The Painter's Apprentice (5 page)

‘Mama always did say that she turned with the prevailing wind,’ said Beth. ‘And you can be absolutely sure she’ll mention
that her husband has a place at Court within the first twenty minutes of conversation.’

‘Sir George is her fourth husband,’ Kit said, ‘and the first three are dead. I can’t help wondering how long poor Sir George
will last.’

Noah raised his eyebrows. ‘She sounds terrifying.’

Beth held out her hands to inspect the verdigris paint ingrained around her nails. ‘I’ve been told to wash before I grace
her ladyship with my presence.’

Twenty minutes later Beth entered the little parlour to find Lady Arabella holding court.

‘There you are, at last!’ she said. ‘I hear Noah is an architect and I’ve been telling him about the renovations I wish to
make to our country house in Windsor. A larger and more draughty old property would be hard to find anywhere but Sir George
is uncommonly fond of the place. And I suppose it is very convenient when the Court is at Windsor.’

Beth tried to keep a straight face but was nearly undone when she saw Kit give Noah a sharp nudge in the ribs. ‘And is the
King currently at Windsor?’ she asked.

‘Whitehall.’ Lady Arabella smiled fondly at the twins, sitting one on each side of her. ‘Sir George has whispered a word in
the right quarters and Joshua and Samuel have also been found a place at Court.’

Cecily, sitting on a footrest at Lady Arabella’s feet, gasped and clasped her hands to her breast. ‘Court!’ She turned to
the twins, her eyes wide. ‘You’ll see the King!’

‘They are to present themselves next week,’ said Lady Arabella, a self-satisfied little smile upon her painted lips.

‘How very interesting,’ murmured Susannah, offering her a slice of cake. ‘My father would have been proud of them.’

‘Your father?’ Lady Arabella looked momentarily confused. ‘Cornelius? What does he have to do with it?’ She took a nibble
of her cake and wrinkled her nose in disgust.

‘Cornelius was the twins’ father, after all!’

Arabella pursed her lips. ‘It will do Joshua and Samuel no good at all for it to be known that they began their lives above
a lowly apothecary shop. We’ve come a long way since then and I have no wish to be reminded of those dreadful times.’

Beth saw the warning glint in her mother’s green eyes and hastily changed the subject. ‘And to what do we owe the honour of
your visit, Lady Arabella?’

‘We left Windsor late and there was a question as to whether we would arrive back at Chelsea before dark. Joshua suggested
we break the journey here because he fancied to ask if you and your sister would care to accompany us to a concert.’

‘At Stationer’s Hall,’ said Joshua, ‘near Ludgate, in the city. It’s St Cecilia’s day tomorrow and Dryden has written an ode
which has been set to music by Draghi. And there will be refreshments after the festival of music.’

Cecily jumped to her feet and snatched up her mother’s hands. ‘Oh, Mama, do say we can go?’

Beth felt a tingle of excitement run down her back. She’d not been to London since she was a child.

Her mother turned to her. ‘Beth?’

‘I should enjoy it very much.’ Even if it meant spending time in Lady Arabella’s company.

‘Then I see no reason why you shouldn’t go.’

‘Thank you, thank you, Grandmother!’ Cecily impulsively ran to Lady Arabella and kissed her powdered cheek.

Arabella looked surprised but gratified. ‘I’d prefer you to address me as “Lady Arabella”, Cecily, unless we are alone with
the family. “Grandmother” makes me sound like Methuselah’s wife. We shall return to my house in Chelsea by boat and change
there before continuing our journey in Sir George’s new carriage.’ She turned to Noah. ‘Perhaps you would care to join us?
It would afford us further opportunities to discuss the renovations I intend to carry out at Windsor.’

Noah bowed. ‘I should be delighted.’

‘That’s settled then. I will go to my bedchamber to rest now. Cecily, my dear, will you show me the way? And Susannah, I do
not care to take my supper with the inmates.’ She shuddered. ‘No, I shall have it in here on a table by the fire and very
much hope that I shall not be obliged to endure any more of that dreadfully stale cake.’

