The Painter's Apprentice (28 page)

‘Not brick?’ asked Beth, curious.

‘Only for the chimneys. Brick is expensive to make in Virginia because we don’t have the right kind of clay but there’s plenty
of good timber. I want my house to look as if it has grown out of the landscape.’

‘And what are all these rooms for?’ Beth picked up one of the spare boxes and studied the careful rendering of a well-proportioned
drawing room with elegant drapes at the windows and finely detailed
shutters. On each side of the chimneypiece there were deep alcoves fitted with shelves for books.

‘I shall build a small house at first but as my family grows,’ he hesitated, his cheeks growing pink, ‘then I shall build
more rooms.’ He bent over the little house so that she couldn’t see his face any more while his fingers restlessly continued
to assemble the boxes to make a larger dwelling. ‘A fine drawing room, a hall with windows to the front, four more bedrooms
and a boudoir for the lady of the house.’ He picked up some of the smaller boxes. ‘A wash-house and quarters for servants.
And there’ll be stables for a horse and buggy.’ He glanced at Meg, fully occupied with tearing up mouthfuls of long grass.

‘It’s wonderful,’ said Beth. She tried to sound excited for him but all the pleasure in it had evaporated at the thought of
Noah living in that lovely house with a lady that wasn’t herself. ‘You have it all planned down to the last detail.’ She mustn’t
allow herself to cry. ‘And have you also picked out the lady of the house?’ Her voice sounded as bright and hard as diamonds.

He began to unfold the little rooms, laying the drawings hastily into a neat pile on top of each other. ‘Perhaps I shall never
build it, after all,’ he said. ‘It has been merely a pastime to keep me occupied during my time away from home.’

‘It would be a shame not to build such a beautiful house.’ Beth had seen it so clearly in her mind and the thought that it
might never exist made her unbearably sad.

Noah smoothed the drawings flat. ‘I must take you back to Lady Arabella before it becomes late.’

‘There’s plenty of time,’ protested Beth.

‘Nevertheless, we should go.’ Silently, he helped her to her feet.

Meg allowed Noah and Beth to mount her with little more than a contemptuous flick of her mane and then set off at a steady
pace down the hill towards the city.

Noah barely spoke all the way back; Beth began to wonder if she had offended him in some way. His body was rigid under her
encircling
arms and when Meg lost her footing in a pothole and Beth fell hard against his back, he didn’t even glance behind.

The pleasure of the excursion was entirely lost for Beth, whose eyes pricked with unshed tears. The eel pie churned uneasily
in her stomach as Meg swayed from side to side.

Once the countryside was left behind and they reached the streets on the outskirts of the town, Meg lifted her head and began
to trot. She picked up speed so that it was all Noah could do to prevent her from breaking into a canter. They entered the
stable yard at a spanking pace with Meg’s shoes striking sparks off the cobbles.

‘She always smells the stables and hurries back at the speed of lightning,’ said the stable lad.

After Beth watched Noah pay the boy, they started back towards the river. He was entirely preoccupied as they passed through
Lincoln’s Inn Fields, unresponsive to Beth’s tentative attempts to make conversation. He ignored the blind beggar in Wich
Street who clutched at their feet, never noticing Beth turn back to drop a coin in his begging bowl.

Noah absent-mindedly took Beth’s arm as they crossed the Strand, all crowded with carriages, horses and pedestrians, and guided
her to a short cut towards the river stairs through a dark alley, stinking of decomposing vegetables. Shutters hung askew
from the windows and the rotting timber of the houses only added to the atmosphere of decay.

Noah was still quiet, speaking only to warn Beth of a horseman approaching at speed. They shrank back to flatten themselves
against a wall as the horse trotted past them down the alley.

‘Noah?’

‘Yes?’ He didn’t look at her.

‘Have I angered you?’

‘Of course not,’ he said, his tone of voice abrupt.

‘Then why do you not speak to me?’ She blinked furiously, refusing to cry.

He glanced at her and his expression softened. ‘Perhaps I
have
been preoccupied.’

‘You’ve barely spoken since we left Islington.’

‘Sorry.’ He sighed. ‘It’s not your fault. I’m wrestling with a problem and don’t know how to proceed.’

‘Can you not talk to me about it?’

‘Oh, Beth!’ A fleeting expression of anguish passed over his face.

‘Noah, what
is
it? One minute I feel you care for me and the next you ignore me. You’re like a weathervane twisting from north to south
and I …’ She suppressed a sob. ‘I don’t know what you want of me.’

