the bell. Beatrix beamed at him and ignored the cold blast of air coming in from the street. After exchanging a few pleasantries with her, Daniel stepped into the house and doffed his hat. While the door was being closed behind him, he gave Amalia a welcoming kiss then stood back to appraise her. Beatrix, meanwhile, was goggling at him.
‘That will be all, Beatrix,’ said Amalia, tolerantly. ‘I’m sure that you have plenty to do.’
‘Yes, yes,’ agreed the servant, taking Daniel’s hat from him and reluctantly backing away. ‘But it’s so good to see the captain again. I must tell your father.’
‘Don’t disturb him just yet.’
‘But he’ll want to know.’
‘Father can wait ten minutes.’
Amalia wanted some time alone with Daniel first. He wiped his feet on the doormat so that his boots would leave no marks on the spotless tiles of the voorhuis then he followed her into the parlour. It was a large, low room with exquisite tapestries woven by Emanuel Janssen on three walls. A fire blazed in the grate. Away from the watchful eyes of the servant, they were able to embrace each other properly before sitting down side by side.
‘I was beginning to forget what you looked like,’ teased Amalia.
‘That’s a problem I’ve never had,’ he said, feasting his gaze on her. ‘I can always remember exactly what you look like. I’m just sorry that we’ve been apart so long this time.’
‘Your last letter said that you’d been to France.’
‘Yes, I was back in Paris once more.’
‘I’m not sure that I’d ever want to go there again,’ she said with feeling. ‘I don’t have happy memories of our time there.’
‘But that’s where you met me ,’ he pointed out, feigning dismay. ‘I’d hoped that that might qualify as a happy memory.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘It does, Daniel. You know that. I’m just sad that we met in such unfortunate circumstances.’
It was well over two years since Daniel had been sent to Paris to find out what had happened to Emanuel Janssen. Braving the accusations of betrayal, the tapestry maker had accepted an invitation to work for Louis XIV at Versailles in order to gather intelligence for the Allies while in such aunique position. Daniel had arrived in the French capital to learn that Janssen was imprisoned in the Bastille and that, even if he managed to rescue him, he would then have to spirit him, his daughter, his assistant and Beatrix out of the closely guarded city and back to the safety of their own country. Though the seemingly impossible feat was finally accomplished, it had been beset by recurring perils.
In the course of their adventures, he and Amalia had been drawn together into something more meaningful than a friendship. Since he was constantly on the move, he could maintain only a fitful correspondence with her. Whenever he was able to visit Amsterdam, however, he always made straight for her house. Seeing her again was a joy. Amalia was short, slight and fair with a delicate beauty that had captivated him. Having been a soldier all his adult life, Daniel was used to taking his pleasures where he found them before moving on. In Amalia Janssen, he’d at last found a woman who was much more than a passing conquest.
‘Tell me where you’ve been since we last met,’ she pressed.
‘It would take far too long.’
‘I want to know everything , Daniel.’
‘You’d only be bored,’ he said. ‘Let me just tell you about my time in France and about my brush with death on the way back.’
‘With death?’ she cried in alarm.
‘Don’t look so worried, Amalia. As you see, I survived.’
He reassured her with a smile then gave a brief account of his weeks in Paris, describing how he’d contrived to acquire secret information, though revealing none of its actual content. It was when he talked about his encounter with the French patrol that he went into more detail. She was horrified to hear about the grisly fate of the farmer and his
‘That will be all, Beatrix,’ said Amalia, tolerantly. ‘I’m sure that you have plenty to do.’
‘Yes, yes,’ agreed the servant, taking Daniel’s hat from him and reluctantly backing away. ‘But it’s so good to see the captain again. I must tell your father.’
‘Don’t disturb him just yet.’
‘But he’ll want to know.’
‘Father can wait ten minutes.’
Amalia wanted some time alone with Daniel first. He wiped his feet on the doormat so that his boots would leave no marks on the spotless tiles of the voorhuis then he followed her into the parlour. It was a large, low room with exquisite tapestries woven by Emanuel Janssen on three walls. A fire blazed in the grate. Away from the watchful eyes of the servant, they were able to embrace each other properly before sitting down side by side.
‘I was beginning to forget what you looked like,’ teased Amalia.
‘That’s a problem I’ve never had,’ he said, feasting his gaze on her. ‘I can always remember exactly what you look like. I’m just sorry that we’ve been apart so long this time.’
‘Your last letter said that you’d been to France.’
‘Yes, I was back in Paris once more.’
‘I’m not sure that I’d ever want to go there again,’ she said with feeling. ‘I don’t have happy memories of our time there.’
‘But that’s where you met me ,’ he pointed out, feigning dismay. ‘I’d hoped that that might qualify as a happy memory.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘It does, Daniel. You know that. I’m just sad that we met in such unfortunate circumstances.’
It was well over two years since Daniel had been sent to Paris to find out what had happened to Emanuel Janssen. Braving the accusations of betrayal, the tapestry maker had accepted an invitation to work for Louis XIV at Versailles in order to gather intelligence for the Allies while in such aunique position. Daniel had arrived in the French capital to learn that Janssen was imprisoned in the Bastille and that, even if he managed to rescue him, he would then have to spirit him, his daughter, his assistant and Beatrix out of the closely guarded city and back to the safety of their own country. Though the seemingly impossible feat was finally accomplished, it had been beset by recurring perils.
In the course of their adventures, he and Amalia had been drawn together into something more meaningful than a friendship. Since he was constantly on the move, he could maintain only a fitful correspondence with her. Whenever he was able to visit Amsterdam, however, he always made straight for her house. Seeing her again was a joy. Amalia was short, slight and fair with a delicate beauty that had captivated him. Having been a soldier all his adult life, Daniel was used to taking his pleasures where he found them before moving on. In Amalia Janssen, he’d at last found a woman who was much more than a passing conquest.
‘Tell me where you’ve been since we last met,’ she pressed.
‘It would take far too long.’
‘I want to know everything , Daniel.’
‘You’d only be bored,’ he said. ‘Let me just tell you about my time in France and about my brush with death on the way back.’
‘With death?’ she cried in alarm.
‘Don’t look so worried, Amalia. As you see, I survived.’
He reassured her with a smile then gave a brief account of his weeks in Paris, describing how he’d contrived to acquire secret information, though revealing none of its actual content. It was when he talked about his encounter with the French patrol that he went into more detail. She was horrified to hear about the grisly fate of the farmer and his
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