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A Marriage of Inconvenience

Written by Kerryn Offord

Zaandam, near Amsterdam, January 1634

Cornelius Hardebol looked down. Some thirty feet below he could see members of the mill workforce already starting to collect around the crumpled form of Anthonius de Plancken.

The master papermaker had fallen to his death, and Cornelius hadn't even had to push him. That wasn't to say he'd never thought about it. As a senior journeyman papermaker, the next step of his climb up the guild hierarchy was dependent on the guild declaring there was a vacancy for a new master, or by filling a dead man's shoes.

Cornelius broke the last of the ice that had been preventing the fantail turning and swung out of the way as the blades of the small windmill started to rotate. Happy that the job he and Anthonius had started was successfully completed, he clambered down onto the stage that surrounded the windmill, and hastened over to the railing that surrounded the stage. He had hoped that Pieter Peeck's shouted announcement that the master was dead hadn't woken Anthonius' wife. Unfortunately, just as he arrived at the rail, he saw Mevrouw Goverts appear. That meant there was no longer anything to gain by risking the fast way down. So instead of going over the rail and dropping to the ground, he took the stairs.

"It was an accident," he heard Pieter Peeck explain to Anthonius' wife. "I saw it all. Mijnheer Hardebol wasn't even close to the master when he fell."

Cornelius swore under his breath. Young master Peeck was going to be lucky to survive his apprenticeship. He grabbed the helpful individual by the scruff of his neck and hissed into his ear an instruction to "shut up" before pushing him back into the arms of the gathered apprentices.

"I was just saying that it was an accident," Pieter protested.

Cornelius stared Pieter into abject silence before returning to more important matters. The widow was kneeling on the ground holding Anthonius' head in her lap and crying enough to float an East Indiaman.

"Pieter, go and get the Schout. Tell him Master de Plancken has fallen to his death." He paused a moment to stare straight at Pieter. He had a position in the CoC to maintain and he didn't want any rumors started before he could talk to the Schout. "And that's all you tell anybody, understood?" Pieter swallowed once, nodded, and hurried off.

They couldn't move the body until the Schout gave permission, and they couldn't leave it exposed to the elements and anybody who came calling, so he instructed Willem de Grauw to get a cargo cover. When the junior journeyman returned Cornelius gestured for the female household staff to escort Mevrouw Goverts into the house while he, Willem, and the apprentices spread the sheet of heavy canvas over the body. Then he sent everyone back inside while he waited beside his late employer and mentor for the Schout.

****

Tears continued to run down Lysbeth Goverts' face as she stared through the window at her husband's covered body. He'd been a good husband, and a good father to the girls. Yes, he might have been upset that Janneke hadn't been the hoped for boy, but he hadn't held that against her, or Janneke.

Now her friendly easy-going husband was dead. Why had the silly old fool insisted on going up with Cornelius Hardebol to free the fantail?

Later that day

"We'll be all right for a while now, Cornelius," Willem de Grauw called.

"I'll see you later then," Cornelius told the junior journeyman. Normally he wouldn't leave the working mill in the master's absence, but today the master wasn't going to come back. He tidied up in the small workers' bathroom before going in search of Lysbeth Goverts. As the senior journeyman he had first claim on the mill and the rank of master that went with it—if he could persuade the widow to marry him.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. He gathered his hair and tied it with a bit of ribbon before removing his work apron and donning his doublet. He was as clean as he could get. It was time to go calling.

"Yes?" the housemaid asked when he knocked at the door to the master's house.

"I've come to speak to your mistress," Cornelius explained.

"The master's not cold and you're around already," Anneke Bellier said.

"It is my right," he insisted.

Anneke sniffed inelegantly and guided Cornelius to a reception room. "Wait here. I'll see if the mistress wants to talk to you."

Cornelius couldn't settle, so he wandered around the room. He was staring vacantly out a window when Anneke returned with a teary eyed Lysbeth.

He really wished she hadn't been crying. It made what he had to do so much less palatable. However, the mill couldn't continue for very long without someone with the authority to give orders.

