Garlands of Gold (34 page)

‘What employment did Martha get next?’

‘I’ve no idea, although I know Godmother Henrietta did not give her a good reference, because she judged the secret drinking of the household wines to be akin to thieving, which it was of course.’ Elizabeth shrugged. ‘So perhaps Martha never found work as a personal maid again.’

‘I’m truly sorry to hear that!’ Saskia exclaimed, full of compassion. ‘Then I can understand how she must be blaming me for her ill fortune. I could see from her clothing that she has been reduced to hard times. Why have you never told me this before?’

‘Because I know how soft-hearted you are where other people’s troubles are concerned, and I did not want to upset you.’

But the thought of Martha’s misfortune stayed with Saskia and she felt responsible for the woman’s plight, no matter that she had been the innocent cause. Yet even if they should ever meet again she knew any offer of help would be thrown back at her, for Martha had her pride as well as her hatred.

Twenty-Three

I
t was springtime again before Grinling found time to measure up at Harting Hall. He brought Elizabeth and the children with him at Robert and Saskia’s invitation, for they thought that Elizabeth would enjoy a change of scene. It did delight her and also three-year-old James and two-year-old Alice, who were noisy, happy and exuberant with so much space, indoors and out, in which to play. Baby Charles enjoyed himself too, crawling about on the lawn and then taking his first tottering steps. Saskia yearned anew for children of her own to fill the house with young life and laughter. Twice she had believed herself to be pregnant only to find that it was yet another false hope.

Neither Robert nor Grinling could stay long at the Hall, business compelling them back to London, but their wives remained with the children for another two weeks. Then Saskia also had to return for her consultation afternoon and Elizabeth, who had become secretly homesick for London, having long since taken to city life as the proverbial duck to water, was eager to be with Grinling again. Then Saskia inadvertently delayed the planned early morning departure by a violent attack of sickness. Pale-faced and exhausted, she nevertheless embraced her friend with joy.

‘I really think I might be pregnant this time!’ she declared, her eyes shining.

Elizabeth, who was equally certain of being in the same condition again herself, rejoiced with her. ‘I’m so happy for you, Saskia!’

As the days went by there was no mistaking the fact that Saskia was pregnant. Robert would have fussed over her if she had allowed it, but she declared she was too busy to make an invalid of herself and that Elizabeth was a perfect example of how pregnancy could be taken in one’s stride.

‘Babies pop out of her like peas from a pod,’ Saskia declared, ‘and it will be the same for me.’

She lost all interest in having a shop, her thoughts filled with the joyous prospect of starting a family at last, and yet she wanted to continue supplying her products that had benefited so many women in keeping them away from harmful substances. Then something Robert had once said came back to her. A book! Why not publish all she had written down in her red book over the years? She remembered saying that no woman would wish to support a subscription book that gave away the fact that she used beauty aids, but now she believed differently. Her products were in such demand that she was sure that her ladies would pore over every receipt, hassling their personal maids into making this or that cream or fragrance.

Saskia made her announcement at her next consultation afternoon, explaining exactly what the book would contain. ‘All my beauty receipts will be in this subscription book. Nothing will be omitted. Some of the very best were given to me by my late mother, who once told me never to reveal my secrets, but I know that now I am drawing my consultations to a close she would agree that the time has come for them to be shared. If any of you here wish to become a subscriber your name will be listed in the book and a copy delivered to you on the day of publication. There is pen and paper on the side table for anyone who wishes to subscribe.’

As she had expected there was an immediate hubbub of voices, but also several women were already out of their chairs to hurry across to the table and see what they would be expected to pay in advance and in every case they set their names down. Others hesitated, for a book on beauty treatments was very different from subscribing to a book on flowers or wild birds or embroidery. Some of the women present had to wait and get permission from their husbands, but all wanted the book, for as far as anyone knew there had never before been a volume devoted entirely to such a fascinating subject as beauty. There were plenty of medical aid books, which usually included ways to soften chapped hands, cure rashes and the care of toenails, but nothing to enhance eyes or lips or cast lights into a pretty arrangement of curls.

There were fifteen names on the list when everyone had gone, but at the following consultation afternoon twenty extra names were added and finally fifteen more, which was well over the amount needed and would ensure a good quality leather binding. The subscription money flowed in and everything was arranged. Elizabeth, Mistress Henrietta and even Mistress Gibbons had sent in their names too.

Saskia had already arranged everything with a publisher, who was pleased enough to go ahead with a subscription book, which was to be bound in green leather. She had written an introduction, which he approved, and he edited her entries, grouping fragrances together, face creams in another section and so forth.

She also had a special section of the table decorations for all occasions from banquets to buffets, ideas of her own which she had set down ever since Vrouw Gibbons had inspired her interest in artistic presentation. The chapter was to be on the theme of the beautiful hostess with a table to match her perfection. She knew her ladies would love it.

The day came when Saskia held her last consultation afternoon, for she was now into her fifth month of pregnancy and wanted to be free of outside obligations. Orders had still come in, but she knew she could entrust Joan to carry them out efficiently. Champagne was served instead of tea and while some departed in a merry mood at the end of the afternoon there were others who deeply regretted the end of these occasions, having enjoyed chatting together as much as listening to whatever Saskia had to say to them.

The publisher had promised prompt delivery and kept his word. On publication day some of the copies were delivered by Joe in his best livery with bunches of green ribbons on his shoulders and several times a presented book was snatched from his hands before he had time to bow. The rest were delivered by well-dressed young men specially hired, all with bunches of green ribbons on their shoulders. The publisher filled his window with copies and as the word spread he sold out and the book immediately went into reprint. It was the first of many reprints.

