CHAPTER 9
Going to Birmingham proved a complicated matter. Since she needed to also transport the paintings, Eva hired a wagon to take them to town. She and Rebecca sat in the back hoping it would not rain and ruin their bonnets.
The first stop upon reaching Birmingham was Mr. Stevenson’s stationery store. A short, bald man with bulbous eyes, he greeted Eva with a bigger smile than normal. She assumed that was because beautiful Rebecca stood at her side this time.
“I have brought ten paintings,” she explained. “I hope you can take them.”
Mr. Stevenson beamed with delight. “Of course. In fact—” He gestured to the walls of his shop.
Eva looked around. Only three of her paintings decorated the walls, and they were all landscapes she had painted with no more inspiration than her own eyes and middling talent.
“The rest were all bought last month,” Mr. Stevenson said, enjoying her surprise. “A buyer from London took every one. He expressed interest in more. I think, Miss Russell, that we have found a most lucrative patron.”
“Why would anyone want so many paintings? I am grateful and relieved, of course. I feared we were close to your having no more room for new ones.”
“I think, but may be wrong, that this patron has his own picture shop, and is reselling them there.”
“Truly? What is his name?”
“He did not say. I did not press him. I was too happy to care overmuch.”
“How will you let him know we have more, then?”
“I will find a way. Now, come, come. I have your money and a handsome amount it is indeed.”
Eva gestured for the waggoneer to bring in the paintings, then followed Mr. Stevenson to his back office. There, with some ceremony, he opened a strongbox and counted out pounds.
She stared at the banknotes as the stack grew. There had been ten paintings here. The final stack contained twenty pounds. She had seen two pounds per painting, far more than in the past when ten shillings would make her dance.
“You can see why I am excited by this development,” Mr. Stevenson said. “You will be bringing more, I trust.”
Her own excitement cracked and crashed. She had no idea if she could ever bring more. Her source of paintings to copy had been closed. “Had this buyer no interest in the landscapes?”
“I fear not, Miss Russell. He did admire them, but they were not what he sought.”
She tucked the banknotes into her reticule. “I understand. Thank you, Mr. Stevenson. It appears our alliance has finally born the best fruit. I will write and alert you to when I am coming with another group.”
“Please do, please do.” He fawned pleasantries on her while he escorted Rebecca and her out to the street.
“He was lying,” Rebecca said as soon as the shop’s door closed behind them. “He knows the name of that patron, and is writing to him already to say he has more. Only you will not see the money until you bring him additional paintings, which you will not be able to do.”
“I am embarrassed that my little sister’s shrewdness surpasses my own,” Eva admitted. “I was so mesmerized by all that money that my wits deserted me.”
“What will you do?”
“Regarding Mr. Stevenson, I do not know yet. However, there is one thing I most definitely intend to do immediately.” She gestured for the waggoneer. “Sir, please go and procure for us a hackney cab. Once it comes, you can commence your journey back to Langdon’s End.”
With twenty pounds in her reticule, she would be damned before they arrived at their cousin’s house in the back of this wagon.
* * *
Cousin Sarah, red-haired, plump, and vivacious, extended both warmth and the best hospitality.
She and her husband, Wesley, lived on a fine street of newer houses, all of them tall and elegant and white.
The less savory elements of Birmingham, bred of its industries, did not touch their neighborhood.
Five servants tended to their needs inside, and two more took care of their carriage and horses at the back of the large garden.
The family had adopted a high degree of gentility in its workings.
Mr. Rockport might leave the house each day to tend to trade, and late nights on the town might be a rarity, but Eva grew nostalgic for her youth beginning the first day.
She might have been sent back in time, to before the deprivations and frugalities.
From breakfasts in the morning room to evenings of card play in the library, she found so much of her visit painfully familiar.
“I have the day all planned,” Sarah announced the first morning, after pressing more tea on Eva when Eva offered halfhearted resistance.
“We must go shopping, of course, so I can show you how we lack nothing to be had in London here. We will return early and have a light supper, because tonight we will attend a musical performance.”
Rebecca clapped her hands with excitement, to Sarah’s joy.
Sarah had taken to Rebecca immediately, and already confided to Eva that such a jewel should not be left to languish in Langdon’s End.
