Garlands of Gold (21 page)

‘But I want to pay you myself.’

‘Begging your pardon, mistress, but I have my orders.’

She bit her lip, prepared to remonstrate with Robert that evening, but he was not the rider who came cantering up, bringing Acorn with him. Instead it was a well-spoken young man with dark curls to his shoulders, not handsome, but with a pleasant face. He dismounted to introduce himself as Allan Willowby.

‘Was Master Harting not able to come?’ she inquired on what she hoped was a casual note.

‘I was unaware that he had any intention of coming,’ he replied. ‘Today I was engaged by him to make you a competent horsewoman and I’m sure that can be achieved without any problems.’

She was stroking Acorn’s white blaze. ‘I shall do my best.’

He helped her up into the side saddle and as soon as he saw that she was comfortable and he had given her some basic instruction he remounted himself and together they set off. It was from those first few minutes that she was to enjoy riding for the rest of her life and as her instructor had anticipated she was to prove quick to learn.

That night when she went to bed she pondered over Robert’s failure to appear on two separate occasions in the same day and finally decided with a feeling of relief that he had accepted at last that he had no place in her life. There remained the problem of levelling out in some way his generous gift of the repairs and now of these riding lessons. She decided that she would present him with a selection of the very best products that she made for men, including a new fragrance for the male chin after shaving, which was superior to anything offered by a barber.

Elizabeth came to visit as had been arranged when Saskia was at her stall. She admired the layout of the pots and flasks.

‘It all looks so pretty!’ she declared, clasping her hands together in her enthusiasm.

There were no customers and they sat in the chairs by the stall to exchange news. Elizabeth was eager to tell that Grinling had plenty of work coming in all the time and that his first apprentice was skilful, quick and eager to learn.

‘But Grinling still has not received any orders for his carving from Master Wren,’ she said, a puzzled frown drawing her fine brows together, ‘and the prestige of that gentleman’s patronage almost outshines that of the King himself. It is so maddening when Grinling is being recognized by everybody else as a true artist in wood. It is not as though Master Wren was barring him for the same reason that he will not have Robert involved in his rebuilding.’

‘Robert barred?’ Saskia asked in surprise. ‘Whatever is the reason for that?’

Elizabeth lowered her voice even though there was nobody in sight. ‘When Robert was first in London after coming from Rotterdam with Grinling he soon gained a reputation as a rake and a ravisher. Being of an aristocratic background he had an entrée to St Luke’s club and other such elite gentlemen’s clubs where he drank heavily and played intensely, often risking everything on the turn of a card. Then whenever he was at a ball or any other grand social occasion women would not leave him alone and people gossiped about that too. He had a very beautiful mistress for a while, although his good manners prevented him from bringing her into my company at any time. That’s why Master Wren has told him to gain a more respectable reputation before allowing him to work on hallowed ground.’

‘Has Robert shown any sign of mending his ways?’

‘Grinling says he has, but then they are virtually lifelong friends. Grinling would always defend him.’ Elizabeth sat back in her chair and regarded Saskia with intense interest. ‘Now you have Robert’s attentions. He could scarcely take his eyes from you the day you both came to dine.’ Then she tilted her head enquiringly at Saskia. ‘Have you not been stirred by his male magnetism that seems to arouse so many women?’

‘Only enough to make sure I keep my distance. Fortunately I think there must be somebody new on Robert’s horizon, because quite abruptly he has cancelled two arrangements he had made with me.’

‘Are you disappointed?’

Saskia smiled reassuringly, for Elizabeth looked so concerned. ‘Not in the least! I’m grateful for the kindnesses he has shown me, but that is all. But what I do need from you is his London address.’

She explained about the gift she was preparing for him and Elizabeth wrote the address down. Just as she handed it over a coach stopped to allow a middle-aged woman and her two young daughters to alight and come across the grass to the stall. Elizabeth made a quick departure, not wanting her presence to interfere with business.

Saskia kept the stall closed every Monday afternoon, for that enabled her to visit the ladies that still wanted her products. She had not expected to continue to supply her former employer, but Mistress Henrietta’s early alliance with Martha’s own beauty preparations soon came to an end, resulting in Saskia receiving an order to deliver all the products previously used. She never saw Mistress Henrietta, but Martha was usually there to receive the items, a sneer on her face as if accepting poisonous substances. Once when Martha was out the housekeeper confided that the woman savagely resented Mistress Henrietta’s conviction that nobody could make beauty preparations like Saskia.

‘Martha is a vicious woman as I know to my cost,’ the housekeeper continued, ‘and she really hates you, so always be on your guard.’

‘Thank you for the warning,’ Saskia replied, although she could not think of any way that Martha could harm her.

By now Saskia rode well, her lessons having come to an end for a while, and when she delivered to her ladies she had two saddlebags containing her wares. It was rarely that she returned with any of the extra products she took with her and always with a list of what was wanted next time. She had employed Ted Robinson’s younger son, Joe, to groom Acorn and keep her fed and watered as well as exercised when she herself did not have time to ride while in attendance at her stall.

It was Joe whom she sent to deliver her gift to Robert. The pots, which had been made by Rufus, all had striped blue and white lids and were neatly labelled as were the flasks containing a choice of fragrances, and she had covered the box in fine white paper. She hoped that the care she had taken with the presentation would show him how much his generosity had been appreciated.

Joe returned to say that he had handed the box in to a servant. ‘The fellow said that Master Harting is out of London on a building project in York at the present time, but the box will be kept for his return.’

‘Thank you, Joe,’ she said.

Her days at her stall were not without problems. Until now the weather had been kind to her, the occasional light shower not deterring customers in any way, but then with the arrival of June the weather became unseasonably wet. Downpours were so heavy that it was pointless to open her stall, for coaches did not stop and people hurried by with their heads down.

