Page 51 of Portrait of a Lady
Evelyn saton the stool before her vanity mirror, staring down at the note from Hugh resting in front of her. She’d read the words dozens of times over the span of three days, debating with herself whether she would attend the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy. Today was the first day of the exhibit, which would mark the unveiling of all the pieces chosen to be presented. The most important members of society would be in attendance, people who could make the difference between fame and obscurity for Hugh.
She had risen that morning and taken a light breakfast before asking Patience to help her dress. She had donned one of her best day gowns, a sprigged muslin affair in soft pink with a pair of matching slippers. Her hair had been arranged and adorned with a pink bandeau that Patience insisted brought out the rich hue of her eyes. She even wore her favorite ear bobs.
The Exhibition would open in an hour, and despite being dressed in her best clothing and experiencing the mad beating of butterflies in her belly she still did not know whether or not she would attend.
Picking up Hugh’s wrinkled note, she smoothed a hand over it and read it for the umpteenth time.
Evie,
As I am certain you know, the Summer Exhibition opens in three days. My painting was chosen to be displayed among the others. I know you may not wish to see or speak to me, but please know that your presence there is of the utmost importance. I would not even expect for you to approach me, or grant me a moment to speak with you. I only want to be able to look into the assembly and see your face, and remember that I could never have done it without you. Should you decide not to come, know that the words of my message to you still hold true.
All my love,
Hugh
Tears welled in her eyes as she set the missive aside, but she blinked them back. She was determined not to ruin her appearance with blotchy cheeks, and had resolved last week to stop blubbering over Hugh. He had not made it easy with his flowers and notes and attempts to see her. She had wept for what felt like hours after Patience’s delivery of the message referenced in his note.
Patience had related Hugh’s words with a strained voice and a furrowed brow. “He says he loves you, Miss...and he isn’t going away until you can look him in the eye and tell him you don’t feel the same. I really think he means it…”
Evelyn buried her head in her hands, drawing in a deep, slow breath. She wanted to believe he meant it. She wanted to have faith that Hugh’s love for her was real and not just some fantasy she’d fabricated based on the skilled seduction of a courtesan. But the things he’d said to his friends echoed through her mind, leaving her uncertain about what was true. Could it be that in the event that the Exhibition did not give Hugh what he needed to begin his career he was looking for security in the bed of a keeper? And who better to support him than the latest one, one he’d wrapped around his finger so tight she had fallen hopelessly in love with him like a gullible idiot?
Even as she had the thought, she couldn’t help but think that Hugh was not that sort of man. He’d never been dishonest with her about his reasons for becoming a courtesan, or his ambitions for after he was finished. Could it be that he’d simply come to love her despite his best efforts? If that were true, then why could he not have simply told her how he felt? Why stand about in his studio insisting that it was all an illusion, and that he had only done to her what he’d done with all the others?
The constant confusion and uncertainty had given her a splitting headache, making her want to climb back into bed and sleep until the end of time. But, if she did that she would miss the Exhibition after she had given him her word that she would be there. If his family would not attend to support him, then he ought to have at least one person there to witness his shining moment. Her agony over the things that had happened aside, she knew that no one was more deserving of this honor than Hugh. He had worked so hard to have his gift recognized. She might have refused to see him again, but she would not deny him this. If nothing else, she would be able to say she’d upheld her promise to him.
That decided, she stood and went in search of Patience. If she were going to make it to the Exhibition on time, she would need to leave soon.
As it turned out, Patience had foreseen her decision and had already sent for the carriage. Smiling smugly as she descended the stairs arm in arm with Evelyn, the companion went on and on about how romantic it all was, and how she’d known the two of them would come to their senses and make up.
“We are only going to view the exhibit, Patience,” she had chided as they’d stepped into the waiting carriage.
“Of course, Miss,” Patience had murmured, though her smug expression never faded away.
It seemed to take ages to arrive, especially as they drew closer to Somerset House, the clogged streets growing harder to navigate. Just as she’d thought, anyone who was anyone had come for the grand event. Anxiety welled in her middle at the thought of being surrounded by so many people, and she wondered how Hugh would manage it. He didn’t like crowds any more than she did, though he was decidedly better at speaking with strangers.
At last, her driver let them off in front of Somerset House, where a host of people were making their way inside, their voices buzzing with excited chatter. Arm-in-arm, she and Patience fell in with the others, making their way into the grand house. Evelyn’s heart pounded as they followed the crowd up the circular stairs and toward the great room where the paintings and sculptures would be displayed. She paid the required shilling for the catalog which detailed the various pieces in the room. There were far too many bodies within the space, even so large as it was, so she and Patience were forced to follow the flow of the room from left to right and wall to wall. The progression of movement seemed at a standstill at the center wall, where those paintings which had been deemed ‘the best’ were hung at eye level. The entire space had been filled from floor to ceiling with framed paintings of various sizes—some whimsical watercolor landscapes, others portrait, or battle scenes. Patience ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ over each one, while Evelyn kept her eye out for one painting in particular. She did not seeVirtue and Vicein the catalog, nor did she see it on the west wall, but there was still so much more to see.
Flipping through the book, she moved with her companion past depictions of Greek gods and goddesses, lovers in chaste embraces, and even a few tasteful nudes. It all seemed to pass her by in a blur, voices raised and echoing throughout the great room as the artists stood by to speak with viewers about their work. A few instructors dotted the crowd as well, introducing their students to prospective clients as well as other, more established artists.
Craning her neck, she attempted to spot Hugh in the room. A few dark-haired men caught her eye, but upon closer inspection turned out not to be him.
She’d nearly given up, when at last they turned along the north wall, where the congestion had built up due to spectators trying to get a closer look at the best and most popular paintings.
It was there she found Hugh standing just at the center of the room, his face animated and his hands in motion as he spoke with a group of men about his piece. She spotted Benedict’s blond head nearby, as well as Aubrey’s imposing presence. Glancing down at the catalog, she frowned, still uncertain why she did not see a mention of Hugh’s painting.
But then, Patience gasped, and the crowd seemed to shift in just the right direction, and she saw it. Hugh’s submission for the Exhibition wasn’tVirtue and Viceafter all. The bright splash of ultramarine blue called out to her from the canvas against the backdrop of her bare skin swathed in the thin gown. The glow of the moon and a dark night sky lent the scene an ethereal glow, the background painted in the style of a Greek ruin.
“Oh, Miss...is that …”
“Me,” she whispered as the movement of the crowd urged them closer.
Her feet moved of their own volition, her throat constricting and her hands shaking as she glanced down at the register and finally found Hugh’s name. Beside it was printed the name of his piece:Portrait of a Lady.
The portrait was marvelous, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. So beautiful, in fact, that she had the most difficult time believing that the woman depicted was truly her—despite the fact that she’d sat for it herself. To further drive home the accomplishment of Hugh’s work, it had been displayed prominently in the very center of the north wall at eye level of everyone in the room.
As her body propelled her closer to the painting against her will, she vacillated between being proud of Hugh and horrified that her image had been exhibited for all of society to see. Not just her face, but a rather scandalous rendering of her nearly naked. One could argue that it had been done in a tasteful, artistic fashion, but Evelyn could not look at it without realizing that every contour of her body had been put on display.
Her breath caught in her throat as they came to a standstill directly beneath the painting. There were several other works surrounding it, but she could not tear her gaze away fromPortrait of a Lady, her entire being overflowing with so many emotions she could hardly sort them all.
