“I have brought ten paintings,” she explained. “I hope you can take them.”
Mr. Stevenson beamed with delight. “Of course. In fact—” He gestured to the walls of his shop.
Eva looked around. Only three of her paintings decorated the walls, and they were all landscapes she had painted with no more inspiration than her own eyes and middling talent.
“The rest were all bought last month,” Mr. Stevenson said, enjoying her surprise. “A buyer from London took every one. He expressed interest in more. I think, Miss Russell, that we have found a most lucrative patron.”
“Why would anyone want so many paintings? I am grateful and relieved, of course. I feared we were close to your having no more room for new ones.”
“I think, but may be wrong, that this patron has his own picture shop, and is reselling them there.”
“Truly? What is his name?”
“He did not say. I did not press him. I was too happy to care overmuch.”
“How will you let him know we have more, then?”
“I will find a way. Now, come, come. I have your money and a handsome amount it is indeed.”
Eva gestured for the waggoneer to bring in the paintings, then followed Mr. Stevenson to his back office. There, with some ceremony, he opened a strongbox and counted out pounds.
She stared at the banknotes as the stack grew. There had been ten paintings here. The final stack contained twenty pounds. She had seen two pounds per painting, far more than in the past when ten shillings would make her dance.
“You can see why I am excited by this development,” Mr. Stevenson said. “You will be bringing more, I trust.”
Her own excitement cracked and crashed. She had no idea if she could ever bring more. Her source of paintings to copy had been closed. “Had this buyer no interest in the landscapes?”
“I fear not, Miss Russell. He did admire them, but they were not what he sought.”
She tucked the banknotes into her reticule. “I understand. Thank you, Mr. Stevenson. It appears our alliance has finally born the best fruit. I will write and alert you to when I am coming with another group.”
“Please do, please do.” He fawned pleasantries on her while he escorted Rebecca and her out to the street.
“He was lying,” Rebecca said as soon as the shop’s door closed behind them. “He knows the name of that patron, and is writing to him already to say he has more. Only you will not see the money until you bring him additional paintings, which you will not be able to do.”
“I am embarrassed that my little sister’s shrewdness surpasses my own,” Eva admitted. “I was so mesmerized by all that money that my wits deserted me.”
“What will you do?”
“Regarding Mr. Stevenson, I do not know yet. However, there is one thing I most definitely intend to do immediately.” She gestured for the waggoneer. “Sir, please go and procure for us a hackney cab. Once it comes, you can commence your journey back to Langdon’s End.”
With twenty pounds in her reticule, she would be damned before they arrived at their cousin’s house in the back of this wagon.
***
Cousin Sarah, red-haired, plump, and vivacious, extended both warmth and the best hospitality. She and her husband, Wesley, lived on a fine street of newer houses, all of them tall and elegant and white. The less savory elements of Birmingham, bred of its industries, did not touch their neighborhood. Five servants tended to their needs inside, and two more took care of their carriage and horses at the back of the large garden.
The family had adopted a high degree of gentility in its workings. Mr. Rockport might leave the house each day to tend to trade, and late nights on the town might be a rarity, but Eva grew nostalgic for her youth beginning the first day. She might have been sent back in time, to before the deprivations and frugalities. From breakfasts in the morning room to evenings of card play in the library, she found so much of her visit painfully familiar.
“I have the day all planned,” Sarah announced the first morning, after pressing more tea on Eva when Eva offered halfhearted resistance. “We must go shopping, of course, so Ican show you how we lack nothing to be had in London here. We will return early and have a light supper, because tonight we will attend a musical performance.”
Rebecca clapped her hands with excitement, to Sarah’s joy. Sarah had taken to Rebecca immediately, and already confided to Eva that such a jewel should not be left to languish in Langdon’s End. With a five-minute conversation the evening before, her cousin became her conspirator in finding Rebecca a good match.
Normally a visit to the shops would make Eva get busy lining up reasons not to buy, preparing excuses that did not reveal how precarious life had become. With twenty pounds tucked away, however, she did not feel so poor and vulnerable. She might not spend a penny, but she also would not experience the undeserved shame attached to impoverishment.
“You will have to wear the silver silk tonight,” Rebecca said.
Sarah pouted. “I was so looking forward to loaning some of my own dresses. You will borrow one, won’t you, Rebecca? Some are appropriate for a girl your age.”
