Garlands of Gold

by Rosalind Laker

‘Indeed it is! I shall come for you next Saturday and you will get your chance to see the King as well as the play.’

  ‘Then I shall postpone the opening of my stall until the next market day,’ she said eagerly. ‘I don’t want to put off customers by closing early when they are still prepared to buy.’

  ‘That is sensible.’

  ‘What is the play called?’

  ‘The Empress of Morocco.’

  Robert left soon afterwards and she returned to her interrupted work, but she felt a little dizzy from the champagne and soon abandoned her task. Instead she went upstairs to decide which of her two silk gowns she should wear for such a grand occasion. Having made her choice, she decided she would also wear her mother’s ruby pendant, which she kept for special occasions in its original place in the Spanish strongbox.

  Then there came a knocking again on the door downstairs before it was opened.

  ‘You here, Mistress Marchand?’ a young man’s voice called. It was Rufus with his pots.

  ‘Yes!’ she answered, tidying a strand of hair as she came downstairs. A tall, thin young man with shoulder-length straw-coloured hair greeted her with a grin.

  ‘Good day, mistress. I’m here with the first lot of pots as promised.’

  She looked in the box he had set down on the table. ‘These are splendid!’ she exclaimed, taking up one and then another.

  ‘You like the colours?’ he inquired anxiously.

  ‘Yes! They could not be better. When shall you deliver again?’

  ‘At the end of the week.’

  ‘Good.’ She fetched her purse and paid him.

  After he had gone she washed every pot, not because they were not clean, but because she was always fastidious in preparing her products.

  She went through the same procedure two days later when a glass merchant delivered the little bottles she had ordered for her rose waters and perfumes. He had a well-stocked shop and was willing to let her have as many as she wanted at a discount.

  When the day came for the visit to the Dorset Garden Theatre Saskia’s feelings were mixed. She was looking forward immensely to the play and to seeing Grinling’s work, but it was almost certain that he would be there with Elizabeth and she had not seen them since their wedding day.

  Robert came for her in a coach. It was a recent purchase with a pair of fine horses and his coachman was in grey livery. It was indicative of his rising financial status as a result of the increasing demand for his work. Yet privately he was not satisfied. He wanted commissions from Wren, who could give him the kind of work that would allow him to give full vent to his imagination and his skills. But that pious gentleman still considered him too wild a fellow to be taken seriously. At a recent social gathering Wren had tapped him on the shoulder and given him some solemn advice. ‘You need a good wife to steady your ways, Robert. Come and see me when you have achieved that goal.’

  Now, as Saskia came out of her cottage, wearing a sea-green gown, a lace shawl about her shoulders and the glow of a ruby pendant at her cleavage, he knew very well whom he would marry if it were possible, but she was still lost in a girlish infatuation with Grinling.

  They chatted easily all the way into the city, she wanting to know which of his scenery designs had pleased him best and how the actors and actresses had taken to such an innovation. In turn he asked her how she was progressing in building up her stock and she also told him of the advance orders she had already received and that she believed Mistress Henrietta had forgiven her for leaving to start work on her own.

  ‘How do you know that?’ he asked with interest.

  ‘Because she sent her personal maid to ask me to continue making for her all the preparations that had suited her so well.’

  Saskia did not add what an unpleasant interview that had been. Martha had been in a savage rage in her humiliation at the errand she had been given and had flounced in and out of the cottage, slamming the door after her with such force that Saskia had feared for its hinges. But she did not want to think of that this evening. Ahead of her lay some exciting hours and now she had fully prepared herself for seeing Grinling again, determined that Elizabeth should never suspect her feelings for him.

  There was a large crowd streaming into the theatre when she and Robert arrived, but a footman had been instructed to watch out for them and they were escorted to their box, she glancing at the carved cornices and the abundance of ornamentation that was surely from Grinling’s hand. As they entered their box Saskia saw at once that Robert had kept the promise he had made that day in the coffee house, for the garlands of fresh flowers decorating the neighbouring box showed that it was for the King. She turned to him excitedly.

