of their marriage.
‘Are you saying that Robert’s wishes come before those of your own mother, who bore you in the midst of indescribable physical suffering?’
‘In this case, yes.’
Her eyes flashed, but although she pursed her lips in suppressed fury she said no more on the subject. Once again she had recognized that intractable Gibbons streak of pig-headedness that she had failed to crush out of his father and she would not humiliate herself any further. With a show of indifference that hid her burning anger she looked at some religious portrait medallions of the saints that he had taken from a shelf to show Cousin Henrietta.
‘Are these portrait medallions a Catholic commission?’ she asked coldly, being fiercely Protestant to the core.
‘Yes,’ he replied easily. ‘They’re for a cardinal who lives in one of the grand mansions along the river.’
‘They are quite splendid!’ Cousin Henrietta enthused, her admiration genuine. She was afraid she was sounding too effusive, but it was only because she was embarrassed by her cousin’s attitude towards Grinling. She thought Bessie should be grateful for such a fine and talented son, a blessing that had been denied her in her childless marriage. But she had a god-daughter, whom she loved dearly and who filled the gap in her life whenever she came to stay.
‘And what is that?’ Mistress Gibbons was asking as she pointed to the large rectangular piece of wood on the bench that was in the process of being carved from the reverse side.
‘It is another of the religious carvings that I’m presently working on in the hope of a sale one day.’
Mistress Gibbons was no longer interested. She was too annoyed with him for being so stubborn and denying her wish.
‘We’ll go now,’ she said crisply, ‘or else we shall have little time for shopping.’ Then she seemed to remember that Saskia was present and turned to her. ‘You have brought all you need for your sketching?’
‘Yes, madam. I shall start work straight away.’
‘Good. Then do your best, but you must not chatter and disturb my son’s concentration in any way. We shall pass by here later this afternoon for you to ride back with us, but on other days you must walk. Be sure to make a very detailed drawing of the overmantel,’ she said before adding on a hint of sarcasm, ‘however long it may take.’
It was a veiled barb directed at her son for what she saw as an excuse for refusing her what she had wanted so much. As she and her cousin left the cottage he saw them to the coach before returning to Saskia with a mischievous grin.
‘I have drawings in plenty of everything I carve,’ he said, lapsing into Dutch, ‘and could have given my mother all she wanted, but I thought that I’d do you a good turn by giving you an excuse to get away on your own sometimes. It cannot be easy to be at someone’s beck and call every minute of the day.’
He is, she thought, the dearest of men in every way. ‘Yet that is what I am paid for and your mother is very good to me. However,’ she admitted honestly, ‘it will be wonderful to have the chance to draw and to be out for a while by myself without a strict time limit.’
She could have added that most marvellous of all was the prospect of being alone with him and she saw his kindly intervention as yet another sign of the depth of his feelings towards her. She wondered how soon she might ask him about the portrait medallion of herself and decided that she must be patient.
‘I want you to see what I’m working on now before you start your sketching,’ he said, crossing to the workbench where he unfastened the reversed carving. He lifted it and as he turned it around for her to see she recognized it instantly with a little gasp of mingled surprise and admiration. It was the Tintoretto etching transformed into a relief carving, fully three-dimensional and pulsating with its original drama and astonishing beauty.
‘That is wonderful!’ she
‘Are you saying that Robert’s wishes come before those of your own mother, who bore you in the midst of indescribable physical suffering?’
‘In this case, yes.’
Her eyes flashed, but although she pursed her lips in suppressed fury she said no more on the subject. Once again she had recognized that intractable Gibbons streak of pig-headedness that she had failed to crush out of his father and she would not humiliate herself any further. With a show of indifference that hid her burning anger she looked at some religious portrait medallions of the saints that he had taken from a shelf to show Cousin Henrietta.
‘Are these portrait medallions a Catholic commission?’ she asked coldly, being fiercely Protestant to the core.
‘Yes,’ he replied easily. ‘They’re for a cardinal who lives in one of the grand mansions along the river.’
‘They are quite splendid!’ Cousin Henrietta enthused, her admiration genuine. She was afraid she was sounding too effusive, but it was only because she was embarrassed by her cousin’s attitude towards Grinling. She thought Bessie should be grateful for such a fine and talented son, a blessing that had been denied her in her childless marriage. But she had a god-daughter, whom she loved dearly and who filled the gap in her life whenever she came to stay.
‘And what is that?’ Mistress Gibbons was asking as she pointed to the large rectangular piece of wood on the bench that was in the process of being carved from the reverse side.
‘It is another of the religious carvings that I’m presently working on in the hope of a sale one day.’
Mistress Gibbons was no longer interested. She was too annoyed with him for being so stubborn and denying her wish.
‘We’ll go now,’ she said crisply, ‘or else we shall have little time for shopping.’ Then she seemed to remember that Saskia was present and turned to her. ‘You have brought all you need for your sketching?’
‘Yes, madam. I shall start work straight away.’
‘Good. Then do your best, but you must not chatter and disturb my son’s concentration in any way. We shall pass by here later this afternoon for you to ride back with us, but on other days you must walk. Be sure to make a very detailed drawing of the overmantel,’ she said before adding on a hint of sarcasm, ‘however long it may take.’
It was a veiled barb directed at her son for what she saw as an excuse for refusing her what she had wanted so much. As she and her cousin left the cottage he saw them to the coach before returning to Saskia with a mischievous grin.
‘I have drawings in plenty of everything I carve,’ he said, lapsing into Dutch, ‘and could have given my mother all she wanted, but I thought that I’d do you a good turn by giving you an excuse to get away on your own sometimes. It cannot be easy to be at someone’s beck and call every minute of the day.’
He is, she thought, the dearest of men in every way. ‘Yet that is what I am paid for and your mother is very good to me. However,’ she admitted honestly, ‘it will be wonderful to have the chance to draw and to be out for a while by myself without a strict time limit.’
She could have added that most marvellous of all was the prospect of being alone with him and she saw his kindly intervention as yet another sign of the depth of his feelings towards her. She wondered how soon she might ask him about the portrait medallion of herself and decided that she must be patient.
‘I want you to see what I’m working on now before you start your sketching,’ he said, crossing to the workbench where he unfastened the reversed carving. He lifted it and as he turned it around for her to see she recognized it instantly with a little gasp of mingled surprise and admiration. It was the Tintoretto etching transformed into a relief carving, fully three-dimensional and pulsating with its original drama and astonishing beauty.
‘That is wonderful!’ she
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