“But we will not even still be here next Tuesday.”
“We will be now,” Sarah said. “I’ve no idea what you will wear. I brought a ball gown, just on the chance that it would be needed.It will hardly do for such as this, however, no matter how hard we try to improve it.”
A bit of pique penetrated Eva’s astonishment. Surely Gareth knew she would be ill-equipped for such an invitation. She could hardly attend wearing her blue pelisse.
She stood, tweaked her bonnet’s rim, and pulled on her gloves. “I will decide later what to do. I cannot think now. Come along, Rebecca.”
“I’ll be seeing if any dressmakers do fast orders,” Sarah called after them as they walked to the stairs. “And I’ll look in the warehouses for lace and such.”
“What trouble and nonsense,” Eva muttered.
***
The house on Upper Thornhaugh Street appeared handsome if modest. Eva handed her card and Miss Neville’s letter of introduction to the servant who came to the door. She and Rebecca waited a good while before the woman returned.
“My lady will see you, but it cannot be for long.”
Eva’s excitement built with every step up the stairs. They were not taken to a drawing room or library. Instead the servant opened a door on a bedchamber. An elderly woman sat in a big chair beside the bed, covered in a blanket. Anyone who saw her would know she was ill, even without the scent of a sickroom that defied the spring breeze leaking in the window that had been set ajar a few inches.
The servant moved two chairs nearby. The elderly woman raised her gaze from Miss Neville’s letter. A wry smile formed. “Welcome, Miss Russell. Who is your companion?”
Eva sat in her chair and introduced Rebecca to Mary Moser, one of only two women who had been made members of the Royal Academy of Arts thus far, and one of its founders.Although she had married years after she had established her reputation, everyone referred to her by her maiden name.
Mary’s eyes narrowed as she examined Rebecca. “Lovely. Have you come to town for the Season, child, so men die from heartbreak over you?”
Rebecca shook her head. “We came to see the art and sights. I would not want anyone to die from heartbreak in any case, and I would hope my mind and character would be at least as much interest as my face to a man.”
Mary chuckled, and waved the letter. “I think Jasmine has been influencing you. How is she faring up there in her rustic abode? Terrorizing the locals with her strong opinions?”
“She is quite the original still,” Eva said. “We are both grateful for her generosity.”
“She says you are an artist. With whom did you study?”
“Only a talented governess, but I work on my own. I think I have improved. I have done copies of fine pictures, and Miss Neville has offered me others from her own collection for further study.”
A very polite smile grew on Mary’s face while Eva talked. It was the kind given when a conversation had taken a boring turn.
“You will not remember me,” she added quickly. “I wrote to you once. Eight years ago.”
“Did I write back?”
“Yes. You gave me advice. You warned me how hard it was for a woman to be a painter. How marriage would compromise any such career. How the best training would not be available.”
“I wrote all of that, did I? The last part is true. Life studies, for example, are not available. We are all too modest to draw the nude form from life, especially the male body, it is thought. Rubbish, of course. Yet without the rigor of such exercises, figures will always look a bit like cotton dolls. As for the firstpart—did you not think it odd advice, considering I had myself married?”
“I confess I was not aware of that at the time.”
Her gray head rested back on the chair. Her eyes closed. “We both knew within weeks we had made an error. We took lovers and survived. However, I made that step late in life. I had already become all I would ever be as an artist by then.” Her head straightened and she looked at Eva. “You are not married. Did you forgo it because of what I wrote to you? I do not think I want such a permanent decision on your part on my conscience during my last days.”
“Be assured my marital state had nothing to do with you. In fact, I almost married. Since I did not, however, your words have influenced me to see my situation for its benefits. I do not seek fame like yours. I only hope to improve, so I can create on canvas or board what I see in my head.”
She received a long look for that. Then Mary began coughing. The fit turned violent, affecting her whole body. The woman servant came over to calm her, and poured some potion from a little bottle into a glass that she held to her mistress’s lips.
The medicine worked quickly. The body under the blanket relaxed. The gray head lolled. The servant caught Eva’s eye.
“We will leave you now,” Eva said, standing. “You were very kind to agree to receive us.”
Mary’s eyes opened. “Will you be in town when the Exhibition opens?” Her voice came breathless and slurred.
