Joe had gone to find Acorn, whom he had left tethered to a distant tree, but the mare was still nervous and wild-eyed. Joe spoke to her soothingly all the way to the farm and then put her in the stables with a feed to quieten her.
Kate made Saskia rest in bed for two days. She was badly bruised and Kate, able to tell that the girl had cracked a rib and perhaps two, would have bound her up if the local wise woman had not always said it was better for nature to be left to heal ribs. At Saskia’s request Ted had searched in the debris for the chest that had held the containers she had treasured, but it had been completely destroyed and only a few blackened bits of broken china were all that remained of the collection. There was also no trace of the looking-glass that she had cherished.
She wept desolately when he told her. Although she tried to tell herself that since Grinling’s marriage had put an end to all her secret hopes it would be as well that she had nothing to remind her of her lost love. Yet the looking-glass had been a work of art in itself and she had treasured it so much.
Ted, not knowing the importance of the looking-glass attempted to console her in a clumsy, good-hearted way. ‘Don’t distress yourself over some old china and a looking-glass,’ he said, not knowing the significance of her loss. ‘Be thankful that you’re young and strong and can begin all over again.’
Going back downstairs he found his wife in the kitchen and told her how desperately upset the girl was over what he thought had probably been an old china tea-set lost in the flames.
‘As for the looking-glass that has been destroyed too,’ he said. ‘I told her that I believed you had one that she could have instead. Joe won it for you at that fair we went to last year.’
‘Yes, she can have it,’ Kate replied willingly. ‘Maybe if she came down here with me for an hour or two it would stop her dwelling on the loss of her nice little home.’
She took with her Saskia’s newly washed robe, for it had been mud-stained and grass-flecked from her fall. As she went bustling into the bedchamber, she held it out in front of her.
‘Put this on, Saskia, and come downstairs for a while. It will do you good to get out of this bedchamber.’
Saskia obeyed her listlessly, wincing at the pain in her rib. ‘You’re being so kind to me.’
‘Nonsense! We’re here on this earth to help each other.’
Kate assisted Saskia down the narrow stairs and settled her in a comfortable chair by the hearth. Immediately the house cat jumped up on to her lap and she smiled as she stroked it, rewarded by a deep purr. Kate, smiling at them both, dived into her apron pocket and brought out one of the little French pots that Saskia recognized immediately. ‘I found this in the pocket of your robe,’ Kate said, holding it up. ‘It’s lucky I didn’t break it when I plunged the garment into the suds.’
Saskia had uttered a low cry of joy and held out her cupped hands to receive it. She remembered now that she had been adjusting its position on the top of the chest of drawers just before she had caught the unusual sound outside. Without being aware of it she must have put the pot into her pocket as she turned to the window. There was not the least doubt in her mind or anybody else’s that the fire had been started deliberately. The only clue was the empty gin bottle that lay smashed against a large stone at which it had been thrown.
She gazed at the pot in her hands. How pretty this little survivor was in every way! How delicately painted with a pair of lovers meeting on a bridge in a rose garden! She turned her radiant face towards Kate. She had known in that instant of seeing the pot again that she would start to replace her heritage by building up a collection just as her mother had done. It was like a lifeline being held out to her and mentally she gripped it with all her strength. She would fill the gap that the fire had left in her life.
‘Now I can begin again!’ she exclaimed fervently.
Word of any fire spread quickly in these sensitive times and news of the destroyed cottage soon reached La Belle Sauvage. As a result Elizabeth arrived at the Robinsons’ farm, followed by Wilkins, her coachman, carrying a large wicker basket, to find Saskia seated by the hearth in the farmhouse kitchen. Elizabeth was not far from her time and was awkward in her movements as she embraced Saskia in sympathetic understanding before settling herself in a chair on the opposite side of the hearth.
‘Tell Wilkins where to find your room upstairs,’ she said. ‘I’ve packed a few useful things to tide you over for the time being.’
Saskia, still pale from pain, was lost for words at her friend’s thoughtfulness, for she was clad in one of Kate’s dresses that was too big for her and too short. When she attempted to express her thanks Elizabeth waved her words away.
‘You must let me know if there is anything else that either Grinling or I can do for you. He doesn’t know about the fire yet as he is out of town for a few days, having gone to measure up for carvings to surmount a number of doors in a house near Horsham. He will be devastated when he hears what has happened. I had a look at the remains of the cottage as I came by.’ She shook her head sympathetically. ‘Was nothing salvaged?’
‘Only my strongbox with my precious book of receipts in it, my mother’s ruby pendant and some money as well as – wonderfully – one of the little pots from my mother’s collection, which was in my dressing-robe pocket. All the rest were lost.’ She paused and then her voice caught in her throat. ‘The fire also destroyed a little circular looking-glass in a carved frame that Grinling gave me in Holland after he had come home from his travels abroad.’
‘My poor dear friend,’ Elizabeth said sympathetically, reaching out to take hold of Saskia’s hand. ‘You have lost so much, but I’m sure Grinling would carve a frame for another little looking-glass for you.’
