Garlands of Gold

by Rosalind Laker

  Yet Saskia knew that was not the case, for she soon noticed how often he alone worked on an intricate piece, even though he kept to the same workbench alongside all the rest of the carvers.

  Henrietta’s friend, Sir Arthur Garner, had been surprised by her request that a young female artist should be allowed access to the workshops. He warned of bad language and coarse talk that the girl would inevitably overhear, quite apart from the likelihood of being subject to unwelcome overtures. In her own mind Henrietta supported all his reasons why Saskia should not be there, but once her cousin had her mind set on something there would be no peace until it was fulfilled. In the end an agreement was reached whereby Saskia would have a chaperone with her at all times and Henrietta herself hired a reliable woman, named Dolly Hoskins, to keep guard.

  Dolly was sharp-nosed and sharp-tongued, plump-bosomed and wide-hipped. She took her duties seriously and sat knitting at Saskia’s side all the time.

  ‘Clear off!’ she would snarl at the lecherous men that came too near. To those who swore within hearing she would roar at them to keep their filthy traps shut, often forgetting that her own language was little better.

  Grinling always came for a word or two with Saskia and sometimes he sat with her and Dolly while the three of them ate their noontime bread and cheese or whatever else they had brought with them. One day Saskia asked him where in the docks she could see the ship with the figurehead that he had carved, thinking that her viewing of her likeness would have to bring whatever he felt for her out into the open, but he shook his head regretfully.

  ‘That ship sailed from here a couple of months ago. I believe she is docked at Plymouth at the present time.’

  She thought to herself that it might as well be docked on the moon for all the chance she would have of viewing it. Slowly she was coming to believe that Grinling would never speak of his innermost feelings for her. She should have remembered from what she had first learned about England in her English lessons that social gulfs were far wider and deeper in this country than in bourgeois Holland and could never be bridged. Clearly Grinling had taken on English views now that he was living here. Sadly and with agonizing heartache she began to resign herself to going back to Rotterdam with all her hopes crushed and her love for Grinling stronger than ever.

  Yet it pleased her that all the time she was gaining knowledge about his skill at carving. It was from the talk of other carvers that she learned he had brought tools from Holland that had not been seen before in England, some of which had been made to his own specifications. It was with these tools that he was able to bring a fresh and entirely new approach to the ancient craft of English carving.

  The day came when Bessie Gibbons decided she had enough drawings with which to convince her husband that Grinling was suffering hardship, and she should return to Rotterdam in good time for St Nicholaes day, for there were parties to arrange and much to do. Sadly Saskia began to supervise the packing. Yet unbeknown to her the course of her life was about to be changed. Henrietta knew that her maid, Amalia, yearned to go home to Holland again and it seemed only fair to let her go, but on condition that a secure future would be ensured for her. So she put forward her idea to her cousin one evening when they had just finished a card game together.

  ‘What would you say, Bessie,’ she began, ‘if I suggested that we exchange our personal maids? My Amalia longs so much to go home again and I like Saskia, who I’ve seen to be a quick and willing girl.’

  Bessie Gibbons sat back in surprise. ‘Well, exchange is no robbery as the old adage goes, and although Saskia is very clever arranging my hair it looks so much better when I’ve asked Amalia to wire it sometimes. I believe Saskia prefers a softer look, but,’ she added firmly, ‘no maid is going to dictate her wishes to me!’

  ‘Then you would be agreeable to my suggestion?’

  ‘Well, I have to admit that I should much prefer a more mature woman like Amalia to attend me. I find Saskia’s youth and beauty quite galling at times when my looking-glass shows yet another wrinkle and my neck is no longer as smooth as I would wish.’ She let her fingertips trail down her throat. ‘Wouldn’t you feel the same if she were hovering about you?’

