Tulip Fever by Deborah Moggach Read Free Book Online Page A

are objects pregnant with possibilities, with a future that will now only exist in his imagination. He looks at them with an artist’s eye: the white cloth distorted through the twin glasses, the metallic gleam of knife and jug. Despite everything, this harmonious arrangement pleasures his senses.
    “Gerrit!” he calls. “Clear the table. I’m going to the tavern.”
    He hears a faint sound. At first he thinks it is the tree outside, tapping at the window. He gets up and puts on his cloak. His legs feel leaden, as if he has been wading through a bog.
    He hears the tapping again. It is at the door.
    Jan strides across and opens it.
    Sophia stands there. “It’s me,” she says.

14

    Maria
Love can neither be bought nor sold—its only price is love.
    —JACOB CATS, Moral Emblems, 1632
    Maria sits side by side with Willem on the back step. The sun is sinking; the high wall casts the courtyard into shadow. It is a small, enclosed yard and receives the sun only briefly at this time of year. Her broom leans against the wall like a sentry.
    Willem strokes her fingers one by one. “You should rub some fat into these, my lovely. Goose fat. That’ll make you a lady.”
    “It’ll take more than that,” Maria laughs.
    She leans against him. The stone step freezes her bottom but she doesn’t dare move with him into the house; she is not sure if her mistress is still at home. The letter seemed to have upset her; maybe it contained bad news from her family. Since yesterday her mistress has been acting strangely. Twice this afternoon she put on her cloak to go out and then took it off again. The last time Maria saw her she was sitting next to the front door twisting a tendril of her hair around her finger.
    “Maria, my darling, I’ve got something to ask you.”
    “What is it?”
    “I love you and you love me.” Willem puts his hand around her waist. “I think I’m right in saying that.”
    “Of course I love you. Yesterday I bubbled over a duck. I feel all shivery when I see you. Can’t you tell?”
    “So you and me—let’s get married.”
    She nods. Happiness floods her. Over the wall, in the apple tree next door, a blackbird pours out its song like coins, like sweet wine; oh, her head is spinning.
    “Of course I want to marry you, Willem, but we don’t have any money.”
    “You wait.” He taps the side of his nose. “I’ve got plans.”
    “What plans?”
    “I can’t divulge them, not at this moment. Suffice it to say that I’m going to make a lady of you and we’ll have a place to live and then we can have babies.”
    Babies . Maria closes her eyes. There are six of them, always six. She can feel them already, fighting for a place on her knee. In her dreams they are fishes but now they are suddenly, sturdily, real. Their laughter echoes with the birdsong.
    “How are you going to find this money?” Maria asks.
    Willem takes her hand and presses it to his heart. “Trust me, oh, my sweetness, my love.” Already, like a husband, he is taking control. Even his voice sounds deeper. “Let’s just call it a business venture.”
    He wants to marry her! Maria gazes at the single flower bed. Shoots have pushed through the soil; how hopeful they are. Lumps of earth have been dislodged by their blunt, blind determination. Spring is here at last. She leans her head on Willem’s shoulder and thinks: in all this city there are no two people as happy as us.

15

    Sophia
Those who wade in unknown waters will be sure to be drowned.
    —JACOB CATS, Moral Emblems, 1632
    Jan lives on the ground floor of a house in the Bloemgracht, but a mile from my home. He wants to escort me part of the way back, but we must not be seen together, so I slip out of his studio and hurry down the street. The sun is sinking; the sky blushes pink for me. The whole city is blushing, her buildings ruddy with shock. The canal is molten. The water, reflected on the houses, dances on the brickwork. The windows are on fire.
    Between my legs I