‘Don’t cry! I can’t bear to see you unhappy.’ He gathered her into his arms and his lips were on her hair. She turned her
face up to his, her heart singing with joy again. His mouth came down on hers and she forgot the noisome alley and the scattered
filth underfoot and lost herself in the sweetness of his kiss.

At last he released her and held her at arm’s length, his breath fast and uneven. ‘Beth, I …’

‘Yes, Noah?’ she breathed. She reached up to touch a muscle flickering in his jaw.

Catching her hand, he turned it over to drop a kiss on her palm, making a delicious shiver run down the small of her back.
He curled her fingers over to capture the kiss. ‘I’ve treated you unfairly,’ he said unhappily. ‘And I don’t know what to
do for the best.’

‘Please tell me what troubles you. Perhaps I can help?’ she entreated him.

He shook his head. ‘Not yet. Come on. We’ll be late.’

They emerged from the alley into the light again almost before Beth could register her disappointment that he hadn’t said
more.

A boat was immediately available but by the time the boatman had pulled away, Noah was lost in thought again. Beth was as
bewildered as before. What
was
it that caused him to blow so hot and cold?

The great hall echoed with the clatter of knives and the hum of conversation as Beth looked for a quiet space to sit. She’d
struggled to concentrate on her work that morning, endlessly pondering on Noah’s changeable behaviour, and she didn’t feel
much like making idle chatter. She passed by a space on the bench next to Lizzie Skelton; her back crawled as she felt the
girl’s gaze following her.

Then George London waved at her and she took the seat beside him. George quickly realised she was in a contemplative mood
so he turned to chat with his neighbour. Beth toyed with a bowl of mutton stew but the small globules of fat floating on the
surface nauseated her. She picked up an apple and began to peel it, more for something to keep her busy than from hunger.
She watched the knife slicing through the skin and the ribbon of peel falling on to the table in a coil. Perhaps, if she managed
to peel the whole apple in one long piece, Noah would come to see her today.

A shout silenced the conversation for a moment before the babble of voices grew again.

‘The Bishop is coming!’

Bishop Compton swept into the great hall, banged his knife on the table and called for quiet.

The household turned expectantly to look at him.

‘I have come straight from Westminster to bring you news,’ said Henry Compton, his face grave. ‘The seven bishops appeared
before the King’s Bench today and have been charged with seditious libel against the King.’ He held up his hand as an angry
murmur broke out again. ‘They have been released from the Tower on bail but must return to the Court two weeks from now on
the twenty-ninth of June.’

‘For shame!’ called out George London.

Beth had almost finished paring the apple when the long ribbon of peel fell away from her knife and broke into two pieces.
She stared at it in dismay.

The Bishop sat down and the noise levels rose as the household discussed the news with lively indignation.

‘I’ve been praying that the King wouldn’t proceed to persecute the bishops,’ said George London. ‘Mark my words, Miss Ambrose,
trouble lies ahead.’

‘Civil war?’

George sighed. ‘I’m very much afraid so.’

After dinner Beth, too unsettled to return to the studio, decided to take a walk.

Judith Tanner was slumped on a stool outside the pastry kitchen with her clogs off. ‘How are you?’ asked Beth.

‘Been rushed off my feet this morning. No time for dinner today. Fancy a piece of gingerbread?’ Judith divided into two the
slab of cake that rested on her aproned knees.

Beth took the proffered piece. ‘I couldn’t eat my dinner today so I’ll be glad of this later.’

‘We’re all a bit off our food, aren’t we? What with the waiting for news. Nicholas couldn’t stand not knowing what was happening
and he upped and went to the Palace Yard at Westminster this morning.’

‘When the bishops were being questioned?’

Judith nodded. ‘There was a big crowd and when they came out of the church, the bells began to ring. Nicholas said everyone
was cheering. Some people thought it meant that the charges had been quashed and when they found out it wasn’t so, they were
angry.’ She brushed gingerbread crumbs off her plump knees. ‘There’ll be Pope-burnings in the street tonight, I shouldn’t
wonder.’

‘Best to stay indoors if feelings against the papists are running high.’

‘Scared to go out then?’ said a sneering voice behind Beth.

Lizzie Skelton leaned against the coal house door.

‘Not at all!’ said Beth.

‘Saw you were off your dinner today. Thought you might be frightened, that’s all.’

