‘Didn’t the stink of the dyer’s woad bother you? The last time I was in Amsterdam, an artist friend insisted I go with him to see how the dyes were made. Once was more than enough for me. You’ll find the water here at Sterrenwijck is clean enough to drink, although I wouldn’t recommend it. When we were children, my brother dared me to try a spoonful. It didn’t kill me, but then I have a constitution far stronger than most. You’ll be provided with new clothes and whatever else you require to fulfil your duties comfortably. We will travel together to court. I will introduce you as my companion or my chaperone. It’s not unusual for a lady of my station to acquire such a person, although usually the roles are reversed. Not many hofdames would consider hiring someone so young and inexperienced. But my brother has no common sense.’

‘I’m very grateful, Madam,’ Anna says, awkwardly.

‘Don’t speak,’ Catharina says. ‘Not unless I address you directly. How is your English?’

‘Acceptable enough, I hope.’ Anna forces her mouth to form the strange English words; their rough syllables leave a bitter aftertaste. ‘My father insisted we practise at home. He wanted us to learn, in case my sister married a merchant and needed to translate.’

‘Good. Her Highness Mary, the Princess Royal likes to remind everyone of her family’s sovereignty. Especially important, now that she has been left a widow, charged with protecting her infant son. I think she fears an imminent attack on his young life. The Stadholder’s powers may have been redistributed among the states, but we must not give in to murderous vice like those faithless English parliamentarians and their evil General, Oliver Cromwell.’ Catharina’s expression darkens. She grips the armchair with her scarred hands. ‘The man was born a farmer! Imagine naming yourself Elector, setting your sights so high, you would dare execute an ordained monarch and install yourself in his place. It is – what is that English word? Disgusting. Not that we are blind monarchists, in this house. We put our faith in God. But our support of the exiled English court keeps us all safe. The Princess Royal is an Englishwoman, after all, by birth. And Queen Elizabeth Stuart. My friend and patroness. She grew up in Coombe Abbey, which I understand is somewhere in the vicinity of Scotland. She spends every waking moment writing letters to friends, petitioning for her nephew to be allowed home to reclaim his birthright. What are your views on the English, Miss Tesseltje?’

Her sharp gaze pins Anna to the floor. She is saved from answering by Susanna who sails in bearing a tray of sweetmeats and a carafe of wine. Fetching a glass from a sideboard, the older woman sets it down in front of Catharina on a square table inlaid with mother-of-pearl and splashes wine into the goblet.