“I thought that after we visit the post office, and before we do our shopping, we might call on the sisters Neville. You can read, and I can draw. They have some nice figurines, well made, that will keep me busy for an hour or so.”
“That will be fun. I think I will enjoy my time there more if you are with me.”
What a sweet thing to say. It touched her that Rebecca wanted to share more time with her.
“Jasmine can at times be too motherly,” Rebecca continued. “If you are there, I do not think she will give advice that was not requested.”
“She does that often, does she? And here I always found her so shy about her opinions.”
“One cannot anticipate what her opinion will be. She can surprise one, and that can be vexing.”
“What surprising opinion did she give you that you found vexing?”
Rebecca blushed. “I am not clever, am I? Not if you guessed there had been such an opinion recently. I wrote to them, and she wrote back two days ago.”
“What did she say? Hopefully that you should never become a courtesan, no matter how much London had bedazzled you.”
“I wrote to Ophelia while I was in town, and, along with telling her of the sights we had seen, I also mentioned meeting Mr. Mansfield and Mr. Trenton while at Sarah’s house, and how Mr. Mansfield then turned up in London. I mentioned how Mr. Trenton suited me far better, but cousin Sarah kept throwing me at Mr. Mansfield. Jasmine wrote back with a long lecture on the matter. I thought that bold, since I had not confided inher.”
“I hope she did not lecture that you should not marry at all.”
“She took no position on marriage, but she did take a position on Mr. Trenton and Mr. Mansfield. To my surprise, she favored the latter most decidedly. She warned me about entanglements with writers, and poets in particular. Her warnings were very... forceful.”
“I would think Miss Neville looked kindly on writers.”
“Wouldn’t you? Her vehemence on the subject leads me to wonder about the soundness of all her advice now.”
Eva would be happy to see Rebecca less influenced by the sisters Neville, but not out of rebellion against sensible advice.
No letters waited for Rebecca at the post office. Her spirits sank. She retreated into silence while they walked to the home of the sisters Neville.
The ladies in question received them. Eva discovered that they did not stand on ceremony with Rebecca. They did not sit for the obligatory fifteen-minute chat. Rather Ophelia waved them into the library after perfunctory greetings, and they went about their own business.
For two hours Rebecca read and Eva drew one of the figurines, a small bronze depicting Hercules fighting the Hydra. Although small in scale, the sculptor had modeled the forms as professionally as if it were ten feet high. The exercise challenged her, since both figures twisted in action.
A servant brought in lemonade and little cakes, set the tray on a table, and invited them to partake. Eva set aside her sketchbook and joined Rebecca at the table.
“They have the best cakes,” Rebecca said, taking one. “Even if I did not love their library, I would probably visit just for these.”
While they refreshed themselves, Rebecca told Eva about the book on mythology she was reading. As she did so, Miss Neville entered the library. She did not come to join them. Instead she strode to the bookcase in front of the table that held the Hercules bronze.
“I particularly find the story of Jupiter and Danaë peculiar,” Rebecca said. “He often visited his lovers in different forms, to escape his wife Juno’s detection. With Leda, for example, he became a swan.”
“That does not bear contemplating too much,” Eva said. At the bookshelf, Miss Neville pulled out a book, perused it, and returned it.
“No, but at least it makes some anatomical sense if one does, scandalous though it might be.”
“Better if one does not, all the same.” Eva wondered just how much her sister knew about the anatomical sense of lovers’ joining. It sounded like more than one might expect of a nineteen-year-old innocent.
Miss Neville had found her book. She turned to go. Then she stopped, angled her head with curiosity, and stepped closer to the Hercules.
“Yes. Well, with Danaë, Jupiter took the form of a shower of gold. How could a shower of gold impregnate a woman?”
Eva barely heard her. Instead her attention riveted on Jasmine Neville, who had bent toward the chair Eva had used for her sketching. She then straightened, holding Eva’s sketchbook in her hand.
“I expect since he was a god, he would arrange for the gold to do whatever he chose it to do,” Rebecca mused after a sip of lemonade.
Miss Neville began flipping the pages of the sketchbook much as she had done when Eva visited her last time. Eva trusted she would approve of the more recent drawings, the ones done in London.