Their eyes met, and Cornelius was the first to blink. "Mevrouw Goverts, I know you've just lost your husband, but the mill is without a master, and that situation can't be allowed to continue for long."

"And who do you suggest should take charge of the mill?" Lysbeth asked.

"Me." Cornelius thumped his chest. "I should like to take over the running of the mill."

"Very well, consider yourself in charge."

"You know that isn't what I meant, Mevrouw Goverts. The master is dead, and now there is a vacancy in the guild for a master. I want that position."

"The only way you'll become master of this mill is by marrying me," Lysbeth said.

"That condition isn't unexpected." Actually, it was the normal way these things were handled. "I am prepared to marry you."

"Well, I'm not prepared to marry you, so please leave."

Cornelius studied Mevrouw Goverts. She looked shattered by her loss. "We'll talk again when you're not feeling so emotional."

****

Lysbeth was still muttering to herself when Anneke returned from showing Cornelius out.

"Did you say something, mistress?"

"That man as good as said it would be a chore to marry me, but that he'd do it if that was what it took to take over my mill."

Anneke glanced in the direction Cornelius had taken. "He's being very honest."

"There is such a thing as being too honest."

"Would you rather he'd declared he'd been in love with you since he first saw you, but that . . ."

Lysbeth glared the teenager into sniggering silence. Maybe she shouldn't have let Anneke read her romantic novels. "Don't you have some work you should be doing?"

That evening

"Mommy, Mommy, something's wrong with Papa."

The screaming penetrated Lysbeth's fatigue. That was her four-year-old daughter screaming out, and it could only mean one thing. Lysbeth struggled to her feet and hurried to the room where the men had laid out Anthonius.

Little Maritje was trying to waken her papa, and becoming quite distressed that her papa wasn't responding. Lysbeth put her arms around her daughter and pulled her away from the bed. "Papa's gone to heaven, Maritje. God needed him."

"But that's Papa right there," Maritje insisted.

Lysbeth lifted her daughter and carried her out of the room. She was met by the curious faces of the house staff and the apprentices who lived in the lower rooms of the house. Anneke had her arms around Lysbeth's eldest daughter.

She placed Maritje in Anneke's arms and immediately the three girls were entwined in a group hug. Then she turned her gaze on the apprentices. There were only the four of them of them, as the mill couldn't support more.

"I'll get Mijnheer Hardebol," Pieter Peeck volunteered before hurrying off.

Lysbeth almost called Pieter back, but someone had to deal with Anthonius' body while she comforted her children. Instead she sent the other apprentices off with the cook to eat, and then she sat down with Anneke and her daughters and gathered the three of them in her arms.

Minutes later firm footfalls penetrated Lysbeth's misery. She looked up to see Cornelius enter the room with Pieter trailing behind him.

"Pieter here tells me you need some help?"

Was there a hint of smug male superiority in that face? Lysbeth mentally cursed male facial hair that hid so much. She sent Pieter off to eat before leading Cornelius to the room where her husband lay. "Maritje discovered Anthonius' body."

"So? She has to know her papa is dead some time."

Lysbeth couldn't believe the callousness of Cornelius' words. "She's only four years old."

Cornelius shrugged. "Plenty of children lose parents at a younger age."

"Maritje became very upset when she couldn't wake her father," she explained. "I'd like you to move Anthonius to somewhere the girls can't stumble across him accidentally."

"If you'd like to keep your children out of the way, I'll use the back entrance."

Lysbeth watched in horror as Cornelius rolled Anthonius up in the sheet and lifted him onto his shoulder. "You can't carry Anthonius like that," she hissed.

"Do you want the body moved or don't you?"

It wasn't much of a choice. Lysbeth nodded.

"Then stop creating obstacles."

Lysbeth followed Cornelius to the back door and very nearly slammed it after him. How could the man be so insensitive?

