Seas of Fortune(19)
“And you send plants to the other gardens, too?”
“Yes, we trade.”
“Well, why don’t we compare inventories? We’d like to expand our own collection.”
* * *
Maria saw her friend Prudentia Gentileschi leaving the Nobili house, and waved. Prudentia was the daughter of the world-famous artist Artemisia Gentileschi, an up-and-coming artist in her own right, and a part-time assistant in the middle school and high school art classes.
“Prudentia!” Maria crossed the street and joined her. “On your way to class?” Prudentia nodded.
“I’ll walk you there, if you don’t mind. Shall we take the scenic route?”
They walked a bit, in companionable silence, then Prudentia spoke up. “So what’s new, Maria?”
“I got a letter from my brother.”
“You don’t sound happy about it. Is there bad news?”
Maria sighed. “Nothing like that. He’s fine, his wife Catarina is fine . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“It’s just that he’s so lazy. So smug. So uncomprehending of all his advantages, denied to those of our sex. So—”
“So male.”
“A decade ago, he and cousin Gijsbert got to go on a grand tour, see England, France, and Italy. Whereas I thought myself lucky to visit Amsterdam, or Delft. And, in Italy, they studied at the famous University of Padua. While I made do with academy classes and language tutors. And puttered about in the garden with Papa, of course.”
Maria shook her head. “Adolph came home in 1623, and, the next year, he was appointed professor extraordinary of medicine, with a salary of six hundred guilders a year. In 1625, when Father died, he became curator of the Hortus Botanicus. Did he continue to recruit departing ship captains to bring home exotic plants, as Papa did? No, he was content to administer potions to rich merchants, and flirt with their daughters.”
“Catarina was the last of those daughters, I hope.”
Maria nodded. “Then the curators of Leiden University told him he needed to . . . what is the American term? ‘Publish or Perish.’ So he produced a catalog of the plants in the garden.”
“That’s the one you illustrated, is it not?”
“Yes. Elzevier will be publishing it. Next year, I hope. Anyway, that was his big chance to honor our father’s work. But Adolph did the minimum work possible, contenting himself with the garden inventory. I prepared the list of 289 wild plants. Limited to the vicinity of Leiden, of course, because I didn’t get to travel to anyplace exotic, unlike Adolph.”
Prudentia gave Maria a quick hug. “None of what you have told me would have seemed at all surprising before we came to Grantville,”
“That’s true.”
“So what’s in the letter?”
“Complaints. The students are complaining that he doesn’t spend enough time with them, don’t they realize he is a busy man? Catarina has extravagant tastes, doesn’t she realize he is just a scholar, not a wealthy merchant like her father? Why am I lingering in Grantville, when I should be home in Leiden, seeing to the cataloging and description of all the seeds I have sent him? And planting them. The gardener quit and so he must do it himself.”
“Poor baby.”
Grantville, Fall 1632
Maria was standing in front of an easel, a canvas in front of her. On it was a half-finished rendition of one of the “Painted Ladies” of Grantville. This one had a covered porch, a turret, and an attic with a rayed window. It was colored blue and green, and a tall sugar maple, the official tree of West Virginia, stood beside it. At least in Maria’s painting. Maria had exercised artistic license and moved the tree to stand beside her favorite Victorian. The tree itself was a brilliant mass of scarlet, its leaves having already turned.
“Hi, Maria. What are you drawing?”
“This is—” Her voice faltered. Looking up, she realized that she didn’t recognize the woman addressing her. She was an elderly up-timer, dressed conservatively, but without any concessions to down-time practice.
“You don’t know me, but I am one of Lolly’s colleagues, Elva Dreeson. I teach art at the middle school.” She offered her hand; Maria took it.
Maria smiled apologetically. “I am sorry, she introduced me to so many people, so quickly, when I first came to stay with her.”
“Actually, you didn’t meet me at that time. I heard about your visit, but I was out sick that day. Another of our colleagues pointed you out to me, when you and Lolly were out paddling in the Great Buffalo Canoe Race. And when I heard that you were an artist, I resolved to look you up. So here I am. Belatedly.”