Chapter Sixteen
When Cynthia reappeared with the tea tray, It appeared that Mrs. Witherill so admired the sketches of Teacup that she had invited Mr. Fielding to do one of her cat.
“I’m sure Pretty will stay still, because I’ll have her on my lap. Of course, that means you will have to draw me too, but I hope that won’t be too much of an inconvenience.” She trilled a little laugh.
“Not at all,” Mrs. Witherill,” said the artist. “It would be a pleasure. But you should know that a drawing of a person is much more work than a cat, so the cost would be greater. I would have to charge four shillings. Of course, if you wanted it in oils, which I think would be well worth doing with your glorious hair, that would be significantly more expensive.”
Harriet had imagined he would do the work for the pleasure of her company, and was taken aback.
But she was flattered by the notion that her beauty demanded an oil painting, and a moment’s reflection told her that a work like that would take several sittings, which she could turn to her advantage.
So she agreed, and was further surprised when from inside his knapsack, he produced an Agreement, which he asked her to sign.
Seeing her reaction, Mr. Fielding smiled charmingly and explained, “I know, it’s such a nonsense between friends, but my man of business insists on the correct paperwork. I’m sure you understand.”
Cynthia had observed all this and thought, correctly, that it wasn’t a man of business, but experience, that had convinced Mr. Fielding the necessity for paperwork. She smiled down at her hands.
“Oh, certainly,” said Harriet, signing her name with a flourish.
“It is always best to be business-like, that way, one can never be unsure of what one is getting oneself into. Not that I need to have any fears on that score with you, Mr. Fielding,” she said, looking up at him through her lashes, “I’m sure you have never led a poor girl astray! ”
“Not unless she wanted to be,” replied Andrew responding to an obvious flirtation. “And even at such times I’ve often thought a business contract wouldn’t be a bad idea. Just to be sure one knew, to use your words, Mrs. Witherill, what one was getting oneself into.”
“Yes,” said Cynthia, entering into the conversation for the first time. “One girl’s definition of being led astray might be very different from another’s.”
Her patient laughed. “I understand that in the last century it was considered very fast for a girl to allow a gentleman to glimpse her ankles,” he said.
“Nowadays, one may see ankles everywhere. I have a view of four excellent examples from where I am sitting, and very nice it is too.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Both women exclaimed loudly at this, but whereas Cynthia drew her feet firmly under the hem of her gown, Harriet held hers out in front, as if inspecting them.
“My ankles are quite ordinary,” she announced. “I see nothing excellent in them.”
“Ah, beauty, as you know, is in the eye of the beholder,” said Mr. Fielding. “We are never in the position to judge our own.”
Since Harriet was in the habit of doing just that, she had no answer to give, and, thinking she had exposed her white skin long enough to the ravages of the sunlight, she said her goodbyes and prepared to leave.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven,” she said to Mr. Fielding. “I have a russet-colored ballgown I should like to be painted in, if you think it suitable.”
“I can think of nothing better,” he said.
Once Harriet had gone, he said, “I hope you don’t think the worse of me for persuading your friend to have an oil portrait done.
I confess, I’m itching to use more than just a pencil.
I love working in oils and the beauty of her hair and skin inspire me.
But oils aren’t cheap, though I think I’m right in judging that Mrs. Witherill can afford it.
But if you think she can’t, I shall tell her all I can do is a drawing. ”
Cynthia laughed. “What? And spoil Harriet’s dream of seeing herself hung in full color on the wall?
Not for the world! She can afford it and it’s natural you should want to use all your talents.
She does have the most beautiful complexion.
I can’t wait to see the result. I must say, Mr. Fielding, I was most impressed by the professional way you handled it.
But I’m sure you know that Harriet is angling for something more than a purely business arrangement. ”
“Yes, and I’m ashamed I exploited that to get what I wanted — the commission for an oil painting, I mean. I assure you, the mild flirtation you just observed will be the beginning and end of my non-business relationship with Mrs. Witherill. Empty-headed women don’t attract me.”
Cynthia chastised herself for the joy she felt hearing this unvarnished assessment of Harriet. “Oh dear,” she said. “I know she seems that way, but she really is very kind, you know.”
“I apologize for criticizing your friend,” replied Mr. Fielding, “It was ungentlemanly of me. But truly, you are worth two of her.”
“It is only gratitude for my nursing that makes you feel that way,” said Cynthia, though her heart rose. “It’s well known that gentlemen fall in love with their nurses, though usually they are somewhat older than you, and the nurses are somewhat younger than me.”
She took a breath and said, more seriously, “But you must see, Mr. Fielding, that Harriet has attracted one man, and is therefore justified in thinking herself desirable. Her husband doted on her, and it’s not unreasonable to think another man will, too.
On the other hand, when a woman has never been married, never been wanted, she cannot have such assurance. ”
She was quiet for a moment, then shook herself. “It’s getting late,” she said, “and I am beginning to feel quite cold. I don’t want you catching another chill. We should go in.”