Garlands of Gold

by Rosalind Laker

  ‘I find that quite moving,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘What sort of man is Master Wren?’

  ‘He is a quiet man and deeply religious, which is why he has a strict rule for those working for him, whether they be assistant architects or humble bricklayers.’

  ‘What is the rule?’

  ‘It is that foul oaths of even a minor nature are strictly forbidden under the pain of instant dismissal if uttered on a holy site during the rebuilding of the cathedral or any of the churches.’

  She thought it commendable, but judging from what she had heard in the dockyard she thought it would be far from easy for those to whom rough speech was normal.

  ‘How do you know that?’ she asked.

  ‘It came up in a conversation I had with him, and in any case it is a well-known fact in building spheres.’ He did not intend to divulge what else Wren had said to him, but it had been a pious man’s fierce rebuke for a young man’s way of life that did not match his own.

  ‘Mend your ways, Harting,’ the architect had said. ‘Less wine, women and song and then I’ll consider your application to assist me, because I need skills such as yours for this vast project. But tainted hands have no place in the planning or the supervision of the church rebuilding that I would delegate in all the time ahead.’

  Robert was unaware that he frowned as he recalled the damning nature of those words. It still galled him that he was being denied the work he wanted above all else, even though he was busy enough with other commissions. Architects were in great demand during this present housing crisis in the aftermath of the Great Fire.

  ‘Do you think the King will visit this new theatre when it opens?’ Saskia was asking.

  Robert mentally dismissed the unpleasant interview and smiled at her. ‘Yes, I’m sure he will. Probably on the opening night, because Mr Betterton intends to appear in the first performance and he is an actor well liked by His Majesty.’

  ‘If there is a royal visit,’ she declared merrily, ‘somehow I shall be there to give the King a cheer when he goes inside.’

  ‘I have a better suggestion,’ Robert said, his eyes amused. ‘After our Merry Monarch has been seated in the royal box I’ll arrange that you have the next best seat in the house!’

  She laughed, not taking him seriously. ‘If that were possible, I should think it a dream come true.’

  ‘Then that shall be fulfilled on the opening night.’

  She drew back in her chair, suddenly realizing that their conversation was going along lines that were not of her choosing. ‘It has been fun to daydream, but real life is very different. Now I must go.’

  He rose to his feet with her. ‘I always keep my word.’

  For a matter of seconds she met his serious gaze and felt her mood change. How had she managed to forget for a short time that she saw him as a dangerous shadow on her life? She believed that almost from the start she had seen him as a barrier standing between her and the man she would always love.

  ‘Good day, Master Harting. I thank you for the coffee,’ she said, suddenly anxious to get away.

  He went outside with her and wished her well. As she hurried on her way he watched her disappear down the street. He was well aware that there had been fear in her eyes during those last few seconds before she had swung away and the reason puzzled him. Then he promised himself that one day he would see passion in her gaze, for he believed that when loved she would ignite like tinder to a flame.

  Saskia had just finished colouring the roots of Mistress Henrietta’s hair when there was a knock on the boudoir door. Wiping her hands, she opened it to take a silver salver, bearing a letter, from the manservant presenting it. Mistress Henrietta recognized the handwriting immediately. ‘It is from my darling god-daughter, Elizabeth! Now I shall hear when she will be coming to live with me or whether,’ she added anxiously, holding the letter briefly to her chest, ‘she has decided otherwise!’

  ‘I hope it is good news, madam,’ Saskia said sincerely.

  Mistress Henrietta broke the seal on the letter and almost at once gave an exclamation of joy. ‘She’s coming!’

  Saskia wiped away a trickle of colour running down the side of her mistress’s happy face. She had heard talk of the girl, whose mother had been Mistress Henrietta’s best friend from childhood. Sadly the woman had died when her daughter was only twelve years old, and her father had soon married again. His second wife had had no interest in children and least of all in her stepdaughter, whose presence she had bitterly resented.

