That night when Aletta looked out of her window across the square before closing the curtains, her heart seemed to stop. There was no light in Constantijn’s window. The whole house was in darkness. In the morning her fears were confirmed. He had left Delft and, as yet, nobody knew where he had gone.
SYBYLLA CONTINUED TO suppose that her only chance of finding a rich husband was at the Korvers’ house, but she did not visit as often as in the past, because the girls were all wed and away from home. Yet she never forgot that her aunt Janetje had met her husband there, which sustained hopes in that direction. She no longer expected any invitation to be forthcoming from Ludolf when his period of mourning should come to an end and she blamed her father for that. Hendrick was scarcely civil when Ludolf had taken the trouble to call and say he had seen Francesca in Delft. There was always a show of bad temper if Hendrick had to see his patron on business.
“Why do you have to scowl whenever there’s anything to do with Ludolf?” she had asked him once. “He buys your paintings and yet you make it so obvious that you don’t like him.”
“I would wish my work to hang in any house but his,” Hendrick had growled in reply.
“But why? You should be exceptionally considerate toward him since he is in mourning.”
“Huh!” Hendrick had given a hollow, derisive laugh before stamping off into the studio and slamming the door behind him.
Aunt Janetje had sent each of her nieces a gold bracelet for the last St. Nicholaes’s Day, the designs varying. They had come late, not reaching Amsterdam until well into the new year, and the two for Francesca and Aletta had not been sent on, but were being kept until Francesca made a visit home, which should have been at Christmas and was now overdue. Sybylla was particularly proud of her bracelet, it being the prettiest she had ever owned, and she had taken to wearing it daily. She loved the feel of it on her wrist and its expensive little tinkle when she rested her arm on anything. Maria did not approve.
“Such fripperies are for best wear, Sybylla. If you don’t keep it for special occasions you’ll lose it one day, mark my words!”
Sybylla took no notice. She liked always to be stylish and had developed an instinctive knowledge of what suited her. She recalled that when a child she had been amazed when a visiting cousin had not worn all her jewels; now she knew that a single piece of adornment could set off to perfection a lovely neck, or arm or hand. Whenever she played her viol she knew that the glint of gold about her wrist further enhanced her graceful movements, almost as if the links of the bracelet were dancing to the music.
Eventually Maria’s warning came true. Sybylla lost the bracelet somewhere between Willem’s house and her own. She had been on an errand for her father and remembered glancing proudly at it as she drew on her gloves while Willem bade her good day. There had been no marketing to do on her way home, which had been a relief, because she was like her father in hating to carry anything in the street and it did not please her to have a basket on her arm with cabbages or cauliflower or the tail of a fish sticking up out of it. Fortunately Griet was taking over the running of the house more and more, which even Maria welcomed in her increasing infirmity. Sybylla was congratulating herself on Griet having gone to the butcher’s that day, relieving her of the chore, when she sensed an emptiness about her wrist. She turned back the cuff of her glove and gave a sharp cry. Her precious bracelet was gone.
She panicked, tearing off her glove and pulling up her sleeve. Frantically she shook the side of her cloak and skirt to see if it had fallen and caught on the cloth, but there was no welcome sound of it falling to the cobbles. In despair she began to retrace her steps, searching as she went. Such a light object could have been unknowingly kicked aside by passing feet and she zigzagged as she returned along the way she had taken. It was difficult when she had to cross a road where there was traffic, for wagoners shouted at her for being in their path and some coaches came at speed. Once she was caught in the middle of a flock of sheep being driven home from market. She was almost back to Willem’s house when somebody spoke to her.
“Juffrouw Visser! What have you lost? May I be of assistance?”
She looked up and saw a man in his mid-forties whose face she remembered, although she could not think where they had met. Then it came to her. “Heer Cents! We sat next to each other at Heer van Deventer’s banquet last May! Oh, I’m in such trouble. I’ve lost a gold bracelet and I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Have you just missed it?”
“No, but I’ve searched a long way back without result. All that’s left is just round the corner to a house there.”
“I’ll help in looking for your bracelet. I’m going in that direction in any case. I’m to meet my nephew at an art gallery.”
“Willem de Hartog’s gallery?”
“Yes. Of course you know him! I remember now that your father is an artist and it was your sister who had painted that fine portrait of van Deventer.”
“That’s right. I last saw my bracelet when I was leaving Willem’s house.”
“Perhaps we’ll be lucky in finding it near there, then.”
He searched as carefully as she did, but they reached the double flight of steps leading to Willem’s entrance without result. They decided there was just a chance she might have dropped the bracelet inside the hallway and when the door opened she preceded him into the house. The maidservant who admitted them knew nothing of anything being found, but Heer Cents said they would ask her master. He was pleased to renew his acquaintance with Sybylla, having enjoyed the sight of her pretty face and lively company at van Deventer’s table at what otherwise would have been a long evening for him, for he neither gambled nor danced. Then the evening had become a tragic one for everybody through Amalia van Deventer’s death. Had he himself not been a confirmed bachelor he might well have made a point of seeing Sybylla again.
