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I also will send a rather precious consignment—to wit—two beautiful granddaughters for you! If you agree, I should like Miaand Gabrielle to come to you for a long visit. It is very hard for me to give them the girlhood I would like them to have in this city. Girls of good family are kept very strictly at home, and there is no society for young people at all. It is hard for me to find tutors and quite impossible to find anyone to teach science and philosophy to girls. There is almost no education for girls outside the convents. They are both very scholarly girls, which is not easy in Venice, where women are mostly encouraged to religious studies. Gabrielle in particular shows a great interest in herbs and plants—just like my dearest grandmother. Felipe says if they are Venetian girls, then they should be betrothed in two years, married in three, and that would solve the problem with a cradleful of babies by the time they are eighteen—but I say they are English girls and I don’t want them married young and their life in the keeping of a husband.
We have talked of this with the girls, and they are eager to come. I always thought that this visit would happen—I did not think it would be so soon!
I will, of course, pay for their keep with you and pay their fees for what tutors you can find for them. Please deduct it from our trade balance with you. They are truly dear girls and no trouble, their only flaw is this terrible cleverness. I think they must have it from you, Ma, with your head for business, and from you, dearest Grandmother, and your love of herbs. For sure, I have never been interested in anything but hats and making money so there should be no blame attached to me for raising girls who want to study things and think about them.
Felipe tells me to warn you what you do, for if you are successful in ridding us of our two girls, we have two boys coming along behind them whom he will send to you as well. David should join the navy for sure, and Luca is very talented in music, at least I think so. But Felipe is just teasing me, for he knows I cannot bear to be parted with any of them. It’s such a relief to know that Captain Shore sails regularly between us, it feels as if I am never far from you. And if anything were to go wrong—for a moment—you must send them home to me, whatever it is.
And Ma—do say no if it is too much for you? Please ask Johnnie what he thinks and ask him to send me a note with his opinion. Tell him one of the silks he sent is very lovely. I can sell it very well here, or to let me know if he wants it sent on with Capt. Shore? Yellow with gold thread, and an ell wide and ten long.
I write in haste as a Dutch ship will sail this morning for London and I can send this to you if I get it to the Capt. now—I send you all my love as always, dearest Ma and dearest Grandmama, hoping you are well and the family too, as we are… Sarah
“What a riot her brain is,” Johnnie said. “And how can you even read it? The last paragraph is scrawled sideways through the rest.”
“I like hearing the scramble of her thoughts,” his mother said, smiling. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have her girls to stay here?”
“Julia would be glad to have them in Hatton Garden,” Rob put in.
Both Alys and Johnnie ignored the polite lie.
“Can you manage two girls here, Ma?”
“Oh yes, now that we have the second warehouse. Tabs and Susie can sleep over that side and the girls could go in the eaves.”
“They’ll be used to something a bit grander than servants’ rooms,” Rob pointed out.
“I won’t be in your way for long,” Ned offered.
“I think the rooms are the least of your worries. What does she say?” Johnnie consulted the letter. “Philosophy and science? And one of them interested in herbs and plants?”
“What about St. Saviour’s?” Rob suggested. “The school is for boys only, of course, but the new master’s wife has set up a class for girls in their parlor. They say that she’s teaching the same subjects as the boys are learning! And the girls can take lessons with Hester’s governess until they start.”
“What a good idea!” Alys said, her eyes shining. “They can come on Captain Shore’s return voyage. He sails in mid-June. And if you leave Rowan with us, Uncle Ned, she can serve as their maid. She can come out of her boys’ clothes and look after the two of them.”
“Would she want to do that?” Rob asked doubtfully. “Is she at all trained?”
“She’ll do as she pleases,” Ned replied stiffly. “She’s not to be trained like a dog.”
“No, of course… I meant no disrespect. Just whether it would suit her? Will you ask her?”
“Alys can ask her, if she wants to,” Ned said unhelpfully.
“I’ll ask,” Johnnie interrupted. “She might feel obliged if it came from Ma.”
Alys gathered up the scrawled pages of the letter. “I’ll go and read this to Ma and Julia.”
“Come and have a look at this barrel of herbs of mine,” Ned invited Rob. “I’ve got a sort of moss that might interest you. The native peoples use it for wounds, it stops bleeding.” Ned led Rob through the door into the warehouse as Johnnie crossed the hall and stepped over the stone sill into the kitchen.
Rowan was at the table, an apron around her breeches, her boys’ shirtsleeves rolled up, floured to the elbows, inexpertly kneading dough. Tabs was seated at the head of the table.
“Gently! Gently!” she insisted. “You’re kneading it, not beating it to death!” She rose to her feet when Johnnie came in. “Master Johnnie,” she said with pleasure. “Good to see you. Will you take a glass of small ale? And an apple puff when it comes out the oven? If it isn’t crushed flat?”
He smiled at her. “Hello, Tabs. I’ve just come for a word with young Rowan here.”
“Brush the flour off your hands and take off your apron and go with the master into the parlor,” Tabs told her.
Rowan followed Johnnie into the front room. It was cool, as the room faced north over the river, the greenish lights dancing on the ceiling as the early summer light reflected off the high tide. Rowan pulled down her shirtsleeves. He thought how unlike an Englishwoman she was: the way she stood in alert silence.
“Mrs. Shore is going to invite her granddaughters from Venice,” he told her. At the narrowing of her eyes, he guessed that she did not know of this side of the family and had never even heard of Venice. “Mrs. Shore—my mother, Alys—has a daughter: my sister, Sarah—very dear to me. She lives with her husband and children in Venice,far away from here—more than thirty days’ sailing. They have four children and the two oldest, two girls, are coming on a visit.