  ‘After Elizabeth’s father passed away two years ago,’ Mistress Henrietta explained after she had read the letter through a second time, ‘I invited his widow to bring my god-daughter and stay for a while. I had thought to give them both some comfort in their grief. Elizabeth did benefit from being with me, but her wretched stepmother treated her so badly that I lost my temper and ordered the woman to depart, intending to keep the girl with me. But she would not allow it and I had no authority to go against her will.’

  ‘So how is the young woman able to come now?’ Saskia asked with interest.

  ‘Because her stepmother is marrying again, a wealthy alderman with a grand house full of servants, which means that in her jealous hatred of Elizabeth’s charm and vitality she does not want to be outshone in her new social circle. The girl has had a most ardent suitor herself, a young man with looks and money, but she has not accepted him.’

  Saskia began to look forward to Elizabeth’s coming almost as much as Mistress Henrietta, for it would be enjoyable to have someone else young in the house, even though it would mean a change of routine.

  ‘You shall wait on her, Saskia,’ Mistress Henrietta had said. ‘She has had no personal maid herself, simply because her disagreeable stepmother was so miserly with her. It is right that she should have someone as young as herself in attendance. I happen to know of an experienced lady’s maid in need of employment, who has been highly recommended and she will do me very nicely.’

  ‘But, madam,’ Saskia had protested, ‘I could wait on you both.’

  ‘No, that would never work.’ Mistress Henrietta made a dismissive gesture. ‘So often both Elizabeth and I would need you at the same time.’

  The new personal maid moved in next morning. She had served a minor member of the Royal family and had given herself airs ever since. Her name was Martha Cooper, her age forty and her attitude condescending towards Saskia, whose youth and beauty she immediately resented.

  ‘I suggest that we start as we mean to go on, Saskia,’ she announced. ‘You shall not borrow or otherwise interfere with any of my beauty powders, creams and so forth while I shall treat yours with the same respect. Neither shall you voice any criticism of my methods if they differ from yours, and I will keep equally silent for the same reason. We shall always keep to the realms of our ladies’ individual boudoirs unless there is a crisis when we might need each other’s help. Do you agree?’

  ‘Wholeheartedly,’ Saskia replied, wary of this woman’s attitude, but wanting to keep on agreeable terms. Remembering how Amalia had welcomed her on her first day she made the same offer. ‘Would you care to join me for a cup of tea?’

  Martha gave a gracious nod that a certain duchess, whom she had once served, might have envied. She was satisfied that she had put this girl in her place. ‘Yes, you may make me one, but I’ll drink it in my own room.’

  Saskia raised an eyebrow as she turned away and went down to the kitchen for hot water. She hoped that the new young mistress, whom she awaited, would not have such airs and graces when she came.

  Six

  Christmas was over and the holly and other greenery had been taken down on Twelfth Night when Elizabeth arrived. As a last spiteful act her stepmother had denied her the joy of the merry time she would have had at Rushmere House. All the servants immediately lined up in the hall as soon as the Rushmere coach, which had been sent to collect her, was seen coming through the gates. A few flakes of snow had begun to fall.

&nbs
p; Saskia was wearing her Nordland lace cap, which she was allowed to do on special occasions or in her free time. She tried to peer forward to see the new arrival as Mistress Henrietta swept out on to the steps to embrace her guest, but it was not until the girl entered the hall that Saskia had a full view of her.

  Elizabeth was fair-haired and of average height with a hand-span waist comparable to Saskia’s own. She was not pretty in the conventional sense, for her face was narrow with high cheekbones and her nose, although well formed with delicate nostrils, was long, but she had an impish look about her and her eyes were a hazelnut brown, thickly lashed under fine brows. Saskia knew already that the new arrival was her own age, their natal days only two months apart.

  ‘So you are to wait on me,’ Elizabeth said happily when Saskia was presented to her. ‘You are as pretty as your unusual Christian name. I’m sure I shall be very content in your care.’

  It was a good beginning. Saskia gave a silent sigh of relief as she bobbed a curtsy in acknowledgement.

