‘Oh!’ I squeaked. Harry’s comment about moving house suddenly made perfect sense. ‘Oh! Oh! You’re going to have a baby!’
Lucinda nodded and smiled at me serenely. ‘Yes, the doctor confirmed it the other day. It’s due in September. You are the first to know ... well, apart from Harry. I haven’t even told Mama and Papa yet.’
Do. Not. Cry, I told myself sternly. But in truth, it was difficult to stem the tears. I ended up snivelling into my handkerchief all the way to the cake shop, much to Lucinda’s amusement, and I had to sample four slices of cake to calm down.
When we returned to the house, laden with cake boxes, I hurried into the parlour to find Max (Lucinda and Harry had given me permission to inform him).
‘Dearest, I have wonderful news! Freddie is going to have a brother or sister or cousin—oh, it is all too confusing to know which!’ I cried.
Max laughed and somehow understood what I meant from the fact that Harry and Lucinda were standing in the doorway with their arms around each other, beaming. He leapt up immediately to shake hands with the former and hug the latter.
That night, we celebrated with a roasted duck and many slices of cake for dessert. Oh, it was a happy day indeed!
***
The next day, however, the edge was taken off my happiness as we had to dress in our finest and visit Dorian in Hampstead, where he was now residing.
He certainly seemed to have improved his lot in life, thanks to his portrait commissions.His house was not the largest or grandest in the street by any means. It was a rather modest two-storey abode, but it was a far cry from his pitiful lodgings in Saffron Hill. And Hampstead, I had to admit, was delightful. With its gently rolling fields and collection of quaint shops, it was a veritable haven away from the grime and noise of the city. But still, we were not there to have a picnic or go shopping ...
‘I am dreading this,’ I said to Max as we waited for Dorian to open the door.
He squeezed my hand. ‘I know, Fliss. Believe me, it is a duty rather than a pleasure for me as well. Just smile and nod politely. Let him do what he needs to do, and we’ll be back in Holborn in time for supper.’
‘All right.’ I grimaced and plastered a smile on my face.
Knowing that Max was feeling the same way made it bearable.
But I soon discovered being a model for an artist was actually quiteunbearable.
Perching on a hard stool in front of a pastoral backdrop, I attempted to keep my back straight and chin up. My corset pinched, my arms itched, and it was hot and stuffy in the upstairs room that served as the studio. Perhaps it would have been easier if Freddie had fallen asleep, but he had not. He squirmed and grizzled on my lap and wanted to get down and run around. I sighed in frustration. Max, standing behind me, tightened his grip on my shoulder.
‘May we have a short interlude?’ he asked.
Dorian’s dark head popped out from behind the easel, where he had been sketching for the last hour.
‘Yes, five minutes, but that is all,’ he said curtly, his brown eyes flashing in disdain, and disappeared again.
I rolled my eyes at his tone and stretched my back. ‘For two thousand pounds, you would think the artist could be a little friendlier,’ I muttered. Loosening my grip on Freddie, he slid down from my lap and ran over to the easel, ducking behind it.
There came a low chuckle.
‘Eager to see yourself in a painting, Fred? Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until I’m finished. But I can give you a tour of my other artworks if you like.’
Dorian emerged from behind the easel, carrying Freddie in his arms and looking happier. I gave a start, not wanting him to touch my son.
But Max murmured in my ear, ‘Let him be.’
Dorian headed off to the room next door with Freddie.
‘You can both come too if you like,’ he threw over his shoulder.
‘He won’t try anything, not with me here,’ said Max to me softly. ‘As you can see, he lives quite alone here after Rosalind broke off their engagement. Painting us together as a family is probably difficult for him.’
Max was far more benevolent than I. Then again, he had not dealt with Dorian as often as I had.
‘Very well,’ I grumbled, though I was far from pleased about him being anywhere near Freddie. I still didn’t trust Dorian an inch.
We wandered through to the adjoining room, which was sparsely furnished with a bed and side table. I noticed a jam jar that held a bunch of wilting violets on the windowsill that looked vaguely familiar. The violets I had purchased to brighten his sick room in Saffron Hill were long dead, but the jam jar looked identical. Surely it was not the same one I had used?