Saskia shook her head determinedly. ‘No. You must not ask him. He is too busy to be troubled with any extra task. That gift always reminded me of a happy time in Holland, which was the reason why it was particularly precious to me, and a replacement would never be the same.’
‘I suppose not,’ Elizabeth answered. ‘I know if I ever lost that first beautiful necklace that Grinling gave me there could never be another to take its place. That is what happens when love or friendship is part of the gift, whether given or received,’ she added dreamily. Then she became practical, sitting upright in her chair as if about to take charge. ‘Is it too soon to ask if you have made any plans yet for the future?’
Saskia was thankful for a change of subject. ‘I have given the matter considerable thought. I shall have to return to service as a personal maid until such time that I can launch out on my own again. Kate Robinson has told me that her husband had no insurance on the old cottage and I doubt if he has it on anything else he owns. All I do know for certain is that he will not be rebuilding on the site and intends to grow crops there in future.’
‘You’ve spoken of your ultimate plan,’ Elizabeth pointed out, ‘but what are you going to do in the next week or two? You could have come to stay with us if we had another bedchamber, but we could take a room in the inn for you.’
‘There is no need,’ Saskia assured her. ‘I’m not exactly homeless. Kate and Ted are willing for me to stay on here for a while at a very modest charge. It will give me the chance to apply for employment and to start putting my life together again.’
‘I think I have a better solution,’ Elizabeth said, looking extremely pleased with herself. ‘It is entirely my own idea. Would you consider becoming the caretaker of a London house during the owner’s absence? You would have your keep and a small salary. It should give you the time you need to take stock and not rush too quickly through necessity into any position offered to you.’
Saskia’s face had lit up hopefully. ‘Oh, Elizabeth!’ she exclaimed in a choked voice, clasping her hands together. ‘Do you know of such a house? It is just the employment that I would welcome to see me through for a while.’
Elizabeth smiled, delighted that she was able to help in a practical way. ‘Then it can be arranged. How
soon do you think you will be fit to travel into the city?’
Saskia gave a little laugh. ‘I would go this minute for such a chance, even dressed as I am!’
Elizabeth giggled, glancing over her friend’s attire. ‘I have seen you clad more elegantly. Should we say in two days’ time?’
‘Yes! Who is it that owns this house?’
‘Robert. Did I not say?’ She did not notice that Saskia drew back warily in her chair. ‘He dined with us three days ago before setting off north again. He is overseeing the final stages of a great mansion in Yorkshire that he designed. At the start he moved his London staff to a house he is renting in the city of York. His housekeeper’s sister, who has acted as caretaker, left at a moment’s notice when her daughter sent for her, needing help in nursing a sick child. At present I am sending Lucy into the house every day to make sure that all is in order, but that is only a temporary measure as I promised Robert that I would find a reliable and honest replacement.’
‘Why doesn’t Robert close the house up?’ Saskia asked, still wary.
‘With winter coming? No, it would get cold and damp without habitation.’
‘Then he will be away for some time?’
‘Probably for weeks yet.’
‘Why is the position not for another housekeeper instead of a caretaker?’
‘Because there will be nobody for whom to housekeep. Does the thought of being on your own in the house concern you?’
‘No, not at all.’ Saskia was welcoming the thought of it.
Then, after Elizabeth had arranged to send her coach to convey Robert’s new caretaker to his house in two days’ time, Saskia asked what Grinling had carved recently. Elizabeth answered with enthusiasm.
‘He has just finished some carved doors with a theme of fruit and game for the dining room of a fine mansion owned by a young lord. They are extraordinarily beautiful.’
Saskia thought to herself that the timbers of England had met their master and were surging forth miraculously under his hands in a way never seen before. It was no wonder that Elizabeth’s voice throbbed with pride in her husband’s achievements.
‘Unfortunately,’ Elizabeth continued, ‘no money has yet come forward to pay for these grand doors. Such carving takes so much time and Grinling, who never owes a penny himself, believes in his practical Dutch way that agreed interim payments for such work should be paid promptly. Now when he sees he will have a struggle to be paid, he leaves the pea pods open in his carving of them and his clients or, if they live far away, their representatives come to see how the work is progressing – as they frequently do – it is his own special reminder that they have yet to settle an account with him.’
‘Does he often have to do that?’
‘It happens, because it seems that the richer the client the slower he or she is to pay. Grinling, in his blunt Dutch way, allows them sufficient time with the pea pods and then, if nothing has been forthcoming, he arrives grandly attired on the doorstep with his bill. That usually has the right result, because almost always more of his work is wanted.’
It was at that moment that Kate Robinson returned to the farmhouse with a chicken under her arm to pluck. She shook her head firmly when Saskia said she would be leaving in two days’ time.
‘You may have a fine coach, madam,’ she said with a bob of her knees to Elizabeth, ‘but it will still jolt up and down over the ruts and bumps of the roads, giving Saskia’s poor ribs a lot of extra pain. Another week’s rest here and then perhaps she will be ready to go off to London. And, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, it hasn’t done your condition any good to travel here today.’
