Page 2 of One Bed for the Bluestocking
Fortunately, Mr.Sterling was busy perusing her drawings and did not seem to notice her gaping.He withdrew a watercolor of a snowy owl in flight, of which Kate was particularly proud.It had taken six attempts to properly reserve the white space on the page before she was satisfied with the way she had rendered the raptor.
Mr.Sterling’s face went slack as he beheld the painting.He leaned in to study it for a long moment, but did not say what he thought about her work before withdrawing the next sheet from the folio.It was a series of sketches of her sister Pippa’s four kittens.Unlike the detailed painting of the owl, these had been quickly done, intending to capture a sense of movement and playfulness.Again, he studied the drawings for long moments but said nothing.
More paintings followed—a study of a squirrel in a sycamore tree featuring multiple poses, including a leap from branch to branch.A landscape from her brother-in-law Jasper’s property in Yorkshire, featuring a pair of swans in the foreground.A swollen-thighed beetle perched on a yellow ragwort flower.
Kate was particularly proud of this one.It had taken a week and a half of experimenting with different blends of paint before Kate was satisfied that she had properly captured the iridescent quality of the beetle’s green shell.Mr.Sterling studied that one for a long moment in silence.
Finally, he peeled off his spectacles and looked at her.“Kit, these are every bit as good as the work of Sarah Stone or Kenneth Weatherby.”
“Th-thank you,” Kate stammered.It was a marvelous compliment.Sarah Stone, who had been the in-house illustrator for the Leverian Museum in London prior to its closure, was Kate’s idol.
Kenneth Weatherby was her father, but not the creator of the paintings to which Dr.Sterling referred.That was actually Kate, who had worked as her father’s assistant before he decided to abandon them.
Just before he left, her father had revealed that his colleagues had inferred that the “K” inK.Weatherby, the signature Kate used on her illustrations, stood not for “Katherine” but for “Kenneth,” an assumption their father had neglected to correct.
Kate had thought she was building a reputation as a scientific illustrator.She had been wrong.Nobody in the scientific world knew she existed.And, worse, her father apparently cared for her so little that he had not scrupled to steal the scientific work of his own daughter.
That part had been a crushing blow.She had wanted her father’s love so desperately that she had managed to ignore the mountain of evidence to the contrary and convince herself that he cared for her.She had been disconsolate for weeks after he deserted them and she was forced to face the fact that he had never loved her as a father should love his daughter, that he had only valued her insofar as she could advance his career.
But with the support of her sisters, Kate had recovered.But that first insult, that she had no reputation in the scientific community, had continued to gall her.That was why she was really here.She wanted to prove that she had what it takes, that she could succeed on her own merits.As the sister-in-law to a duke, she had the option of living a life of luxury and ease.But Kate couldn’t imagine doing that.She had started to paint in hopes that, by becoming useful to her father, she would earn his love.But she had discovered that she loved the work for its own sake, and she meant to spend the rest of her life doing it, whether she needed it to earn her daily bread or not.
The fact that Mr.Sterling had mentioned “Kenneth” Weatherby in his short list of exemplary artists was galling.Those wereherpaintings!But it was also a sign of how well her earlier work had been received in the scientific community that, out of all the illustrators in the world, he was the one Mr.Sterling had chosen to list beside the great Sarah Stone.
Mr.Sterling stood.“If you’re agreeable, there’s one final thing I’d like to do to see if you’ll be a good fit for the position.A practical evaluation, if you will.Did you bring a sketchbook and pencil?”
Kate hesitated.She knew her disguise wouldn’t hold up under more detailed scrutiny, and that she should therefore make an excuse.That she should feign a bout of dyspepsia, or a sudden onset of the ague.
And yet, Mr.Sterling appreciated her paintings.Really, truly appreciated them, not just in the way most people did, because they were pleasant to gaze upon, but for their scientific merits.He thought she was talented.As talented as the great Sarah Stone!
It was heady stuff.And Kate found that she was eager to try this practical evaluation.She could impress him.She knew she could.
Was it so wrong to yearn for this tiny fleck of affirmation?For an acclaimed naturalist to tell her that she was good enough?That she belonged?That her work had scientific merit?
After all, she’d maintained her disguise for this long.
What was one more hour?
And so, she rose to her feet.“I did,” she replied, patting the blank sketchbook she had brought with her per his instructions.
Mr.Sterling gestured toward the door.“Good.Come with me.”
Chapter2
Out in the corridor, Nathaniel hesitated before shutting his office door.He hoped he wasn’t about to offend the young illustrator.He very much needed Kit Witherspoon’s help.
But there was something that needed to be said.
He cleared his throat.“There’s one thing I ought to mention.Your robes.”
Kit frowned, fingered the black material.“Are they the wrong color?I got these from my… er… cousin.From his time at Oxford.I had hoped they might be close enough.”
“It’s not so much the color, but the fact that you’re wearing them at all.I know they’re required at the English universities.But they haven’t been worn at the Scottish universities, Edinburgh included, for almost a century.”
The color drained from Kit’s face.“They haven’t?I… I didn’t know that.”
Nathaniel gestured toward his office.“Would you like to leave them here?”
“No, thank you!”Kit replied in a shrill voice.“I’ll keep them on for now.”He laughed nervously.“Surely they won’t stand outthatmuch.”
