The Golden Tulip (77 page)

Francesca met Aletta’s gaze and they exchanged a look of understanding. There were many ways of showing love.

F
RANCESCA STAYED WITH
Aletta and Constantijn while awaiting a call to the Guild after they had been informed of her release. She was shown how and where the armed conflict between the Prince’s men and the traitors had taken place. Constantijn had been keeping watch and alerted all the servants, giving them firearms. One advance intruder was wounded and another roped up when the three who had come through the old gates were driven up the side gates with no attempt at cover, those with the whips believing they had nothing to fear. Then Constantijn opened fire and after that Aletta and the women kept firearms from the cache primed with gunpowder, ramrod and ball. It was all over very quickly, for Pieter and his men approached from the old gate, and although one traitor made a dash for it he was caught eventually, two were killed and the rest surrendered. Tragically Josephus had already been fatally wounded.

Francesca went with Aletta to put flowers on his grave. She also visited Clara, with whom she had no quarrel. She found her quite content and busy baking pies.

“I didn’t know what to do when I heard from Pieter van Doorne that Geetruyd was a traitor and had fled justice,” Clara exclaimed. “I think I went around in circles, because I was so lost and frightened, but Weintje saved my senses. She said that if Geetruyd had gone and was never coming back, the house was mine. If I was agreeable she would continue to run the house as accommodation for travelers on condition her sweetheart could live here too as soon as they were married.” The little woman beamed and clasped her floury hands together. “I’m so happy, Francesca. Weintje and I are partners and I’m allowed to help. We have only good travelers, respectable men and often married couples, who are sent to us by the landlord of the Mechelin tavern, and all is going well.”

It was noticeable that Clara had lost her hunted look, for previously she had lived in constant dread of reprimands and slighting remarks from Geetruyd, who had always considered her incapable of doing anything properly. Now she had come into her own simply by being allowed to do whatever she could do well, including pie making, all with praise from Weintje where previously Geetruyd had poured scorn.

Francesca opened her purse and brought out Ludolf’s betrothal ring. “My sister took this with my other trinkets and possessions when she collected them from here after I had been taken into the House of Correction. It should have been Geetruyd’s and never mine. Since she has literally left you her house and everything in it I would like you to take this ring. Keep it for a rainy day. I should like to think it was capable of doing some good.”

Clara was excited and Weintje was called. The maidservant added her thanks. “I will see that Juffrouw Clara keeps the ring secure. We are going to do well here, because neither I nor my husband-to-be is afraid of hard work. I hope all will go well for you,
mejuffrouw.
You deserve it after all you had to put up with here.”

Francesca was not allowed to leave before she had sampled one of Clara’s cherry pies, which was delicious. Weintje’s attitude toward Clara had become that of a niece protective toward an elderly aunt. Francesca could foresee only mutual benefit coming from the relationship.

Another source of pleasure for Francesca was that Aletta was painting regularly again. Although her work showed that she was badly in need of tuition, the same vital force was there waiting to be touched into an authoritative control of light and color and movement. Francesca’s eye was experienced enough now to see that her sister would never be a great artist, but she would be worthy of a mastership. Aletta was to begin her apprenticeship on the day after Francesca went before the Guild.

“Master Vermeer said he must see one apprentice safely launched into a mastership before he starts work with another,” Aletta explained.

When the important day came, Francesca, through the generosity of Constantijn and her sister, had a new outfit to wear. The wide-brimmed straw hat, trimmed with white ribbons, turned upward from her face at one side and her gown was of strawberry-colored silk. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and swept into the grand hall where the president and the dignitaries of the Guild awaited her. They sat at a long table facing her. A single chair, not as high-backed as theirs, had been placed ready for her in front of them. Her six paintings were on display easels and her drawings and etchings laid out on a side table.

The president, a gray-haired man in a velvet hat and crimson robes, greeted her. “Good day to you, Juffrouw Visser. Pray sit down.” He indicated the chair facing him and when she had seated herself he continued. “Your work has aroused the interest of us all. There are a number of questions we wish to put to you.”

