Chapter Forty-Six
AMSTERDAM, 1630
Herengracht looked choppy and greyly desolate when Clara walked with Nico beside it on their way to dine at Joris’s house on a chill blustery Sunday afternoon threatening rain at any moment. He had a new and very able cook, Nico had told her, and she looked forward to it, though not without some trepidation.
After some days of sickness, she had finally been forced to confront its cause. Each day she had dressed for the studio, though spent little time there, afraid of another dash from the room. She had tried, at first, to convince herself it was the sweetmeat, but Arne remained unaffected and, surely, she would have recovered by now? Yet she must know Henri had sailed before she could discuss her fears with anyone. She wished now she had paid more atte
