Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
“It’s all in your head,” Lucy told herself as she settled in her room.
A book lay in her lap, waiting to be read. Normally, she would have devoured it, but her mind was tortured by the day’s events.
The dismay of wearing the gray dress.
The excitement of feeling like a woman again in the midnight blue silk.
The disappointment of leaving without it, and the acceptance of her place in this world, especially as Joshua’s sister.
Then, all of the above were followed by a surprisingly insightful conversation with Daniel, and a physical connection that made alarm bells ring in her head and her heart race with total abandon.
The ride home with Victoria and Richard had somewhat brought her back to her senses. She had to remind herself that she had once imagined a connection when she danced with Daniel. It could well be a case of a polite duke and a repressed lady.
Shame washed over her as she thought about it some more.
But before she could further contemplate her shame, a knock sounded at the door. A footman entered, carrying a large package that was wrapped in expensive, cream paper. Her heart flipped when she saw that the silk ribbon tying around it was midnight blue.
“This was delivered by hand for you, My Lady,” the footman announced, handing the package to her before bowing and retreating.
Lucy tore the paper with trembling fingers, eager to see whether her suspicions were correct.
True enough, hidden under the tissue was the midnight blue dress she had tried on at Madame Cecile’s shop.
She had called it improper, even though it had made her feel alive. A small but heavy card lay on it.
The penmanship evoked a strong personality, one that of restlessness. It was slanted as if it tried to change its own sense of direction. From just a glance, she could tell that it was the penmanship of an explorer.
“The horizon will be better in midnight blue, with depth and singular energy. A beautiful caged bird should be set free instead of being forced to wear a crow’s feathers.—D.”
It was from him.
A blush rose from Lucy’s chest to her cheeks, blooming hot.
She was grateful that she was alone in her room with nobody to witness the effect of the gift and the note on her.
The gesture felt stronger than his reaction to her at the dressmaker’s shop.
It defied what was expected of her and served as a challenge.
Would she wear it against her brother’s wishes? Against general expectations?
Panic replaced her embarrassment and pleasure. What if Joshua had entered her room at that moment? Her brother seemed to be keen on entering whenever he wanted, despite her fierce protests.
She rose to find a hiding place for the dress and the note in her wardrobe. It was a shame to hide it behind drabber clothes, but she didn’t have the agency then. The cage should remain locked for the moment.
A few days later, Lucy and Joshua left the house to attend a ball at Redmoor Hall. The Marsleigh carriage pulled up the long drive.
Lucy could not help but admire the ivy that rose and curled around the red brick. It seemed that the plant had more freedom than she, climbing upwards and sideways.
The estate was admirable on the whole, but she was not surprised at all. She wished that she could have worn the midnight blue dress instead of the pale yellow one she had donned, which would have been fashionable perhaps two or three Seasons ago.
“Remember that we are here to make connections with some of the most influential families in England,” Joshua reminded her.
His voice might be smooth and light, but she could hear the warning in it.
“Find your way to other high-ranking ladies. Make friends with more than just the Duchess of Hawksford. But do be wary of the men, even those with titles. They tend to get carried away during parties. They might take liberties, what with the lack of supervision.”
Lucy thought that she at least did not lack for supervision. In fact, she was being treated like a toddler.
“I understand,” she replied meekly, even though her mind rebelled.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Daniel, whom she suspected was the true object of Joshua’s warning. She could not help but think back to the dress she wished she were wearing.
Soon, she became part of the guests being settled into their activities. The gentlemen were led to the sprawling lawn for a friendly game of archery. Meanwhile, the women were ushered into Elizabeth’s studio.
The Duchess of Redmoor’s studio was every bit as impressive as the rest of the estate. It had high ceilings and large French doors that let in sunlight and breeze, making it just as pleasant as the gardens.
Easels, canvases, brushes in jars, and palettes of watercolors adorned the room.
Lucy could not help but gasp at the displays in the room. There was art everywhere. Her eyes darted from the paintings hanging on the walls to the large canvases to the smaller sketches.
Any other day, she should have been fine with being in the studio. Yet her eyes strayed to the window, beyond which the men stood in the lawn. They seemed relaxed, their coats either discarded elsewhere or collected by servants. Their eyes were fixed on the target they had to hit.
Daniel stood out in the group, perhaps because her eyes searched for him. She noticed how his muscles bulged against the white linen of his shirt. He stood with effortless command and power.