  While Elizabeth took tea with Mistress Henrietta in the green drawing room Saskia unpacked the single travelling box that had been taken up to the guest’s boudoir. She was surprised at how little the young woman had brought with her. Carefully packed on top of the garments were two little Chelsea figurines of a shepherd and a shepherdess, which Saskia placed on the polished rosewood surface of a clothes press. A small jewel box went on the dressing table and a satin handkerchief sachet showed that it contained a slim packet of letters tied with a pink ribbon. Saskia smiled as she put the sachet beside the silver-backed hairbrush, comb and hand-mirror. It seemed as if Elizabeth had a sweetheart.

  She turned to face the door as she heard Elizabeth approaching and bobbed the customary curtsy as the girl entered.

  ‘You’ve put everything away already,’ the girl said with pleasure, glancing about the room.

  ‘There was only one travelling box. Have you more to be delivered?’

  Elizabeth shook her head. ‘No. In any case, I didn’t have very much in my wardrobe to bring with me.’ She wandered across to the clothes closet. ‘These figurines were a gift to me from my late mother and my stepmother thought them worthless, which was why she allowed me to keep them. Everything else that belonged to Mama was tossed out by her long ago, except valuable things, which she sold for her own benefit.’ She adjusted very slightly the position of the shepherdess. ‘I like them to look directly at each other, because I believe that they are in love.’

  ‘I’m sure you are right,’ Saskia agreed, liking the little fantasy.

  Elizabeth looked around again with a little sigh of satisfaction. ‘I stayed in this room when I was here a year ago. I had no idea then that within such a short time this dear house would become my home. In my early childhood I used to come with my mother on visits. We always had such a happy time. Now Godmother Henrietta wants me to make my arrival here today into the beginning of a new life for me.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be,’ Saskia said, smiling.

  Elizabeth clasped her hands together excitedly. ‘It is already arranged that tomorrow a seamstress will come with patterns and fashion-dolls for me to choose a whole new wardrobe! So I want you to advise me on what you think would suit me best.’

  Saskia raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘But surely Mistress Henrietta, who is a lady of fashion, would wish to help you choose?’

  Elizabeth shook her head firmly. ‘No, it is she who told me to discuss this matter with you. After all, although you are Dutch-born you have Parisian blood in your veins and therefore have a distinctive flair where clothes are concerned. My godmother said over tea that you even wear your apron like a fashion accessory. She thought you could advise me very well.’

  Saskia smiled and shook her head almost in bewilderment. ‘You have given me an alarming task, but also a very enjoyable one.’

  ‘Then I’m sure we shall do well together in this and everything else.’

  The seamstress and her two assistants arrived next morning. Saskia, remembering the fine silks that Mistress Gibbons had always worn, was pleased to find some of equal quality and beauty among those that were displayed with a rippling flourish. Henrietta had told Elizabeth to totally replenish her wardrobe with garments for every occasion, but the girl, unused to being allowed whatever she wanted and wary of the cost, would have chosen several times from a cheaper range if Saskia had not tossed those swatches aside.

  ‘Those would not drape so well!’ Lost in the pleasure of the task in hand, Saskia became equally dictatorial when it came to the choice of colours. ‘Not the orange patterned silk! Nor that harsh blue! Neither would suit your fine complexion, Mistress Elizabeth. This soft pink will enhance your colouring and so will this ivory silk.’

  The seamstress was displeased that her advice was not being sought, but she endorsed the various choices being made.

  As well as the silks there were also samples of delicate lace on display, for styles of the new gowns had also to be decided. It was fashionable to have wide necklines, which were cut low to expose the shoulders for evening, and most often were trimmed with a fall of beautiful and expensive lace. It was a good time for lacemakers, for their products had probably never been in such demand by both men and women in the fashionable world, and Saskia thought often of Nanny Bobbins whose beautiful work had graced Bessie Gibbons’ gowns and her husband’s cravats.

  By the time everything was decided Mistress Henrietta came to approve all that had been chosen and Elizabeth was still in a daze of excitement.

