Free I Am Rembrandt's Daughter by Lynn Cullen

telling.
    “Well,” Vader says, “I am no longer interested in selling it.”
    “Vader!” Titus exclaims.
    Vader shuffles around the printing press, shoves open the curtains to my bed, and eases himself down. I am thankful that I had the foresight to hide my new book under my pillow. “The painting does not say what I meant for it to say. It needs further work.”
    “Oh, Vader,” Titus says, “that painting was perfectly fine. If someone wants it, sell it. You can paint others.”
    Vader winces.
    I study Titus to see if he catches Vader’s veiled look of hurt. I notice Neel watching Titus, too.
    “Forget about that for now,” Titus says. “Look what I brought.” From the deep pockets of his new cassock, he pulls two green-waxed balls of Edam and sets them on the table. “Herbed. Your favorite, Vader.”
    “Oh.” Vader sighs, then smiles.
    Titus digs again and brings out a set of silver candlestick holders. The dim light coming through the window is enough to set off the delicate flowers etched into the shining metal. “Come here, Cornelia.”
    I slip past the clutter to his side. “Whose are those?”
    Titus holds them out to me. “Yours.”
    “Candlestick holders?”
    “Magdalena’s vader was the head of the silversmiths’ guild. They have this sort of thing sitting around all over their house.”
    “But aren’t they Magdalena’s?”
    Titus laughs. “They’re mine to give. Everything of Magdalena’s is mine to give. Here, take them.”
    The candlestick holders are heavy—much silver must be in them. How many guilders could a fine pair such as these fetch? Like the maid in the tale who dreams on the way to the market of the things she can buy with her eggs, my brain races with plans. I could purchase bread to make me look less gaunt and young; a lilac satin bodice to attract a suitor; pearl earrings to hint at my wealth, so when I did attract a suitor, he’d be good and rich. We have not resorted yet to stealing, at least not that I know of, but stranger things have happened in the house of van Rijn.
    “Give them back, Cornelia,” Vader says.
    “But they’re my gift to her, Vader.”
    “Give them back, Cornelia. Believe me,” he says pointedly, “take things that aren’t yours, and it always comes back to haunt you.”
    Titus takes back the candlestick holders with a frown. “Get dressed, Vader. I am taking us to the inn for a bite.”
    Vader shakes his head. “Too expensive.”
    “No trouble.” Titus jingles his pockets. “You come, too, Neel.”
    “Thank you,” Neel says, “but I should be going. You go on, Cornelia. I will clean up my brushes.”
    “Vader,” Titus says, “run to the back room and change into your cassock. You cannot wear that old paint-spattered dressing gown out on the street.”
    He usually does, I think.
    Vader reaches under my pillow. He holds up my book. “What is this?”
    Titus squints at the cover as I rush around the furniture. “I believe,” he says, “it is a book called Maidenly Virtues: The Young Woman’s Guide to Comportment .”
    I lean over Vader and grab it. My face burns as I stuff it back under my pillow.
    “Oh ho,” says Titus, “which virtues do you wish to acquire, Bird?”
    Even Neel smiles. I shall murder them all.
    Vader pushes himself up slowly from the bed. “Leave the girl alone,” he says, then totters out of the room.
    “Cornelia,” Titus whispers as soon as Vader is gone, “if Vader will not bring that picture to Gerrit Hendrickszoon, you must. Gerrit Hendrickszoon said this is a buyer with a deep purse.”
    I jerk my bed curtains closed. He makes sport of me, then expects me to risk making a fool of myself before Carel? “You cannot be serious,” I say with heat.
    “Oh, yes, Bird, I can, and the sooner the better, while the buyer is interested. You must go tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow!” Panic erases my pique. “How?” I know little of the business end of art. It is the painting I have always wished to do, not