Chapter Sixteen
“You’re looking exceptionally lovely, my dear.”
Lady Beatrice Lockwood smiled widely as she grasped Verity’s hands and placed air kisses on both cheeks.
“You always do,” sighed Tabby, repeating Beatrice’s gesture. “I don’t know how you manage it, though.”
“I don’t have two adorable children for a start,” Verity led them both inside. “They’d wear me out in a puff of steam.”
“I agree with you there,” laughed Beatrice. “Henry and I weren’t blessed with a family, as you know, but we both have relatives who bred in abundance. We do visit them, of course—but not often.”
The three women shared a laugh at that, and Verity led them into her drawing room.
It was a little more formal than her parlour, and the perfect spot for making plans, discussing ideas, and sharing tea.
Also, truth to tell, a little gossip crept in, now and again, but Verity excused that on the grounds that putting three such different women in the same room was bound to create interesting topics of conversation.
“So” she said, as her guests settled themselves. “Albermarle de Montclair.” She paused. “I must ask. Is that really his name or did he make it up to sound a lot more grandiose than he is?”
“You haven’t met him yet then?” asked Tabby.
Verity shook her head. “No, not yet. Out Beatrice, bless her, took care of his contribution to the charity, and now you’re involved with the art show?
” She glanced at her friend. “So I suppose I really shouldn’t mock him because of his name.
He was very generous, and I told him so when I wrote the thank you note. ”
Beatrice waved that aside. “He is...how to describe him? Hmm. Well, he is unique. I’ll say that without hesitation. He has a tendency toward the dramatic—not unusual in those with artistic tendencies, I understand.”
“I’d guess he has the heart of a showman,” offered Tabby. “I could see him in front of a huge tent proclaiming the amazingly astonishing sights waiting within.”
“Exactly,” laughed Beatrice. “You’re exactly right. He was born for that particular role.”
“So how did he end up as an artist?”
“I have no idea,” Tabby raised her palms. “Not a single clue.” She turned to Beatrice. “Any idea?”
“No, not a one.” She thought for a moment.
“Henry and I ran into him some time ago, when we were travelling. We’d gone up past the Holdings, into the mountains and on the other side were smaller villages.
It was, I must say, exceptionally lovely.
The airships don’t fly over to that side, I was told, because there were very few places they could berth.
But oh my goodness, the Holdings? When those massive ships are side by side at the Air Brigade Command Headquarters? It’s a sight to take your breath away.”
“I can’t imagine it, but I’d love to see it someday.” Verity nodded.
“But I digress,” continued Beatrice. “Once we’d settled ourselves—in a lovely little guest house, by the way—we wandered to the central marketplace. So charming...little shops, interesting antique emporiums, wonderful food, and...” she paused dramatically, “an art gallery.”
“May I say it?” Tabby grinned.
“Go ahead,” Verity waved her on.
“Aha.”
Beatrice burst out laughing, and for the next few moments the room rang with hilarity.
“Anyway,” she continued, wiping her eyes a little with a lace handkerchief, “I badgered Henry to come inside with me, to see if there was anything worthwhile. We were looking for the unique, the different, since we had portraits up the...er...well, enough to make the walls groan.”
“I’ll wager there weren’t any portraits inside that art gallery.” Tabby chuckled.
“You’d be right,” answered Beatrice. “What we found...well, let’s just say that there was an abundance of female life studies, most of them, we guessed, modelled by local young ladies.”
“Ahh,” said Verity, enjoying the tale. “So Henry bought some, did he?”
“Um, well, I cannot lie. Yes, he did buy two, but I approved them. They included lovely sari-like costumes, and massive flowers in appropriate places.” She sighed. “They really were quite nice and brightened up our stairwell perfectly.”
“Was that when you decided to sponsor him here in Arcvale?” Verity titled her head to one side.
“I wouldn’t say sponsor, exactly. As a matter of fact we were quite surprised when we got a letter from him quite some time after our holiday, saying he was coming to Arcvale and would be honoured should we be interested in helping him put his collection up for viewing.
He said he had sold several pieces to customers in Norwald and Thornemar and had offers from several interested parties in Fourdain. ”
Tabby looked surprised. “Thornemar? Really? That island doesn’t have the best reputation, I’ve heard...”
Verity sighed. “Naked women, Tabby. You don’t have to be a connoisseur to like those pictures.”
“You are absolutely correct. Both of you.” Beatrice nodded. “And I wouldn’t go there, either. But...Albermarle paintings became desirable, more than a few sold, and thus he achieved enough fame and notoriety to come here to Arcvale.”
“How did Henry feel about that?” Curious, now, although not exactly sure why, she probed a little.
