I expected her to warn me, to tell me to be a good girl, to protect our family name. Instead she said, Dont be rude to him. Smile at him and be pleasant.
Her words surprised me, but when I looked in her eyes and saw there the hunger for meat that a butchers son could provide, I understood why she had set aside her pride.
At least she did not ask me about the lie I had told earlier. I could not tell them why Tanneke was angry at me. That lie hid a much greater lie. I would have too much to explain.
Tanneke had discovered what I was doing during the afternoons when I was meant to be sewing.
I was assisting him.
It had begun two months before, one afternoon in January not long after Franciscus was born. It was very cold. Franciscus and Johannes were both poorly, with chesty coughs and trouble breathing. Catharina and the nurse were tending them by the fire in the washing kitchen while the rest of us sat close to the fire in the cooking kitchen.
Only he was not there. He was upstairs. The cold did not seem to affect him.
Catharina came to stand in the doorway between the two kitchens. Someone must go to the apothecary, she announced, her face flushed. I need some things for the boys. She looked pointedly at me.
Usually I would be the last chosen for such an errand. Visiting the apothecary was not like going to the butchers or fishmongerstasks Catharina continued to leave to me after the birth of Franciscus. The apothecary was a respected doctor, and Catharina or Maria Thins liked to go to him. I was not allowed such a luxury. When it was so cold, however, any errand was given to the least important member of the house.
For once Maertge and Lisbeth did not ask to come with me. I wrapped myself in a woollen mantle and shawls while Catharina told me I was to ask for dried elder flowers and a coltsfoot elixir. Cornelia hung about, watching me tuck in the loose ends of the shawls.
May I come with you? she asked, smiling at me with well-practiced innocence. Sometimes I wondered if I judged her too harshly.
No, Catharina replied for me. Its far too cold. I wont have another of my children getting sick. Off you go, then, she said to me. Quick as you can.
I pulled the front door shut and stepped into the street. It was very quietpeople were sensibly huddled in their houses. The canal was frozen, the sky an angry grey. As the wind blew through me and I drew my nose further into the wool folds around my face, I heard my name being called. I looked around, thinking Cornelia had followed me. The front door was shut.
I looked up. He had opened a window and poked his head out.
Sir?
Where are you going, Griet?
To the apothecary, sir. Mistress asked me. For the boys.
Will you get me something as well?
Of course, sir. Suddenly the wind did not seem so bitter.
Wait, Ill write it down. He disappeared and I waited. After a moment he reappeared and tossed down a small leather pouch. Give the apothecary the paper inside and bring what he gives you back to me.
I nodded and tucked the pouch into a fold of my shawl, pleased with this secret request.
The apothecarys was along the Koornmarkt, towards the Rotterdam Gate. Although it was not far, each breath I took seemed to freeze inside me so that by the time I pushed into the shop I was unable to speak.
I had never been to an apothecary, not even before I became a maidmy mother had made all of our remedies. His shop was a small room, with shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. They held all sizes of bottles, basins and earthenware jars, each one neatly labelled. I suspected that even if I could read the words I would not understand what each vessel held. Although the cold killed most smells, here there lingered an odor I did not recognize, like something in the forest, hidden under rotting leaves.
I had seen the apothecary himself only once, when he came to Franciscus birth feast a few weeks before. A bald, slight man, he reminded me of a baby bird. He was surprised to see me. Few people ventured out in such cold. He sat behind a table, a set of scales at his elbow, and waited for me to speak.
Ive come for my master and mistress, I gasped at last when my throat had warmed enough for me to speak. He looked blank and I added, The Vermeers.
Ah. How is the growing family?
The babies are ill. My mistress needs dried elder flowers and an elixir of coltsfoot. And my master I handed him the pouch. He took it with a puzzled expression, but when he read the slip of paper he nodded. Run out of bone black and ocher, he murmured. Thats easily repaired. Hes never had anyone fetch the makings of colors for him before, though. He squinted over the slip of paper at me. He always gets them himself. This is a surprise.
I said nothing.
Have a seat, then. Back here by the fire while I get your things together. He became busy, opening jars and weighing small mounds of dried flower buds, measuring syrup into a bottle, wrapping things carefully in paper and string. He placed some things in the leather pouch. The other packages he left loose.
Does he need any canvases? he asked over his shoulder as he replaced a jar on a high shelf.
I wouldnt know, sir. He asked me to get only what was on that paper.
This is very surprising, very surprising indeed. He looked me up and down. I drew myself uphis attention made me wish I were taller. Well, it is cold, after all. He wouldnt go out unless he had to. He handed me the packages and pouch and held the door open for me. Out in the street I looked back to see him still peering at me through a tiny window in the door.
Back at the house I went first to Catharina to give her the loose packages. Then I hurried to the stairs. He had come down and was waiting. I pulled the pouch from my shawl and handed it to him.
Thank you, Griet, he said.
What are you doing? Cornelia was watching us from further along the hallway.
To my surprise he didnt answer her. He simply turned and climbed the stairs again, leaving me alone to face her.
The truth was the easiest answer, though I often felt uneasy telling Cornelia the truth. I was never sure what she would do with it. Ive bought some paint things for your father, I explained.
Did he ask you to?
To that question I responded as her father hadI walked away from her toward the kitchens, removing my shawls as I went. I was afraid to answer, for I did not want to cause him harm. I knew already that it was best if no one knew I had run an errand for him.
I wondered if Cornelia would tell her mother what she had seen. Although young she was also shrewd, like her grandmother. She might hoard her information, carefully choosing when to reveal it.
She gave me her own answer a few days later.
It was a Sunday and I was in the cellar, looking in the chest where I kept my things for a collar to wear that my mother had embroidered for me. I saw immediately that my few belongings had been disturbedcollars not refolded, one of my chemises balled up and pushed into a corner, the tortoiseshell comb shaken from its handkerchief. The handkerchief around my fathers tile was folded so neatly that I became suspicious. When I opened it the tile came apart in two pieces. It had been broken so that the girl and boy were separated from each other, the boy now looking behind him at nothing, the girl all alone, her face hidden by her cap.
I wept then. Cornelia could not have guessed how that would hurt me. I would have been less upset if she had broken our heads from our bodies.
He began to ask me to do other things. One day he asked me to buy linseed oil at the apothecarys on my way back from the fish stalls. I was to leave it at the bottom of the stairs for him so that he and the model would not be disturbed. So he said. Perhaps he was aware that Maria Thins or Catharina or Tannekeor Corneliamight notice if I went up to the studio at an unusual time.