Laura realized what a sheltered life she’d led, never having to worry about where her next meal came from or the roof over her head. Poor Cilla. To think she’d been jealous of her, fearing she and Nathaniel might have had a relationship. Would she never have any sense where he was concerned? Jealousy was such a humiliating emotion, but born out of insecurity, and that was as much his fault ashers.
“A contact in London is arranging for an exhibition of my work,” Cilla said, breaking into Laura’sthoughts.
“How wonderful. You are very talented, Cilla. I know you’ll become very successful.” Cilla would feel more at home in a big city. She would be among like-minded people. Laura understood that. She still felt like an outsider hereherself.
“You’re kind, Laura. I should like to paint you. Perhaps when you feel more settled, you’ll consider it.”
“I should like that. I considered you to be more of a landscape artist, but I see you are adept at portraits too.”
Cilla tilted her head as if already considering the possible composition for Laura’s painting. “I’ve painted a few portraits.”
“The lady in the blue dress at the abbey?”
“That’s mine.”
“I thought so. It encapsulates a brief moment and says so much about Amanda. She looks happy.”
Cilla’s smile widened. “I think I captured Amanda’s essence. She had that wonderful ability to grasp life with both hands. Not let anything stand in the way of what she wanted. How did you come to see the painting? I heard it was taken down.”
“Rudge. He almost insisted I see it.”
Cilla raised an eyebrow. “Did he? Awful man.”
“And your painting of the cottage? Was Mallory living there then?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he now?”
“He went away after Amanda died. I haven’t seen him since.”
Curiosity sent prickles over Laura’s neck. Was there something more that Cilla did not want to tellher?
Cilla glanced at hereasel.
Laura rose. “I must go.”
Following Cilla into the tiny front hall, Laura paused in front of the painting again having found Cilla evasive. “Why choose to paint Amanda at the door of that cottage? It seems a humble setting for her.”
Cilla stared at her hands. They were capable hands, the fingers long and pointed. Artist’s hands. “Mallory and Amanda were in discussion about the planting of the rose arbor. In her crimson gown, she looked striking against the rustic backdrop, like a rose among weeds. I rushed away, determined to capture it. And the very next day I did from memory.”
“It seems odd that Mallory left so soon after her death.”
“He was in love with Amanda. We used to laugh about it.”
“Did she and Nathaniel have a good marriage?” Laura rushed on as Cilla shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why this is important to me.”
“Hard to know what happens behind closed doors.” There was sympathy in Cilla’s eyes. “Would my opinion mean much to you?”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Laura swallowed the lump blocking the back of her throat. “I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Love can be a curse for those who love too much.” Cilla opened the door. “You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. Please come again soon.”
Laura returned the way she’d come and steeled herself to walk beside the cliff. Perhaps it was here that Amanda had plunged to her death. The idea made the place even more forbidding. Why would a young woman in the eighth month of her confinement come this way? Had the stunning view fascinated her? Once safely past, Laura stopped to glance back. It certainly could not have been here, for no one would go close to the edge, unless they planned to jump. And surely no woman carrying a baby would do such athing.
Chapter Thirteen
Sitting alone at the long table in the dining room, Laura toyed with the roast mutton stuffed with oysters. Rudge stood by the door, his gloved hands clasped together. In the silence, the gilt clock on the mantel and the patter of the rain against the window sounded abnormallyloud.
