The Painter's Apprentice (17 page)

Cecily ran forward to kiss Lady Arabella.

Beth met Noah’s ironic smile.

‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I am accompanying Lady Arabella to her house in Windsor to look at the proposed refurbishment work
and we thought to call in to break the journey.’

‘You are both very welcome,’ said Beth. ‘In spite of the sunshine it’s cold on the river. Please, come inside and take some
refreshments. Cecily, will you run ahead and tell Mama that Lady Arabella and Noah are here?’

‘No need to run, child,’ said Lady Arabella. ‘It’s not ladylike.’

‘No Grandmother.’ Cecily skipped off towards the house.

Lady Arabella sighed. ‘Someone needs to teach that girl how to behave. She has a measure of good looks but she’ll never go
anywhere while she acts like a hoyden.’

Beth, in an attempt to give her mother time to ready herself for the surprise visit, engaged Lady Arabella in conversation
to delay her progress towards the house. She showed her the newly flowering tulips in the great stone urns at either side
of the pleached lime walk and the bank of crocuses. Naturally, these were of no interest to Lady Arabella.

‘There is too much wildness and profusion in this garden,’ she said. ‘For myself, I prefer a garden designed in the French
manner with low box hedges and coloured gravels.’ She stopped to disentangle a stray bramble from her skirt. ‘Really, I cannot
abide a country garden. It’s all far too untidy.’

Susannah opened the door just in time to prevent Beth from saying something she might regret. She noticed that her mama, slightly
out of breath, had found time to change into her second-best gown.

‘Welcome, Arabella,’ said Susannah. ‘And Noah. How kind of you to call.’

While Lady Arabella divested herself of her travelling cloak, Susannah whispered, ‘Beth, fetch your father, will you?’

Beth slipped away to knock on the door of her father’s study.

William looked up from his account books, his brow furrowed.

‘Lady Arabella has descended upon us and Mama is asking for you.’

‘What does that tiresome woman want now?’ he sighed.

‘She’s taking Noah to Windsor to see what he can do to modernise Sir George’s house.’

‘I expect she wants to trick it up and make it more ostentatious to suit her affectations.’

‘Noah won’t let her do that.’

‘Then he’s a better man than most,’ said William. He tucked Beth’s hand into his own and they set off for the little parlour.

Susannah, her eyes shining, passed William a piece of paper. ‘Noah had a letter from Tom and enclosed within was a letter
for us. From Kit.’

Beth exclaimed in delight. ‘Father, will you read it aloud?’

William unfolded the paper and held it to the light of the window.

Susannah slipped her hand into William’s, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

William fixed his gaze out of the window.

‘I expect it’s all very primitive,’ said Lady Arabella with a supercilious lift of her painted eyebrows. ‘But then, if you
are not used to living in refined surroundings perhaps you do not draw such comparisons?’

‘On the contrary,’ said Susannah with a brittle smile. ‘Your knowledge is quite outdated. My brother and his family live in
an elegant house amongst a circle of educated and sophisticated friends.’

Noah turned his back to Lady Arabella and made a comical face at Beth. ‘Come and sit beside me and tell me how the world goes
with you,’ he said. ‘Bishop Compton told me that you refused his invitation.’

‘I did,’ she said. ‘But then I changed my mind but Father will not consent to it. He believes it improper for me to stay unchaperoned
at Fulham Palace.’

Noah studied his fingernails for a moment and Beth noticed how clean and well shaped they were. ‘But you would still like
to go there?’

Beth nodded. ‘It’s a rare opportunity to paint the marvellous botanical specimens in the gardens and for my work to be seen
by many. I shall never achieve that if I stay at Merryfields. Johannes told me to reach for the heavens and I shall do my
best to do so, although at present I can’t see how.’

‘Beth, has your mother never told you it’s impolite to sit in corners whispering?’ scolded Lady Arabella.

‘We were simply talking quietly so as not to disturb you with our chatter,’ said Noah. ‘Beth was telling me that she’d had
to decline Bishop Compton’s kind invitation to stay at Fulham Palace since her father feels it would be improper for her to
stay there unchaperoned.’

‘Indeed it would!’

‘So I wondered, dear Lady Arabella,’ said Noah with a winning smile, ‘if Beth might presume upon your kindness and stay with
you in Chelsea? It’s only a matter of three miles to the palace from your house and easily accomplished by public boat. She
could visit each day to undertake her studies and travel back in the evening. Why, your house is so large you’d hardly know
she was there.’