“He was quite content. I have a feeling that sponsoring an artist made him a little out of the ordinary? Not that he’s ordinary, of course, but here in Arcvale, we knew nobody when we arrived.
It took us time to develop friendships..
.” She touched Verity’s hand. “And we cherish them dearly.” She also took Tabby’s hand.
“There is little so precious as people you can rely on, trust, and laugh with. Wouldn’t you agree? ”
Tabby nodded. “And so say we all.”
“Well, now we know his history, I suppose we should discuss this showing of his.”
“Indeed yes.” Tabby glanced at her. “How do you think this pre-showing showing is going to be received?”
“Let me just say here that it was entirely his idea,” she rolled her eyes. “Henry and I had nothing whatsoever to do with it. We did try to dissuade him, but he’d fixed it in his mind that it was the thing to do.”
Verity nodded. “You know, he might be right. Something different? If he can convince attendees that his work is desirable, and will increase in value, I think he’s on to something.”
Beatrice sighed. “You know, I sometimes think it’s a very odd world we live in. And now is one of those times.”
*~~*~~*
While the ladies compared notes on the strangeness of the world, Lucas had returned home to Ashcombe Cottage. He wanted to do more research on the banking issue, and he also wanted some time to come to terms with the unexpectedly astounding detour his life had taken that day.
She was haunting him. When he closed his eyes, he could smell her fragrance.
Puzzled, he wondered what it was that had thrust her into his life?
She was strong-willed, determined, possessed of a brilliant mind, and attractive to look at.
All those things weren’t restricted to just one woman, though.
He’d had his share of beauties, determined women, and intelligent ones as well.
But never, he realised, had he found all of those attributes in one person. She’d completely annihilated all the vague suppositions he’d had about the woman he’d choose for himself. Now he’d met her. Loved her. And the next step was to make sure she didn’t get away from him.
“May I get you anything, sir?” Edgar hovered.
“I don’t know.” Lucas stared blankly at his tickerkin.
“Mr Lucas, sir, are you quite well?”
“Oh yes, Edgar. I’m well. I’m actually very well. Very well indeed.”
“That’s good to hear, sir. Why don’t you come into the parlour, sit down for a bit, and tell me all about it. I can make a cup of tea if you’d like?”
To Edgar’s astonishment, Lucas did just that. “Good idea,” he said, sitting in his favourite chair, leaning his head back and sighing.
Edgar moved nearer. Then paused. “May I assume you had a pleasant morning?”
“Mmm.”
“May I also assume that you spent some of it with the young lady who prefers lily of the valley perfume?”
Lucas shot him a glance. “Edgar, sometimes you are too clever for your own good.”
“Ah. Well then.” Edgar turned away. “I’ll make tea.”
Relaxing comfortably, Lucas glanced at the side table, and the small stack of cards resting on top of it.
It was his custom to take a quick look at them, and then give them to Edgar, who would then create a suitably correct response.
Thus far, he had apparently discovered over a dozen ways to say “I appreciate the invitation but will be unable to attend.” He also had a few for the “Not even on a bet” notation.
The “surely you jest” ones usually went straight into the fire.
Idly thumbing through them, one caught his attention, simply by virtue of the fact that Verity’s name was included as one of the attending guests at an art show, sponsored by Lady Beatrice Lockwood.
Interesting.
There was some other nonsense about pre-sale purchases for the honoured few guests, and the assurance that the artist, Albermarle de Montclair, was well known and celebrated far and wide. Apparently, he had galleries in Norwald and Fourdain, and a devoted following in Thornemar.
The ladies’ names were prominent... “Lady Beatrice Lockwood and Lady Verity Turner-Yardley cordially invite you to join a select gathering of art lovers at the renowned Aetherlight Gallery, where only the finest artists are featured, along with their unique and exclusive artworks.”
“Well.” Lucas snorted. “I wonder if I have a sufficient pedigree to be allowed in.”
“It’s not who are your parents, sir.” Edgar appeared at his side. “It’s about how much the left you in their will...”
“You, my tickerkin friend, are a frighteningly accurate, although cynical, observer of human nature.”
“Why thank you, sir. I shall take that as a compliment. I made tea but also brought wine.”
“You’re also absolutely invaluable.” Lucas reached for the wine glass. “And yes, you may remind me I said that the next time I throw a shoe at you.”
“I do not have the words to express my gratitude, Mr Lucas.” If a tickerkin could have snorted, Edgar would have done just that as he turned and rumbled out of the room.
Lucas fingered the envelope and the invitation. It sounded quite ordinary. Painfully so. But Verity would be there, thus he would attend as well.
There was also something else...something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it would come to him later. In the meantime, he put the wine to good use, stuck his feet up on an ottoman, and let his mind roam.
Back to Verity—and lilies of the valley.