Next day

After the day from hell Lysbeth hadn't thought things could possibly get worse. She'd been wrong. First there had been the Schout. Jan Honckelboer had felt he had to explain why he didn't think Cornelius had anything to do with Anthonius' death. She tried to circumvent the explanation, as she'd never considered that possibility. However, Jan had been so engrossed in the sound of his own voice that nothing could stop him. Still, even Jan Honckelboer had to run out of things to say eventually, and she'd finally managed to get rid of him after not more than two hours. Then, just as she was showing the Schout out, the representatives from the guild council arrived. She let them in and led them to her office where she directed them into seats before settling in Anthonius' chair on the other side of the desk. She knew what was coming, because she'd been in the same situation nearly ten years ago when she inherited her father's mill.

"The mill needs a new master," Lieven Steenwinckel informed her. "As the owner you have a choice. Either you sell the mill to someone acceptable to the guild . . ."

"I'm not selling my mill," Lysbeth said. And it was her mill. It'd been hers since both her brothers died fighting the Spanish back in 1621. Initially she'd taken charge to save the mill for the time when her father would recover from the triple blow of losing her mother and brothers so close together, but he'd never recovered. Instead he'd just dwindled away, dying shortly before her eighteenth birthday.

"Your desire to keep such a profitable mill is perfectly understandable, Mevrouw Goverts. However, that leaves but one option open to you. Much as it distresses me to suggest it, you must marry a journeyman acceptable to the guild."

Lysbeth clamped down hard on her tongue. Mijnheer Steenwinckel didn't look very distressed at all. She took a moment to calm down. "And who might the guild consider acceptable?"

The lawyer held out a hand to his assistant, who promptly gave him a sheet of paper. Lieven placed the paper in front of him and adjusted his spectacles. "Of course you are free to select some other journeyman, but the guild would prefer that you pick one of the following." He glanced down and read from the list. "Rut van Hooges, Cornelius Hardebol, and John Mason."

Lieven took off his spectacles and stared intently at Lysbeth. "The council hopes that you will accept Cornelius Hardebol as he is highly placed with the Amsterdam CoC, and his elevation to the rank of guild master can only be beneficial to the council."

"What about being beneficial to me?" Lysbeth demanded.

"The guild council will ensure that the contract that is drawn up adequately protects you and your children," Lieven said.

"Like they did for Giertie Badie?" Lysbeth demanded, thinking of the poor woman who'd been virtually forced to marry Hendrick de Hooges.

Lieven looked blankly at Lysbeth and looked a question at his assistant. The man leaned over and whispered into Lieven's ear. "Ah! That was before my time, Mevrouw Goverts. A most grossly mismanaged affair. There is no need to fear that you would lose the mill, Mevrouw Goverts, not when I write the contract."

"Well, thank you for your time," Lysbeth said without any attempt to lend the words credibility. "I'll consider the names you've given me, and make my decision."

"We can't have the mill without a master for too long, so I'm afraid we must insist that you make a decision before the end of next week. Otherwise the guild will be forced to take action. To help speed things up I've already talked to our preferred candidates, and they've promised to talk to you as soon as possible," Lieven said as he started to collect his papers. "I'm sure we can have this settled in no time at all."

Lysbeth saw her unwelcome guests out and slumped into Anthonius' chair and cursed him. Why did he have to go and die? It had taken her nearly seven of their ten years of marriage to get him properly trained, and now she was going to have to repeat the process with a new husband.

Later that day

"Mijnheer de Hooges was so angry, Mistress. I can't tell you how happy I was when Mijnheer Hardebol called down from the stage," Anneke Bellier said as she returned from seeing out Rut de Hooges.

Lysbeth looked up in horror, afraid that the disgruntled journeyman might have taken out his disappointment on little Anneke. "He didn't hurt you?"

Anneke shook her head. "But if Mijnheer Hardebol hadn't been there . . ."

The shudder that went through the maid's petite frame reinforced Lysbeth's belief that Rut, like his father before him, was prone to violence. "Well, there's no way I'll be marrying him."

"Good."

"Let's hope John Mason is better."

Anneke snorted. "Couldn't be worse."

"No," Lysbeth agreed.

