Niccolo Rising - Dorothy Dunnett [178]
Margriet was silent for a moment, because he had reproved her. But she had to burst out with her thoughts in the end. She said, “He thinks he has put you in his debt, or he would never have asked you. This is the first ill consequence of your partnership.”
He put the letter by her side and sat down. “Of course that’s why he asked. But there is another reason. I know Marian de Charetty is right. He could run her business as no one else could, except that he has no status at present.”
Margriet van der Banck said, “But you know that isn’t all. To marry her own apprentice instead of looking about for a trained manager, instead of taking a second husband of her own age and rank, will make her a figure of fun in this city. Perhaps he is the finest manager she could ever hope to acquire. But in doing this, she is placing her business before her own dignity. Claes! A charming boy, but so unruly that he spends half his time being beaten. Every time he came back from Louvain, all my friends would lock up their housemaids. What is she thinking of?”
“He has settled,” said Anselm. “You let him take our daughters to the Carnival. Perhaps he’s ready for marriage. Perhaps, my love, they are fond of each other.” He hesitated. “Although the letter, I admit, says nothing of that. A business arrangement is how he presents it.”
“Perhaps she is fond of him,” said Margriet. “That is what rumour will say. There is a young, strong man with an attraction for women. It would be easy for him to trap her. A business arrangement! I’m sure it is. Felix disinherited, and those two poor young girls …”
“No,” said Anselm. “He is quite specific about that. The business stays with the demoiselle and her family. His own lawyer and the écoutète will draw up a contract which excludes him from all benefits. He wants nothing but the labour of controlling the company, which for him, he says, is reward and satisfaction enough. I believe him. It is that which has decided me.”
“You’re going to help him?” she said. “Yes, I suppose you are, because of the other business. You admire him. I, of course, shall do what I can because you are my husband and I’m sorry for that poor woman, who will need a good friend. As will her family. What will the son say?”
“According to the letter, he is not to be told until after the ceremony. That is by the wish of his mother, not Claes. Or Nicholas, as I suppose we should call him.” He rose, and crossing to her, put his hand on her shoulder. “You will stand by her, then, at the wedding Mass?”
“The church!” said Margriet, starting up. “We shall have to prepare the church! Yes, I shall stand by her. A matron would be better than an unmarried woman, although we could have done with someone of standing. Katelina van Borselen, for example. But she is on her way to Brittany. This is going to put Gelis out, and a few other little girls who have been dreaming.”
“And bigger ones,” said her husband dryly.
When the noonday work bell rang out over Bruges that day, the Charetty fullers and dyers, the tenters and cutters, the carters and yardsmen and storekeepers and grooms took off their stained aprons under the monitoring eye of Henninc and went off to their homes or to the Charetty kitchens for their midday collation. Because Meester Gregorio and the Widow had gone off on unexplained business, their employees were a little noisier than usual, although they missed Claes, who was usually there to entertain them. One of them tried, when Henninc wasn’t listening, to imitate the Widow the way Claes used to do, but wasn’t nearly as brilliant.
Inside the single tall chamber of the Jerusalemkerk the bell made itself heard also to those grouped before the curious coloured altar, with its skulls and its ladders, the instruments of the Passion, where stood the short figure of Francesco Coppini, Bishop of Terni, concluding a marriage service. On the table, covered with a cloth embroidered by Margriet van der Banck herself, stood the silver-gilt cross containing the fragment of Christ’s cross, brought back