Page 38 of The Model Debutante
‘You had burglars? What happened?’ Tallie asked, concerned. ‘I do hope no-one was hurt.’
‘Nothing like that, I am glad to say.’ It was Mr Harland, alerted by the voices, coming down to greet his new client. ‘Good day, Lady Parry, this is an honour. Miss Grey, how very nice to see you again.’ Tallie smiled despite herself. Frederick Harland might be vague, inconsiderate and distracted when painting, and he might profess to despise his portrait work, but he did know how to charm his lady clients with every attention.
He ushered them up to his public studio and reception room, a world away from the dusty draughty attic where his great canvasses would be set up and where Tallie was used to shivering in flimsy draperies.
‘Was anything taken?’ she asked as he drew up chairs for them next to a series of empty display easels.
‘No, a very strange thing that.’ The artist frowned. ‘They rummaged through the canvases – fortunately damaged nothing – and that was all.’
‘Possibly they were disturbed,’ Aunt Kate suggested. ‘Or they thought you might hide your valuables amongst them.’
‘You are most likely correct, ma’am. Now, as I understand you have decided upon a portrait and are most graciously entrusting me with the task, I think the first thing we must decide is the size and style of the work. I will show you some examples.’
He proceeded to prop canvases on the easels. First a head and shoulders of a formidable lady with grey hair, ‘Lady Agatha Mornington. I am about to begin varnishing this one.’ Tallie started nervously: this was Jack Lynley’s aunt. Next a three-quarters length of a young lady holding a child. Then a full length canvas of a graceful figure in a highly fashionable gown, one hand lightly resting on a broken pillar. It was a preparatory sketch only, but well detailed, and the face which smiled serenely back at the viewer was Tallie’s.
‘Ah, there is that delightful portrait I saw last time I was here, ‘ Aunt Kate said, smiling.
‘Yes, my lady. As you had already seen it I thought there was no harm in producing it again, and I expect Miss Grey will be amused to see it once more. I will just fetch my notebook,’ Mr Harland said and left the room.
‘That is the picture of me you saw?’ Tallie asked, hideous apprehension beginning to ball in her stomach. ‘The one I sat for because Lady Smythe was expecting?’
‘Yes of course, dear. Were there any others? I do think it is nice that Mr Harland bothered to draw your face, even though in the finished work it is Lady Smythe, of course.’
‘And that is the costume you thought shocking?’ The ball of apprehension was turning into lead shot in the pit of her stomach.
‘I looks as though the petticoats have been dampened,’ Aunt Kate said severely. ‘One can see every line of your figure. And what is holding the bodice up – if one can call it a bodice – goodness only knows. Still, everyone knows Penelope Smythe thinks of herself as a dasher, and it must have hit her hard to have lost her figure, however temporary that state of affairs was.’
Tallie sank back in her chair aghast. Aunt Kate had not seen one of the shocking Classical nudes, only this portrait. She should have trusted her instinct that her kind patroness wasbeing too tolerant. Now what was she going to do?
Mr Harland had returned and he and Aunt Kate were deep in discussion on the relative merits of head and shoulders and full length, three quarters having been rapidly dismissed as neither one thing nor another. Eventually full length was decided on with a draped background. Tallie found it quite impossible to do more than keep an expression of interest on her face and then follow Aunt Kate downstairs when her business was concluded.
Her head was spinning and she was conscious of an overwhelming desire to throw herself on Nick’s chest and confess all. As this was dangerous insanity she stood on the pavement in the light mizzle which had just begun to fall and tried to drag air into her tightened lungs. Then she saw the man.
‘Tallie? What is it? You have gone quite pale.’ Aunt Kate hurried her into the carriage and began to rummage in her reticule.
‘I think I…we… are being followed.’
‘What?By whom?’
‘A man – he has just ducked back into an alleyway down there. I saw him getting out of a hackney behind us when we arrived here, and I saw him lurking outside the house when we went to Ackerman’s the other day. And I am sure he has been around before – I thought him familiar then.’ Tallie broke off and tried to speak calmly. ‘I am sorry, Aunt Kate, I am probably imagining things.’
‘Perhaps, perhaps not. There are any number of dangerous characters around,’ Aunt Kate said grimly. ‘I will speak to Nicholas about it.’
‘He will think me over-imaginative to worry about such things.’
‘Well,Iam worried, and he had better not suggest that I am over-imaginative,’ she retorted with a twinkle. ‘And in any case Nicholas uses enquiry agents from time to time, he will know allabout how to deal with this.’
An unpleasant thought crept into Tallie’s mind. She knew Nick had her investigated before she had joined his aunt. And he knew she still hid a secret from him. Was this man his, following her to discover that secret? If that was the case, then today he had been closer than he knew.
Nick was waiting for them when they returned to Bruton Street. They found him sprawled in an armchair with a careless elegance which took away Tallie’s breath. He tossed aside the portfolio of papers he was reading and got to his feet as they entered the room and Tallie realised she had never been so conscious of how long his legs were, nor of how easily he moved.
‘A successful meeting?’ he asked with a smile which faded as he took in the expression on his aunt’s face. ‘What is wrong?’
‘I think we had better talk about it over luncheon, Nicholas. Talitha and I will be down in a moment. Will you be so kind as to tell Rainbird we will wait upon ourselves?’
In the dining room Tallie sat down apprehensively and passed cold meats to Aunt Kate. She took a slice of bread and began to cut it into thin fingers.
‘Aunt Kate?’ Nick took a slice of beef but did not start to eat. ‘What has occurred?’
