The Silver Touch (42 page)

Perhaps she would have felt more secure if she could believe that Peter loved her as he had loved Elizabeth. She came to a halt on the impact of the thought, wondering why she had not grasped it before. Yet she knew why. It had been enough that he liked her and was kind to her at all times, often tender almost beyond belief. It had become rare now for William to intrude on their marital life and even if she could not return the love she aimed to arouse in Peter, her reward would be in having him enthralled and under her control.

When Peter came home from work that evening he found his wife wearing one of her best gowns of lilac-sprigged muslin with green ribbons entwined in her soft pale hair. ‘You’re looking very pretty this evening.’ It had become automatic for him to constantly reassure, strengthen and comfort her. Then, as he made for the stairs to wash and change out of his working clothes, she blocked his way by swinging around to sway out her skirts.

‘Let’s make a picnic of our dinner on the floor in the firelight,’ she suggested, remembering how she and William had lolled on cushions and giggled as they fed each other with whatever food either of them had managed to bring along.

Peter, inured to the unexpected, considered his answer quickly. He was tired and hungry and had smelled saddle of mutton upon entering the house. The idea of coping uncomfortably with dripping mint sauce and all the rest of it appalled him. He wanted a broad chair and his feet under the table.

‘I think not, my dear. Wait until the warmer evenings when we can take a basket of food out to the Bunhill fields.’

When he came downstairs again the table was laid as usual. A twinge of foreboding remained with him. He had pleasured her many times before the fire and although her suggestion of the picnic might have been a preliminary, there was something subtly different in her attitude towards him.

It did not take long before he understood her aim and what lay behind it. He was immensely saddened by her waif-like hopefulness and foresaw complications that he had never anticipated arising after fourteen years of marriage to her. It proved to be worse than he feared. Throughout the ensuing months she tried all the tricks on him that she had played on William, associating them with the happiness of love and trying to relive those adolescent days. When nothing that she did resulted in wild chases and tumbles and extraordinary things being done to her, she became increasingly bewildered and confused. Worst of all, as far as Peter was concerned, her resentment against him for not being William was reawakened and it was apparent that all the good ground he had gained with care and patience and even fondness to make their lives together worthwhile was slipping away again.

In the workshop Hester had drawn Jonathan into the designing of a gift she was making. A great honour lay in store for James. In November he was to take office as Lord Mayor of London and she wanted to make him something that would be both ornamental and useful. She had learned from the innumerable inscribed snuff-boxes, tankards, salvers and goblets that passed out of her workshop how little imagination people showed when it came to presentation pieces and she knew James would receive more than enough of those items during his year’s service to the City. Knowing there was nothing he hated more than hot food gone cold, she had decided on a special dish-cross with a lamp to keep warm whatever dish was placed upon it. There were plenty in his silver-cupboards, but this was to be one of permanent sideboard splendour. With Jonathan’s engineering skills it should be able to adjust to whatever size dish was in use.

‘Now let me have a look at your drawing,’ Jonathan said, resting the flat of his hands on her design table as he studied her preliminary sketches. Good living had played havoc with his figure. He had put on an enormous amount of weight and his jowled face had a beetroot tinge that deepened unattractively whenever he lost his temper or was out of breath. His tailor cut his coats to emphasize his shoulders and disguise all faults as far as possible, but when he was in his shirt-sleeves and working-apron the bulges of his once-slim body could not be hidden. Always fastidious, he changed his shirt twice a day in the workshop hours if it was soiled by sweat or dirt, and there was a fresh linen aroma about him as she leaned close to point to one and another of the ideas she had set down.

‘I thought that where the dish-holders enclose the central cross-piece, you could fix spring pieces of some kind that would expand or contract to need.’