  In spite of having been beautiful since childhood Henrietta was not vain. Like many handsome people, she had been secure in her own good looks, which had given her the self-confidence and social presence that guaranteed attention and respect at all times.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘It is Saskia’s youth and smiling ways that I find most agreeable. I would be willing to make the exchange if you and James would guarantee Amalia’s care into her old age, which is what I was prepared to do.’

  Bessie Gibbons gave a reassuring nod. ‘We already have Nanny Bobbins and will do the same for Amalia as we have arranged for her.’

  Henrietta nodded. ‘Then it is settled subject to our personal maids being willing to adopt this arrangement.’

  When the proposal was put to Amalia and Saskia it would have been impossible to say which of them was the most pleased. Amalia wept with joy that she was to return to her homeland and Saskia thought only of how Grinling would remain in her life and that with time he must surely speak one day of his feelings for her. For days it was as if her feet did not touch the floor, for she was buoyed up by happiness. She had been dreading leaving England, not knowing if she would ever see Grinling again. Now her immediate concern was for her mother’s chest left in the attic at the Rotterdam house.

  ‘Do not worry, Saskia,’ Mistress Gibbons replied. ‘It shall be sent on to you together with some boxes of mine in the direct charge of a guard employed for his honesty.’

  She gave Saskia a little rope of pearls from a trinket-box before leaving with Amalia. Saskia was delighted with them. She drew from her savings and had the rope shortened so that it fitted closely around the base of her neck in the fashionable style and had two of the spare ones made into drop-earrings.

  On the day that Bessie Gibbons departed with Amalia, a wad of drawings going with her, Saskia became resigned to the end of visits to the cottage and the docks.

  It was not long after her cousin’s departure before Henrietta discovered that her cousin had boasted to others about Saskia’s beautifying skills and what a sacrifice it was to be leaving her behind. It was not unusual for servants to be gossiped about, although it was usually to decry the standard of their work generally, but Bessie had intrigued her listeners, who admired her very fine complexion and she had always enjoyed being the centre of attention, especially since she knew she did not look her age.

  At first Henrietta ignored hints dropped by friends that they wished they had a clever girl like Saskia to make their beauty preparations. She tried to pacify their keenness by getting Saskia to make up little pots of various creams to be given as gifts, but their praise and their demands only grew. A hand cream was better than any other ever tried, complexions were enhanced to a glow by another concoction, which had also cured an unsightly rash on one lady’s face, and all agreed fingernails had never shone better than when polished by a buffer of the Dutch girl’s invention.

  Finally Henrietta, feeling that her generosity had been tried to its limits, asked Saskia if she would like to make extra beauty preparations to sell to this circle of ladies.

  ‘It would be a favour to me if you would use some of your spare time to produce whatever is requested,’ she said, her annoyance with Bessie and all the ladies concerned reflected in the strength of her tone. ‘I should expect you to meet all costs yourself, but I would give you permission to consult and deliver everything personally, because –’ here her voice rose to an almost hysterical pitch – ‘I do not want my house to be treated as a shop!’

  ‘I should be very pleased to do it, madam,’ Saskia answered quickly. ‘Please do not concern yourself. Nothing shall interfere with what I do for you.’

  ‘I am very relieved to hear you give me your word on this matter.’

  Within a few weeks Saskia had a regular d
elivery of her beauty aids, always having to enter a house by way of the servants’ entrance, although she was usually received in the boudoir where her advice was solemnly taken. Complexions did improve and hands unquestionably became more beautiful, simply because she did not use any harmful ingredients in her preparations, but it reflected well on her reputation.

  Winter had set in and Saskia’s sightings of Grinling became rare, usually only a glimpse of him when he arrived at Rushmere House for a social occasion. One afternoon in her free time she walked as far as the cottage, but it was closed and shuttered that day. She returned to Rushmere House to find that her chest of pots had arrived from Rotterdam and had been taken up to a storage room where it would be easily accessible.

