He stayed away during the preparations, locked in his studio or escaping to the Guild. I saw him only once, three days before the feast. The hired girl and I were polishing candlesticks in the kitchen when Lisbeth came to find me. Butchers asking for you, she said. Out front.
I dropped the polishing cloth, wiped my hands on my apron and followed her up the hallway. I knew it would be the son. He had never seen me in Papists Corner. At least my face was not chapped and red as it normally was from hanging over the steaming laundry.
Pieter the son had pulled up a cart in front of the house, loaded with the meat Maria Thins had ordered. The girls were peering into it. Only Cornelia looked round. When I appeared in the doorway Pieter smiled at me. I remained calm and did not blush. Cornelia was watching me.
She was not the only one. I felt his presence at my backhe had come down the hallway behind me. I turned to look at him, and saw that he had seen Pieters smile, and the expectation there as well.
He transferred his grey eyes to me. They were cold. I felt dizzy, as if I had stood up too quickly. I turned back round. Pieters smile was not so wide now. He had seen my dizziness.
I felt caught between the two men. It was not a pleasant feeling.
I stood aside to let my master pass. He turned into the Molenpoort without a word or glance. Pieter and I watched him go in silence.
I have your order, Pieter said then. Where would you like it?
That Sunday when I went home to my parents I did not want to tell them that another child had been born. I thought it would remind them of losing Agnes. But my mother had heard of it at the market and so I was made to describe to them the birth and praying with the family and all the preparations that had been made so far for the feast. My mother was concerned about the state of my hands, but I promised her the worst was done.
And a painting? my father asked. Has he begun another painting? He always hoped that I would describe a new painting to him.
Nothing, I replied. I had spent little time in the studio that week. Nothing there had changed.
Perhaps he is idle, my mother said.
He is not that, I answered quickly.
Perhaps he does not want to see, my father said.
I dont know what he wants, I said more sharply than I had intended. My mother gazed at me. My father shifted in his seat.
I said nothing more about him.
The guests began to arrive around noon on the feast day. By evening there were perhaps a hundred people in and out of the house, spilling into the courtyard and the street. All sorts had been invitedwealthy merchants as well as our baker, tailor, cobbler, apothecary. Neighbors were there, and my masters mother and sister, and Maria Thins cousins. Painters were there, and other Guild members. Van Leeuwenhoek was there, and van Ruijven and his wife.
Even Pieter the father was there, without his blood-stained apron, nodding and smiling at me as I passed with a jug of spiced wine. Well, Griet, he said as I poured him some, my son will be jealous that Im spending the evening with you.
I think not, I murmured, pulling away from him, embarrassed.
Catharina was the center of attention. She had on a green silk dress altered to accommodate her belly, which had not yet shrunk. Over it she wore the ermine-trimmed yellow mantle van Ruijvens wife had worn for the painting. It was odd to see it around another womans shoulders. I didnt like her wearing it, though it was of course hers to wear. She also wore a pearl necklace and earrings, and her blond curls were dressed prettily. She had recovered quickly from the birth, and was very merry and graceful, her body relieved of some of the burden it had been carrying over the months. She moved easily through the rooms, drinking and laughing with her guests, lighting candles, calling for food, bringing people together. She stopped only to make a fuss over Franciscus when he was being fed by the nurse.
My master was much quieter. He spent most of his time in one corner of the great hall, talking to van Leeuwenhoek, though his eyes often followed Catharina around the room as she moved among her guests. He wore a smart black velvet jacket and his paternity cap, and looked comfortable though not much interested in the party. Large crowds did not appeal to him as they did his wife.
Late in the evening, van Ruijven managed to corner me in the hallway as I was passing along it with a lighted candle and a wine jug. Ah, the wide-eyed maid, he cried, leaning into me. Hello, my girl. He grabbed my chin in his hand, his other hand pulling the candle up to light my face. I did not like the way he looked at me.
You should paint her, he said over his shoulder.
My master was there. He was frowning. He looked as if he wanted to say something to his patron but could not.
Griet, get me some more wine. Pieter the father had popped out from the Crucifixion room and was holding a cup towards me.
Yes, sir. I pulled my chin from van Ruijvens grasp and quickly crossed to Pieter the father. I could feel two pairs of eyes on my back.
Oh, Im sorry, sir, the jugs empty. Ill just get some more from the kitchen. I hurried away, holding the jug close so they would not discover that it was full.
When I returned a few minutes later only Pieter the father remained, leaning against the wall. Thank you, I said in a low voice as I filled his glass.
He winked at me. It was worth it just to hear you call me sir. Ill never hear that again, will I? He raised his glass in a mock toast and drank.
After the feast winter descended on us, and the house became cold and flat. Besides a great deal of cleaning up, there was no longer something to look forward to. The girls, even Aleydis, became difficult, demanding attention, rarely helping. Maria Thins spent longer in her own rooms upstairs than she had before. Franciscus, who had remained quiet all the way through the feast, suffered from wind and began to cry almost constantly. He made a piercing sound that could be heard throughout the housein the courtyard, in the studio, in the cellar. Given her nature, Catharina was surprisingly patient with the baby, but snapped at everyone else, even her husband.
I had managed to put Agnes from my mind while preparing for the feast, but memories of her returned even more strongly than before. Now that I had time to think, I thought too much. I was like a dog licking its wounds to clean them but making them worse.
Worst of all, he was angry with me. Since the night van Ruijven cornered me, perhaps even since Pieter the son smiled at me, he had become more distant. I seemed also to cross paths with him more often than before. Although he went out a great dealin part to escape Franciscus cryingI always seemed to be coming in the front door as he was leaving, or coming down the stairs as he was going up, or sweeping the Crucifixion room when he was looking for Maria Thins there. One day on an errand for Catharina I even met him in Market Square. Each time he nodded politely, then stepped aside to let me pass without looking at me.
I had offended him, but I did not know how.
The studio had become cold and flat as well. Before it had felt busy and full of purposeit was where paintings were being made. Now, though I quickly swept away any dust that settled, it was simply an empty room, waiting for nothing but dust. I did not want it to be a sad place. I wanted to take refuge there, as I had before.
One morning Maria Thins came to open the door for me and found it already unlocked. We peered into the semidarkness. He was asleep at the table, his head on his arms, his back to the door. Maria Thins backed out. Must have come up here because of the babys cries, she muttered. I tried to look again but she was blocking the way. She shut the door softly. Leave him be. You can clean there later.