‘Yes, I can do that.’ He enjoyed a challenge in silver as much as in a woman. Conquest was always enjoyable and then on to whatever next came his way, whether on the work-bench or in a bed. He had no regrets about marrying Anne-Olympe. She was a good wife with regards to keeping his house in order and also an excellent mother. After some initial trouble in the first years of their marriage, she no longer questioned him about his leisure-time away from her. After the birth of their last child he had continued to sleep in another bedchamber, which did away with the need to explain absences, and without discussion she had accepted the arrangement. He knew her to be a passionate woman when roused and supposed she found fulfilment these days in her work and in raising their children.

‘How soon can you work out the details?’ his mother wanted to know.

‘I’ll have them ready by tomorrow.’ He tapped the drawing. ‘Sir James is going to be mightily pleased with this dish-cross when it’s finished.’

Hester enjoyed every moment of working on her gift. She had made articles for James before, but those had been commissioned and paid for, which was different altogether. Much thought had gone into the decoration, which enhanced every part of the dish-cross while at the same time the clear simplicity that characterized all her pieces was retained. Both Peter and Jonathan had a flair for design themselves, but Joss, a superb craftsman, had been content to execute and had rarely if ever offered any ideas of his own. When the time came to retire — and she had no intention of thinking about that yet! — her business would be in good hands. Since joining her, Jonathan had never mentioned any thought of setting up alone, although he had long been in a position to do so, and she guessed it was because he thought he had only to wait a while longer before the full fame of the Bateman name fell across his and his brother’s shoulders. He was going to have a long wait if the matter lay in her hands!

When November came and the retiring Lord Mayor was preparing to relinquish his honourable post, Hester made a special trip to see James. She wanted him to receive her gift when others were not present. In the salon adjacent to his office, he opened the rosewood box and saw the masterpiece within. He shook his head, marvelling at what was revealed.

‘You have surpassed yourself, my dear Hester.’ He lifted it out and his reverence turned to chuckling delight as the purpose of the spring-pieces became clear to him. ‘What a gift! What ingenuity! There’ll be no more excuses in my household about a dish being too large or too small to keep the food warm!’ After setting it down on a polished table, where the reflection doubled its shining splendour, he embraced and kissed her heartily. ‘I thank you from the bottom of my heart.’

She saw him next when he was installed as London’s new Lord Mayor at what was known as the ‘silent ceremony’, which had already been in existence for five centuries. The following morning he would ride in state to the Law Courts to swear civic allegiance to the King while asserting the independence of the city to control its own affairs. Her allotted seat in the great chamber of the Guild Hall by his invitation gave her an excellent view of the whole procedure, the bowing of James to his predecessor and his acceptance of the civic insignia handed into his trust for the twelve months of faithful duty that lay ahead. Pervading the air was the scent of the posies of sweet herbs and flowers that the civic dignatories carried at all times in crowded gatherings to keep away infection and — in the past — the Plague. It was unlikely that she would ever be able to recall this great day for James without the fragrance in her nostrils of lavender and rosemary, dried clover, mint and honeysuckle as well as the faint perfume of winter-pale rosebuds plucked leafless from sheltered places. It was strange how herbs had patterned their friendship.

She did not try to speak to him after his investiture or attempt to draw near in the crush of aldermen and well-wishers, for this was his wife’s day as well as his and Mary had taken her place at his side. She had come from the country to be present at the silent ceremony and to wave him off from the Mansion House next morning, when his visit to the Law Courts was combined with a processional tour of the city to let the people see for themselves the man they had chosen for the office. Mary had grown thin and leathery with the years, lacking completely the curve of bosom and hip that could always bring a twinkle to James’s eye in the past. There was a mannish cut to her clothes as if she wanted her outfit to look as much like a riding habit as possible and her only jewellery was a horseshoe of pearls.

Hester did not stay overnight with Letticia and Richard in readiness for the next day as she would otherwise have done, because Sarah had expressed a wish to view the Lord Mayor’s procession with Jonathan’s children while at the same time refusing to accompany Anne-Olympe. Since neither Peter nor Jonathan could spare time from work to go on the outing, Hester returned home especially to be able to escort her. Always she had encouraged Sarah into family occasions and did not want her to miss this one. In the morning two of the Bateman coaches set off from Bunhill Row. Young Bill had elected to ride with his grandmother and his aunt while his brothers and sisters rode with his mother. He was wildly excited and bounced up and down on the seat, his bright russet hair the same hue as Hester’s had been in her younger days.