  To Saskia’s joy the following week she met Grinling entirely by chance. It was a bitterly cold December day and she had been into an apothecary’s shop on Russell Street where she had bought some oil for her beauty creams. As she set off again she passed the windows of the popular Wills coffee house on the corner of Bow Street and did not know she had been sighted until Grinling called her name from its doorway.

  ‘Saskia!’

  She turned quickly at the sound of his voice. ‘Master Grinling!’ she exclaimed on a note of delighted surprise.

  ‘I glimpsed you going past. Are you in a hurry or do you have time to take a cup of coffee?’

  ‘I have time,’ she answered quickly. She would risk being late getting back to Rushmere House. In fact, she would risk anything to be in his company.

  He held the door for her as she entered and the delicious aroma of ground coffee-beans competed with the more pungent odour of tobacco from a large number of long-stemmed pipes being puffed on all sides. Apart from the pleasure of drinking coffee, men gathered in coffee houses to talk business and there were alcoves against the walls that gave some privacy. Yet it was not a male preserve, for there were also business women engaged in deep discussions, for it was not unusual for an intelligent widow to carry on her late husband’s shop or workshop and make a success of it. Other tables were taken by casual customers of both sexes who were there only to chat or gossip.

  As Grinling led her to one of the alcoves Saskia saw with a sense of disappointment that Robert was seated there, for she had expected Grinling to be on his own. He stood as she approached and she hoped he was leaving, but he was only being polite and sat down again as soon as she had taken her seat.

  ‘I can see you are well,’ he said, for her cheeks had been nipped to a rosy colour by the cold weather and her eyes were bright with excitement.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ she answered as a waiter poured coffee into the fresh cup that had been placed in front of her, but she turned eagerly to Grinling. ‘Is the Tintoretto carving finished?’

  ‘Almost. Just a final polishing. After Christmas I’ll let you know when I’ll be at the cottage. Then you can come and see it.’

  ‘I will indeed!’

  There was no lack of talk and laughter with Grinling present, but after a short while and to Saskia’s intense disappointment, he glanced at the wall clock and said that he had to leave.

  ‘My apologies, Saskia,’ he said to her as he rose to his feet. ‘I have an appointment that I must not miss.’ He put her hand to his lips in farewell, something he had never done before. ‘But I leave you in good company.’

  Then with a swirl of his coat-tails he left. Robert rested his forearms on the table as he regarded Saskia steadily.

  ‘Now you are left with me,’ he said drily with an eyebrow raised, which made her wonder uncomfortably if he had guessed at her feelings for Grinling even though she was sure she had never given herself away. ‘It gives me the chance to say something to you that is long overdue.’

  ‘Whatever can that be?’ she inquired cautiously.

  ‘It comes in the range of apologies for indiscretions,’ he said, his eyes holding hers. ‘There is one I owe you that is long overdue from when we were still in Holland. Somehow there has never been the right moment to voice it, but now is a golden opportunity.’

  Momentarily she was puzzled, but then she remembered the incident in the library and she looked sharply at him. He spoke quietly.

  ‘I took a liberty with you when you came to see me that day in the Gibbons’ library,’ he said evenly. Then amusement began to dance in his eyes and the corners of his lips curled upwards. ‘I was truly about to kiss you and I saw that you knew it, but would not have been pleased. So I beg your pardon most humbly and trust that I’m forgiven.’

  Having been in Grinling’s company she was still in an exceptionally happy and benevolent mood. ‘I accept your apology, Master Harting,’ she replied, wondering why she had ever been alarmed by him. He was just a flirtatious man who happened to be better-looking in a dangerous sort of way than most men.

  ‘So I’m forgiven?’ he queried softly.

  ‘Most certainly,’ she declared willingly. ‘Before I left Holland I already knew from Master Grinling’s letters received by Nanny Bobbins that you did look after him when he was first in England. Just as you had promised me.’