It was not an ordeal. They talked to her of technique and subject matter and her answers appeared to satisfy them. Finally they all rose, she doing likewise, and the president took up a roll of parchment from which the seal of the Guild hung on a scarlet ribbon.

“Juffrouw Francesca Visser, I present you with documentation of your mastership of the Guild of St. Luke. You have my most sincere congratulations. You may have been born in Amsterdam, but you will always be a daughter of Delft.”

“I’m honored,
mijnheer.
” She received the document from him and then curtsied deeply. Dazed with happiness, she received the congratulations of the rest of the Committee and then walked with light steps from the room. In the anteroom there were more congratulations to come from Jan and Catharina, as well as from Aletta and Constantijn, who had been waiting there. Within an hour her work was back at Jan’s studio and with joy she put her signature to each painting, incorporating a tiny tulip in a deep golden hue. It was almost too small to be seen, except by peering closely, but Aletta’s sharp eyes noted the shaded color she had chosen for the bloom.

“Why gold?” she asked. “It was cream when you signed Ludolf’s portrait.”

“This is a new beginning and a link with a certain time when as far as I could see the tulips were gilded by the sunrise.”

Aletta asked no more questions. Whatever lay beyond that moment did not belong to anyone other than Francesca and the man she loved.

F
RANCESCA READ
P
IETER’S
love letter many times over. He had advised her to go home to Amsterdam as soon as she had obtained her mastership and she was making ready for her departure from Delft. Aletta was against her going.

“Surely you would be safer from the warfare here in Delft? Every day we hear more of the French advance toward Amsterdam.”

“Pieter would never have wanted me to go there if he hadn’t thought it best. In any case, I want to be home with Father and Maria. They need me now with Sybylla away.”

“I would come with you on a visit if I could. But I can’t risk an upsurge in the war cutting me off from Constantijn.”

“I agree. Your duty is to be with him and to make the most of the teaching you will receive from Master Vermeer.”

Francesca found it hard to part from her sister and also from the Vermeers. Each of the children had drawn a picture or made a little gift for her, an embroidered bookmark and a purse from the two older girls. In the studio she had a few minutes alone with Jan. He was about to start a new painting entitled
An Allegory of Faith.
She did not doubt it would be as beautiful as the rest of his work.

“It’s a long time since my first day here,” she said to him. “If the suggestion that I be your pupil had not been made I might never have become a master of painting in my own right.”

“I think you would.” His eyes were smiling. “Go to the heights, Francesca. You have it in you.”

“I thank you for everything.”

He and his family came to see her off, as did Aletta and Constantijn. “Come back soon!” they all called to her.

“I will!” She waved, but her gaze lingered last on Jan. She had a sudden sad foreboding that she would never see him again.

I
N
A
MSTERDAM IT
did not take Francesca long to settle down as if she had never been away, although that was only in the routine of the house. She realized that once a break had been made with one’s childhood origins, for whatever reason, nothing can be the same again. She belonged, and yet her place was no longer here, for she had her own life to lead.

“If Pieter should ever get to Amsterdam, Father,” she asked, “would you allow us to marry?”

Since the reports of the war were promising that day, Hendrick answered generously. “Indeed I would. You’ve been kept apart too long.”

“Then give me that marriage contract to burn.”

He found it and handed it over to her. She went into the kitchen and thrust it into the firebox to watch the flames curl the document to blackened ashes. Maria, who had come hobbling into the kitchen, tapped her cane approvingly on the tiled floor.

“Well done. That should have been burnt as soon as it was written.”

It was not long before Hendrick began to regret his rash promise. The French army was advancing toward Amsterdam again, delayed only by the mopping up of quite ill-fortified places that could have done little harm. It was as if Louis XIV’s lust for conquest made it impossible for him not to place his seal on everything in his path for miles around. At Utrecht he had celebrated with ceremonial reviews of his troops and banquets while, according to rumors that sped around, quite ignoring the advice of his generals to take Holland swiftly and crush it instantly under his heel. Hendrick knew that if Amsterdam fell there could only be one outcome for Francesca and he himself dreaded coming face to face with Ludolf again.