‘Isn’t this fun, Grandmother! We’re going to London, Aunt Sarah!’

James had hired a large room on an upper floor for Hester and her family. It was close to St Paul’s Cathedral where they would be able to see to advantage and view one of the highlights of the procession. When they arrived Alice was there already, having been invited to join them, and Letticia came soon afterwards. As with Alice, her children were grown, the daughters married, the sons at work. She did not miss them unduly for her social life was full and, as an unexpected bonus of middle age, she and Richard had mended the rifts in their marriage. As a result she had regained much of her lost happiness and was more amiable to others than she had ever been.

‘I think we should take our seats now,’ she suggested after they had enjoyed the light repast that James had ordered to be served to them. ‘We shall soon hear the military band.’

‘I can hear it now!’ Bill was leaning precariously out of the open window and Hester quickly hauled him back.

There were three windows and the adults divided themselves up with the children, Letticia sitting with Sarah, who had two of the youngest with her. Below in the street crowds had gathered on either side, particularly dense on the steps of St Paul’s where some of the recently formed Bow Street Runners were keeping a passage open to the great door. Through it the Dean, his clergy and the choir had appeared to descend and group themselves on the lower steps, a verger with his silver wand in attendance.

Now the merry lilt of the pipes and rattle of kettle drums rose clearly above the noise of the crowd, announcing the close approach of the new Lord Mayor. Behind the marching band came coach after coach of aldermen and other dignatories until, with a jingle of harness, cavalry rode in escort to the long-awaited magnificent red and gold coach, six matched horses driven by a coachman in scarlet, bringing forth a crescendo of cheering from those below the windows where the Batemans sat. Made by London craftsmen two decades before to be the Lord Mayor’s personal equipage during his term of office, the coach shone like a brilliant jewel and swayed on its straps as if weighed down by the gilded encrustations of its glittering ornamentation.

‘There’s Sir James!’ Alice cried excitedly.

They could all see him now, his broad face abeam with joy at the rapturous acclaim he was receiving from the city that he had served and would continue to serve in some capacity after this year’s duties were done. In his scarlet robes, his gold mayoral chain agleam, he was waving his tricorn hat exuberantly through the open windows of the coach in acknowledgement of the deafening cheers. As the coach drew level with the Batemans’ windows, the whole procession halted. James was to alight here to approach the cathedral steps humbly on foot, and for that reason he had selected those particular viewing windows for Hester and her party. For no more than the few seconds he could allow himself at this stage of the events, he looked up to where he knew she would be sitting. She raised her hand in a little wave of greeting and he returned her smile with a bow. Then he walked, a lone figure, to kneel with bowed head before the Dean and receive his blessing, which rang out in the crisp autumnal air.

‘God bless you and keep you in your going out and your coming in. May this be a year of service and happiness for you and London. Amen.’

The choir burst into song. A Bible was presented to James and he held it before him as he returned to his coach. The procession moved on, many people clustering in its wake, others dispersing to return to whatever business they had left for the grand sight they had witnessed. Hester, about to relax back in her chair, grew taut and leaned forward to rest a hand on the sill. A face had turned upwards to her in the mingling throng. It was William!

She pressed her hand to her heart on its thump of joyful surprise. Then, instantly, she remembered that Sarah was in the room. Glancing across, she saw to her relief that her son’s wife was busy with the children. The cautionary turn of her head must have alerted William, because when she searched for him again he had drawn a few paces away. A woman about his own age was with him and, after tucking his cane under his arm, he took something from her arms to hold up for Hester to see. It was a very young baby, pink ribbons on its cap, and she gave an involuntary gasp of pleasure, making a motion of applause. William handed the child back and whatever he said to the woman caused her to look up at the window in her turn, her face freckled and vigorous, deeply dimpled as she bobbed a curtsy.