  ‘Thank you, Robert!’ She did not realize that it was the first time she had ever used his Christian name, but he noted it while at the same time realizing that it was only a very small step forward in their relationship.

  She sat down in the chair that the footman had placed for her and studied the carved, highly gilded proscenium arch that she knew to be Grinling’s work. A pair of bare-breasted goddesses, representing comedy and tragedy, held back looped drapery to reveal a central armorial shield flanked by cherubs and all surrounded by flowers, foliage and fruit. She saw that it was not his best work, with none of his delicate carving, but it was perfect for a theatre and gave dramatic pleasure to the eye.

  She looked down into the auditorium, the buzz of voices rising like a cloud. The seats were filling up very quickly and there was a brilliant sparkle from the jewels worn by both men and women. In the cheaper seats the noise was quite raucous and when the King suddenly appeared in the Royal box the cheer that came from that quarter drowned the applause from the rest of the audience rising to its feet to honour his presence.

  He was not alone, having several people with him, including one of his beautiful mistresses with a fine white bosom rising from her low-cut gown. Saskia had a splendid view of him, for the wall between the boxes was low, and she stood applauding him enthusiastically. She had long admired him for his mercy towards his treacherous enemies when he had returned home from exile. He had pardoned all of them, only signing a death certificate for each of those responsible for the beheading of his father.

  She had seen the King’s likeness portrayed often enough in drawings and on the coin of the realm and once in a painting, but now, seeing him in person, she thought him handsome, a thin black moustache adorning his upper lip. His strong features were set off by the black periwig flowing down over his shoulders while his height and broad shoulders matched Robert’s fine stature. There he stood, smiling and at ease, clearly as one with his people, and he raised his hand in acknowledgement of the cheers and the applause. Then, as he took his seat in a large gilded chair, others in the royal party grouped around him, he happened to glance into the neighbouring box. Robert bowed immediately and Saskia curtsied deeply, rising up again to see the King staring hard at her. She blushed, taken aback by his intense gaze, which reminded her of the way Robert had so often looked at her. Then the royal stare melted into a smile before the King turned his attention to the stage where the play was about to begin.

  It was then that Saskia noticed someone giving her a little wave from a box on the opposite side of the theatre. It was Elizabeth with Grinling. She felt an agonizing pang, but kept her smile and returned the wave. Then with a fanfare of trumpets the curtains of the stage parted and she became lost in the drama unfolding before her. At last she saw for herself that Thomas Betterton was indeed the great actor he was reputed to be, his voice powerful and reaching every corner of the auditorium. Yet this evening often the applause was as much for the swift change of scenery and the transformation of a setting as for the actors themselves.

  During the interval Elizabeth and Grinling came to Robert’s box and greeted them both happily. Saskia was pleased and surprised when Elizabeth embraced her.

  ‘I have missed you so much, Saskia!’ she declared. ‘We used to have such happy talks together and
you were always there when I needed you. Lucy is helpful and does her best, but it is not the same as when you were my confidante. Do visit us at La Belle Sauvage. It’s on Ludgate Hill. Grinling has carved some new works that I’m sure you would like to see.’

  ‘Yes, do that, Saskia,’ Grinling said encouragingly. Then he added with a grin, ‘I’ve sold the Tintoretto carving.’

  ‘That is good news,’ Saskia said, well pleased for him.

  Elizabeth gave him a loving look. The sum he had received for it had gone into the beautiful necklace of pearls and ear-drops that she was wearing. Surely no woman ever had such a loving and generous and passionate husband as he was to her. She suspected that she was already pregnant.

  ‘Now promise you will come, Saskia!’ she insisted.

  ‘Perhaps when I have opened my beauty stall,’ Saskia answered evasively. ‘I still have much to do.’

  ‘Then it will be as soon as you can manage it.’ Elizabeth turned to Robert. ‘You shall bring her to dine.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ he answered.

  A warning bell told that the interval was coming to an end. Elizabeth and Grinling hastily departed. Saskia gave Robert a very direct look as they took their seats again.