****

John Mason was a thirty-six year old journeyman. He'd been working at Master Swartwout's mill since he returned from his journeyman's journey ten years ago to be close to his aging parents. He was happy working under Master Swartwout, but he wasn't one to let an opportunity go begging. And marriage to Master de Plancken's widow was definitely an opportunity to advance up the guild hierarchy.

"Hello, Rut," he called to the journeyman leaving Master de Plancken's mill.

Rut pushed past, totally ignoring him. John watched the journeyman hurry off. Oh dear, it looked like Rut's hopes had suffered a setback. John smiled smugly. That wasn't going to happen to him. He knew he was the best man to take over the de Plancken mill, and persuading Lysbeth Goverts to marry him shouldn't present any problem.

There was a young girl playing with a doll by a side door. John recognized Anthonius' middle daughter and walked over to her. He crouched down so he was at her level. "Good afternoon, Mejuffrouw Maritje."

Maritje de Plancken hugged her doll and smiled at John. "Hello."

He gestured to the doll. "Who is your friend?"

"Esterken."

John reached for the doll's hand and bowed down to kiss it. "A pleasure to meet you, Mejuffrouw Esterken."

He enjoyed the smile that appeared on Maritje's face. Then he noticed a switch in the direction she was looking. He followed Maritje's gaze to find Mevrouw Goverts watching. Slightly embarrassed at being caught playing with the young girl, he hastily stood. He dropped a slight bow of his head in greeting. "Mevrouw Goverts."

"Mijnheer Mason. You'd best come in. Maritje, Mevrouw Willemse has something for you in the kitchen."

Maritje waved to John before running off, and John waved back. "A most delightful young girl," he commented.

"Yes, she is. How can I help you Mijnheer Mason?"

****

Lysbeth had been so hopeful when she'd seen John with Maritje. With Rut de Hooges already out of the running, she'd thought she'd discovered a viable alternative to Cornelius Hardebol. How wrong she'd been. At least she knew Cornelius was interested in the new technologies she and Anthonius had introduced to her mill over the years. John Mason, on the other hand, had definite views on the traditions of the craft. Those views including total resistance to the idea of giving a woman any say in what was done in her mill. That had been the last straw. She stood up, forcing John to do likewise. "It was very good of you to call, but I'm sure the rest of the men at your mill must be wondering what's keeping you."

She kept up a flood of idle chatter as she escorted John to the door. She stayed standing on the steps until John disappeared down the road. Then she turned and looked up. As expected, Cornelius Hardebol was there. She pointed a finger at him, then crooked it and gestured inside.

Late February1634

"Amen."

Lysbeth smothered a sigh of relief. At last it was over, and now she could get up off her knees—such an inelegant position, especially with people watching. She waited for her new husband to get to his feet and help her up, and then they followed the minister to where the parish register was kept. They signed the register and waited for the minister and witnesses to sign. Now, officially, the business of their marriage was over, they could concentrate on the reason for the marriage—running her mill.

In addition to the mill workers, some sixty of her and Cornelius' closest friends and business acquaintances had assembled in the guildhall for the reception. When she and Cornelius appeared they were already in place at the tables. A cheer went up for the happy couple, and Lysbeth allowed Cornelius to pull out her chair for her. Then the serious business of eating, drinking, and talking began.

****

"Congratulations, Lysbeth. You made a wise choice."

"You really think so?" she asked hopefully. She still had doubts about what she'd done.

"Oh, definitely, I've heard Cornelius speak in CoC meetings, and he's a real force for modernization," Frederick van Dyke said. "With Cornelius in charge your mill will continue to be at the forefront of paper making technology."

She glanced across the room to where Cornelius was talking to one of the merchants who dealt with their paper. Even though it was their wedding reception, she was still surprised that nobody she talked to had anything bad say about Cornelius, but then, they didn't have to live with the callous and uncouth creature. At least he seemed capable of dealing with customers without giving them offense. Satisfied that her new husband was doing what he should to further the business, she turned back to Frederick. "How's business? Is the siege causing you many problems?"

"Siege? What siege?" Frederick looked around at the tables set around the hall laden with food and fine wines. He gestured to include the whole hall. "Oh, you mean this siege?"