‘But I had to come and see for myself that Saskia is recovering from the calamity that has befallen her,’ Elizabeth protested smilingly, although she accepted that Saskia’s departure should be postponed. She rose from her chair to depart and gave Saskia a light kiss on the cheek. Then, at the door, she paused to look back at her. ‘Get well soon, dear friend.’
Later that day when Saskia opened the wicker basket in her room she found two of Elizabeth’s gowns, one silk and the other woollen, folded neatly on top of the rest of the contents. She knew that both would fit her, for until Elizabeth became pregnant they were as slim and narrow-waisted as each other. There were also two petticoats and other underwear as well as a thick shawl. Elizabeth had also thoughtfully included bindings for certain times in a month, a brush and comb, a toothbrush that was of Saskia’s own design made up for Elizabeth to have in stock, and even a new pot of dentifrice that was another of her own products. She had never thought that she could be so pleased to receive the simple necessities of everyday living.
On the day Saskia left the farm Kate gave her a dozen new-laid eggs, a cooked chicken, two loaves freshly baked that morning, and a chunk of the farm’s own cheese.
‘Now I know you will have some nourishment to keep body and soul together until you can get to a market,’ Kate said, embracing her. Yet that was not the end of the Robinsons’ generosity, because when the coach arrived for her Ted came with a basket of good eating apples for her, some potatoes, a bunch of carrots and a cabbage. She was entrusting Acorn to Joe’s care for the time being, but went to pat and say farewell to her mare before leaving.
When the Gibbons’ coach came for her she waved to Kate and Ted from the window as she was borne away. Then she waved again to Joe as she passed him working in a field. When she went by the blackened ruins of her cottage she gave it one last look before turning her gaze away.
Soon the noise of the city was sweeping around her and she realized how much she would miss the peace of the countryside. With all the rebuilding that was going on everywhere London was a hive of activity with wagons delivering timber, bricks and much else with scaffolding encasing half-finished houses and municipal edifices. Now and again there was an explosion when gunpowder was being used to clear a site of burned-out ruins.
Harting House was grander than she had expected in a busy commercial area that had been well away from the reaches of the Great Fire. It was a large red-brick house with an elegant portico that faced directly on to the street. As the coach drew up at the entrance Saskia took from her purse the house-keys that had been delivered to her and went up the three steps to insert one into the dark red door with its brass knocker that was the face of a lion. She turned it and entered a spacious hall. A letter addressed to her lay on a side table and she recognized Elizabeth’s writing. It was brief, wishing her well in her new abode and telling her which bedchamber had been prepared for her.
The coachman had unloaded Saskia’s wicker basket and, as he had done at the farmhouse, followed the directions she gave him as to where to deposit it. Then, after bringing in the box of supplies, he left it on a bench in the kitchen before leaving the house and driving away.
On her own Saskia began an exploratory tour, guessing that it had been Lucy that had delivered the letter and was responsible for opening the shutters and preparing her room, which she had yet to see.
On the ground floor the rooms were large and well proportioned, which she thought would have attracted Robert into buying the house, and the decor of each was so pristine that Saskia was certain that total redecoration had taken place quite recently. Dust sheets covered all the furniture and linen bags enclosed the chandeliers, making them look like puddings ready for the pot, and even the paintings had protective cloths draped over them. There was the customary drawing room, a dining room with a long table that would seat twenty people, and a music room with a clavichord, a harp, some lutes and a fiddle in a case.
Robert’s study had tall cabinets with shallow drawers to hold plans and designs while a specially constructed drawing board on a stand with a racket to adjust to the right sloping angle showed where he did much of his work, a high stool set in front of it. Interested to see what painting he had chosen for his office, she lifted a corner of its covering and saw that it was a Dutch landscape with a windmill and a grove of trees by a canal, the s
ky full of that special light that seemed to rise from the water that veined her rich green homeland. He must have brought it home to remind him of the land that had given so many of his countrymen sanctuary during the days of the King’s exile.
The neighbouring room was Robert’s library, the walls covered by shelves of books, and although there was a large section devoted entirely to architectural subjects there were others on a variety of subjects as well as some works of fiction that she was already eager to read.
In the kitchen she found the list of instructions on the table left by the caretaker, whose place she had filled, and she read it through. Her duties included forwarding mail by special messenger to Robert’s Yorkshire address, keeping good fires stacked, supervising the two cleaning women, who would come once every two weeks, and, most important of all, making sure that the house was safely locked against intruders during absence.
Upstairs Saskia continued her inspection of the house. Entering the master bedroom, which would be Robert’s, she was astounded by the enormous width of the bed. Its dark oak canopy was supported by bulbous-shaped posts, all as heavily carved as the great bedhead. A long time ago in Holland Grinling had spoken of oak being the wood most used in English carving and here was an example of almost overpowering magnificence. As well as trees and birds and flowers being depicted there were lightly-clad dancing maidens, all with flowing hair that coiled out towards the virile young men in the carving. With its crimson and gilt brocade curtains that would shut out the world it was a bed for seduction and for passion and for birth.
Garlands of Gold Page 17