William cleared his throat. ‘How very kind of you to offer, Arabella!’ he said with a bland smile. ‘It would give me great
comfort to know that Beth is in your safe care. Just as your twins found a safe refuge here at Merryfields for so
much
of their childhood.’

‘Well, I …’

‘Oh, Grandmama, may I come too?’ Cecily knelt at Lady Arabella’s feet and clasped at her hands. ‘
Please
say yes! I’ll be no trouble at all and you can teach me how to behave like a lady. I’m so sick of the country where nothing
ever happens.
Please
, Grandmama?’

‘Stand up at once!’ said Lady Arabella. ‘You certainly need to learn your manners.’

‘Then that’s settled,’ said Noah. ‘We must take our leave now if we are to reach Windsor in good time. We’ll collect Beth
and Cecily the day after tomorrow on our way back to London, won’t we Lady Arabella?’

Lady Arabella stood up, flustered. ‘I didn’t …’

‘Let me accompany you down to the landing stage,’ said William.

‘We’ll all come,’ said Susannah. ‘Cecily, fetch Lady Arabella’s cloak, will you?’

In no time at all Lady Arabella was safely seated in the boat.

William, his mouth twitching with suppressed amusement, shook Noah’s hand.

‘We’ll arrive in the early afternoon the day after tomorrow, Beth,’ whispered Noah, his eyes full of mischievous laughter.
‘I suggest it wouldn’t be a good idea to keep Lady Arabella waiting.’ He kissed her cheek and climbed into the boat. Tenderly
tucking a blanket around Lady Arabella’s knees, he gave a jaunty wave as the boat pulled away.

‘
Well!
’ said Susannah. She caught William’s amused expression; the two of them burst out laughing.

‘I’ve never seen Arabella at a loss for words before,’ said Susannah, wiping her eyes a minute later.

‘That boy will go far,’ said William. ‘That was as smart a piece of trickery as I’ve ever seen.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ said Beth, smiling to herself at how neatly Noah had solved her difficulty to everyone’s, except perhaps Lady
Arabella’s, satisfaction.

The next few days passed in a whirlwind of preparations. Cecily, in a ferment of excitement and chattering non-stop, swept
a tangled mess of ribbons, hairpins and stockings into her trunk, followed by her ball dress and embroidered party slippers.
Beth waited until she had left the bedchamber and then repacked her trunk with a more sensible collection of clean shifts,
skirts and bodices.

Beth carefully cleaned and packed up all her paintbrushes and pigments and the small supply of precious vellum that still
remained in the studio store. She placed her paintings of the aconites and the crocuses into a folio on top of the folded
clothes in her trunk.

She took a last look around the studio and then stood before her portrait and the image of Johannes reflected in the painted
mirror. ‘I’m following your last instructions, Johannes,’ she told him. ‘And I’ll do my best to make you proud of me.’

Closing the door behind her, she went downstairs for dinner.

Noah and Lady Arabella arrived soon after.

Joseph and Emmanuel carried the trunks down to the landing
stage and before she knew it, Beth was hugging her father and mother goodbye.

William handed her a purse full of coins. ‘You will need this for your travel costs between Chelsea and Fulham. Keep it safe.
Keep yourself safe.’ His voice was brusque but his eyes were anxious.

Beth clung to him for a moment and he held her tightly.

Susannah hugged her. ‘Look after your sister, won’t you?’

Cecily began to weep.

‘Oh, Cecily, please don’t cry!’ Beth spoke sharply because she was holding back her own tears.

‘What a fuss about nothing!’ said Lady Arabella crossly. ‘That child always showed an excess of sentiment.’

At last they were away and Beth watched her parents waving until the boat rounded the bend in the river.

It was growing dark by the time they reached Chelsea.

Beth and Cecily stayed beside the river stairs with their trunks while Noah accompanied Lady Arabella to her house to arrange
for her servant to fetch the luggage. As the sun dropped behind the trees they shivered, drawing their cloaks more tightly
around them.

At last Noah and the manservant arrived, pushing a handcart.

‘Beth, I’ll wait for you tomorrow at about eleven o’clock at the palace landing stage,’ said Noah.

‘And you’ll give Father’s letter to Bishop Compton?’ Suddenly feeling very alone, she clutched at Noah’s sleeve. ‘I hope he
hasn’t changed his mind about my visit.’

‘I’m sure he hasn’t. Until the morning, then.’

Beth watched him go with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

The manservant hoisted their boxes on to the handcart and trundled off at a fast pace over the rutted lane while Beth and
Cecily trotted along behind.