Then when the sunshine did return other hazards awaited her. One morning a herd of goats started to eat the stall’s canvas apron, making a hole on one side and leaving it ragged before she and the goatherd managed to drive them away. At this time gypsies were on the move, passing from one country fair to another, and their children came running up to swarm about the stall, their hands shooting out to grab whatever they could before bolting off again. She overcame this by getting a tightly webbed fishing-net and throwing it over her goods to secure them as soon as she saw caravans approaching. Although the majority of her customers were honest there were some people, respectably dressed and well able to afford her modest prices, who were not above slipping a pot into the pocket of an apron or a coat.

She began considering how much better it would be if she could turn the cottage into a shop. Then she would have most of her wares securely on shelves behind her and a counter would block unlawful access. It meant waiting until the end of summer as by then she hoped to have made enough money not to have to draw on her savings.

Unexpectedly one day Martha arrived at the stall and showed immense satisfaction when she conveyed the message that Mistress Henrietta wanted Saskia to call on her without delay. It was a command.

‘Don’t expect to be treated like a visitor,’ Martha said acidly. ‘Rushmere House has not become as lax towards the social rank of its guests as a certain apartment in
La Belle Sauvage
. I happen to know that there is trouble in the air for you. You must realize that being as busy as you are with your stall also means that you are rushing through the preparation of your beauty products. They have been very poor recently. Mistress Henrietta has only to make her displeasure known and all the ladies in her circle will stop buying from you.’

Saskia looked the woman directly in the eyes. ‘What have you been mixing in my products?’

It was a guess, but she was certain that it had hit home, even though Martha appeared unfazed by the question. ‘What an absurd accusation!’ she replied scornfully, tossing her head as she left again.

Saskia knew that Mistress Henrietta had never forgiven her for leaving Elizabeth’s employ, but she had no qualms when she presented herself at Rushmere Hall when she was on her next Monday afternoon circuit. There was no sign of Martha and it was a young housemaid who took her up to the boudoir, even though she knew the way so well.

She entered the room with a curtsy and Mistress Henrietta flicked her closed fan in the direction of a chair. To her amazement, no sooner was she seated when the woman spoke in a whisper.

‘I know that Martha listens at keyholes, so make sure that she is not in the corridor.’

Saskia rose to her feet again and looked out of the door, but the corridor was empty. She returned to her seat. ‘There’s nobody there.’

‘Good. Now I believe you know why I have sent for you.’

‘Yes, I understand that my products have not been pleasing you recently.’

‘But I’m sure you can guess as well as I what has been happening to them after they leave you.’

Saskia had not expected the woman to be so perceptive. ‘I’m making no accusations, madam.’

‘But I am! You are the first to know that I am going to get rid of Martha. I should never have transferred you to Elizabeth, but I did it out of the goodness of my heart. Now I want you to come back to me. I’ll treble your previous salary and give you better accommodation with a special room where you can make your lovely products, and I’ll put no restrictions on your selling to other ladies that like to buy from you.’

Saskia was shaking her head. ‘No, madam. You are making a most generous offer, but I never want to return to service. I enjoy having my own home and my own business. In fact I intend turning my cottage into a shop. I have already spoken to my landlord and he is agreeable.’

Mistress Rushmere stared at her in outraged disbelief, unable to comprehend how this young woman could refuse such an offer. ‘You have not given yourself time to think over my proposal. I shall withhold my dismissal of Martha to give you time to reconsider the hasty decision you have made.’ She held up a hand as Saskia began to repeat her refusal. ‘Not another word! Go now! I shall expect a different attitude when next you call on me.’

All the way home Saskia seethed inwardly at the woman’s arrogance, even though she had been in England long enough now to know how class distinctions set people far apart through birth, fortune, trade or service. Her wide open Dutch attitude was that the good in people mattered, not their station in life. It made her exasperated with her new countrymen and -women on many occasions. Naturally there were social differences in her own country, but she had never been so much aware of the gaps between them as in England. She was thankful that Elizabeth saw no barriers between them in the friendship that they shared. It was probably Elizabeth’s clear mind that had been one of many reasons why Grinling, a true Dutchman despite his English parentage, had fallen in love with her.

After several weeks Saskia received a formal letter of thanks from Robert for her gift. He apologized for the delay in his reply, explaining that he had just returned briefly to London and that was only for a matter of days before he left again. Although she knew from what was said by Elizabeth and Grinling that during the short time he had called on them, his visits and hers had never coincided. Then as Elizabeth’s time for being brought to bed drew near she wanted Saskia to call in and see her as often as possible.

As for Mistress Henrietta, she had finally accepted that Saskia would never return to her. The result was that Martha had been ignominiously replaced by a smiling Swiss woman, named Dorli. According to Elizabeth the newcomer also had to face being constantly compared to Saskia, but fortunately the woman had supreme confidence in her own skills and so Mistress Henrietta’s often cruel comments bounced off her, leaving no resentment. She even welcomed having Saskia’s products supplied for her as it saved her a great deal of time-consuming work. There was no news of Martha, although Mistress Henrietta had been gracious enough to give her a character reference to help her get other employment, for as she said to her god-daughter it was no fault of Martha’s that she had been unable to compete with Saskia’s exceptional skills.

By now summer had waned and Saskia went ahead with her plans to make the cottage into a shop. The same carpenter that had repaired the stable did the work for her cheaply and efficiently, reusing some of the timber of the stall. She made a special trip into the city to order a swinging sign to set up above the shop door. The result was a double-sided sign displaying a flask of perfume and one of her decorated French pots.