The Painter's Apprentice (34 page)

Lizzie, shrieking like a she-devil, raked at Beth’s cheeks with her fingernails.

Beth ducked aside but Lizzie tripped over her foot and fell headlong against the wall, catapulting one of the skeps out of
its alcove.

Almost at once, a shimmering cloud of angry bees swarmed out of the skep and settled on to Lizzie, covering her with a dark
pulsating shroud.

Beth stood helplessly by until Lizzie’s terrified screams brought the gardeners running. They formed a chain of buckets to
the rainwater cistern and doused Lizzie in water while Beth ran for the beekeeper.

Much later, Beth returned to Chelsea, Lizzie’s screams still echoing in her ears. The dozen or so bee stings that she had
received on her own arms throbbed enough but she could hardly imagine the pain that Lizzie must be enduring. The poor girl’s
face had swollen up so much that her eyes had almost disappeared. Lizzie’s father had scraped out the stings and anointed
her with a thick white paste to soothe her lumpy, red skin but he shook his head, anxious that the shock would be too great
for her.

When the Bishop had come to discover the cause of the commotion Beth had explained to him how Lizzie had boasted of her malicious
deed and her own part in the girl’s misfortune.

‘Justice appears to have been done,’ he said, ‘but perhaps this might be a good time for you to make a visit to Merryfields,
just until Lizzie recovers?’

The idea of returning to Merryfields brought Beth a great deal of comfort. Cecily was in such low spirits that it was a serious
cause for concern. What could be better for her than to be nursed back to health by Mama and Father? As to herself, Beth knew
that she had hardly begun to grieve for Noah yet and a spell with those she loved around her would console her a little.

Dr Latymer, comprehending some of Beth’s distress, was in full agreement with her decision to take Cecily home to Merryfields.

‘I shall accompany you myself,’ he said. ‘It will be my pleasure. Besides, I like what I hear of your father’s work and I
should like to meet him.’

Beth went straight to the dispensary to find her mother.

‘Sweetheart! What a lovely surprise!’

‘Mama, Cecily has been very ill and we’ve brought her home.’

Susannah’s welcoming smile faded. ‘What ails her?’

‘A severe inflammation of the lungs. The fever has gone but she’s very frail.’

Susannah called for Emmanuel and they hurried down to the landing stage.

‘Who is that?’ asked Susannah, as they neared the boat. ‘I thought you’d come with Noah.’

A sharp pain twisted in Beth’s insides at the mention of his name. ‘It’s Dr Latymer, who has been attending Cecily with every
possible kindness.’

Susannah glanced at Beth but then she saw Cecily reclining on the boat cushions with her eyes closed, pale and still.

Dr Latymer limped forward to greet Susannah. ‘Good morning, Mistress Ambrose.’

At the sound of her mother’s voice Cecily opened her eyes and even smiled faintly when Susannah kissed her.

Emmanuel gently lifted Cecily into his brawny black arms and carried her as lightly as if she were thistledown.

The word went around that Cecily and Beth had come home and the guests arrived from all parts of the garden to join the procession
back to the house.

Poor Joan wept when she saw how fragile Cecily had become. Clarence Smith patted her hand and begged her not to worry as he
would send for the best physicians in his kingdom to attend her.

John left his pitchfork quivering in the compost heap and ran to Beth’s side.

‘Cecily’s been ill and I’ve brought her home,’ she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

‘Nowhere b-b-better,’ he said. ‘I’ll fetch Father.’

Later, after Dr Latymer had left and Cecily was asleep, Beth sat in the solar with her parents.

‘Beth, what is it?’ asked William. ‘What has happened?’

‘It’s all my fault,’ she whispered. ‘I promised you I’d look after her.’

‘I think you’d better explain.’

She struggled to know where to begin.

‘I saw a great deal of Noah at Fulham and …’ She swallowed, seeking the courage to declare everything. ‘I fell in love with
him. Then he told me he loved me and that he would speak to Father.’

Susannah smiled. ‘I’m so happy for you, sweetheart!’

Beth shook her head. ‘He was curiously reluctant, almost as if I had forced him into declaring himself. And then,’ she shuddered,
‘Harry de Montford asked me to marry him.’ She closed her eyes at the memory of his compelling gaze and how she has almost
succumbed to his awful attraction. She could never tell Father of how he had touched her.

‘Harry?’ William looked bewildered. ‘I thought Harry was interested in Cecily.’