  ‘Why did you accept?’ she asked, thinking it strange that he was the only one who had guessed, probably from the start, her long-held love for Grinling.

  ‘Because Elizabeth needs a friend and she has chosen you,’ he replied succinctly.

  Momentarily Saskia’s voice broke. ‘What of my feelings?’

  ‘You’ve more stamina than you realize.’ The glow from the stage was illuminating his face, his eyes holding hers. ‘In the past ten minutes you overcame the first hurdle. It will get easier as time goes on.’

  Later in the cottage as she prepared for bed she tried to hope that some ease would come one day from the pain of still loving in vain. She remembered Nanny Bobbins’ warning given to her before she had ever seen Grinling and how lightly she had taken it at the time. Yet even with hindsight she knew that nothing could have been changed. Love dictated its own rules.

  Eleven

  By the time the stall was delivered Saskia had called on all the ladies, mostly acquaintances of Mistress Henrietta, who had previously purchased from her. With two exceptions, both women doubtful about her new circumstances, all the rest were agreeable to her calling to take orders for her preparations and then to deliver them. This was a great relief to her as she had feared losing their custom.

  Always when she was visiting she took the chance to buy a news-sheet, for England had gone to war again with Holland and it distressed her deeply that this should be happening with no end in sight. Personally she could not see why men could not talk out their problems instead of taking up arms, which always meant suffering for the innocent as well as those involved.

  On the morning when she set out her stall for the first time two sombrely dressed women, attracted by the rainbow colours of Rufus’s containers, came to see what she was selling and both made a purchase.

  She wanted male customers too and had made ready bottles of colouring used to match the fashionable arrow-pointed beards and thin moustaches to a favourite wig. It was something she had done for Grinling’s father during her time in the Gibbons household. She had also made up several different fragrances with a tangy aroma for men too, for they indulged in perfumes as much as women, the dandies among them also using cosmetics that whitened their faces and rouged their lips, but as the whitener contained lead she did not make it. Instead she had concocted a white powder, which when properly applied, would have the same effect.

  By the end of the first week she had done extremely well with her sales, but she realized that the appeal of her stall was in its unusually pretty colours and its unexpected appearance on its own at the wayside. She knew that regular passers-by would soon get used to her being there and interest would wane. Yet she hoped that those who had bought from her would return to purchase again simply because her wares suited them. As the days went by she noticed that although at first it was wives and sweethearts, who made purchases for their men, it was not long before a man came alone to make his own purchase.

  She had finished work for the day and taken the remainder of her goods indoors when Robert rode up and dismounted. She opened the door to him.

  ‘I’ve come on Elizabeth’s and Grinling’s behalf to invite you to dine with them tomorrow,’ he announced as he entered. ‘Just as we promised.’

  Her immediate thought was that it was he who had done the promising, but as tomorrow was Sunday she would not be opening her stall and had no reason not to accept the invitation. In any case if she did try to escape from the commitment Robert would see through it and goad her once again.

  ‘That’s very kind of them,’ she answered, her voice subdued.

  He had seen the flash of wariness in her eyes at the prospect of seeing Grinling yet again and he spoke out remorselessly.

  ‘You faced the worst on the night of the play. Let’s have no more dithering now.’

  She turned pink with annoyance. ‘You really know how to turn a knife in a wound!’

  ‘It should have healed by now,’ he said without pity. ‘You’ve accepted that you can’t have Grinling for a husband and so,’ he added on a softer note, his eyes becoming amused, ‘you can give me your time and attention. I’m young, strong and healthy with every chance of becoming rich one day. Am I not a good prospect?’

  ‘Not for me,’ she stated impatiently.

  ‘But that is not all I could offer if all goes well for me. At the present time I’m involved in a lawsuit to regain the country house that has been in my family for many years and it is where I was born. You would love it there. It lies in the heart of the hills we call the Sussex Downs and it would be difficult to find a more peaceful place anywhere.’