The door to the gallery stood open and the first thing Sybylla saw as she went in was her bracelet lying on a side table. “It’s been found!” she exclaimed, running to snatch it up and cup it in her hand.
Willem was nodding at her. “So it is yours? I thought it must be. If you hadn’t come back I would have had it sent to your house.”
“Did you find it?”
“No, I did,” somebody else said.
She turned and saw the man she had been searching for as diligently as she had been looking for her bracelet. Tall and fair-haired with lean-faced, handsome looks, his whole appearance conveyed an impression of wealth from his white-plumed hat, its wide brim curled like a huge saucer, to his diamond-buckled shoes and the large ruby on his finger.
“Allow me to present my nephew to you, Juffrouw Visser,” Heer Cents was saying. “He is my sister’s son, Adriaen van Jansz.”
Those of the Visser household who knew Sybylla well would have seen that already she was aglow with the extra charm she could summon up at will. The name of van Jansz was a highly respected one in Amsterdam, the family being bankers and powerful merchants, which made her doubly dazzled by having a young man of such rich background here in the same room with her. She curtsied to him and as he raised her up by the hand, making the usual conventional pleasantry of being honored to meet her, she gave him the full benefit of her round blue eyes ashine with suppressed tears of gratitude.
“How wonderful that you should have found my treasured bracelet! It has the deepest sentimental attachment for me, having been sent all the way from Florence by my aunt, for whom I’ve had the greatest affection since my childhood days.”
“I recognized it as Florentine work.”
“Where did you happen upon it?”
“On the bottom step of the flight outside. I think you’ll find the clasp is loose.” He bent his head close to hers as they examined the bracelet.
“Yes, it is,” she agreed, thinking he must have been barbered just before leaving home, for his skin smelt fresh and clean with the faintest hint of verbena. It was hard to restrain her eyes from sliding
in his direction instead of focusing them on the bracelet, but she had learned a great deal about enticing men since Jacob had been infatuated with her, and to appear too eager was always a mistake. “I shall go straight from here to a jeweler and have it repaired.”
“Allow me to drive you there. My coach is waiting.”
She exclaimed prettily, “That is most kind.”
“Will you pardon me while I have a final word with Heer de Hartog about some works of art I was about to decide upon at the moment when you arrived.”
“Yes, of course.”
Heer Cents chatted with her while they waited for his nephew and Willem to finish their business. She saw Adriaen had purchased a Raphael and six Michelangelo drawings. Obviously his taste ran to Italian work. Willem was promising delivery of them and it was clear that Adriaen was a valued customer. It seemed to her that her feet barely touched the ground as she went with the uncle and nephew out of the house. The coach was far more elaborately ornamented and gilded than Ludolf’s and there were four matched grays in the traces. Had she been in a less agitated state when she arrived at Willem’s house she would have taken more notice of the splendid equipage. As if in a dream, she sat down on the seat upholstered in sapphire velvet and saw to her amazement that the roof above her had painted panels depicting mythological scenes. Heer Cents was seated opposite her and Adriaen sat down at her side.
“We’re going straight to the best jeweler in the city,” he told her reassuringly.
She came close to panic. There were only a few stivers in her purse and there was no way she could pay for an expensive repair. She had counted on Heer Korver doing it free. “I’d prefer to go to a jeweler known to me,” she insisted swiftly. “He is a diamond merchant I know well since he lives in the same street as I do.”
“What is his name?”
“Heer Korver.”
“I’ve heard of him. He has a good reputation. It will suit me to go there too. I’ll be interested to see what he might have to show me.” He glanced across at Heer Cents. “What of you, Uncle? Do you mind a delay in our viewing that property?”
“Not at all. My time is my own.”
As Adriaen gave the changed address to the coachman through a small aperture, Sybylla almost wriggled with delight. Not only would she bring Heer Korver a new and very rich customer, but her time with Adriaen would be extended and she could show an admiring interest in the diamond pieces displayed that would be remembered by this young man at a suitable time in the future. She could see that he was much taken with her. She knew the signs only too well. Never had she been more glad that since coming to womanhood she had kept her sensual impulses in check. She would donate her virginity to the marriage and he his riches. It would be the best of bargains.
All these thoughts were darting about in her head as she directed her dancing glances at both men, trilling at their little jokes and making all the pretty movements of her head and hands that she knew to be captivating. Never in her life had she been more determined to get what she wanted. If claws had suddenly grown from the tips of her fingers she did not think she would have been surprised.
Everything went swimmingly. While Heer Korver’s assistant mended her bracelet clasp, Adriaen was shown sets of diamonds suitable for mounting into coat buttons. She surprised him by talking knowledgeably about the various cuts and tints of diamonds, but then he was not to know that she had long since thought she should learn as much as possible about them in readiness for when she would wear such fine stones herself.
“How did you learn so much about diamonds?” he questioned with interest.
Smilingly she invited Heer Korver to answer for her, which he did. “Sybylla has been in and out of my house since she could walk and has heard as much about the diamond trade as my own children. Then, in later years,” he added with twinkling glances at her, “I have allowed her into my workshop on occasions.”