In spite of her optimism Saskia had a lengthy labour before giving birth to a son, but her happiness in starting her family at last had already wiped out all memory of the pain.

‘Next time a daughter,’ she declared blissfully to Robert as he sat on the edge of the bed, unable to take his eyes from his son as he stroked with a careful fingertip the baby’s wispy black hair.

The baptism of young Richard Harting took place three weeks later at All Hallows Church by the Tower with Grinling and Elizabeth as two of the godparents. The baby wore a long robe trimmed with some of Nurse Bobbins’ exquisite lace and also he wore the little Nordland lace cap that had been made by her skilful old hands far away in Holland. He blinked when Elizabeth as his godmother removed it, for one of the tie-ribbons had stroked his face, and he gazed up wonderingly when she handed him to the vicar at the font. Then he bawled lustily at the chill of the holy water until a soft cloth dried his head again.

As the weeks went by Saskia radiated happiness as she watched her son thrive and grow. With the certainty of most mothers she knew that no child had ever been so alert and advanced in every way. When he was sleeping she often went into the workroom to assist Joan in mixing or stirring or weighing up ingredients, for orders had increased again as personal maids had failed to produce exactly the same effect from the beauty aids as when they had been made by Saskia. She always experienced a sense of peace as she worked and sometimes used it as an escape from tension in the house. Her relationship with Robert was highly passionate and deeply loving, but they both held strong views and their arguments often developed into quarrels that invariably ended in fierce love-making. Recently he had begun to object to the fragrances that wafted from the workroom. Everything came to a climax one evening when he arrived home after a difficult day that had been full of unexpected problems, his nerves on edge, and the perfumes drifting through the house gave him an outlet for his anger.

‘Our home has the stench of a bawdy house!’ he exclaimed furiously, throwing off his hat and cloak. ‘One could expect to find whores draping themselves on the stairs!’

Saskia, who had come into the hall to meet him, frowned sharply in annoyance at his words. ‘Today we have been dealing with a lot of orders that have come in for fragrances, but Joan has opened the windows in the workroom and they should soon blow away.’

‘It has to stop!’ he declared as if she had not spoken and strode ahead of her into the dining room where he seized a decanter and poured himself a large glass of wine. ‘We must find a workroom somewhere else. I thought when the book was published that it would mean an end to interference in our lives, but it seems as if it has increased instead of diminishing.’

‘Yes, I admit it has done in recent weeks. Well, I have a choice. It is either to stop taking any more orders or open a shop with a workroom on the premises.’

His mood eased and he turned to look at her through narrowed lashes. ‘I thought you had given up all idea of a shop.’

‘So I had, but I can reconsider.’

He shook his head. ‘It would take you away from the house and Richard. He’s more important than anything else.’

‘I would put Joan in charge and employ some women to do the work. She could manage very well without my constant supervision.’

He studied her again as he handed her his untouched glass of wine and then poured another for himself. ‘How long have you been thinking this over?’

‘Ever since it became apparent that my book was not the answer to everything as I thought it would be.’

He raised his glass to her. ‘You are a victim of your own success, my love. I suggest that for the time being a workroom should be found and deliveries take place from there.’

She nodded. ‘Agreed,’ she said.

Later in the great Tudor bed he made love to her so passionately that she was sure that she would conceive again from such a night. Her supposition proved to be right. Nine months later she gave birth to twin daughters, Mary and Sarah.

By that time the workshop, which had started at the back of an office, had taken over the whole property. With a shop window installed and a new pale-green decor there was a swinging sign over the door that was a replica of the one that had once hung above the door of the cottage that had burned down. Saskia had put Joan in charge of all the ordering and dispensing, and after a period of guidance let her take over and manage everything in her quick and efficient manner. Joan had also found time to marry a childless widower of similar age to herself, who had become the porter and proved to be invaluable in keeping the property in good repair and was always on hand in any emergency.

It left Saskia with all the time she wanted for her family. Her dream was coming true at last. When the great day came for viewing the carvings that Grinling had finally installed at Harting Hall Saskia and Robert took the three children with them. Grinling met them at the door, a little more portly than when his portrait had been painted, but handsomely bewigged and dressed in perfect taste as always and beaming with pride at what he had to show them.

‘I regret that you have had to wait so long,’ he said, ‘but such a commission as you gave me requires countless man-hours as you know.’

He went ahead to the grand drawing room and threw the double doors wide. Saskia caught her breath at the sheer beauty of his decorative carving that met her gaze. His garlands, far more luxuriant than any she had ever seen before, were looped along the wainscoting, the paleness of the lime wood that he had used making a striking contrast to the dark oak. All his love of nature and music had been poured into the flowers and foliage, the fruit and the berries, the tightly closed pea pods and the musical instruments that peeped out here and there. There were also scrolls of music, every note authentically carved, and any musician could have taken up an instrument and played from any one of them. Perhaps most impressive of all was the great overmantel surround that encompassed the twin portraits of her and Robert in the gilded frames, enhancing them dramatically. Then she spotted something else in the carvings.

‘Dutch tulips!’ she exclaimed. ‘You have given us some tulips from home!’

Robert glanced swiftly at her, thinking that she should have remarked on the roses, for her home was in England now, but he said nothing. He knew that she would always cherish memories of her homeland and he had no wish to deprive her of them.

‘What could be better,’ Grinling said jovially, ‘than to carve tulips for these two lovers who first met under Dutch skies!’