Free Garlands of Gold by Rosalind Laker Page A

was writing at his desk. ‘No respectable young woman would agree to being portrayed as a ship’s figurehead! The female ones are usually bare-breasted!’ She gave a deep groan of despair, clasping her forehead on the thought. ‘Who can this brazen girl be? How did she get her claws into him?’
    Her husband rested his quill pen and answered her patiently. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Bessie, my dear. If the young woman is not a passing fancy I’m sure that we shall hear more about her in future letters.’ He wanted an end to this interruption of his work.
    ‘She’s not a passing fancy! I feel it in my bones! It’s the thin edge of the wedge! In his next letter he will tell us that he is betrothed!’
    ‘Indeed? So you have the gift of foresight, my dear?’ he commented drily.
    She stamped her foot in her impatience. ‘Are you not concerned?’
    ‘No, I am not. You seem to have forgotten that Grinling is a man and no longer a boy. He has travelled and seen enough of the world to know the good from the bad. I choose to rely on his wise judgement.’
    She threw up her hands in despair. ‘Be sensible, James! People in love forget how to think properly. When you were courting me I was in such a whirl that I did not know whether I was on my head or my heels! You were the same!’
    ‘Er . . . not quite, my dear. I was thirty years old and knew my own mind.’
    She was pacing up and down, not listening. ‘We must go to England on a visit and see this young woman for ourselves.’ She was careful not to make him think she had anything permanent in mind. ‘We can stay with Cousin Henrietta in London. Just long enough to find out how serious the matter is and for you to put your foot down if the young woman is not suitable.’
    His patience had reached its limit. ‘From what I have observed so far in my lifetime,’ he stated sternly, ‘it is parental opposition that can draw a young couple in love even closer together. As for staying with Henrietta, that is out of the question. Her sojourn here with us lasted six months instead of six weeks and it seemed like for ever.’
    ‘But she had lost the love of her life and it was natural that she needed the comfort of family.’
    ‘The man had gone back to his wife!’ he exclaimed in exasperation, thumping his fist on the desk in emphasis. ‘She had no right to him in the first place.’ Then, seeing his wife was ready to continue the argument, he sat back in his chair in wearied resignation. ‘Oh, very well, Bessie,’ he said in a tired voice. ‘Leave me out of this matter, but go to England if you must. I can see that is what you want to do. All I ask is that you try not to alienate our son too much through your interference!’
    ‘As if I would!’ she exclaimed indignantly, but her eyes shone with triumph. With a soft swirl of her velvet skirt she swept out of the room and he heard her calling for Saskia.
    With a sigh he pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb for a minute or two, keeping his eyes closed for a short respite. He was very much aware that the scene with his wife had brought on a bout of the indigestion that plagued him at times. He knew he would have to retire before too long, for his health was not all it should be, but first of all he had to draw his elder son back into the fold. He needed to hand over the business to Dinely, who had settled down since his marriage, having an import business of his own in Antwerp, but that could be amalgamated into the Gibbons silk business.
    Yet James had always expected to retire in Holland. It was such a long time since he had left England when he had been intent on marrying Bessie and starting his own business. He was mentally and physically comfortable in this flat green land where windmills rotated with a hiss of sails to their own steady rhythm and sturdy wooden bridges, deceptively delicate in design, crossed canals that rippled iridescently with the colours of the sky. Most of all