‘He wasn’t interested in either of us, as it turned out. When I refused his proposal Harry became very angry.’ Unconsciously,
she fingered the remains of the bruises on her wrists. ‘I told him that I’d given my heart to another. He guessed it was Noah
and he told me …’ She caught her breath on a sob. ‘He was so spiteful; he told me that Noah is going to marry a girl in Virginia
called Hannah.’ The pain of Noah’s deceit sliced into her again; a pain so intense that she couldn’t understand why it didn’t
kill her.

Susannah gasped. ‘Is it true?’

‘Noah never mentioned this to you?’ William’s lips set in a thin line and anger burned in his eyes.

Beth shook her head. ‘I confronted him and he admitted it.’

‘I am truly sorry,’ said Susannah, ‘but I can’t see how this made Cecily so ill.’

‘Joshua had spun Harry some tale that Cecily and I had large dowries. Whatever he said, Harry believed him. And so, after
I refused him,’ she drew a deep breath and steeled herself to look at her mother, ‘he persuaded Cecily to elope with him.’

‘God’s teeth!’ William stood up abruptly, scraping his chair on the floor.

‘But when I ran after them and told Harry that Cecily has no dowry, he threw her aside just as if she were an old stocking.
Cecily was distraught. She …’ Beth could hardly bring herself to say the words. ‘She said she wanted to die and then threw
herself in the river.’

Susannah covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a mew of distress, shock apparent in her eyes.

‘I went in after her. The mud was all stirred up by the current and I couldn’t see where she was. I kept diving under the
water until at last I caught hold of her by her hair.’ Beth sobbed as she relived that terrible moment. ‘I tried to pull her
up but our skirts were so heavy.’ She closed her eyes, remembering. ‘But then Noah came. If it hadn’t been for Noah, she would
have died,’ concluded Beth, the words tumbling out of her.

‘However badly Noah has behaved towards you,’ said William, ‘it seems we must be grateful to him.’

Beth wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. Admitting Noah’s betrayal to her parents intensified her pain and she could no
longer pretend to herself that it was all a horrible dream. He had gone and she would have to learn to live without him.

September 1688

September came, bringing melancholy mists as a harbinger of the autumn to follow. Beth stayed a month at Merryfields. Cecily’s
recovery was slow but there were signs that her spirits were recovering. She still wept a great deal; a flow of soundless
tears completely unlike the noisy and dramatic scenes of the past.

‘I’m sorry, Beth,’ she murmured one day. ‘I’ve been a great trouble to you all, haven’t I?

‘We only want the old Cecily back again,’ said Beth as she brushed her sister’s hair.

‘That Cecily has gone.’ Her lip quivered. ‘I was so selfish and vain then. All I could think of was shopping for fine clothes
and dreaming of a husband who would give me a grand house. And you? Will you ever be able to forget Noah?’

Beth shook her head. ‘But at least my way is clear now. I must continue with my painting and be the best artist I can be.
An artist Johannes would have been proud of.’ She spoke bravely but there was a great void in her insides.

‘I’ll never forget Harry, either. Not because I love him but because I must never forget the lesson he taught me. He was utterly
heartless and used his cruel charm to bring me down.’ The hint of a smile curved Cecily’s lips. ‘You may not believe me now
but I shall dedicate myself to helping Mama and Father in their work. Dr Latymer said I could be of use to them.’

Dr Latymer had visited Merryfields every week to check on Cecily’s progress. Afterwards, he and William could be seen walking
around the gardens deep in conversation.

Beth hid her surprise. ‘Then, do you not think it time to rise from your bed?’

Cecily clutched the sheet, pulling it up to her chin. ‘I suppose I cannot be of use if I stay here.’

‘Indeed not. Shall I help you to dress?’ Beth held her breath.

There was a long pause. ‘Thank you, Beth. I should like to come downstairs for dinner today.’

Cecily not only went downstairs for dinner but she managed to eat all her soup and a slice of plum tart. The guests fluttered
around her like moths to a candle and she smiled through her tears as they welcomed her back to the world.

Beth was kept busy helping Peg and Jennet to preserve the great glut of orchard fruit. She peeled apples and plums and picked
blackberries for pies and jellies until her fingers were stained purple. But in the whole month she never picked up a paintbrush
once.

Restless, she sought out William in his study and found him in conversation with Dr Latymer.

‘Ah, there you are, sweetheart!’ said William. ‘We’ve been discussing a new treatment for the falling sickness that Edmund
has read about. It may help Old Silas.’

‘And there is another patient of mine who would benefit from a period of rest at Merryfields,’ said Dr Latymer. ‘I shall speak
to her
husband about it. He would be generous, I’m sure, if she could be helped. I’m convinced that the family atmosphere at Merryfields
is what makes it so successful for the guests. When you compare your guests to the inmates of Bedlam …’ He closed his eyes
and shuddered. ‘The peace at Merryfields is incomparable and I relish my visits here. London is so full of turmoil at present.
The King has suspended Parliament and the Prince of Orange is readying his troops to sail to England. So many of my patients
are sick with the worry of what will happen to us all.’

