The house the Sedgewicks had rented in town wasn’t large, and when her host later took her on a tour of the whole, Lucy’s guilt at importuning them only grew, especially when Miss Sedgewick insisted she take over the morning room as her studio.
They stood in the doorway, Lucy assessing the two large windows through which light was currently painting rectangleson a pale, oriental rug. As in the rest of the house, the floorboards were dark and well polished.
“It’s dim in the afternoons, but it gets the best light in the whole house in the mornings. And I don’t need it. I can happily use the parlour for my correspondence, and Mark is hardly ever in the house. Indeed, I’ve suggested to him that he ought to move to lodgings at Horse Guards. The closer he is to his duties, the more heed he might learn to take of them. I naïvely cling to the hope thatsomemilitary discipline will rub off on him because so far the only aspects of military life he’s taken to heart are a passion for splendid uniform and a casual disregard for his own life.”
“He…is very valorous,” Lucy suggested, trying to find a shard of sisterly devotion in this speech.
“Oh, on the hunting field, entirely without a care for his neck! On the battlefield, he is as yet untested. His regiment stays in England—its duty is to the king, even with this endless war. He chose wisely, you see.”
Lucy’s awkward silence made Miss Sedgewick laugh.
“I forget you’re not used to me yet. Let me reassure you I love my brother very much. But the wonderful thing about familial love—and if I can philosophise for a moment, let me say that I feelallhealthy love should be the same—the wonderful thing is that such a love is not blind. I’m fully aware of my brother’s faults. He is shallow, selfish, lazy, and greedy. I abuse him to you freely, Lucy, for your own good. I can call you Lucy, can I not, if we are to be very great friends?”
“Y-yes…”
“It’s my job as your hostess to warn you against him. You’ll often be in his company now, and he’ll often be in his fine red coat. He’s a handsome man and knows how to please when he chooses. If, by sheltering your person under my roof, I’ve put your heart in danger, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Lucy managed a smile, though she’d grown hotter and hotter during this speech, and only half of it was embarrassment. First Jack, now this! If she was to be suspected of harbouring feelings for every young man of her acquaintance, life in society would be tiresome indeed.
“I’m at no risk, Miss Sedgewick—”
“Caroline, please.”
The name reminded her of how it had sounded from Jack’s lips, but she quashed that thought, it being irrelevant. “I… I have no presumptions, no wishes… Indeed, I’m the last creature in the world to be in danger.” If Miss Sedgewick was direct, then she may as well be direct too. “I did not come to London for any…any matrimonial prospects. And I have neither beauty nor fortune to tempt anyone. You needn’t fear for me.”
Miss Sedgewick smiled at her for a moment before saying, quietly, the smile still evident in her voice, “I have my suspicions about at least one of those facts. Possibly two.”
But before Lucy, bewildered, could protest further, Miss Sedgewick waved her onwards and up the stairs to the next floor. “Your luggage is here already. Jack clearly acted with all alacrity. Take a moment to refresh yourself. In an hour we’ll take a stroll to Bond Street and put some of your pin money to good use.”
Shopping with Miss Sedgewick was a very different experience to shopping with Jack’s sisters. Lucy didn’t feel like a burden, for one thing, and though her own taste was hardly expert, she discovered she greatly preferred Miss Sedgewick’s eye for subtle quality over Nell and Nora’s enthusiasm for the ostentatious. Miss Sedgewick also had the unnerving habit of listening to Lucy, something she wasn’t at all used to. And when, after several moments of coaxing, she was persuaded to offer herown wish as to their next destination, she haltingly suggested Robertson’s in Long Acre.
This was an art shop near Covent Garden which Lucy had seen advertised in a periodical Lord Ashburton had left open on the breakfast table. She hadn’t dared suggest it to her previous host, knowing both its purpose and its location would have produced nothing but disgust. But Miss Sedgewick agreed readily, saying a few raised eyebrows were exactly the finishing touch for the ensemble she’d just persuaded Lucy to order. Reminded by this smilingly delivered pronouncement of the dubious propriety of visiting such an establishment, Lucy began to express her doubts.
“Nonsense,” said Miss Sedgewick, dragging her onwards by their linked arms. “You’re to be an artist of great fame and renown. Raised eyebrows are as essential to your career as canvas, glazes, and brushes.”
“Actually, he is a colourman—”
“Then let us buy pigments!”
They were at the step up to the shop when the door opened and a man came out. He was strongly built, dark haired, about forty years of age, and plainly but smartly dressed. He smiled upon seeing Miss Sedgewick and swept the hat from his head with a warm bow. “Miss Sedgewick! What an unexpected delight.”
He stepped down into the street to join them as Miss Sedgewick smiled. “You see, I’m corrupted, brought into your artist’s world at last. Here, Miss Fanshaw, may I produce one of the artistic friends I promised you? This is Mr Thornton. Mr Thornton, this is my friend, and currently my guest, Miss Fanshaw.”
Mr Thornton gave her a bow no less warm than his first to Miss Sedgewick. A good-natured smile seemed very at home on his bluntly handsome face, and Lucy could hardly believe he wasthe famed portraitist who had painted everyone from humble farm labourers to the regent.
“Honoured to make your acquaintance, Miss Fanshaw. Is it you I have to thank for drawing Miss Sedgewick hither? Our mutual friend won’t mind me saying that she herself barely knows one end of a brush from the other.”
“Mind!” objected Miss Sedgewick with her ever-laughing eyes. “When watercolours are one of a lady’s most cherished accomplishments? Abominable abuse. I have a strong urge to punish you by making you look through my childhood sketchbooks.”
“If I wished to see cats that looked like cows, flowers that looked like turnips, and beloved family members who—”
“Also looked like turnips?”
Mr Thornton laughed. He turned a twinkling eye to the astonished Lucy and confided, “You cannot beat Miss Sedgewick, she is always first to the fence.”
“Andyoucannot compliment your way to freedom now, Mr Thornton,” said Miss Sedgewick. “It is too late for that. The sentence has been decreed. Come to dinner tomorrow night—there’ll be a half dozen people you know—and I will show you my sketchbook. And Miss Fanshaw will show you hers.”
“The balm that follows the sting,” Mr Thornton said with a gracious smile at Lucy. Turning to Miss Sedgewick, he once more lifted his hat. “You know that every invitation of yours is a sentence I would gladly fight to receive. Tomorrow, ladies. Adieu!”