  ‘I thank you with all my heart, dear Godmother!’ she exclaimed, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘Saskia has been such a help as you said she would be. May I tell her now what her reward is to be?’ As the woman nodded with a smile, Elizabeth spun around to face Saskia. ‘I saw you holding one length of silk against yourself – not once, but twice! – and I could also see how it would suit you.’ She turned to the seamstress, who stood waiting while her assistants packed away all they had brought with them. ‘Now you may measure Saskia for a gown of the turquoise silk and another from the velvet swatch that my godmother selected earlier.’

  Saskia, scarcely able to believe what she had heard, flushed delightedly and curtsied deeply to Mistress Henrietta. ‘I scarcely know how to thank you, madam. You are most kind.’

  Saskia had had silk gowns in the past and still had two brought from Holland, but they had all been hand-me-downs from Mistress Gibbons, who had only worn silk or silk velvet, and every one of them had had to be taken to pieces to be recut and altered in order for the garment to fit her. Usually she had made a purse or a jacket from the surplus material, but this one would be to her exact measurements.

  ‘There is a reason,’ Mistress Henrietta replied. ‘I intend that you should chaperone Elizabeth at times when I choose to remain at home or I am otherwise engaged, and you will have to be suitably dressed. All I ask in return is that you put my god-daughter’s interests and welfare before all else in your attendance on her.’

  ‘I give my word gladly, madam.’

  Within a week the fittings took place. Saskia’s two gowns, one for formal day wear and the other for evening occasions, had no extra fripperies, but it would not have been seemly for her garment to outshine any of Elizabeth’s new gowns. In her unassuming way, Elizabeth rejoiced as much in Saskia’s new garments as in her own. Fittings took place within the week and the finished garments were delivered soon afterwards. Mistress Henrietta had already sent out invitations to a ball at which Elizabeth could renew acquaintances from past visits.

  Saskia found Elizabeth a pleasure to look after, for she was level-headed and undemanding, appreciative of everything done for her. An intelligent girl and a happy one, she seemed to glow from within at this new turn her life had taken.

  One afternoon, when Elizabeth had given Saskia a letter to post, it was also the chance to set out on a brisk walk. She had a letter to send herself, for she wrote jointly to Nanny Bobbins and Vrouw van Beek, w
ho had formed a friendship after her departure. Her foster mother, guessing how much she would be missed, had begun calling on the old nurse and they enjoyed each other’s company.

  After dispatching the letters Saskia set off on her walk. It was a crisp, cold January day and the sky very cloudy as if snow might be in the offing, but she had a warm, hooded wrap and a muff for her hands that Mistress Henrietta had given her at Christmas. She had not seen Grinling since the day they had drunk coffee together with Robert and, inevitably, she turned her steps in the direction of the cottage, hoping he would be there.

  It was as Saskia approached the cottage that she saw a gentleman, cloaked and wearing a wide-brimmed hat, following the road that went past it. She recognized him, for he was a familiar tall, thin figure in the neighbourhood. He was Master John Evelyn, a distinguished gentleman who lived in a great mansion not far away. Quite often she had seen him striding along while she was on her own walks and she was sure that he believed as she did that clean fresh air was good for the lungs.

  When he came level with the cottage he would have passed it without a glance as no doubt he had done many times before, but at that moment the clouds broke and some pale winter sunshine shone through to pierce the window and show movement within. As Saskia watched she saw that he glanced involuntarily towards the sudden illumining of the interior and then he halted abruptly to stand staring at whatever he had glimpsed happening within. Then with a sudden spurt of speed he approached the cottage door and knocked on it briskly with the head of his cane.

  Saskia came to a standstill. She saw Grinling open the door to Master Evelyn, who entered almost deferentially. The door closed after him and Saskia, hoping that the wealthy man wanted some carving done at his home, resigned herself to waiting until he left again. It was too cold to stand still and she walked up and down for at least half an hour before the visitor departed. He was smiling as he went. Grinling, about to close the door again, spotted her and, grinning widely, waved for her to come in. She saw as soon as she entered that it was the Tintoretto carving that lay on the workbench and a final polishing had been taking place.