‘You are most welcome to visit us at Merryfields whenever you can escape your duties,’ said William.

‘Cecily is improving,’ said Beth after the doctor had left, ‘and I wish to return to Fulham Palace to continue my work. Autumn
is upon us already and I’ve missed all the flowers that bloomed during the past month.’

William held out his hands to her. ‘Must you go?’

‘When I’m not working I have too much time to think,’ she said, wondering again if Noah’s ship had already arrived in Virginia.

The bakehouse was as warm as Judith’s welcome.

‘How I’ve missed you!’ she said, pulling Beth into her floury embrace.

‘What news? Tell me about Lizzie Skelton. Is she well again?’

‘She is. And she’s left the palace, thank the Lord! She was a troublemaker if ever there was one. Gone to the city to seek
work as an actress, would you believe.’

‘Perhaps she’ll even be successful. I don’t like her but I didn’t wish to see her so badly stung.’

‘After what she did to your paintings, she escaped lightly in my opinion.’ Judith bent to take a tray of fragrant saffron
buns out of the oven.

‘What news have you of the Prince of Orange?’

‘The whole world feels as if it’s holding its breath, waiting,’ Judith said. ‘But the worst thing is the continual false alarms
that he’s landed. It feels as if we’re all living on the edge of a precipice until he arrives.’

‘The wind is still blowing in the east, so who knows when he’ll be able to sail?’ said Beth.

‘They call it the Catholic wind.’ Judith smiled grimly. ‘And the weather will worsen the longer he leaves it.’ She sighed.
‘Ah well, best get on. Standing here worrying about it won’t feed the household.’

Beth left the warm kitchen to hurry through the palace grounds. Autumn leaves, whipped up by a blustery wind, whirled and
eddied around her feet as she traversed the quadrangle. Winter was not far away. Would the Prince of Orange’s army ever be
able to make the crossing?

Her thoughts turned again to Noah being tossed about on stormy seas on his long journey to Virginia. He’d said he suffered
horribly from seasickness and she imagined him prostrated in his bunk, a stinking bucket by his side with no one to tend him.
But perhaps he’d already arrived and was even now kissing Hannah Sharpe? The very thought of that pierced her to the quick.

A liveried manservant stood outside the Bishop’s library. Beth recognised him at once as Forsyth.

‘The Princess of Denmark was enquiring after you, Miss Ambrose,’ he said, ‘but Bishop Compton said you were away. Shall I
announce you?’

Before she’d had time to think, Beth found herself curtsying to the Princess.

Princess Anne offered her hand. ‘Beth, how delightful! I understood you had returned to Merryfields?’

‘My sister was ill and I stayed with her until she recovered, Your Highness.’ Beth dropped a curtsy to the Bishop.

‘So the secret I asked you to keep is now common knowledge,’ said the Princess.

‘News that the Prince of Orange is readying his troops reached us even in the country at Merryfields.’

The Princess glanced at Bishop Compton, her sallow cheeks suffused with colour. ‘There has been a report that the Prince of
Orange will arrive weeks sooner than my sister had led me to believe. The King is in a state of the utmost consternation and
has sent for reinforcements from Ireland and ordered the standing army in Scotland to march south.’

‘The measure of the King’s alarm is that he has offered to restore me to my former position,’ said the Bishop with a wry smile.
‘He says it is time for
old friends
to return to Court.’

‘Will there be fighting when the Prince of Orange arrives?’ said Beth.

‘Inevitably,’ replied the Bishop, ‘but we hope that the strength of his forces will be great enough to persuade the King’s
army to lay down their weapons before there is too much bloodshed. I understand from Princess Mary that her husband’s agents
have taken steps to ensure that his forces will meet limited resistance.

‘George and I are now firmly decided,’ said Princess Anne, ‘that we will stand with my sister and the Prince of Orange against
the King. The Netherlands and England shall unite in a Protestant crusade against my father and the combined threat of the
Catholics and King Louis of France. But meanwhile, George has accepted a position as an uncommissioned volunteer. It pays
to keep close to one’s enemies.’

‘And what of the King’s General, John Churchill?’ asked Bishop Compton.

‘Sarah Churchill has been my close friend since I was a child,’ said the Princess, ‘and we look into the secrets of each other’s
hearts. Lady Sarah and her husband will join with us.’ She smiled. ‘The King will be greatly displeased.’