With a five-minute conversation the evening before, her cousin became her conspirator in finding Rebecca a good match.
Normally a visit to the shops would make Eva get busy lining up reasons not to buy, preparing excuses that did not reveal how precarious life had become.
With twenty pounds tucked away, however, she did not feel so poor and vulnerable.
She might not spend a penny, but she also would not experience the undeserved shame attached to impoverishment.
“You will have to wear the silver silk tonight,” Rebecca said.
Sarah pouted. “I was so looking forward to loaning some of my own dresses. You will borrow one, won’t you, Rebecca? Some are appropriate for a girl your age.”
“We will see,” Eva said, before Rebecca could clap her hands again.
“In the least, I hope you will avail yourselves of the headdresses and wraps in my wardrobe.”
Rebecca looked over, pleading with her eyes.
“We can hardly decline such generosity,” Eva said. Sarah meant well, and her cousin’s desire not to be seen with unfashionable country cousins probably had very little to do with the offer.
She told herself that again several times as the day unfolded. In particular, when they passed a milliner’s shop and Sarah insisted on going in and having Rebecca and her try on new bonnets with the latest brims, she repeated it to herself.
“You must have them,” Sarah exclaimed. “They will be perfect for tomorrow’s excursion to the park.”
Eva calculated their likely cost, and the wisdom of depleting the twenty pounds by that amount. Her bonnet, with its high crown and deep brim, brought a lot of attention to her eyes. She was starting to like her eyes. They appeared quite impressive looking out from this bonnet.
Rebecca removed her own and set it down. “We cannot afford new bonnets right now, Sarah. I do not mind wearing the ones I brought, if you do not mind my wearing them.”
“Of course! That is to say, I did not mean to— I had hoped to make it a gift to you, Rebecca. And you too, Eva.”
Eva smiled at Sarah. “You may make a gift to Rebecca if you like. I see no harm in that.” She untied the ribbons beneath her chin. “As for this one, I will think about purchasing it before I leave town.”
They left the shop a half hour later, with Rebecca giggling the way a girl should about her new bonnet.
All the way home Sarah and Rebecca discussed the fashions they had seen on the streets and in the shops and on the fashion plates.
Just talking about such finery had Rebecca alive and bright and more beautiful than ever.
“I regret that we do not have a box,” Sarah said that evening as her carriage carried them to the theater. “You look so lovely, Rebecca, that it is a shame you won’t be displayed in one.”
Rebecca did look lovely. Adorned in one of Sarah’s evening dresses—innocent white and with a neckline not too daring, and decorated most discreetly with fine cream embroidery—she would be the most lovely female in the theater, Eva was sure.
Her sister’s beauty did not dim her approval of her own appearance.
She wore the silver silk and a feathered headdress from Sarah’s collection, along with high kid gloves taken from the chest of her mother’s old finery.
They took seats in the orchestra, but in front rows reserved for the privileged.
The rowdier elements of society could be heard behind them, priming their voices to shout approval or not of the entertainment to come.
Young men of all stations roamed in little packs, admiring the women up in the boxes and staring more boldly at the ones in the chairs below.
Rebecca, seated between Sarah and Eva, attracted a great deal of attention.
From her serene expression, she appeared not to notice.
They attended without Sarah’s husband, who had a business dinner that night, and in their excitement had arrived early.
The seat beside Eva’s remained unclaimed as the time for the performance neared.
Suddenly, however, a man’s form stood in front of it.
Eva was talking to Sarah and merely noticed someone there out of the corner of her eye.
“Mr. Fitzallen!” Rebecca’s head popped up from their têtê-a-têtê and her gaze aimed to her left. “Look who is here, Eva.”
Eva did not look right away. First she saw Sarah do so, with widening eyes. She also waited while her own face flushed so hotly she feared it would be visible to all, despite the cool gaslight in the theater.
Finally she turned her attention to the man who had last seen her half-naked.
“Miss Russell.” He bowed. “Miss Rebecca Russell. What a surprise to chance upon you here.”
“Yes, a big surprise,” Eva managed. “Your journey is completed then?”
“I arrived back this morning and decided to come to town for the evening. The opportunity for good music drew me.”
Eva introduced Sarah and explained she and Rebecca were visiting her cousin for a few days.