The party of concert-goers travelled in Sir George’s fine, velvet-lined carriage, bowling along from Chelsea at a cracking
pace. The iron-shod wheels thundered along the rutted road, spitting out stones and clods of mud at any unfortunate passers-by.
The coachman and his boy wore smart blue liveries while the horses, matched greys, had their manes and tails tied up with
sky-blue ribbons.

Beth, queasy from the motion and pressed tightly between Noah and Cecily, wondered how any traveller could endure a journey
of several days.

Cecily, barely able to contain her excitement, bounced up and down and exclaimed in delight as she peered out of the windows
at each new spectacle they passed.

‘The country mouse comes to town!’ said Joshua, reclining back in his seat next to his mother and affecting world-weary boredom.
As usual, the twins were dressed identically. Today they were elegant in ochre brocade waistcoats worn under topaz coats with
brass buttons.

Cecily took no notice of him. ‘Is that Westminster Abbey? It’s so large our own church of St Botolph would fit inside it a
hundred times! This is my first visit to London, you know,’ she said to Noah.

‘So you said, at least a dozen times.’ Noah smiled at her in amusement.

Lady Arabella sighed. ‘I’ll thank you to stop treading on my new shoes, Cecily. I had thought your mother might have taught
you manners more befitting to a young lady.’

‘I beg your pardon, Grandmother.’

‘I do hope you aren’t going to disgrace me this afternoon?’

Cecily remained chastened for at least three minutes until Joshua pointed out Whitehall Palace and she squealed in delight
as she stood up to press her nose to the window.

‘Sit down, Cecily!’ said Beth. ‘The coach is swaying enough without you making us seasick with your hopping up and down.’
She pressed a lavender-scented handkerchief to her lips and sucked on a piece of candied ginger, hoping desperately that they
would soon reach their destination.

Cecily managed to sit still while they progressed past Charing Cross and then along the Strand.

‘We’re coming up to Fleet Street very soon,’ said Noah, ‘where Grandfather Cornelius had his apothecary shop.’

Lady Arabella sniffed and her lips tightened into a thin line.

The carriage began to slow its pace since there was a great deal more traffic now: drays and horsemen, carts and costermongers.

Beth leaned forward to look outside, wondering where the apothecary shop had been. Except for one half-timbered building,
all the houses and shops were newly built of brick and stone. ‘What a shame almost all the buildings burned in the Great Fire,’
she said. ‘I should have loved to see the old apothecary shop.’

‘It was a mean little place with a narrow front,’ said Lady Arabella. ‘And I’ll thank you not to mention it to any of my acquaintances
this afternoon.’

‘Don’t your fine friends know you came originally from Shoreditch?’ enquired Beth pointedly.

Lady Arabella gave her a hard stare. ‘Unfortunately, as you grow older you become more and more like your mother, Beth.’

The carriage became caught up in the press of traffic and finally jerked to a standstill behind a bottleneck of hackney coaches
and a fishmonger’s cart.

Samuel pulled down the window glass.

Instantly their ears were assailed by the sound of angry shouting and the high-pitched squealing of pigs. Somewhere a dog
barked itself into a frenzy and the hoarse, repetitive call of a knife-grinder carried over the whole appalling cacophony.

Beth put her hands over her ears; she had never heard such a racket.

‘Welcome to the city!’ said Noah.

Samuel slammed the window shut but not before the carriage was filled with the eye-watering odour of pig dung, stale fish
and a swirl of sulphurous sea-coal smoke. ‘The pigs being driven to market are causing the delay,’ he said. ‘They’ve upset
a fruit stall and the swineherd is quarrelling with the greengrocer.’

‘I told you we should have come by the river, Mother,’ said Joshua. ‘The streets are always hideously congested.’

‘And ruin my new shoes with mud from the public stairs at Paul’s Wharf?’ his mother replied.

‘Sir Christopher Wren told me that several architects drew up plans for a new city of London after the Great Fire,’ said Noah,
‘with fine, wide streets, which would have solved these continual obstructions. What a pity nobody listened to their suggestions.’

Outside, the squealing of the pigs reached a climax and the swineherd bellowed at the top of his voice while he used his stick
to prod his charges in the right direction.

All at once the coach was rocked violently from side to side as the horses reared up, whinnying in terror as the pigs hurtled
past.
Lady Arabella let out a scream and snatched for the hanging strap.

