Page 65 of Romancing the Artist

Caroline seemed more at ease in this setting than she had at the formal dinner from weeks ago. As they approached the refreshment table, she smiled at a group of women standing nearby.

“Miss Clapham,” one of them called. “Do you have a moment?”

She glanced up at Edward who released her arm. “I will fetch you a drink and something to eat,” he assured her.

“Do not be long,” she whispered, glancing toward the women. “I barely know those three. I’m not even certain I remember their names.”

He chuckled and bent a little closer to her. “The tall one is Miss Thompson. To her right is Lady Daniels, baronetess. The last is Mrs. Ashby.” Her grateful smile made his heart twist. He let her go and went on to the table he’d spied at the beginning of the evening. His mother was there, reaching for the ladle to serve herself punch.

Edward hurried his step and called to her. She turned, her eyebrows already high on her forehead. “There you are, Edward. I haven’t seen you since I arrived. Have you been down by the bonfire all evening?”

“Before it was even lit,” he told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Let me pour your drink.”

“Thank you, dear.” She accepted the cup from him with her usual gentle smile. “And where is Miss Clapham this evening? After your announcement at dinner, I didn’t know what to expect. I had some vague notion of finding you glued to her side.” The way she said it didn’t sound disapproving in the least. Edward relaxed somewhat.

“You think me that besotted, do you?” he asked, moving to the table with small plates, fruits, and cakes. “I am not certain whether to be offended or amused.”

She accepted the plate he handed her and smiled when she saw he’d put strawberries, her favorite, at the center of the plate. “I think you are a passionate young man. You always have been. Headstrong, of course, which your father and I have worried over without ceasing. But you have a loving heart. I had so hoped you would make a match with Miss Kimball. Yet now I see how misguided I was.” She gestured to one of the elegant benches near the same fountain where Edward had sat during the painting party. “Sit with me a moment?”

Edward went with her, holding her plate again until she had situated herself comfortably. She accepted it from him and picked up a strawberry.

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Mother.” He spoke with sincerity. He’d always wanted his mother’s approval and her happiness. Yet sometimes, when she aligned herself so closely with his father’s desires, Edward couldn’t help feeling he’d let her down in some way.

His mother blinked at him, then narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t disappointed me. Not in the least. My dear boy.” She laid her hand on his arm. “If I have given you that impression, I must correct it. As I said, I hoped for that other match. Because I adore Mrs. Kimball and her daughter, of course, but I also hoped Mariah would be the one to make you happy. She is so steady and certain, I thought that her character would be a complement and balance to your own. Now, of course, I see there was never any chance of that. Your affection for Mariah Kimball is that of a friend and nothing more.” She gave his arm a gentle squeeze and picked up one of the strawberries. “You are quite a different man when in love. It is most obvious now.”

Edward glanced away from his mother. “Am I? What makes it so obvious?”

“You must think me blind and inattentive to ask that.” She laughed, whether at him or herself he couldn’t say, but it wasn’t unkind. “You cannot wait to leave our house, day after day, to spend more time with Miss Clapham. When you are with us, you are not truly present. Your mind is forever elsewhere. And when you do speak, you speak of her. Likely without even realizing. ‘Miss Clapham says we are at the beginning of a new artistic movement.’ Or something simpler, like when you said, ‘I wonder if Miss Clapham has eaten as many cherries as we have apples.’”

He had said that when he mother ordered baked apples covered in cinnamon and butter for dessert one evening. What else had he said without realizing it? And here he’d thought he’d been too subtle.

“Chattering on about someone is a sign of love?” he asked, folding his arms and leaning against the backrest.

“The look in your eyes every time you say her name, and when I suspect you are thinking of her, is the clearest sign of all.” His mother’s tone grew wistful and when he looked again he found her studying him with gentle intensity. “The only time I have seen you as happy as you have been these past weeks is right before you left to visit Rome, and then in the months after every time you spoke of your adventure.” She tipped her chin down the better to give him a motherly raise of her eyebrows. “Caroline Clapham is your new adventure, I think.”

He lowered his gaze to his mother’s plate, unable to say anything in response. Somehow, despite all the time away from home, despite growing from boy to man, his mother still had the ability to understand him as no one else could. Did all mother’s possess such a talent?

“May I have a strawberry?” he asked, his throat tight.

She handed him the second-largest on her plate and he smiled. Then she said, “I think we should find Miss Clapham and find out if she would like a strawberry.”

“An excellent idea.” He helped his mother refill her punch, then put together a plate for Caroline. The two of them found her in the midst of a conversation with the same ladies who had called her from Edward’s side. She smiled with some relief as he joined her, and then greeted his mother with enthusiasm.

Edward contented himself by listening to the ladies discuss portraits and gardens, watching the play of the lantern light on Caroline’s face, noting how attentive she was to his mother. And how kind his mother was to her.

His mother had realized he was falling in love before Edward had known it. How long would it take for Caroline to see the evidence of his affection? He spent the evening following her about, practically as his mother predicted he would, satisfied to merely keep her company.

By the next morning, he suspected that all of Alderton would know that he, Edward Everly, was completely enamored with Caroline Clapham.

Caroline’s Letters

My Dearest Mama and Papa,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits, and that our orchard continues to thrive. Even if I am not there to do all the cherry picking, as we all know that I am the most talented cherry harvester in the county. Yes, Papa, I know you will protest. But we both know it is the truth.

This letter isn’t the usual sort. I am not certain how best to prepare you for news that I never expected I would have to write in a letter. There is something of great importance that I must share with you, and I trust that you will receive my words with an open heart and mind.

Recently, I have been presented with something rather unexpected. That sounds rather dreadful, doesn’t it? Rest assured, all is well, and I am quite happy. Edward Everly, who I have mentioned in previous letters, has requested to court me. After careful contemplation, I have granted him permission. I hope you understand that this decision was not made lightly. You have raised me to be thoughtful in all things, especially in matters of the heart.