She turned with a mischievous little laugh to Adriaen. “I wasn’t a very well-disciplined child, which was why it was barred to me previously.”
“So you have changed,” he challenged flirtatiously.
“On the surface anyway,” she gave back.
“I’m intrigued.”
Heer Korver, seeing there would be no sale at all if Sybylla continued to work her wiles over van Jansz, making him forget everything else but her, produced two more sets of diamonds. “These are from India,” he said, drawing the young man’s attention back to the glittering array, “and are mogul-cut.”
The final selection took a considerable time, neither Adriaen nor Sybylla wanting to hurry this time together. Several times Heer Cents, sitting patiently on a chair, took out his watch to look at it. Eventually Sybylla, having heard from Adriaen that the diamonds would become buttons for an evening coat of moonshine silk, advised a set of symmetrically rose-cut diamonds with a peach tint, saying they would give a warmer sparkle.
The usual decanter of wine was brought in to round off the transaction, which gained Sybylla further time to cement this new relationship with Adriaen. She had drawn away tactfully when prices were discussed and had no idea what the diamonds had cost, although there was a clue toward their value in Heer Korver having produced his fifteenth-century Venetian goblets for the wine, for these only came out for special customers and high transactions. Perhaps it was also the first time he had had a member of the van Jansz family in his house.
Outside, her bracelet safe on her wrist, she declined an offer of a further ride in the coach, saying she would walk the short distance across the bridge to her home. Adriaen accompanied her on foot, which she had expected, and their stroll was leisurely while Heer Cents rode in the coach that lumbered slowly behind them. At her door Adriaen spoke of taking his sister to some musical gathering arranged for the following afternoon in aid of charity. He had extra tickets. Would Sybylla care to attend with her father as his guests? She hesitated deliberately until she was sure that disappointment was gathering in him as he feared a refusal. Then she accepted on her father’s behalf and her own. On this happy note they parted.
No sooner was Sybylla inside the house than she flung herself into a wild jig, clapping her hands and laughing exuberantly, her petticoats aswirl. She danced into the studio and then remembered that Hendrick was out that day. Promptly she rushed along to the kitchen, where Maria was dozing in her favorite place by the hearth, her slippered feet on a foot warmer. The old woman was jerked awake when Sybylla let the kitchen door slam behind her.
“I’ve found him!” Sybylla’s voice was exultant and she flung her arms around the old nurse to kiss her on both cheeks.
“Who, child?” Maria exclaimed in bewilderment, slightly dazed by her rough awakening.
“The man I’m going to marry!” Sybylla drew back to make a deep curtsy, “You see before you the future Vrouw van Jansz!”
“Oh, my!” Maria pressed a hand against her ample bosom as if to quieten her heart. “Don’t play such tricks on me!”
“It’s no trick. I’ve met him and it’s true.” Sybylla flung herself down to rest her head in the wide lap and look up into Maria’s wrinkled face. “He’s already falling in love with me.”
“My dear child,” Maria said sadly, stroking the girl’s golden curls, “if he is of the van Jansz family such a marriage could never come about. Money marries money. You have no dowry.”
“There’s some money Mama left for Francesca and Aletta and me.”
“It’s very little. Nowhere near the amount your father would be expected to offer. My guess is that it would have to be many thousands of guilders with land and property as well.”
“If Adriaen loves me, a dowry won’t be important.”
“Not to him, perhaps, but it would be to his parents. Put this dream aside. It can never be fulfilled.”
Slowly Sybylla raised her head. “It has to be. I’ll never have a chance like this again to secure all that I want from life. I know how to make him want me so much in his turn that his
head will spin and he’ll overrule all opposition.”
“Hush! That’s wanton talk. I’ll not listen.” Maria held up her hands as if to keep it at bay.
“No, it’s not, Maria. I promise you that Adriaen van Jansz shall never regret the day I become his wife.”
Maria, although she foresaw only trouble ahead, relented and cupped the girl’s fervent face between her soft palms. “You were always foolish and headstrong,” she declared with loving exasperation, a quiver to her lips.
Sybylla beamed. “All will be well. You’ll see.”
Hendrick received the news of the connection Sybylla had made with far more enthusiasm than she had expected. Unlike Maria, who saw only gloom and doom, he looked at it in a keen and hopeful light. A rich son-in-law would solve all his troubles. At the right moment, after Sybylla was well and truly wed to Adriaen van Jansz, it would be a simple matter to confide his misfortune at cards that had led to the dreadful trap in which Ludolf held him and Francesca. The sum needed to settle those debts would be nothing to a van Jansz and the hired wits of the best and most expensive lawyer in the city could make that marriage contract, which had been signed under threat, null and void. He himself would have his freedom again and Francesca need never know how nearly he had ruined her life for her.
“I’ll attend this afternoon charity affair with you,” he said jovially to Sybylla, his face brighter than it had been for many weeks.
The Golden Tulip Page 44