At last some semblance of order was restored and the carriage jolted forward over the cobbles again, resuming its swaying
progress towards Ludgate Hill.

There was a long queue of carriages outside Stationer’s Hall and the coachman had difficulty in finding a convenient place
to stop. Finally he pulled up a little distance away, much to his mistress’s disgust.

‘I didn’t arrive in Sir George’s new carriage for no one to see it,’ said Lady Arabella as the coachman handed her down. ‘Noah,
you may take my arm.’

The street was crammed with a chattering crowd, all richly dressed. Beth thought she has never seen so much lace and silk
and was startled to see the number of ladies who painted their faces unnaturally white and whose lips were as improbably red
as a cherry. She felt very plain in her best Sunday dress; like a dove amongst richly feathered peacocks. Cecily was uncharacteristically
quiet as, wide-eyed, she took it all in.

For herself, Beth was simply relieved to be standing on steady ground again.

‘This is very grand,’ she whispered to Cecily as they entered Stationer’s Hall. The ornately embellished ceiling was at least
twice the height of the great hall at Merryfields. The entrance screen was heavily carved and the walls oak-panelled, while
tall windows allowed the last of the November afternoon light to penetrate.

The milling mass greeted each other with loud exclamations of delight as they postured and preened to their friends and acquaintances.
The noise level meant that everyone had to shout and the air was thick with perfume, pomades and perspiration.

On the other side of the hall Beth noticed a young woman with blonde hair waving frantically at Arabella and trying to force
her way past an exceedingly stout man in a green velvet coat. ‘I think
that lady is trying to attract your attention,’ she said to Lady Arabella.

‘Oh, it’s Harriet! Joshua, Samuel, fetch your sister to me, will you?’

The twins shouldered their way through the crowd and pushed the fat man aside to allow Harriet through. He blinked when he
saw the two indistinguishable young men and stared after them with his mouth open.

Joshua winked at him, then caught Samuel and Noah by the elbows and led them off.

Harriet, fine boned but with an unfortunately sharp little nose, went straight to Lady Arabella and kissed her perfunctorily
on the cheek, completely ignoring Beth and Cecily. ‘Mama, I have the most exciting piece of news for you!’ Her eyes gleamed
like a cat with a particularly tasty piece of fish. ‘Do tell me you haven’t heard yet because I am determined you shall hear
it from my lips first of all.’

‘What news is that, my dearest?’

‘Well,’ Harriet lowered her voice. ‘I was speaking with the Duchess of Norfolk just now and she has it on the highest authority
…’

‘Do tell!’

‘The Queen is expecting a happy event!’ Harriet, her face positively glowing with self-importance, wasn’t disappointed in
her mother’s reaction.

‘Never!’ Lady Arabella’s eyes widened. ‘After all this time!’

‘Incredible, isn’t it? She went to take the waters at Bath this autumn and, of course, the King made a pilgrimage to Holywell.
It seems to have done the trick.’

Lady Arabella shook her head in delighted disbelief. ‘Who would have thought it? Just wait until I tell Sir George. What marvellous
news! If the King has a son this could make a very great deal of difference to our fortunes.’

‘Mama, I must go. I can see my husband looking for me and I
cannot endure one of his black moods if I am away from his side for too long.’ Harriet kissed her mother again and pushed
her way through the throng towards an elderly man of small stature who was watching her with a scowl on his face.

‘How very rude!’ whispered Cecily to Beth.

‘Not many people in this country will be as pleased as Lady Arabella,’ said Beth

‘What do you mean?’

‘Cecily! You’ve heard Mama and Father talk about how the King wants to turn us all into papists.’

‘Would it really matter?’

‘Of course it would! Look at the religious massacres in France. King Louis has no parliament and does whatever he wants. If
King James follows suit Catholics would hold all the important positions here and the Protestants would be persecuted. Imagine
if Merryfields was confiscated and given to a papist.’

Cecily’s eyes opened wide in horror but then the Master of Ceremonies called for order and the milling crowd was persuaded
to find their seats in order for the concert to begin.

Noah and the twins reappeared, together with a darkly handsome companion lavishly dressed in a velvet coat the colour of ripe
plums and decorated with gold lace.

Noah introduced them to his friend, Harry de Montford, who bowed low and kissed Beth’s and Cecily’s hands.

