Midnight Blue: A gripping historical novel about the birth of Delft pottery, set in the Dutch Golden Age. Литагент HarperCollins USD

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СКАЧАТЬ did you? People seldom marry for love. I’m jealous of everyone who does.’

      It doesn’t seem fitting for me to respond.

      ‘So your husband died? What of?’

      ‘One day he was dead in his bed.’

      ‘Wasn’t he sick?’

      I shake my head and add, ‘But he drank a lot. Ever such a lot.’

      ‘Then you can count yourself lucky you’re rid of him. It’s no good having a drunk as a husband.’

      The ease with which she reaches this conclusion and skips over my feelings doesn’t surprise me. Rich people have a habit of doing that, as if their employees aren’t made of flesh and blood. I smile noncommittally and say nothing.

      Brigitta is about to say something else when the knocker on the front door sounds. I wipe my hands on my apron and rush into the hall. Brigitta follows me and waits by the stairs to see who the visitor is.

      As soon as I open the door I am hit by a jolt of happiness. It’s Matthias. He’s standing there talking to a passing acquaintance and turns to face me. For a split second I think the broad smile on his face is for me. Then I notice he’s looking over my shoulder: Brigitta has appeared behind me. She throws her arms around Matthias’s neck.

      ‘And here we have the most beautiful woman in Amsterdam! Are you still her?’ He holds her at arm’s length and inspects her. ‘Yes, you’re still her. Always a pleasure to see you, my beautiful sister-in-law.’

      Brigitta laughs and gives him a tap on the arm. ‘You’ve barely been gone a week.’

      ‘A lot can happen in a week.’ Matthias turns to me and takes off his hat. I expect him to make some kind of sweeping gesture with it and bow to me, but instead he presses it into my hands.

      ‘This is Catrin, our new housekeeper,’ says Brigitta.

      ‘I know, I recommended her to Adriaan myself. Welcome, Catrin.’

      Our eyes meet for a few seconds longer than necessary. I think I can see a somewhat warmer greeting in his gaze but as he walks into the hall with Brigitta that feeling disappears again.

      ‘Bring cheese and wine to the living room, Catrin,’ says Brigitta over her shoulder. She links arms with her brother-in-law and leads him off.

      I return to the kitchen, where the kettle is still waiting for me on the table. I scrub as hard as I can. I let Greta take in the cheese and wine.

      I keep to the kitchen all afternoon. Brigitta and Matthias are sitting in the living room, their laughter ringing through the house. I work even harder than usual and give myself a good talking to. I’m the housekeeper. Unless I want to find myself unmarried and pregnant for the second time, I’d do well to remember that.

      Late that evening, by the time I check the locks and cover the fire with a basket, I’ve got a grip on myself again.

      But even so, I jump when Matthias comes strolling into the kitchen. By the light of the moon and the candle in my hand I can see little more than his silhouette.

      ‘Catrin, I’ve been waiting to catch you on your own.’ His voice sounds soft and warm.

      I consider politely asking whether I can be of any service but opt instead for a blunt, ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I couldn’t very well say hello the way I wanted when I arrived.’ He walks over to me slowly.

      I hold the candlestick in front of me so he can’t come too close. Without another word, Matthias takes the candlestick, sets it down on the table and pulls me to him. All my good intentions vanish. The sound of his voice alone is enough to make them dissolve. All my senses cry out for his touch and as soon as his lips brush mine, there is no more controlling them. One moment our kiss is cautious, the next it’s forceful and urgent. Suddenly I come to my senses. I push Matthias away and we look at each other, out of breath.

      ‘This isn’t a good idea,’ I say.

      ‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry, but …’ He runs his fingers through his hair so it looks even more dishevelled. ‘I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Catrin.’

      ‘So that’s why you ignored me when you came to the door this afternoon.’

      ‘What was I supposed to do? Give you the kind of greeting I just gave you?’

      Despite everything, I’m forced to laugh, which gives him the courage to take me in his arms again. ‘If I’d said hello to you properly before, Brigitta would have fired you. I couldn’t pay too much attention to you. I was desperate to do this the moment you opened the door.’ He kisses me at length and I let him. After a while I break free and look at him earnestly.

      ‘We can’t go on like this, Matthias. This can’t go any further. I’m a servant and I’d like to keep my job.’

      ‘But we can make it work.’

      ‘No, we can’t. You’re from a distinguished family, what would you want with someone like me?’

      ‘My family isn’t that distinguished. My parents had a pottery and had to work hard for their money. If my father hadn’t bought shares in a VOC expedition, I would have probably ended up a potter and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.’

      I like the way he looks at things but I can’t dismiss the differences between us so easily. ‘This can’t happen any more,’ I say, quietly but firmly. ‘You don’t stand to lose anything here, but I could lose everything.’

      ‘You’re right.’ The light-hearted tone in his voice makes way for seriousness. ‘I don’t want to cause you any trouble. As long as you work here, I’ll keep my distance. In a month I’m going away again to Antwerp, and when I come back we’ll talk. Agreed?’ He puts his hand on my cheek and looks deep into my eyes.

      ‘We’ll see,’ I say.

       7

      Over the next few days we have only brief moments of contact. Though we must restrict ourselves to the occasional wink, a fleeting touch, or a couple of whispered words, it’s enough. No matter how attracted I feel to Matthias, my job is more important. And whatever he says, I’m not so naive as to believe a man of such high standing could ever have a serious interest in me. I’m too often confronted with the effects of his charm on other women to believe that. Even Greta is smitten with him. What is it about that man? Is it the genuine interest on his face when he looks at you and listens to you, his sunny disposition, his handsome face? He knows he’s attractive. I see it in the way he preens in front of the mirror and the elegant grey and light brown suits he favours over the old-fashioned black ones most Amsterdam businessmen wear. Perhaps it’s a legacy of his travels in Italy. No ruff for him but rather a fine lace collar that covers only the shoulders; no tall, black hat but a smart little one, complete with a feather.

      ‘He doesn’t need to take any more interest in his appearance than he already does,’ says Brigitta from behind her easel. ‘If Adriaan СКАЧАТЬ