His head turned as if he could sense he was being watched. Their eyes met from across the distance. Despite the glass and the fact that he was several yards away, the intensity of his gaze took Lucy’s breath away. She could not help but disengage and look down at the floor instead.
“Good heavens, did she even look at the mirror?” Lady Catherine Eastwick exclaimed unabashedly.
“She’s wearing a rag,” her friend sniggered. “It must be from several Seasons ago.”
“No. That one must be from when we were all children,” Lady Catherine insisted, smirking at Lucy openly.
“That makes sense, Lady Catherine!” a third woman agreed enthusiastically.
Lucy froze at the sound of the trio of women mocking her.
“It makes her look washed out,” the third woman muttered, feigning concern, but her eyes danced with mischief.
“Does she not know that she is at Redmoor?” Lady Catherine lamented. “She must have forgotten and dressed for some terrible book club.”
“Or a parish meeting,” the second one snorted.
Lucy felt shame, which was becoming a fixture in her life these days. She might have entered Redmoor Hall with her back straight and her shoulders pulled back, but now they had slumped.
A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, startling her.
“It is a lovely color, Lucy,” Victoria declared, her voice carrying from one end of the room to the other, to Lucy’s horror and relief.
Just the sound of her voice had the three ladies scurrying away.
Victoria squeezed Lucy’s arm comfortingly. “Ignore these hags. They can’t think for themselves. See if any one of them could actually talk like that without a companion.”
The Duchess of Redmoor clapped her hands together to draw everyone’s attention.
“Welcome to my studio, dear friends! Here, we will create. So, I want you to draw whatever you want. Express yourself. Of course, do avoid making it dull by playing it too safe.”
Lucy chose a seat and an easel in the corner. She wanted to hide, and she could not help but show it. Victoria sat beside her.
Many of the young ladies in attendance picked up paint to create elaborate, pretty scenes of hills and seashores. Of flowers and butterflies. Lucy chose a charcoal stick to work with. At that moment, she felt energy flow through her fingers, and her hand began to move over the blank canvas.
Before long, an image began to shape. She did not let her thoughts guide her, just her memories and dreams. She had drawn a man’s strong jaw, stray locks, and, of course, intense eyes.
Her hand had been swift and sure, but in the end, she faltered when she realized who she was drawing.
It was Daniel.
The likeness was uncanny.
She feared that someone would see her drawing, so she made some changes, changing the shape of his nose, then widening and darkening his eyes so that nobody would suspect they were blue.
“Oh, look at her,” Lady Catherine sneered. Again, she had every intention to be heard by as many people as possible. “Poor Lady Lucy. She is sketching an unrequited love, knowing she’d never have a proper suitor.”
“So pathetic,” her friend added. “She is pining for someone who would never offer for a woman like her.”
“So plain,” the third friend agreed as if on cue.
Not only was Lucy dismayed by the women’s meanness, but she was afraid that their words would reach Joshua. He would tighten his hold on her even more if he realized what she was trying to do.
Now, if Daniel found out that his near likeness, even though altered as determinedly as possible, was sketched by her, she would die of absolute humiliation.
Thinking that there were still hints of Daniel’s identity, she added more paint and made changes that would make the profile look like any random man’s.
“Oh no, she’s ruining it on purpose,” Lady Catherine drawled.
“Poor thing,” her friends said in unison.
At the end of the art session, Elizabeth walked around the room to survey and admire everyone’s work.
She even stopped by Lady Catherine’s and her friends’ paintings.
Lucy did not want to be too gleeful, but she could not help but notice that their works were juvenile and dull.
They did not understand that even still life, such as fruit in baskets, should show some spirit.
A personality. Such paintings should not look dead.
Finally, Elizabeth stopped by Lucy to look at her sketch. Lucy hoped that her hostess would not realize that she was sketching her brother.
“This is utterly fascinating, Lady Lucy,” she said, her praise sounding genuine.
“Most people try to capture what they see with their eyes. There is nothing wrong with that. You, however, did that and even went beyond as true artists are wont to do. You’ve captured the mood and essence of this man.
He appears to be a mystery. I can feel a strong longing just by looking at it.
It makes me wonder if the longing comes from the man or the artist, or both. Well done!”
Lucy smiled shyly. She noticed that Lady Catherine’s face had turned an unhealthy shade of green. Jealousy was plain in her expression, and Lucy could not help but mentally pat herself on the back.
Still, she wondered if it was only victory she should be feeling, for the sketch reminded her of how Daniel had managed to worm his way into her thoughts, refusing to ever leave again.
It was frightening.