  In spite of herself her curiosity was aroused. ‘If it is your birthplace why have you had to go to court to regain it? The King restored all properties to their rightful owners when he came home after his exile.’

  ‘It is occupied by my stepmother, Caroline Harting. When my father fled with the King, taking me with him, she refused to go too, not wanting to give up her comfortable life at Harting Hall, and conveniently switched her loyalties to Cromwell and the Parliamentarian rule. Throughout his years of dominance she kept open house for him and his generals. There is even the suspicion that she betrayed two royalists.’

  ‘Then why should there be any problem for your inherent right to your birthplace?’

  ‘There is a complication. After Cromwell died and it became obvious that his son had none of his father’s ability to rule, there was soon a movement to restore the King to the throne. It was then that my stepmother declared herself to have been a royalist all along and it was no fault of hers that the two royalists, whom she had hidden in the cellars, were captured and executed. It is that claim that has kept her in the house where she betrayed my father in more ways than one. The case has yet to come to court and my lawyers are gathering evidence against her. In the meantime I have to be patient, which is far from easy.’

  ‘Indeed, yes. I understand how hard it must be for you. I wish you a successful outcome when the case does come to court,’ she said sincerely.

  ‘I thank you, Saskia.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Now I must go. Shall I tell Elizabeth that you accept her invitation?’

  ‘Yes, please do that for me.’

  ‘Then I shall call for you tomorrow.’ He paused as he reached the door. ‘How do you go about the delivery of your wares?’

  ‘On foot after I have closed the stall.’

  ‘But you should have a horse to take you around. I’ll look out for one.’

  She spoke firmly, ‘Thank you, but no, Robert. I have never ridden in my life.’

  ‘Then I’ll teach you.’ He turned away, the subject closed as far as he was concerned.

  From the window she watched him ride away before she turned back thoughtf
ully into the room. She had known from the start that it would be useful to have her own mount to cover the distances when visiting the ladies who ordered regularly from her. But the old stable at the rear of the cottage needed repair, something the landlord had overlooked, and the cost of riding lessons as well as buying a horse and feeding it was an expense that she would have to postpone for the time being. Yet she would give the matter more thought one day soon.

  The prospect of seeing Grinling and Elizabeth in their home did not stir jealousy in her, only regret that she still could not banish her love for him, no matter that she had fully accepted the situation. Since the wedding night it was as if a shield had gradually moulded itself around her heart, keeping in her love while protecting it against further anguish.

  She was ready and waiting when Robert arrived to collect her in his coach the following day. They talked all the way and when the city began to close about them Robert pointed out sights of interest. As the coach pulled up Ludgate Hill Saskia was surprised to find the area far busier than she had thought possible on a Sunday, but it had become clear to her that this was a city that never took rest. They arrived at La Belle Sauvage with a clatter of hooves, passing through the wide entrance into the cobbled courtyard. Two ostlers ran forward to take the horses’ bridles.

  When Saskia had alighted she looked up and around, amazed to find that this coaching inn was far larger than she had expected. It was several floors high and encompassed the whole of the expansive courtyard, each with a gallery along which people were passing, mostly travellers being shown by youths in fustian jackets to their accommodation or else making a departure.

  Saskia wondered how Elizabeth endured the noise, for coaches and other vehicles seemed to be coming and going all the time. Apart from the stamping of horses’ hooves and the rumble of wheels there were the shouts of the ostlers, drunken bellowing from those who had indulged too freely in the inn, the melodious cries of flower-sellers and the clamour of boys wanting to carry passengers’ luggage or run errands for them. The wealthier travellers themselves were an interesting sight to see, the men all in large hats with nodding ostrich feathers, bunches of ribbons on their shoulders and swashbuckling cloaks, their women equally spectacular. These were in sharp contrast to some other passengers soberly dressed in black with white collars, who looked disapprovingly at everyone else in the old Puritan way. Saskia wondered if those soberly clad men noticed how the younger women with them could not resist glancing enviously over their shoulders at those of their sex finely adorned in silks and velvets.