baggage and her painting, a neighbor, who had been watching out for her, came waving a sealed note in her hand.

“A woman named Vrouw de Hout was here looking for you. She said you mentioned going to Haarlem and asked if you would take this hand-delivered note with you whenever you leave.”

Francesca saw it was addressed to Pieter and took it indoors with her to put it away in her purse, where she had already put Aunt Janetje’s gift bracelet for Aletta. She gathered her baggage and made her way to Dan Square, where she boarded the stage wagon for Haarlem.

Throughout the two-hour journey she mulled over the events of the previous evening. What Ludolf had said to her drummed in her mind. All her and Pieter’s hope to take flight to Italy as a last resort had been swept away.

“If the marriage contract is not upheld,” Ludolf had said, “through any refusal by you to become my wife, or if you should hide away or run off somewhere, I’ll take your father to court and do my utmost to see that he gets thirty years at least for his unpaid debt to me!”

She felt almost faint as she remembered his words. Shock still vibrated in her veins, but nothing should spoil her time with Pieter. The five days that were left to her before her return to Delft would now be his instead of the mere twenty-four hours she had thought originally were all she could take away from her family.

The stage wagon drew up near the Butchers’ Hall in Haarlem and she set off at once to walk the two miles to Pieter’s home. It was a clear evening, but dusk had already fallen and her baggage, into which she had packed additional belongings she needed in Delft, and the linen-wrapped painting were proving heavy and tiring. She went into the last tavern in the town to get a lantern, and this added to her burdens. By the time she reached the lane that led to his home it was dark, the stars were out and she was glad to reach her destination.

She passed the office, which was closed, and continued on past the cluster of trees to come in sight of Haarlem Huis for the first time. She could see that it was much larger than the average farmhouse with two floors and an attic, the thatch coming low over the upper windows, one of which shone with candlelight. Another window downstairs held an even brighter glow. She went up the path to the main door and banged on the knocker. Standing back, she saw the candlelight upstairs fade away as someone came with it to answer her knocking. When the door swung open Pieter stood there, a candlestick in his hand, his hair damp as if he were newly bathed after his day’s work. The joyful surprise on his face at the sight of her was something she would always remember.

“Francesca, my love! Come in!”

“I’m here to stay for a while!”

She stepped inside, dropping her hand baggage, her painting and the lantern as he put down the candle on a cupboard. The next second they were in each other’s arms, their mouths meeting in a kiss of passionate reunion. When they drew apart they began laughing and talking, asking and answering questions together. While he shut the door and rebolted it, she threw off her cloak and crossed the hall to pause on the threshold of the lighted room. Her artist’s eye took in its hues and proportions. There were cream-washed walls, a massive cupboard, an ancient chest thick with carving and a table covered by an Oriental rug in colors from her own palette of vermilion and indigo, lemon yellow, purple and Veronese green. A few old paintings on wood were comfortably at home in the general harmony.

“This is a lovely room!” she exclaimed, still looking about her.

“When my father built this house out of his tulipomania gains he concentrated on space. To please my mother, then a bride, he purchased stylish furniture, but he didn’t want to part with what had been in the old farmhouse, and he stored it all in a barn. When the place became mine I decided to reinstate most of it. Over the years I’ve added a few extra things here and there.”

She had gone to hold her hands to the fire, not because she was cold but simply to enjoy everything that was in the room. “How happy you must be here! The house has such a welcoming atmosphere.”

“I think the house has been waiting for you.”

“I’d like to think that is true.”

He had come to take her by the waist and swivel her gently around to face him. “This is where you belong, my love. Here with me under this roof where I’ve long wanted you to be. There is a splendid room at the north end of this house that would make you a fine studio. It has three good windows, one with an east-facing view across the bulb fields.” He saw a look he could not define flicker in her eyes. “What is it?”

She dipped her head, letting her brow come to rest against his shoulder. “I know that Father has signed a contract of marriage for me.”

He held her close to him, stroking her hair. “How did you find out?”

She told him what had taken place. “Ludolf made it clear that any disappearance on my part would result in his taking Hendrick to court immediately. I could never, for the sake of my own freedom, let my father go mad chained up in a dungeon. Even flight is impossible.”

He cupped her chin for her to look up at him again. “Not if he went to Florence too.”

“Would that be possible?” She wanted to believe it, crushing down a wrenching feeling that it could never be. “He has always sworn he would never live anywhere else except Amsterdam and he intends to die there, but in these desperate circumstances he would surely be willing to leave!” She seized on the idea. “Maria could have a home with Sybylla, and Griet could easily find a new place. Hendrick has always spoken of Florence as Michelangelo’s city. He would be able to paint there!”

“I’d say there is no doubt about it.”

She was already planning, clinging to hope. “He could bring what he treasures most in his home—the paintings of my mother, the Frans Hals and the one by Rembrandt of Titus. They could all be taken from their frames and easily packed. He would never leave his favorite palette and brushes behind, but those wouldn’t take much space and so he could travel light.”

“You can talk it over with him next time you’re home.”

“That will be for Sybylla’s marriage, which is to be soon.” She frowned slightly, pursing her lips. “Of course, I have to allow for his unpredictability.”

“In what way?”

“It may take a long time to persuade him to tear up his roots.” Nobody knew better than she how perverse her father could be. “He will procrastinate, always hoping that a more agreeable solution will present itself. It isn’t as though I could take any extra tuition now. I have to gain Guild membership at the end of two years.”