Page 29 of The Earl's Reluctant Artist
The silence that followed no longer felt as heavy. She picked up her fork again, taking another small bite. The food tasted stronger now, though she could hardly focus on it.
Across the table, he watched her in that same calm way, like he was still deciding what kind of woman now sat across from him.
Deciding to pay him less mind, she lowered her gaze to her plate. Whatever else he thought, she would have her space. That was enough for tonight.
***
Later that evening, after dinner, she sat before her mirror while her maid unfastened the back of her gown. The day’s heaviness clung to her, but she felt lighter now, almost eager and unable to hold back her thoughts.
“I will finally have something to do here,” she said. “A room of my own. I can set out my brushes and paints and not have to clear them away each time. Can you imagine? An atelier, right here at Evermere.”
The maid smiled as she folded the gown. “It is good to hear you speak so happily, my lady. I have not seen you this bright since you arrived.”
Eliza leaned forward against the table. “I was afraid I would never find a place here, that each day would feel the same. But this … this could change everything. I might even feel alive again.”
“And what will you paint first?” the maid asked.
“Perhaps more of the gardens,” Eliza said, her eyes softening. “They are always changing, and I could spend hours watching them. Or perhaps the hallways and the wall panels. They look like something out of a Gothic novel, if I have ever seen one.”
The maid tilted her head. “And for your colors and brushes? Do you have enough?”
Eliza shook her head. “Not nearly. My sketchbook is small, and the paints I brought are almost gone. I would need fresh ones and proper canvases, too. Do you think such things can be found here?”
“That should not be hard,” the maid said quickly. “The marketplace has stalls with supplies, and I can fetch them for you myself. All you need to do is tell me what you want.”
Eliza turned toward her, her eyes bright. “Would you really? That would mean so much to me.”
“Of course, my lady. Only …” The maid paused.
Eliza’s smile faded a little. “Only what?”
“You must be careful,” the maid said in a lower voice. “Lady Howard may not approve.”
Eliza blinked. Evelyn had already struck her as sharp, her gaze weighing and measuring. Still, she laughed lightly, though her throat tightened. “Why? Does Lady Howard frown upon women painting?”
The maid shook her head quickly. “Nothing of the sort. She has her ways, that is all. She sees much and says more. Best to mind yourself around her.”
Eliza swallowed and nodded. “I see. Thank you.”
The maid straightened. “Do you need anything else before I leave you, my lady?”
“No, that is all.”
The girl curtsied and slipped away, leaving Eliza alone. The room felt too still, the silence too heavy. She tried to steady herself, but her thoughts pressed in. She needed air, she needed to move. She lifted a candleholder from the table and slipped into the hallway.
The house at night was quiet, her steps echoing against the wood. She let the flame guide her, moving up staircases and into the upper rooms she had not yet seen. The air was cooler there, and dust lingered in the corners.
At last, she pushed open a door into the attic. The space was filled with draped furniture and forgotten things. Her candlelight fell on a tall frame leaning against the wall, covered by a sheet. She set the candle down, stepped closer, and pulled the cloth away.
A portrait stood before her, damaged and faded, but the woman’s eyes still shone through. They were gentle and kind, looking out as if waiting for someone to see her again.
Eliza’s breath caught. She touched the frame, feeling the cracks in the paint. She knew at once what she would do. This portrait would be hers to restore, her first project at Evermere.
She lifted it carefully, heavier than she expected, and began the walk back toward her chambers.
“My lady?”
The voice made her start. She turned, the portrait held close, to see Mrs. Yarrow standing at the end of the hall.
