you admit it or not, Romell, you are meant to be mine."
She wrenched her thoughts away from Adrien. "Goodbye, Pieter," she said firmly. "I wish you good luck."
When she had finally ushered him out, Romell stood with her back against the closed front door. Adrien, she thought. Adrien is sailing for Batavia!
Slowly, she pushed herself away from the door and, carrying Pieter’s still-unwrapped gift, walked into the kitchen to find her cousins.
"So, child, Pieter’s gone off, has he? A good riddance," Greta said,
"Cousin Greta," Romell said, "I’ve decided to take your advice. I’d like to sail for Batavia to meet Mijnheer van der Pol. That is, if I can go on the Zuiderwind. "
Chapter 6
Romell drew her dove-gray cloak closer as the chill of the early fall morning mist penetrated the fine wool of her traveling costume. The charcoal-gray gown had a scoop neck, inset with a fillet of lace; the dressmaker had assured her that the vee, where the bodice joined the skirt, was the very latest fashion. Romell had been most happy with the fit of the dress and the way it became her.
Until Margitte Van Slyke had appeared. Mevrouw Van Slyke, sailing on the Zuiderwind to join her merchant husband in Batavia. A young married woman and thus a proper chaperone in the cousins' eyes. Greta had talked to Mevrouw Van Slyke some days before, about acting as chaperone for Romell on the voyage, and the woman had graciously agreed. Now Margitte stood to Romell’s left on the quay, scolding her personal maid.
"Loulie," Margitte said in her husky voice, "when I tell you to stay next to me, I mean just that. I will not have you gawking off after every lout who happens by. Mind me!"
Romell glanced sideways at the plump blonde called Loulie. The maid and her mistress were like enough in coloring, both being very blond, with blue eyes, but where Margitte's figure was perfect, Loulie's was overblown. Margitte had even features, sleekly groomed hair--Loulie's blonde curls were tangled under her cap, her nose wide, her eyes too close together. At the moment she was glaring at her mistress's back with hot resentment in those eyes.
I shouldn't like to have a maid who hated me, Romell thought. In every other way, she couldn't help feeling a touch of envy. Margitte's gown was a blue exactly the color of her eyes and her slippers had been dyed to match. Over her gown she wore a darker blue cloak trimmed with white fur, the entire ensemble not only elegant but enhancing Margitte's blond beauty. Her attractive appearance and condescending manner made Romell feel like a drab gray mouse.
She looked away from Margitte and Loulie and saw a large group of roughly dressed men being herded aboard the first of the flat-bottomed ferryboats by soldiers. A stench of sickness and unwashed bodies drifted from the men, and Romell glanced toward her cousins, eyebrows lifted.
"The sailors to man the Zuiderwind ," Greta murmured.
"Why must they be under guard?"
"To prevent any man from changing his mind."
Romell stared again at the ragged crew aboard the ferry, now setting sail toward the river mouth.
"The zielverkoopers —the soul-sellers—buy men and keep them locked up until the ship sails," Margitte Van Slyke put in, amused by Romell’s ignorance, "Otherwise, who would sign on?"
The thought of this dampened Romell's enthusiasm. Soul-sellers! What a terrible word!
Cousin Halva twitched at her sleeve. Romell turned to her as the timid Halva leaned forward to murmur, "We will pray every day for your safe passage."
"Dank U," Romell said, patting Halva's arm. "I'll miss you both." As she spoke, she was surprised at the truth of her words.
"You've decided properly," Greta assured her. "I knew from the first that you were really a good girl."
"I know I've been a trial," Romell said.
On a waiting ferryboat, a sailor shouted. Excitement bubbled anew inside Romell. She was sailing to a strange, exotic land, a land of silks
She wrenched her thoughts away from Adrien. "Goodbye, Pieter," she said firmly. "I wish you good luck."
When she had finally ushered him out, Romell stood with her back against the closed front door. Adrien, she thought. Adrien is sailing for Batavia!
Slowly, she pushed herself away from the door and, carrying Pieter’s still-unwrapped gift, walked into the kitchen to find her cousins.
"So, child, Pieter’s gone off, has he? A good riddance," Greta said,
"Cousin Greta," Romell said, "I’ve decided to take your advice. I’d like to sail for Batavia to meet Mijnheer van der Pol. That is, if I can go on the Zuiderwind. "
Chapter 6
Romell drew her dove-gray cloak closer as the chill of the early fall morning mist penetrated the fine wool of her traveling costume. The charcoal-gray gown had a scoop neck, inset with a fillet of lace; the dressmaker had assured her that the vee, where the bodice joined the skirt, was the very latest fashion. Romell had been most happy with the fit of the dress and the way it became her.
Until Margitte Van Slyke had appeared. Mevrouw Van Slyke, sailing on the Zuiderwind to join her merchant husband in Batavia. A young married woman and thus a proper chaperone in the cousins' eyes. Greta had talked to Mevrouw Van Slyke some days before, about acting as chaperone for Romell on the voyage, and the woman had graciously agreed. Now Margitte stood to Romell’s left on the quay, scolding her personal maid.
"Loulie," Margitte said in her husky voice, "when I tell you to stay next to me, I mean just that. I will not have you gawking off after every lout who happens by. Mind me!"
Romell glanced sideways at the plump blonde called Loulie. The maid and her mistress were like enough in coloring, both being very blond, with blue eyes, but where Margitte's figure was perfect, Loulie's was overblown. Margitte had even features, sleekly groomed hair--Loulie's blonde curls were tangled under her cap, her nose wide, her eyes too close together. At the moment she was glaring at her mistress's back with hot resentment in those eyes.
I shouldn't like to have a maid who hated me, Romell thought. In every other way, she couldn't help feeling a touch of envy. Margitte's gown was a blue exactly the color of her eyes and her slippers had been dyed to match. Over her gown she wore a darker blue cloak trimmed with white fur, the entire ensemble not only elegant but enhancing Margitte's blond beauty. Her attractive appearance and condescending manner made Romell feel like a drab gray mouse.
She looked away from Margitte and Loulie and saw a large group of roughly dressed men being herded aboard the first of the flat-bottomed ferryboats by soldiers. A stench of sickness and unwashed bodies drifted from the men, and Romell glanced toward her cousins, eyebrows lifted.
"The sailors to man the Zuiderwind ," Greta murmured.
"Why must they be under guard?"
"To prevent any man from changing his mind."
Romell stared again at the ragged crew aboard the ferry, now setting sail toward the river mouth.
"The zielverkoopers —the soul-sellers—buy men and keep them locked up until the ship sails," Margitte Van Slyke put in, amused by Romell’s ignorance, "Otherwise, who would sign on?"
The thought of this dampened Romell's enthusiasm. Soul-sellers! What a terrible word!
Cousin Halva twitched at her sleeve. Romell turned to her as the timid Halva leaned forward to murmur, "We will pray every day for your safe passage."
"Dank U," Romell said, patting Halva's arm. "I'll miss you both." As she spoke, she was surprised at the truth of her words.
"You've decided properly," Greta assured her. "I knew from the first that you were really a good girl."
"I know I've been a trial," Romell said.
On a waiting ferryboat, a sailor shouted. Excitement bubbled anew inside Romell. She was sailing to a strange, exotic land, a land of silks
Similar Books