  He shook his head on a smile. ‘I did what I could, but it was virtually nothing. Grinling has only to enter a room with that generous interest in all he surveys and everybody wants to know him. Soon commissions for his work came along without any of it being through me.’

  ‘I’m hoping that he can soon be a success in his own right without working for others,’ she confided. ‘I know he wants his own important workshop one day.’

  ‘That day will come, I’m sure of it.’

  Feeling relaxed in his company for the first time, she decided to risk asking him the question that was constantly uppermost in her mind.

  ‘When we were still in Holland,’ she began, ‘I happen to know that he carved a portrait medallion of me. Do you know where it is?’

  He nodded. ‘I know exactly where it is.’

  ‘I should like so much to see it.’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t think either Grinling or Mistress Rushmere would approve of your entering a gentleman’s rooms in order to view it.’

  ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t,’ she agreed regretfully, but she was full of glee. So Grinling did have the medallion where he could see it daily. Somehow she managed to concentrate on Robert’s next words.

  ‘Recently I have drawn up plans for a new theatre that is to be built in London and some very large pieces of carving will be needed for the proscenium arch. I have already put forward Grinling’s name to Thomas Betterton, who is sponsoring the venture.’

  ‘Do you mean the famous actor?’ she asked, her interest gripped. Then, when he gave a nod, she added, ‘I have heard Mistress Rushmere speak of him. She has seen him in many plays.’

  ‘He is a great actor. Perhaps the greatest of all time.’

  ‘I’ve never been to a performance in a theatre,’ she said, ‘but in Holland I often watched bands of strolling players perform in the market place. It doesn’t surprise me that in spite of all the rebuilding of churches and houses and municipal buildings that a new theatre should be considered equally important. People need to enjoy themselves.’

  ‘I agree. As you know, throughout Cromwell’s strict regime every theatre throughout the land was closed. Travelling players were thrown into prison if they dared to perform and even dancing around a maypole and every other kind of harmless entertainment was banned. All hymn-singing in church was forbidden too.’

  ‘What a dreary place England must have been during those years of Cromwell’s rule. Nurse Bobbins told me once that although Master Grinling’s father liked to have everything Dutch in his Rotterdam house there was always a traditional plum pudding on Christmas Day. It was a patriotic English gesture of defiance, because Cromwell had banned it as a frivolous indulgence in England.’

  ‘That’s true. Those of us who were with the royal exile were lucky to be out of it and it gave me the opportunity to train to be an architect with an exceptionally brilliant
tutor. Now we have a King in his rightful place, a man that truly enjoys all the good things in life. In a way he is the patron of all theatres since nobody enjoys a well-performed play and other entertainments more than he.’

  She thought to herself that indeed the King was a friend of the theatre, for it was well known that he had even taken a mistress from its ranks, a copper-haired actress, named Nell Gwyn.

  ‘So now with the Restoration fully established it is as if Cromwell had never been,’ he added with a smile. ‘We can all sing our hearts out in the market place or on the stage or in church and anywhere else we fancy.’

  ‘I intend to do the same in the new St Paul’s Cathedral one day,’ she said confidently. ‘They say it is going to be beautiful beyond belief.’

  ‘That will be a long while yet,’ he answered seriously. ‘The final plan has not yet been approved by either the King or the clergy. I was at the site recently. It is still being cleared of the burned-out ruins, but of course nothing remains of the priceless library it housed or its beautiful altar silver and tapestries. So many treasures of every kind were lost during the Great Fire that can never be replaced.’

  ‘It was a tragedy in many ways,’ she said with a nod. ‘Did you see Master Wren there?’

  ‘Yes, he stood in the middle of the site in discussion with one of his assistants when something caught his eyes. I saw him pick up a piece of stone from the old cathedral and it was marked with the Latin inscription Resurgam, which means “I shall rise again”. He held it up for those of us around him to see as he declared that the cathedral would indeed rise again and these words of hope would be engraved at a selected place in the new cathedral where it could always be seen.’