Philippa Gregory - Earthly Joys

“So what happened? What stopped the market?”

John spread his hands. “I don’t know,” he said. “I saw it happen; but I still don’t understand it. It was like magic. One moment they were bulbs, rare and rather precious, but priced within the reach of a gardener who might grow them. Next moment they were priced like pearls and everyone wanted them. All of a sudden it’s as if the Bourse woke up to the fact that they were going mad over flowers, and they were priced like bulbs again. In truth, less than bulbs, because nobody wanted to be a tulip trader anymore; to be a tulip gardener was like standing up in public and saying you were a greedy fool.”

“Did you lose much money?”

“Enough.” John was not going to tell her that all of their savings had been in tulip bulbs. That their wealth had crashed as the bulb market had crashed and that he and J had sworn a solemn oath, a peasant’s oath, never to trust anything but the value of land ever again.

Hester nodded and drew a smooth swift line on the page, the tulip’s curving veil-like leaf. “It is an awful thing to lose your money. My father used to have a shop of artists’ supplies; he lost his money when he fell sick. When he died there was nothing left for us at all. The only money we had was on a ship coming from the West Indies. It did not arrive for a year. In that year, as I sold first the carpet and the curtains, and then every stick of furniture we had, and then my dresses too, I swore that I would never be poor again.”

She gave him a quick sideways glance. “I learned that nothing matters as much as holding on to what you have.”

“There is God’s guidance and your faith,” John suggested.

She nodded. “I don’t deny it. But when you have sold your chair and are sitting on a small chest which holds every single thing you own, you gain a good deal of interest in the life here, and less in the life hereafter.”

Jane would have been appalled at such free speech, but John was not. “A hard lesson for a young woman,” he commented.

“It’s a hard world for a young woman, for anyone without a secure place,” she said. Her eyes followed the tulip’s neck and her charcoal drew a swift line on the page. John watched her at work. She made it look absurdly easy. She was a plain girl, he thought, plain-featured and plain-spoken, and he thought that his wife Elizabeth would have liked her enormously. A straightforward girl who could be relied on to run a small business, a sensible girl who would look for reliability and dependability in a husband and not necessarily expect more. A girl who knew the value of money, not a spendthrift woman from court. A good girl who would care for children who needed a mother.

“D’you like children?” he asked abruptly.

She drew another smooth line for the tulip’s sensuous wavy stem. “Yes,” she said. “I hope to have children of my own one day.”

“You might marry a man who has children already,” John said.

She shot him an acute glance over the top of her drawing block. “I’d have no objection.”

“Even if they were up and running around?” John asked incautiously, thinking of Frances and her determined nature. “Another woman’s children, brought up in her ways and not yours?”

“You are thinking of your grandchildren,” she said, cutting through his hedging with one swift slice. “My uncle has told you that I have a good dowry and you are wondering if I would care for your grandchildren.”

John choked slightly on his pipe. “You are a frank speaker,” he exclaimed.

She turned her attention to her drawing. “Something has to happen,” she said quietly. “I cannot travel around with my uncle forever, and I want a home of my own and a husband to settle down with. I should like children, and a good little business to run.”

“My son is grieving for his wife,” John warned her. “There may be no room in his heart for another woman at all. You might marry him and live with him all your life and never hear a word of love from him.”

Hester nodded, her hand steady and skillful as she turned the charcoal on its side and rubbed it gently against the grain of the paper to show the delicate veining on the tulip leaf. “It is an understanding. An agreement; not a love affair.”

“Will that be enough for you?” John asked curiously. “A young woman of your age?”

“I’m not a young maid,” she said steadily. “I am a spinster of the parish of St. Bride’s. A maid is a girl with a life of promise before her. I am a spinster of twenty-five in need of a husband. If your son will have me, and treat me kindly, I will have him. I don’t care that he has loved another woman, even if he loves her still. What I care about is getting a home of my own and children to care for. Somewhere I can hold up my head. And you and he are well-known; he works for the king direct and he has the ear of the queen. With Parliament dissolved and London trade doing badly, there is no other route of advancement other than the court. This would be a very good match for me. It’s nothing more than adequate for him, but I will make it worth his while. I will guard his business and his children.”

John had the delightful sensation that he should not be having this conversation at all, that J was not a lad to have these things arranged for him, he was a man who should make his own choices. But it was a great pleasure to organize things as he wished, and he was afraid for his grandchildren.

“Frances is nine and her brother is four years old. A girl needs a mother, and Johnny is not out of his short coats. You would care for them and give them the love they need?”

Still Hester did not take her eyes from the tulip. “I would. And I would give you more grandchildren, if God is merciful.”

“I won’t be with you for long,” John predicted. “I’m an old man. That’s why I’m in a hurry to see my grandchildren safe and my son married. I want to know that I leave it all in safe hands.”

She put down her paper and for the first time her eyes met his. “Trust me. I will care for all three of them, and for your rarities, for the Ark and for the gardens.”

She thought that a look of immense relief passed over his face as if he now saw the way out of some complex thick-leaved maze.

“Very well, then,” he said. “When Their Majesties leave here, I’ll go home and you can come with me. You should see the children and they see you before we go further. And then J will come home from Virginia and the two of you can see if you like each other enough.”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Hester asked bluntly. “I’m not a beauty. He might think he could do better.”

“Then I’ll bring you back to your uncle and you’re no worse off,” John said. He thought he had never met a woman so frank. The lack of vanity and the plain speaking suited him; he wondered if J would like her for it, or if she would embarrass him. “Of course, you might not like him.”

She shook her head. “I’m not a princess in a romance pining for love,” she said. “If he can give me a house and business and a couple of children, that’s all I want. I could shake on the deal today.”

John reminded himself that to put out his hand and shake on the deal now would be to trap her as well as to trap his son. He heard Cecil’s wise cynicism in his head urging him to do it and turned away. “I won’t let you be too hasty,” he said, resisting the temptation. “Come with me to the Ark at Lambeth, meet the children, see the house and see if it suits you before we say more.”

Hester nodded, her eyes back on the tulips again. “Good,” she said.

John was weary to the very marrow of his bones on the journey home from Oatlands to Lambeth. The road seemed longer than usual and the river crossing was cold, with a bitter wind that swept down the river and cut through his leather waistcoat and his woolen cloak. The ague that he had brought home from Rhé, which descended on him whenever he was tired, made him ache in every bone of his body. He was glad that Hester was there to pay the ferryman and to commandeer a wagon for them to ride down the South Lambeth Road. She had an eye to his comfort all the way but not even her care could stop the wind blowing chill or the wagon jolting down the road in the winter ruts.