Chapter Six #2
His boots crunched on the pebbled dirt path. “So tell me plainly, do you…” He seemed to fumble for the right words. “Do you no longer care for my company?”
“What?” Sibyl stopped.
“I would not ask, but my mother likes you so, and Penelope and Lucy are friends, and…”
She looked him in the eyes. He looked very dashing in his top hat, his dark hair curled around his ears. And his lips, they demanded to be kissed. She missed them—and his roaming hands. His dark eyes sought hers, but she could not tear her gaze away from his mouth.
She wanted those lips to touch her again. Sibyl thought she could avoid him, that perhaps she should have, that maybe they had made a mistake kissing in the library that afternoon. But now, being here, with him… She wanted him more than ever.
Just being in his vicinity made her blood warm. He deserved the truth. And she did not have it in her to lie.
“I… do care for your company. I like it very much.” She looked away.
And then, a warm, masculine, gray-gloved hand took her left hand, and with his right, he tilted her chin up. “You do?”
“Yes. I wondered if we… If I had acted in error that day, in the library…”
He stepped closer. “It’s all I could think about the past few days. Wanting to see you again. I could think of nothing else.”
There was a heat to him, a warmth, and a feeling of safety and security she felt whenever he was near. He looked solid and strong, and she fancied him something terrible, she realized.
“Do you still like my company?” she asked.
“God, yes. I’ve just told you, I—”
“Why, it’s Mr. Heyter, there you are. It’s been absolutely ages since I’ve seen you,” Miss Kate Harvey called from nearby.
Mr. Heyter dropped Sibyl’s hand and stepped away as Kate and Margaret approached. Margaret raised a hand in greeting.
Mr. Heyter bowed. “Good afternoon. Taking in the fresh air?”
“Yes. Oh, Miss Clifton. I didn’t see you there,” Kate said offhandedly.
Margaret shot Sibyl a knowing smile. Kate definitely had seen them together. She was just choosing to say otherwise.
“Good afternoon Miss Harvey, Miss Watson.” Sibyl curtsied.
Kate swooped between them and took Mr. Heyter’s arm, talking rapidly.
Sibyl watched them go as Margaret stood next to her and they resumed walking. “How are you? It’s been a week or so, I think.”
“I am well, thank you. And yourself?”
“Yes, all good. Although it’s a bit tiring at the moment. I’m glad to get some fresh air, truly,” Margaret said.
“Why is that?”
“My father’s art studio. With all the news about Phillippe’s new muse and the approaching reveal at the Royal Exhibition, more students have joined Papa’s studio.”
“That’s good, though, isn’t it?” Sibyl said, noticing Margaret’s slight scent of paint.
“Yes, it’s very good for business. But he is the teacher and accepts all students. I’m the one who has to organize the classes, make sure they pay for lessons, and purchase the equipment and materials, and do the cleaning. We have a servant who helps, but it’s still… tiring.”
Sibyl glanced at Margaret. The young woman did indeed look tired.
She wore a dark-gray walking dress and a light-blue dress beneath it, with a dark-gray bonnet to match.
Her face was pale and slightly wan, and she had dark circles beneath her eyes.
“Never mind the fact that we have to turn some students away because they cannot pay for lessons. It breaks my heart.”
“I just had a thought,” Sibyl said. “If you need the help so badly… why not enlist some of the students to help?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well. If there are some who cannot pay but are earnest. You know who those are, yes?”
“After a time, yes.” Margaret tilted her head to look at her better.
“So if a student is honest and serious about wanting to learn, offer them a chance at free lessons, but only if they help clear up and tidy the space and help chase down payments from the others. Or you do that yourself, whichever you prefer. But if there’re that many students around, you can’t do everything by yourself. You’ll run yourself ragged.”
“I already have been,” Margaret said, her steps listless and a touch dragging.
“Tell me you’ll think about it.”
“I would, but I’m hesitant. If I say yes, then Papa will want to give charity to all the students who cannot pay, and then how do we tell who can pay and who isn’t just taking advantage by saying they cannot? I wouldn’t want to be so judgmental.”
