Chapter 8 #2
“I fully intended to cancel. You know I did. Mr. Dalrymple does so little socially that I felt he would never make such an offer.” She had however, hoped and prayed he would.
That the matter was settled so easily with one letter surprised her rather pleasantly.
She had been preparing for a battle in going directly to ask if necessary.
Of course, she knew her letter was persuasive, begging him to host though she never asked.
“Hmmm. Well, it stands that the fair isn’t canceled. So you got your wish, you can go on planning.”
“I don’t see how I can be involved. I cannot meet with him to make any plans as you and Mamma are not available to chaperone and Jane is leaving.”
“Dalrymple will find a way. He would not want his efforts to fail, and he is wise enough to seek advice, as he proves repeatedly with his business. If only I had half his wisdom in financial matters.”
She would have argued with David if he was not about to fall asleep at the table. He was doing an excellent job, as far as she knew, of keeping up the Godderidge name and estate. “Then I will have to wait and see.”
“The locksmith is coming out to re-key all the doors today. I still cannot find Susanna’s set and prefer that she not have the ability to lock a room until she is well.”
“May I have the key back to my painting room?”
David stared into his coffee. “She doesn’t like it when you paint.”
“Why? I am not disturbing anyone.” Isabel would not stop doing things simply because it bothered Susanna. She would have nothing to do all day other than sit in the Blue parlor and stitch.
“You know as well as I do she has been jealous of your skills since she moved here.” David had never been so blunt. No one had actually said that Susanna envied Isabel before. “I don’t want to upset her.”
“I need to finish mother’s present. Which is a painting, of course.”
David sighed. “I can’t fight you too. I’ll give you the key for now as I see no reason to forbid your painting.”
Isabel stood and went around the table. She hugged her brother from behind and dropped a kiss on his head. “You are the best of brothers.”
“You only say that because Edward is not here. I am wondering if I should ask him to postpone his visit.”
“It will disappoint Mamma if you do. With Deborah expecting a little one, they cannot wait too long to come.”
“Yes, it is better that they come now. But I am afraid for Edward’s wife being exposed to Susanna. I have wondered if it would be better to send you and Mamma to him.”
“Then you will not have Mamma’s help.” Isabel didn’t include herself on the list of helpful people.
Oliver did not need her. Susanna did not want her about.
Even with the drops the doctor prescribed, Susanna grew agitated when Isabel came into the room.
“As far as Deborah is concerned, I would ask Edward to consult with his wife.”
“Then I must tell him about Susanna, and I don’t know how.”
A dilemma she could not help with. She could barely understand it either. Not that she knew all of it. Mamma, David, and the doctor spoke only in hushed tones or behind closed doors. She ate the last bite of her bun, hoping to move on to another topic.
Isabel retreated to her painting room. The light wasn’t as good as it had been in the nursery.
But for an attic room, it could have been much worse.
She turned her easel to better catch the light, and frowned.
Paint flaked off. Paint does not flake on new oil paintings.
The color was wrong. Muddy. She took a soft, dry brush and touched it to a place where the paint flaked.
She collected the dust in her palm and sniffed. Not oil paint. Watercolor?
Searching the room, she found one of her water jars half full of dirty water.
Or half empty. Isabel kept several jars of water for her watercolors.
Once they were all dirty, she would switch them out.
Since the attic room was so far from the kitchen, it was easier that way.
There could only be one explanation for the dirty water to have been applied to the painting—Susanna.
It had to be. There was nothing Isabel could do. She couldn’t even yell.
Like most refined ladies did as a pastime, Susanna painted.
One afternoon, two months after her wedding, she suggested an afternoon of painting.
Isabel accepted the invitation and made the mistake of painting the bowl of fruit and flowers as she always did.
Which was far better than most, and much better than her sister-in-law.
Susanna had wanted to show off her piece to her new husband.
Little did she know, David was used to seeing Isabel’s finished works, so his enthusiasm at the still life was less than his new bride wished.
Isabel had not painted around her sister-in-law since.
In recent months, Isabel’s paintings had been quietly replaced by others in many rooms.
Destruction of her paintings was a new thing. It had started with items moving from where she kept them. Missing brushes, and cuts in an unpainted canvas. This was the first time a work had been defaced.
Isabel looked through the rest of her paintings. Only one other had damage. At least the oil and water do not mix rule applied to her paints as well.
Two hours later, Isabel returned downstairs.
Her painting was saved, but no new work was accomplished, and her anger simmered like a kettle in the kitchen.
She needed to get out of the house. The day was brighter than the gloom of the house and her mood.
Isabel hurried to her room and changed into her riding habit.
Susanna could not ruin that for her either.