The river was wide at Fulham and the tide was going out, leaving mud flats peppered with small islands of stones and detritus.
Seagulls swooped overhead, their harsh cries echoing over the water. It was a grey and mizzly morning and Beth was relieved
to see Noah already waiting at the landing stage for her.

She’d spent a nearly sleepless night in Lady Arabella’s magnificent goose-down guest bed, anxiously wondering if she had made
a dreadful mistake in leaving Merryfields. Would she even be able to paint at all in strange surroundings?

Beth scrambled off the boat, struggling with her easel and bag of painting equipment.

‘Let me take those,’ said Noah.

‘Thank you.’ She rubbed at a smear of mud on her skirt and broke into a trot to keep up with him. ‘I also want to thank you
for bamboozling Arabella into taking me in. You twisted her very neatly around your little finger and Father is full of admiration
for you.’

He grinned. ‘I’m glad to have helped but I never thought you’d really leave Merryfields’ protective walls.’

‘It’s only for a while. The summer, perhaps. After all, Arabella is unlikely to allow me to stay any longer than that.’

‘You’ll never finish recording all Bishop Compton’s specimens in a few months!’ said Noah. ‘There’s a lifetime’s work here
for you. Alexander Marshal stayed for seven years and it would have been longer if he hadn’t died.’

Noah led her through the Tudor archway into the quadrangle. The mellow red brickwork was attractively criss-crossed with grey
brick diamonds but this time she noticed that many of the roof tiles were slipping and the glass was broken in one of the
windows.

Their footsteps echoed as they walked briskly through the cobbled courtyard, past the fountain and into the palace.

Bishop Compton was in his library and came forward with a wide smile to greet them. ‘Welcome, welcome, Miss Ambrose!’ He took
her hands in his. ‘So, your parents have decided not to keep you at Merryfields after all?’

‘They have given me their blessing to visit for a while.’

‘Very good! Shall we accompany you to your new quarters?’ He led them through a maze of rooms and up a narrow, creaking staircase
to the first floor.

Beth glanced over her shoulder at Noah, he was struggling to keep up so she waited for him.

The Bishop stopped outside a low door and lifted the latch.

The room was not large but it had a good window, allowing the light, even on such a grey day, to reach every corner. Moreover,
it afforded a pleasing view over the gardens towards the river. A table and chairs were pushed up against the wall and there
was a large store cupboard. The worm-eaten floorboards were bare but newly swept and a fire flickered in the fireplace.

Beth smiled. ‘I shall work very well here, I think.’

‘Alexander Marshal always liked it,’ said Bishop Compton. ‘The window is tall and the aspect north-facing so the light remains
clear.’ He strode across the room to open another door, into a bedchamber. ‘And this is also for your use.’

It was simply furnished with a chest, a chair and a bed dressed with plain linen hangings. Rush mats covered the floor, giving
off a fresh, green scent. A deep window seat overlooked the courtyard and Beth imagined herself curled up on it while she
read a book. ‘It’s delightful,’ she said.

‘These rooms are entirely at your disposal so, if your father changes his mind, you may stay here any time you wish.’

Rummaging in her bag, Beth withdrew the illustrations she had completed of the aconite and the crocuses. ‘I brought these
to add to your collection.’

Bishop Compton studied the paintings, his face expressionless.

Beth began to feel nervous. What if her work wasn’t good enough and he sent her home?

Then he looked up. ‘Just as I expected,’ he said. ‘I have found a painter worthy of continuing Alexander’s work.’

The knot in Beth’s stomach lessened.

Henry Compton rubbed his hands together, brisk again. ‘What are you doing today, Noah?’

‘I’ll take my dinner with Beth but then I go to Whitehall.’

‘Then I propose that this afternoon, since it’s raining now, you would perhaps like to study Alexander Marshal’s paintings,
Miss Ambrose? Tomorrow, if the weather is better, I’ll take you to meet George London, my gardener, and he will show you where
to find the choicest specimen plants in the garden. You would do well to make a friend of him.’

‘Indeed, I will.’

‘I’ve laid out Alexander’s paintings in the library. Should you wish to bring some of them to your studio to study, please
do so. I know you will take great care of them. My secretary is waiting for me so I’ll leave you to settle in and Noah will
bring you down to the hall for your dinner.’ He lifted a hand and hurried away.

Noah hoisted the bag of painting equipment up on to the table. ‘What in the name of heaven have you in here, Beth? Stones?’