Judith noticed Beth’s discomfiture and hurried to turn the conversation. ‘I was telling Beth that Nicholas waited for the
bishops to come out of the Court today,’ she said.

A slow smile spread across Lizzie’s face. ‘Ah, Nicholas! Haven’t seen him for a while.’

‘He’s barely left the smithy since you bewitched him, made him fall in love with you and then ditched him to move on to yet
another paramour,’ said Judith tartly.

‘That wasn’t witchcraft.’ Lizzie smiled again, running her pink tongue over her full lips. ‘I just knows what a man likes.’

‘And you offer it so generously. Charitable of you, I’m sure!’ Judith turned back to Beth, ignoring Lizzie. ‘As I was saying,
that
toady
the Bishop of Chester is entirely in the King’s pocket and when he came out into the Palace Yard, one of the men, not knowing
who he was but seeing his bishop’s mitre, imagined he was one of the seven accused. He begged the Bishop for his blessing.
A bystander asked the man if he knew who had blessed him. “It was one of the
seven,” the man said. “No it wasn’t! It was the Bishop of Chester.” The man who’d been blessed was furious. “Popish dog, take
your blessing back again!” he roared. Everyone in the crowd fell down with laughing and the Bishop of Chester scuttled back
inside again before he risked being hung up on a gatepost.’

Beth smiled but then her expression grew serious again. ‘But in spite of the people’s support, the bishops are still in danger.’

Judith sighed. ‘And only the good Lord knows what will become of us if they’re executed.’ She slipped on her clogs and stood
up. ‘Come and see me tomorrow. I’m making walnut biscuits.’

Beth turned to find that Lizzie was standing in front of her, hands on her hips.

‘I’ve seen you walking out with Noah,’ said Lizzie accusingly.

‘Have you now?’ said Beth.

‘I saw him first and I told you I wanted him for myself.’ Lizzie regarded Beth through gypsy-dark eyes full of animosity.

Anger flared in Beth’s breast. ‘I think perhaps we should leave Noah to decide for himself if he’s interested in you.’

Lizzie smiled slowly. ‘Oh, he’s interested in me, all right.’

Jealousy gripped Beth like a steel trap. Had Noah succumbed to Lizzie Skelton’s charms and was that why he said he’d treated
her unfairly? How could she possibly compete with Lizzie’s lush sensuality? Unable to find the words to wipe the complacent
smile off the other girl’s face, Beth pushed past her and hurried away through the herb garden.

She came to a stop at last down by the moat, still seething. The moat smelt rank in the early summer warmth. Sitting on the
grass, Beth stared at the floating duckweed. Her cheeks burned with anger at how inadequate the other girl made her feel.
There was no doubt in her mind that Lizzie knew how to please a man, if she wished. Lizzie’s voluptuous charms, so freely
offered, would be hard for any man to resist.

Two days later Noah still had not come to see her. Beth made discreet enquiries but all she discovered was that Judith had
seen him at supper in the great hall but hadn’t spoken with him. On the evening of the firework display, there was still no
sign of him and Beth returned to Arabella’s house with a heavy heart.

The family was gathered together in good humour in the parlour as they discussed the proposed celebrations.

‘I hear that the King has spent twenty-five thousand pounds on the fireworks for tonight,’ said Joshua.

Sir George smiled. ‘His Majesty has spared no expense to ensure that the people will be able to celebrate Prince James’s birth
in the proper manner.’

Beth wondered if the King intended the lavish firework display to buy the hearts and minds of the populace.

Lady Arabella smiled. ‘This is truly a great day for the nation.’

‘I can’t even
imagine
twenty-five thousand pounds,’ said Cecily, wide-eyed. That many coins would fill a whole house.’

Joshua grabbed hold of Cecily and whirled her around. ‘And it’s all going up in smoke tonight.’

‘I thought Noah was coming to take you to the fireworks this evening, Beth,’ said Cecily, laughing as she pushed Joshua away.

‘I expect he’s working late again.’ Beth wondered for a moment if he’d decided to take Lizzie Skelton instead.

‘Harry isn’t coming either. I’m
so
disappointed. He sent a note but he
promised
me he’d come!’

‘Never mind; you’ll have us to squire you to the celebrations.’ Samuel pinched Cecily’s cheek. ‘Don’t look so cast down!’

‘Sir George and I have been promised a place on Lord Danby’s barge,’ said Lady Arabella. ‘And we intend to be seen to be happy
for their Majesties.’

