She lay without moving until the darkness was complete, and she heard an owl hoot in the top of the beech tree. Then she stood up and crept through the woods, starting and trembling at every rustle and scurry of the small night creatures.
She did not leave the cottage again for some days. During the day she immersed herself in her father's books. There was one in particular that fascinated her and she read it from the first page to the last, then started again at the beginning. The title was In Darkest Africa. The tales of strange animals and savage tribes enchanted her, and wiled away the long days. She read of great hairy men that lived in the tops of the trees, of a tribe that ate the flesh of other men, and of tiny pygmies with
a single eye in the centre of their foreheads. Reading became the opiate for her fears. One evening she fell asleep at the kitchen table, her golden head on the open book, the flame fluttering in the lamp.
The glimmer of the light showed through the uncurtained window, and from there through a chink in the hedge. Two dark figures, who were passing on the road, stopped and exchanged a few hoarse words. Then they crept through the gate in the hedge. One went to the front door of the cottage while the other circled round to the back.
"Who are you?"
The harsh bellow brought Louisa awake and on her feet in the same instant. "We know you're in there! Come out now!"
She darted to the back door and struggled with the locking bar, then threw open the door and dashed out into the night. At that moment a heavy masculine hand fell on the back of her neck, and she was lifted by the scruff with her feet dangling and kicking as if she were a newborn kitten.
The man who held her opened the shutter of the bullseye lantern he carried and shone the beam into her face. "Who are you?" he demanded.
In the lamplight she recognized his red face and bushy whiskers. "Jan!" she squeaked. "It's me! Louisa! Louisa Leuven."
Jan was the van Ritters' footman. The belligerence in his expression faded, slowly replaced by amazement. "Little Louisa! Is it really you? We all thought you must be dead with the rest of them."
Aw days later Jan travelled with Louise to Amsterdam in a cart containing some of the salvaged possessions of the van Ritters family. When he led her into the kitchens of the Huis Brabant the servants who had survived crowded round to welcome her. Her prettiness, her sweet manner and sunny nature had always made her a favourite in the servants' quarters, so they grieved with her when they heard that Anne and Hendrick were dead. They could hardly believe that little Louisa, at just ten, had survived without her parents or friends, and had done so on her own resources and resolve. Elise the cook, who had been a dear friend of her mother, immediately took her under her protection.
Louisa had to tell her tale again and again as news of her survival spread, and the other servants, the workers and seamen from the van Ritters' ships and warehouses came to hear it.
Every week Stals, the butler and major-domo of the household, wrote a report to Mijnheer van Ritters in London, where he had taken refuge
from the plague with the remainder of his family. At the end of one report he mentioned that Louisa, the schoolmaster's daughter, had been rescued. Mijnheer was gracious enough to reply, "See that the child is taken in and set to work in the household. You may pay her as a scullery maid When I return to Amsterdam I shall decide what is to be done with her."
In early December when the cold weather cleansed the city of the last traces of the plague, Mijnheer van Ritters brought home his family. His wife had been carried away by the plague, but her absence would make no difference to their lives. Out of the twelve children only five had survived the pestilence. One morning, when Mijnheer van Ritters had been over a month in Amsterdam, and had attended to all the more pressing matters that awaited his attention, he ordered Stals to bring Louisa to him.
She hesitated in the doorway to Mijnheer van Ritters' library. He looked up from the thick leather bound ledger in which he was writing. "Come in, child," he ordered. "Come here where I can see you."
Stals led her to stand in front of the great man's desk. She curtsied to him, and he nodded approval. "Your father was a good man, and he taught you manners." He got up and went to stand in front of the tall bay windows. For a minute he looked out through the diamond panes at one of his ships, unloading bales of cotton from the Indies into the warehouse. Then he turned back to study Louisa. She had grown since last he had seen her, and her face and limbs had filled out. He knew that she had had the plague, but she had recovered well. There were no traces on her face of the ravages of the disease. She was a pretty girl, very pretty indeed, he decided. And it was not an insipid beauty: her expression was alert and intelligent. Her eyes were alive, and sparkled with the blue of precious sapphires. Her skin was creamy and unblemished, but her hair was her most attractive attribute: she wore it in two long plaits that hung forward over her shoulders. He asked her a few questions.
She tried to hide her fear and awe of him, and to answer in a sensible manner.
"Are you attending to your lessons, child?"
"I have all my father's books, Mijnheer. I read every night before I sleep."
"What work are you doing?"
"I wash and peel the vegetables, and I knead the bread, and help Pieter wash and dry the pots and pans, Mijnheer."
"Are you happy?"
"Oh, yes, Mijnheer. Elise, the cook, is so kind to me, like my own mother."
"I think we can find something more useful for you to do." Van Ritters stroked his beard thoughtfully.
Elise and Stals had lectured Louisa on how to behave when she was with him. "Remember always that he is one of the greatest men in all the land. Always call him "Your Excellency" or "Mijnheer". Curtsy when you greet him and when you leave."
"Do exactly what he tells you. If he asks a question, answer him directly, but never answer back."