‘How very delightful to make the acquaintance of two such charming young ladies,’ he said.

The intensity of his gaze made Beth tongue-tied but she was saved from embarrassment as it was time to sit for the performance.

Cecily nudged Beth in the ribs. ‘I like the look of Noah’s friend,’ she whispered. ‘Have you ever
seen
a man so fine-looking?’

Beth frowned at her. ‘Shh! The concert’s beginning.’

The choir and the musicians filed into the hall and on to the dais. There was a momentary hush, someone coughed and scraped
a chair
across the floor and, finally, it was quiet. Then the liquid notes of a flute broke the silence, soon joined by the other
instruments.

As the music flowed and swelled around her, Beth’s thoughts kept returning to the implications of Harriet’s news. If what
she’d said was true and the Queen was pregnant, it could affect every person in the land. A son born to Roman Catholic Mary
of Modena would take precedence over Anglican Princess Mary, the current heir. In that case there would be no restraining
the King in his mission to convert every one of his subjects to Catholicism. And who knew what atrocities would take place
if the King’s zeal overcame his moderation?

A clear soprano voice as pure as spring water broke into Beth’s reverie, soaring up to the roof and filling the hall with
sweetness. Cecily’s hand crept into Beth’s and she turned to smile tremulously at her as the final notes drew to a close.

After a moment’s silence tumultuous applause and the thunder of stamping feet reverberated around the concert hall. A buzz
of conversation broke out as the audience stood up and moved towards the refreshments.

Lady Arabella waved her fingers at a dozen people and then abandoned her charges when she flitted away to gossip to an imposing
dowager in puce silk, whose face was adorned with black patches cut in the shapes of a moon and stars.

Noah came to lead Beth and Cecily through the throng towards Harry de Montford. ‘I believe I mentioned that I travelled to
England in Harry’s company?’ he said.

Cecily fluttered her eyelashes. ‘How very exciting that must have been, Mr de Montford.’

‘For me or for Noah?’ asked Harry. He raised one black winged eyebrow, a wicked gleam in his eye. ‘Noah was indisposed for
the beginning of the journey and spent the rest of it watering his precious trees. Still, I managed to win a few games of
cards with some of the other passengers; enough to pay for my passage, at least.’

‘How very clever of you!’ said Cecily, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

‘Wasn’t it?’

Beth thought that his voice was as smooth as the honey syrup her mother made but with an aftertaste of something dangerous;
nightshade perhaps? ‘And are you enjoying your visit to London, Mr de Montford?’ she asked.

‘Certainly I am, Miss Ambrose. There are some very lovely sights to see.’ He looked her up and down with admiring eyes and
then glanced at Cecily. ‘Very lovely, indeed!’

Discomfited, Beth felt her cheeks become warm.

‘Take no notice of Harry,’ said Noah. ‘He can’t resist a pretty lady.’

Beth was saved from further awkwardness when Samuel brought her a glass of burnt wine. ‘Did you enjoy the music?’ he asked.

She gasped as a man pushing through the throng jogged her elbow, causing her to spill her drink. As she mopped at the stain
on her skirt, Samuel began to chat to Noah and she couldn’t help overhearing the loud conversation of a group of men a few
feet away.

‘The Queen’s priests have predicted it will be a boy.’

‘Papist babble!’

‘Well, they have at least a fifty per cent chance of being right.’ The speaker began to honk with laughter, his jowls shaking
in mirth.

One of the party, a dour-faced man in a grey wig, said, ‘You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face, Farnham, if there
is a papist prince. When all the high-ranking positions go to the Roman Catholics you’ll lose your place, like as not. And
you, Mannington,’ he turned to a plump man stuffed into a blue brocade coat, ‘how will you feel if Mannington Hall is confiscated
and given to some trumped up papist who has caught the King’s attention?’

The man recoiled. ‘That would never happen!’

‘Wouldn’t it? Remember all the confiscations during the civil war?’

Then Beth noticed Cecily walking away on Harry de Montford’s arm and she heard no more of the conversation. The way Harry
de
Montford looked at Cecily made Beth uneasy; she began to push her way through the crowd to follow them. Noah, however, reached
Cecily first and firmly led her back to her sister.