He was seized with anxiety when he heard the sounds of a joyful reunion in the reception hall and came from his study to see that Pieter was there. The young man and Francesca were locked in a kiss, she being twirled around in his arms, her petticoats swirling.

She turned to Hendrick, her face radiant. “Remember your promise, Father! Pieter has something important to ask you.”

Hendrick felt cornered and he played for time, holding up a hand. “First of all I have a question to put to Pieter.” His gaze had taken in Pieter’s travel-worn clothes, the dust on his boots and in his hair. “It looks to me as if you have come straight from the fighting.”

“I have,
mijnheer.
”

“Then tell me this in an honest manner. Are we going to drive the French from Dutch soil?”

“We are indeed.” Pieter spoke with total confidence. “It’s not going to be easy and we may have many hard years ahead, but a tidal wave of loyalty and support for the Prince is rising on all sides. He is meeting it wherever he goes now. Things have changed a great deal since the city of Utrecht kept its gates closed against him because they were preparing to welcome the French. More and more volunteers are joining our forces every day. Our ultimate freedom is not in doubt.”

“In that case,” Hendrick stated, reluctant already to dash the look of joyous hope from Francesca’s face, “you may marry my daughter.”

“I’m honored!” In high spirits Pieter bowed, but he had another request to make. “Would you let the marriage take place today? This afternoon?”

Hendrick blustered, caught off guard. “So soon! There’s no need to rush matters.”

“There is.” Pieter was insistent. “Tomorrow at dawn I have to leave again.”

There was something in the young man’s eyes that conveyed a message of its own to Hendrick. It said that time and life itself might be running out. It was not hard to guess that when Pieter left Amsterdam in the morning some dangerous mission awaited him.

“Very well,” Hendrick agreed. “You had better get the necessary papers from the Town Hall and present them to the minister at the Zuider Church. The ceremony should take place there.”

For the ceremony Francesca wore the same silk gown in which she had received her mastership. She picked some roses from the courtyard flower beds and made them into a chaplet for her head. Pieter changed into clothes kept at his Amsterdam house. Hendrick escorted the bride to her groom and only Maria and Griet witnessed the ceremony. Summer sunshine filled the church, shining through the high clear windows, and the scent of the roses hung lightly in the still air.

The repast afterward was the best Griet could produce at short notice and Hendrick provided the finest wine from his cellar. In the early evening Pieter and Francesca left her home to go to his house together. They had it to themselves, for he had given his housekeeper time off to stay with her daughter. Before leaving, the woman had placed flowers in their bedchamber.

When they reached the room Pieter took the chaplet of roses from Francesca’s hair. She held him lightly by the wrists as he lowered the flowers. “Tell me where you are going tomorrow. I want to know.”

He placed the chaplet down on a chest and put his arms lightly around her.

“Tomorrow I take command of troops who will be arriving in Amsterdam at dawn. Our task will be to defend the castle at Muiden from the French.”

She knew the castle. It was only two hours from Amsterdam and occupied a strategic location on the Vecht River. All the ships that went to and from Amsterdam via the Zuider Zee had to pass under the guns of the castle. Equally important was the fact that the principal sluices by which the land around Amsterdam could be flooded were at Muiden. If the castle fell into French hands it would be a catastrophe.

“Let me come with you. The officers have their wives there, don’t they?”

“Yes, but that’s only because it’s a peacetime token force that is still in charge. No more wives will be going there. In any case, be practical. You don’t ride, do you?”

“No, but I could travel in an army wagon.”

“That’s forbidden. We have to be ready for action against the French at all times.”

“But they are not so near yet.”

“I fear they are. There could be advance parties anywhere now. My duty at the castle will be to await any order from the Prince to open the sluices and let in the sea to make an island of Amsterdam for its protection if the worst should come.”