“That’s fair. But I think if you don’t enlist some extra help, you’ll fall over from exhaustion. Why not try one or two of the students who are genuine, and whom you think you can trust? Why not?”
“All right. I’ll think about it. We’ll see. But no promises. I need to have a business head for things. I cannot be like my papa.” Margaret shuddered.
Her voice held a hard note that made Sibyl cock her head. “Why are you so adamant not to be like him?”
“He has no head for business. I love my father, I do. But he does my head in sometimes. If I left it all to him, he would give free art lessons to everyone, and we’d be left starving on the street.”
“Doesn’t he have a patron?”
“He did, until his accident. His right hand, his dominant hand, was damaged in a carriage accident and he hasn’t been able to paint since. But he can teach, so he does. I’ve tried convincing him to try to make his own art again, but he refuses to even try. He won’t speak of it.”
Sibyl nodded. “I hope you do take on help. You look tired.”
Margaret smiled at her. “That’s what I like about you.
You’re refreshingly honest. So often society dictates that we must hide behind what we really mean and speak only pleasantries about the weather or the latest concert or gallery opening.
Hardly anyone says how they truly feel. At least not in public. ”
Sibyl smiled at her in return.
“Kate’s like that too.”
Sibyl’s smile fell.
“I can guess what you’re thinking. She fancies Mr. Heyter and wants him for herself.
She views you as a rival. But I can see there’s no contest. He obviously fancies you.
But what I mean to say is that she, too, speaks her mind.
Sometimes a little too much. But she is honest. And when she does tell you something, you know that it’s the truth.
Even if you’d rather not hear it at times. ” Margaret rubbed the side of her face.
They neared Kate and Mr. Heyter, who had turned back toward them. He steered Kate in their direction.
“Oh, Lord, I hope she’s not been going on about that artist again.”
“Phillippe?” Sibyl said.
“Yes. She’s mad about him. Practically obsessed.”
“She’s attracted to him?”
“No. She wants desperately to be his muse. You know, the woman who will be the star of all London society when his new paintings are revealed to the world.”
“Why does she care so much?” Sibyl asked. “What does it matter?”
But they were already within earshot of the others, and Kate said, “Ah, I see you two are talking about Phillippe as well. I was just telling Heyter that I am sure the man will reveal who she is soon.” She touched her golden curls.
Margaret let out a quiet sigh. “And what do you make of this business, Mr. Heyter? Of the artist’s muse?”
“I hardly know nor care. Whoever she is, she’s likely a vapid, vain creature, without a hint of sense in her head.” He frowned.
Sibyl’s mouth dropped open. “How can you say so about a woman you’ve never met?”
“How do you know he hasn’t?” Kate smiled impishly and tapped her nose.
“Because the company I keep are all level-headed ladies, for the most part. And no one I know would make such an error of judgment as to pose for an artist.”
Sibyl was taken aback. “Why is it an error?”
“To pose and parade in front of an artist for hours on end, only to preen and have one’s portrait be shown to all the masses of London?” He shook his head. “I certainly wouldn’t allow any of the women in my family to do such a thing. It’s unseemly.”
Sibyl tucked a curl behind her ear, catching his eye, when Kate said, “I think you’re wrong.
It could be the making of a young woman.
She will be recognized as a jewel of London society.
All eyes will be on her. She will have all the attention, she’ll be invited to parties, concerts, she’ll receive clothes and invitations.
Maybe she’ll even be invited to meet the royal family. ” She looked ready to swoon.
Margaret laughed, and Sibyl joined in. Kate grinned, but Mr. Heyter looked stern. “Well. You know my feelings on the subject.”
Sibyl couldn’t let it go. “But don’t you think, Mr. Heyter, that the artist’s model will be an ordinary person? I cannot think she would be so vain.”
He gave her a level look. “We disagree, Miss Clifton. For I believe that to be a model, vanity is a prerequisite.” He looked at the three women.
“But I see I am outnumbered. Do excuse me, I have no wish to say more, for fear I might offend. I can see we hold different opinions and wish to not say something I might regret.”
Sibyl watched him go with a pang of discomfort and wistfulness.