Page 26 of Two of a Kind
After an earlier walk through the woods and down to the nearby river, James had decided that he would attempt to create two distinct, but thematically linked landscape paintings. The trees which overhung the water provided the perfect backdrop for his first landscape, while the woodland canopy behind the cottage would give him the framework, he needed for the second.
TheDerbyshire Twins, as he’d named them, would form the main pieces in his portfolio. Two large paintings designed to be hung in the same space, thus, giving the illusion of the viewer standing within the woodlands themselves. He had never attempted to paint anything on this scale before, but he knew preliminary sketches were vital.
After taking a seat by the edge of the water, he began to create his own version of the landscape which he saw before him. His sketches would not be exact replicas of the place. He would use them as the inspiration for his creations. Once he had the composition clear, he would then stand before an easel and seek to put the light and balance he saw in his mind’s eye onto canvas.
It was late by the time he finally closed his sketchbook. In the fading light of the afternoon, he returned through the woods to the cottage. In the book were pages of partially drawn trees and the swirling waters of the river. They were rough impressions; only half complete. But in his heart, James knew he now had what it would take to make those sketches come alive.
James slept on a short, narrow bed for the night. The two Tims had been left to share the other bed, which from the grumbles he heard, was not the most comfortable of arrangements.
Not wishing to overstay his welcome, he rose as soon as the sun was up and stoked the fire. He had slept fully clothed, the cottage being little more than four thin walls against the might of the winter winds.
Today he would continue to work on more of the sketches from the previous day. He opened his sketchbook and checked his drawings, nodding his pleasure at how well things were progressing.
Walters wandered out from the bedroom, his hair, and clothes in post-sleep disarray. He came and stood next to James watching as he turned the pages of the sketchbook. When James got to the work which he had started the previous afternoon, he stopped.
“What do you think of these? I am planning to paint two large landscapes,” said James.
“I like what you have done so far. There is a nice symmetry about the rough outlines. I can just imagine what the two of them would look like hanging side by side as completed paintings. Though you may need more time to fully develop the pieces,” he said, tapping his finger on the page.
James considered the sketches. Walters was right. They were a long way from being finished. With Guy and Leah’s wedding taking place soon, he wouldn’t have time to finish them before he had to return to London.
Perhaps a return trip to Derbyshire was in order. Being away from London was not such a bad thing. While he thought constantly about Leah, he knew there was nothing he could do about the impending wedding. At least through his art, he could do something to mold his future into one that was his own. If he was able to focus his time and energy into bringing theDerbyshire Twinsto life, he might be able to make himself enough of a name to carve out his own place in the world of English painters.
Still, a small voice of doubt whispered in his mind. Was he good enough?
“Do you really think I could do this? I mean, make a career out of my painting. I am just not sure if I have enough talent to succeed. Please be honest with me. Am I good or am I deluding myself?” replied James.
Walters raked his fingers through his tussled hair. “James, you have more talent in your little finger than I do in the whole of my body. You need to get these sketches finished, and then get painting. You live in a bloody palace so you should be able to find a room which you can commandeer for your work.”
Fulham Palace had plenty of rooms in which James could paint. And if his father did not allow it, then he could rent rooms in town. The money he earned from working at his uncle’s shipping office would be enough to keep the proverbial wolf from the door while he established his career. He could do this, but he would need his father’s approval. He also wanted Hugh’s support.
“So, what you are saying is that I need to stop dithering and go and paint?”
Smith appeared from the door of the bedroom and wandered over to stand alongside them. He looked down at the sketches and nodded. “Have we managed to convince you yet? If not, I don’t know what else we can do. James you could be one of the greats of English landscape painting. You just have to stop listening to your father and start listening to yourself,” he said.
A grin which felt a mile wide formed on James’s lips. His heart swelled at the thought of what he could accomplish. He then made a decision. He would spend today putting the finishing touches to the preliminary sketches, then head back to Newhall Castle and tell Caroline that they were leaving for London.
“Yes, you are right. I’ve ignored my own instincts for too long. I have to tell my father that I will not be following him into the church. This is my life, and I am going to be a painter.”
His friends slapped him vigorously on the back.
“About bloody time, James,” said Smith.
Chapter Twenty
Amatter of days later, James found himself standing on the seashore at Brighton having just witnessed Julian and Caroline’s wedding. After sharing a celebratory glass of champagne, the madly-in-love newlyweds had abandoned the rest of the small wedding party and gone back across the road to their hotel. Francis had polished off most of a bottle of his father’s best champagne and was snoozing on the beach.
James had rolled up his trousers and was now seated next to his father on the soft sand. He had spent the best part of the last hour staring out to sea, trying to think of the right words.
On the journey home from Derbyshire, he had composed a suitably compelling speech to present to his father. He had a list of good reasons why he did not intend to go back to university, nor to follow Hugh into the Church of England. But as he looked across at his father, he knew he didn’t need a grand speech.
“I made a decision while I was in Derbyshire. I want to pursue a full-time career as a painter. I know if it came down to it, that the final choice would be mine, but it would mean the world to me if you would give me your blessing.”
James watched as Hugh’s shoulders slumped. He knew he had disappointed his father, finally putting an end to his long-held dream of his son following him into the church, but James was at peace with his decision.
Hugh looked up at him. A soft smile sat on his lips as he nodded. “You have my blessing, but it does come with a proviso. Your mother and I will support you financially for the next six months. But if you have not succeeded in selling a single painting by the end of March, and I don’t mean to family and friends, then you agree to go back to Cambridge next autumn and complete your degree. After that, we can discuss other career options outside of the church.”
James considered the offer for a moment. If his father supported him financially for the next six months, he would have time to complete not only the two largeDerbyshire Twins, but also a number of smaller works. Having money would mean he did not need to work for Charles Saunders during the day. He could invest all his time and energy into his painting. It was a tempting offer. Very tempting.