"Stand straight and don't slump. Keep your hands clasped in front of you, and do not fidget or pick your nose."
There had been so many instructions that they had confused her. But now, as she stood in front of him, her courage returned. He was dressed in cloth of the finest quality, and his collar was of snowy lace. The buckles on his shoes were pure silver, and the hilt of the dagger on his belt was gold set with glowing rubies. He was tall and his legs in black silk hose were as shapely and as well turned as a man half his age. Although his hair was touched with silver, it was dense and perfectly curled and set. His beard was almost entirely silver, but neatly barbered and shaped in the Vandyke style. There were light laughter lines around his eyes, but the back of his hand as he stroked his pointed beard was smooth and unmarred by the blotches of age. He wore an enormous ruby on his forefinger. Despite his grandeur and dignity his gaze was kind. Somehow she knew she could trust him, just as she could always trust Gentle Jesus to look after her.
"Gertruda needs someone to look after her." Van Ritters reached a decision. Gertruda was his youngest surviving daughter. She was seven years old, a plain, simple-witted, petulant girl. "You will be her companion and help her with her lessons. I know you are a bright girl."
Louisa's spirits fell. She had grown so close to Elise, the motherly woman who had replaced Anne as head cook in the kitchen. She did not want to forsake the aura of warmth and security that cosseted her in the servants' quarters, and have to go upstairs to care for the whining Gertruda. She wanted to protest, but Elise had warned her not to answer back. She hung her head and curtsied.
"Stals, see she is properly dressed. She will be paid as junior nursemaid, and have a room to herself near the nursery." Van Ritters dismissed them and went back to his desk.
tiisa knew she would have to make the best of her circumstances. There was no alternative. Mijnheer was the lord of her universe. She knew that if she tried to pit herself against his dictates her suffering would be endless. She set herself to win over Gertruda. It was not easy, for the younger girl was demanding and unreasonable. Not content with having Louisa as a slave durin
g the day, she would scream for her in the night when she woke from a nightmare, or even when she wanted to use the chamber-pot. Always uncomplaining and cheerful, Louisa gradually won her over. She taught her simple games, sheltered her from the bullying of her brothers and sisters, sang to her at bedtime, or read her stories. When she was haunted by nightmares, Louisa crawled into her bed, took her in her arms and rocked her back to sleep. Gradually Gertruda abandoned the role of Louisa's tormentor. Her own mother had been a remote, veiled figure whose face she could not remember. Gertruda had found a substitute and she followed Louisa about with puppy like trust. Soon Louisa was able to control her wild tantrums, when she rolled howling on the floor, hurled her food against the wall or tried to throw herself out of the windows into the canal. Nobody had been able to do this before, but with a quiet word Louisa would calm her, then take her by the hand and lead her back to her room. Within minutes she was laughing and clapping her hands, and reciting the chorus of a children's rhyme with Louisa. At first Louisa felt only a sense of duty and obligation towards Gertruda, but slowly this turned to affection and then to a type of motherly love.
Mijnheer van Ritters became aware of the change in his daughter. On his occasional visits to nursery and classroom he often singled out Louisa for a kind word. At the Christmas party for the children he watched Louisa dancing with her charge. She was as supple and graceful as Gertruda was dumpy and ungainly. Van Ritters smiled when Gertruda gave Louisa a pair of tiny pearl earrings as her Christmas present, and Louisa kissed and hugged her.
A few months later van Ritters called Louisa to his library. For a while he discussed the progress that she was making with Gertruda, and told her how pleased he was with her. When she was leaving he touched her hair. "You are growing into such a lovely young woman. I must be careful that some oaf does not try to take you from us. Gertruda and I need you here." Louisa was almost overcome by his condescension.
On Louisa's thirteenth birthday Gertruda asked her father to give her a special birthday treat. Van Ritters was taking one of his elder sons to
England, where he was to enter the great university at Cambridge, and Gertruda asked if she and Louisa might go with the party. Indulgently van Ritters agreed.
They sailed on one of the van Ritters ships, and spent most of that summer visiting the great cities of England. Louisa was enchanted by her mother's homeland, and took every opportunity to practise the language.
The van Ritters party stayed for a week in Cambridge as Mijnheer wanted to see his favourite son settled in. He hired all the rooms at the Red Boar, the finest tavern in the university town. As usual Louisa slept on a bed in the corner of Gertruda's room. She was dressing one morning and Gertruda was sitting on her bed chattering to her. Suddenly she reached out and pinched Louisa's bosom. "Look, Louisa, you are growing titties."
Gently Louisa removed her hand. In the last few months she had developed the stony lumps under her nipples that heralded the onset of puberty. Her breast buds were swollen, tender and sensitive. Gertruda's touch had been rough.
"You must not do that, Gertie, my sc hat It hurts me, and that is an ugly word you used."
"I am sorry, Louisa." Tears formed in the child's eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"It's all right." Louisa kissed her. "Now what do you want for breakfast?"
"Cakes." The tears were immediately forgotten. "Lots of cakes with cream and strawberry jam."