Lysbeth grinned. The current siege of Amsterdam was certainly unlike any she'd ever heard about. "Yes, this siege."

"Business is doing well, too well, actually. I've got a strong catalog, but I'm having difficulty getting enough paper at a suitable price to meet demand. I don't suppose . . ." he looked at her hopefully.

Lysbeth regretfully shook her head. "I'm sorry, Frederick. We'd love to help you if we could, but we're barely keeping up with demand for our fine white as it is."

Frederick released a heavy sigh. "I was afraid of that. If only the other masters had been as forward thinking as Anthonius and Cornelius, I wouldn't have this trouble getting paper."

"If I hear of anyone who can help you, I'll get in touch."

"Thank you, and now I best stop monopolizing the bride."

Lysbeth watched Frederick wend his way through the guests to the drinks table. She knew that his print shop's line in romances was selling well—she had copies of all his books—but was it really doing that well?

****

Cornelius wanted to rip off the fine clothes he'd been forced to wear for the wedding and change into something more comfortable, but his opportunity to do that was still hours away. He took another sip of ale and surveyed the guests. There was a fair smattering of guild members and CoC people—although quite a few were members of both organizations. He searched the hall until he located his wife. She was talking to one of the cheap fiction publishers. Frederick van Dyke wasn't someone she should be wasting her time with. Not when there were potential customers for the mill's paper to cultivate.

"Dead man's shoes, ay? How do they fit?"

Cornelius turned to the source of the question. Andries Calandrine wasn't one of his favorite people. However, he was a customer for the mill's paper, so he concealed his true feelings for Andries' crudity. There was no way he was going to admit to Andries that the betrothal hadn't been consummated, nor that the marriage wouldn't be consummated until Lysbeth felt ready, so he lied. "None of your business." The grin on his face left it up to Andries' twisted imagination to fill in the blanks.

"You lucky bastard."

"You would marry a widow nearly thirty years your senior," Cornelius pointed out. Andries had married his widow nearly six years ago.

"How was I to know she came from a long-lived line? I expected her to pop off years ago, but no. She's still going as strong as ever." Andries gave a regretful sigh. "She's going to outlive me, I just know it."

Cornelius located Andries' wife in the hall. Right now she was enjoying a discussion with one of Lysbeth's friends. For a woman close to her sixtieth year, she did look remarkably healthy. "It could have been worse. There could have been a child hoping to take possession of the mill."

"You mean, like the three girls you've been lumbered with?"

"I knew what I was taking on when I proposed to Lysbeth."

"At least she's young enough to give you a son. It's going to be years and years before I can marry a woman young enough to give me one."

A week later

The door to Cornelius' office burst open and Pieter Peeck staggered in. "Master Hardebol, the mistress says you need to come immediately."

Cornelius dropped the pen he was writing with, ruining the letter he'd been writing, and shot to his feet. "What's wrong?" he demanded as he grabbed his coat and hurried after Pieter.

"The journeymen at Schepmoes' mill have abandoned the apprentices." There was true horror in Pieter's voice when he said that.

Cornelius tried to remember who the journeymen in question could be. He had his coat on and the first button closed before his brain spewed out the names. Rut de Hooges and Arent Waldron. "Where are the journeymen now?"

Pieter shrugged helplessly. "I don't know, Master Hardebol."

Cornelius decided to save his breath and wait until he could talk to Lysbeth.

****

He found her in Master Schepmoes' house administering first aid to a couple of the senior apprentices. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Sijmon and Jacob caught Rut and Arent stuffing Master Schepmoes' remaining possessions into sacks and tried to stop them. They got beaten up for their trouble," Lysbeth explained as she tied off a bandage around Sijmon's head.

Cornelius looked around the room. There were signs someone had looted the house. "Is the rest of the house like this?"

Lysbeth tugged at a small boy and pushed him towards Cornelius. "This is Kaspar. He'll show you around."

The boy was young, probably no more than twelve or thirteen, but he also carried the signs of recent combat. He was hesitant about approaching Cornelius and glanced back appealingly at Lysbeth.

"It's all ...