‘Then I shall accompany you, Cecily,’ said Beth, having no intention of allowing her younger sister to roam the streets of
London at night with the twins as her only protection. ‘I should not wish you
to become lost somewhere in the city if Joshua and Samuel are distracted and set off on some mad pursuit of their own.’

After supper, Lady Arabella, wearing a new velvet cloak, all perfumed, painted and be-ribboned, left in the coach with Sir
George.

Beth and the twins walked along the lane, with Cecily skipping along beside them. A queue of people was waiting for transport
by the crowded river.

After a while, Beth’s eye was caught by someone on one of the boats waving at them. ‘Look, it’s Noah!’ she said, her spirits
soaring.

In a few minutes Noah’s boatman had tied up at the stairs.

‘I hoped I hadn’t missed you,’ Noah said, smiling at Beth in a way that made her heart race.

The river was teeming with boats as they made their way towards Whitehall. The setting sun painted the water with golden reflections
and the bank was lined with crowds. Several barges and a myriad of small boats were moored up side by side, across the width
of the river.

‘Can’t go no further,’ said the boatman. ‘We’ll have to stop here.’ He shipped the oars, took a chunk of bread and a raw onion
from his pocket and began to eat his supper.

‘I’ve missed our evening walks,’ Beth murmured to Noah, wishing that they were on their own. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were coming
tonight.’

‘Sir Christopher has kept me very busy but I was determined to keep my promise to accompany you to the fireworks.’

Noah’s warm smile embraced her; she forgot her anxiety of the past days and looked forward to enjoying an evening in his company.

Joshua and Samuel began to chat to a party of young men in an adjacent boat and before long were sharing one of their bottles
of wine. The young men, full of high spirits, took it in turns to toast first Cecily and then Beth, their laughter ringing
out and mingling with the expectant chatter emanating from the other boats.

‘Cecily, behave yourself!’ admonished Beth as her sister flirted scandalously with her would-be suitors.

‘Let her be!’ murmured Samuel. ‘She may as well be happy while she can.’

‘What do you mean?’

Samuel rubbed his nose and shrugged. ‘She’s set her heart on Harry de Montford, hasn’t she? Well, Harry had a letter from
his father. He’s been told to stop wasting time and find himself a rich wife. At once. The plantation is going to rack and
ruin.’

‘Harry can’t go out and find himself a rich wife just like that! Wives aren’t stocked in the haberdasher’s you know.’

‘But he
has
found himself a rich wife. Not top quality, I grant you. Her father is a butcher.’ Samuel rubbed his finger and thumb together.
‘But there’s a large dowry for little Miss Plumridge.’

‘I see.’ It was hard for Beth not to feel relieved, although she dreaded the impending histrionics when Cecily found out.

Meanwhile, Cecily was having a fine time. She trilled with laughter and jumped up and down, rocking the boat so that Beth’s
shoes filled with dirty water, and then exchanged places with Noah so that she could be closer to the young men in the next
boat.

As the sun began its descent the excitement amongst the crowd grew. The fireworks had been set up on barges in the middle
of the river outside Whitehall and it was possible to see the outlines of three giant figures.

Noah nodded towards them. ‘I heard that the King planned for two female figures to represent Fecundity and Loyalty and also
one of Bacchus since the wine will be flowing tonight.’ There was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. ‘But, unknown to His Majesty,
Anglican supporters have modified the effigies to represent Anne Boleyn, Henry the Eighth and Queen Elizabeth. Then they started
a rumour that the figures are to be publicly blown up as a symbol to undo all that they did to give birth to the Church of
England.’

‘So the firework display may aggravate the tension?’

‘Very likely, especially if the wine is flowing.’ He glanced at the
men in the adjacent boat, who were drunk enough to be amusing but not yet drunk enough to be argumentative.

Beth spared a thought for Princess Anne. If the Princess was at home in her apartments in the Cockpit, it would be a bitter
thing for her to watch the celebrations, not only because her own baby was lost but because she so firmly believed that her
father had foisted a Catholic changeling upon the nation. In her eyes, her sister had been denied her right to the throne.
Beth shivered. What if the Princess was right?

The sky turned cobalt, faintly streaked with orange in the west. A sprinkling of silver stars appeared and a faint mist, damp
and clinging, began to rise from the river. Anticipation stirred amongst the crowd and snatches of song, rallying cries to
battle, floated over the water.