"Then afterwards we can go to the Punch and Judy show," Louisa suggested.
"Oh, can we, Louisa? Can we really?"
When Louisa went to ask Mijnheer van Ritters' permission for the outing, he decided on an impulse to accompany them. In the carriage Gertruda, in her unpredictable fashion, returned to the morning's topic. She announced in a penetrating tone, "Louisa has got pink titties. The tips stick out."
Louisa lowered her eyes and whispered, "I told you, Gertie, that's a rude word. You promised not to use it again."
"I am sorry, Louisa. I forgot." Gertruda looked stricken.
Louisa squeezed her hand. "I am not cross, sc hat I just want you to behave like a lady."
Van Ritters seemed not to have overheard the exchange. He did not look up from the book that was open on his knee. However, during the puppet show, when the hook-nosed Punch was beating his shrieking wife about the head with a club, Louisa glanced sideways and saw that
Mijnheer was studying the tender swellings beneath her blouse. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and drew her shawl more closely around her shoulders.
It was autumn when they sailed on the return journey to Amsterdam. On the first night at sea Gertruda was prostrate with seasickness. Louisa nursed her, and held the basin for her as she retched. At last she fell into a deep sleep and Louisa escaped from the fetid cabin. Longing for a breath of fresh sea air she hurried up the companionway to the deck. She stopped in the hatchway as she spotted the tall, elegant figure of van Ritters standing alone on the quarter-deck. The officers and crew had left the windward rail to him: as the ship's owner this was his prerogative. She would have gone below again immediately but he saw her, and called her to him. "How is my Gertie?"
"She is sleeping, Mijnheer. I am sure she will feel much better in the morning."
At that moment a larger wave lifted the ship's hull and she rolled sharply. Taken off balance Louisa was thrown against him. He put an arm round her shoulders. "I am so sorry, Mijnheer." Her voice was husky. "I slipped." She tried to draw back, but his arm held her firmly. She was confused, unsure what she should do next. She dared not pull away again. He made no move to release her, and then she could hardly credit her senses- she felt his other hand close on her right breast. She gasped and shivered as she felt him roll her tender swollen nipple between his fingers. He was gentle, unlike his daughter had been. He did not hurt her at all. With a terrible burning shame she realized she was enjoying his touch. "I am cold," she whispered.
"Yes," he said. "You must go below before you catch a chill." He released her and turned back to lean on the rail. Sparks streamed from the tip of his cheroot, and blew away on the wind.
When they returned to Huis Brabant, she did not see him again for several weeks. She heard Stals telling Elise that Mijnheer had gone to Paris on business. However, the brief incident on shipboard was never far from her mind. Sometimes she woke in the night and lay awake, burning with shame and remorse as she relived it. She felt that what had happened was her fault. A great man like Mijnheer van Ritters surely could not be to blame. When she thought about it her nipples burned and itched strangely. She felt a great evil in her, and climbed out of her bed to kneel and pray, shivering on the bare
wooden floor. Gertruda called out in the dark, "Louisa, I need the chamber-pot."
With a sense of relief Louisa went to her before she could wet the bed. Over the following weeks the guilt faded, but never quite left her.
Then, one afternoon, Stals came to find her in the nursery. "Mijnheer van Ritters wants to see you. You must go at once. I hope you have not done anything wrong, girl?" As Louisa brushed her hair hurriedly she told Gertruda where she was going.
"Can I come with you?"
"You must finish painting the picture of the boat for me. Try to stay inside the lines, my sc hat I will be back soon."
She knocked on the door of the library, her heart racing wildly. She knew he was going to punish her for what had happened on the ship. He might have her beaten by the grooms, like they had done to the drunken nursemaid. Worse still, he might dismiss her, have her thrown out into the street.
"Come in!" His voice was stern.
She curtsied in the doorway. "You sent for me, Mijnheer."
"Yes, come in, Louisa." She stopped in front of his desk, but he gestured for her to come round and stand beside him. "I want to talk to you about my daughter."
Instead of his usual black coat and lace collar he wore a dressing-robe of heavy Chinese silk that buttoned up the front. From this informal attire and his calm, fri
endly expression she realized he was not angry with her. She felt a rush of relief. He was not going to punish her. His next words confirmed this. "I was thinking that it might be time for Gertruda to begin riding lessons. You are a good horsewoman. I have seen you helping the grooms to exercise the horses. I want to hear your opinion."
"Oh, yes, Mijnheer. I am sure Gertie would love it. Old Bumble is a gentle gelding..." Happily she started to help him develop the plan. She was standing close to his shoulder. A thick book with a green leather cover was lying on the desk in front of him. Casually he opened it. She could not avoid seeing the exposed page and her voice trailed away. She lifted both hands to her mouth as she looked at the illustration that filled the whole of one folio-sized page. It was obviously the work of a skilled artist. The man in the painting was young and handsome, he lolled back in a leather armchair. A pretty young girl stood in front of him, laughing, and Louisa saw that she might have been her own twin. The girl's large wide-set eyes were cerulean blue,
Wilbur Smith - C11 Blue Horizon Page 7