‘That’ll be the grinding slab. Some of the unground pigments are heavy, too.’

‘Shall I set up your easel by the window?’

‘If you would.’ Beth opened the store cupboard and found a pot of paintbrushes, miscellaneous bottles of turpentine and linseed
oil and a flat box nearly full of different mineral and vegetable pigments: carbon black, terre-verte, copper carbonate, Spanish
ochre and gamboge.

‘Look, Noah!’ she said with a delighted smile. ‘I’ve found a box of treasures. These must have belonged to Mr Marshal.’

‘The Bishop told me that he’d left them there for your use.’

‘Such supplies are expensive and I’ll be pleased not to keep asking Mama to send them to me.’

After Beth had unpacked and set up her new studio, Noah took her on a brief tour of the palace, which formed a square around
the courtyard.

‘I shan’t take you up to the attics,’ he said. ‘It’s all storerooms and most of the servants sleep there, poor things. Roof
leaks. Buckets all over the place. I told the bishop that he must carry out repairs or the whole building will rot but his
income isn’t sufficient for the scale of works required.’

Downstairs they wandered through a warren of still rooms, storerooms, wash houses, a brew house and a dairy. There was a housekeeper’s
room, a servants’ hall, butler’s pantry and a great hot smoky kitchen bustling with scullery maids.

In the bakehouse a young woman was just removing a fragrant tray of golden apple turnovers from the oven and Beth closed her
eyes for a second as she breathed in the enticing aroma.

‘Hello, Judith,’ said Noah. ‘Those look good!’

Judith pushed a dark curl back under her cap. ‘New-baked for your dinner.’ Tall and big-boned, she stared curiously at Beth.

‘This is Beth Ambrose, who is coming to work on Bishop Compton’s flower paintings,’ said Noah.

Judith, her ruddy complexion flushed from the heat of the fire, smiled so widely at Beth that her hazel eyes were almost lost
behind the apples of her cheeks. ‘Welcome to Fulham Palace,’ she said. ‘Come and share a slice of pie with me one afternoon,
if you’re not too busy.’

‘I’d like that,’ said Beth, taking straight away to Judith’s down-to-earth manner.

In the hall, Bishop Compton was deep in conversation with two men as he ate so Beth and Noah found a place for themselves
amongst the other guests.

‘What are you doing at Whitehall this afternoon?’ asked Beth, as she dipped her coarse brown bread in a flavoursome mutton
stew.

‘Sir Christopher Wren is inspecting the works on the Queen’s apartment and the terraced garden. I hope to take instructions
from him to work on the court house in Windsor.’

‘That would allow you to visit Lady Arabella’s house at the same time.’

‘Exactly.’ Noah sighed. ‘Mind you, I think Lady Arabella may be a harder task master than Sir Christopher. I do hope Sir George
has deep pockets for the ambitious schemes she envisages.’

Despite the drizzle, Beth walked down to the river with Noah and waited with him until his boat arrived.

‘Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow?’ she asked, suddenly not wanting him to leave.

‘Certainly.’

She waved goodbye and hurried back to the palace.

The following morning the rain had stopped and George London and his apprentice were pruning in the rose garden when Beth
and Bishop Compton found them. The gardener nodded at his apprentice, who bundled a pile of thorny trimmings into a barrow
and wheeled them away.

The Bishop drew Beth forward. ‘George, this is Miss Ambrose, the young lady I mentioned who is come to continue Alexander’s
work.’

George London took off his hat and rubbed his hand clean on his homespun breeches before offering it to her.

‘Mr London.’ Beth’s hand was crushed in his hearty grip.

‘Welcome to the gardens at Fulham Palace, Miss Ambrose.’

‘They’re beautiful. I’m certain to find a great deal of inspiration here.’

‘George, I’d like you to show Miss Ambrose the new varieties of plants we’re growing,’ said Henry Compton. ‘She will need
your expertise to find the best specimens.’

‘Although,’ said Beth, ‘I noticed when I studied Alexander Marshal’s paintings yesterday that they often show less than perfect
specimens and his work doesn’t suffer in the least from that approach.’

‘Quite right, Miss Ambrose.’

George London’s ordinary, middle-aged face looked quite different when he smiled, thought Beth. ‘I have already noticed some
brightly striped auriculas and some delightful pink flowers growing in a carpet under the cork oak tree,’ she said. ‘They
have dark leaves in a heart shape with crinkled edges and the flowers look as if they have been blown inside out in the wind.’