Chapter 7 #4
She laughed at that, reaching out and patting his cheek. “Oh, stop it,” she said good-naturedly. “Lucky, indeed! You’re a brilliant writer and if only you didn’t hide behind that ridiculous pseudonym, you’d have the credit you deserve.”
“I’d be mocked beyond bearing is what I’d be,” he retorted. “Mrs Wildblood, indeed. Can you imagine? I’d be a laughingstock.”
A knock at the door paused the conversation before it turned once more into an argument, albeit a less acrimonious one, and a small, slender young man peered around.
“Beg pardon, Mr Foxworthy, Miss Foxworthy, but you’ve visitors.”
“I haven’t,” Sebastian said at once, heading for a door in the back wall that led to a hidden staircase. “They’re all yours, Eustacia.”
“They probably are, as you only consort with criminals,” she shot back, and then sighed as he disappeared. “Thank you, Neil, who is it calling upon us?”
“Actually, it is you they want,” Neil said with a smile. “Two ladies, one pretty and one plain.”
“Neil,’ Eustacia said, gently reproving. “Do you think next time you might take their names and refrain from personal descriptions?”
“Sorry, miss. Yes, miss,” he replied sheepishly.
“Show them up and tell your mother to send up a tea tray, if you would be so good,” she added as he left the room.
Setting down her coffee cup, Eustacia waited for her unexpected guests and was surprised and delighted when Mrs Adamson entered the room with her timid companion, Miss Halfpenny.
“Why, what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaimed, rushing forward to greet them with undisguised pleasure. “And how brave of you to face that climb to come and visit me.”
“I hope we are not intruding,” Mrs Adamson asked. “Clara was most anxious that we were too early to call, but I assured her you would not mind it. Was I right?”
“Oh, indeed. We do not stand upon ceremony at Seagull Heights. Actually, you will probably think us most lackadaisical,” she admitted ruefully. “But do sit down, I’ve called for tea. You will stay for tea after your efforts?”
“I do not think we could manage the return without it, could we, Clara? Poor Benny certainly needs a rest,” Mrs Adamson said with a laugh, drawing Eustacia’s attention to the shy young woman and the little bundle she held in her arms.
“Oh, how darling he is,” Eustacia said, moving to crouch before Clara so she might pet the little dog. “Good morning to you, Benny. What a handsome fellow you are. Yes you are, yes,” she said, laughing as the dog, ecstatic at being petted so fondly, did his best to wash her face.
“He likes you,” Clara said timidly, glancing at Eustacia with a cautious smile, as if she might dare to speak now that Benny had given her his approval.
“Well, the feeling is mutual,” Eustacia said, looking up at Clara and then pausing as she got a good look at the girl.
An idea suddenly came to her, and the light of inspiration, which had been so frustratingly absent for so long, returned to her in full measure.
She gazed at Clara and Benny, turning her head this way and that to regard them both from various angles until she realised she had stared the poor girl quite out of countenance.
Clara turned bright pink in response.
“Oh!” she said, getting to her feet once more. “I am sorry. How rude you must think me, but you see I have been searching and searching for a new subject to paint, and I’ve been at my wits' end, and… and there you are!” she said, as if that explained everything.
Clara turned to Mrs Adamson, her eyes wide with confusion.
“I think she wishes to paint you, dear,” she told her friend kindly.
“Me?” Clara squeaked, looking as alarmed as if she’d been told Eustacia wished to roast her slowly on a spit.
“Well, don’t look so horrified, it’s a compliment,” Mrs Adamson said, laughing.
“Oh, yes, it is,” Eustacia said at once. “Though I would like to paint you and Benny as well. The two of you are so charming together.”
Clara shook her head. “N-No, oh, no, I don’t think so. You wish to paint Anne, I’m sure, for she is so beautiful and I—” She shook her head again.
“Anne—may I call you Anne?” Eustacia asked, to which query she was given a nod and a smile. “Anne is indeed beautiful, but there is something about you that, for a painter, is far more interesting to capture than mere beauty. I beg your pardon, Anne, that was not meant as an insult.”
“And not taken as one,” Anne replied, clearly amused.
Their conversation lapsed for a moment as a very round lady carrying a heavy tray bustled in and set it down on the table before them.
She had a pleasing face, the apples of her cheeks rosy, her dark eyes lively with spirit, and she exuded a motherly sort of warmth that made everyone like her at once.
“Thank you, Mrs Wainwright,” Eustacia said, approving the appearance of fresh scones with butter and jam alongside the tea. “That looks wonderful.”
“My pleasure, miss. It’s nice to see you with visitors,” the lady said as she left, blessing Eustacia with an indulgent smile, as if Eustacia were some quaint old dear who never saw a soul.
Eustacia put that aside, however, returning to the problem of persuading the timid Miss Halfpenny to sit for her. “Truly, Miss Halfpenny….”
“Cl-Clara,” her muse stammered.
Eustacia beamed at her, delighted. “Clara, you have the most wonderful eyes, and… and a certain something, I cannot say what, but I shall know once I have your likeness on canvas. Oh, do say you will! I know it will be the most blessed nuisance having to climb that wretched hill, but I shall feed you lots of excellent cake, thanks to Mrs Wainwright, and I should so like to get to know you better. Please?” she added, with her most winning smile.
Clara, who was by this time a bright scarlet, turned to her friend. Anne smiled upon her and shook her head.
“It’s up to you,” she said gently. “Your decision.”
Clara stared at her toes as she considered this for a long moment during which Eustacia hardly dared breathe, so determined was she that this young woman was the answer to her recent creative drought.
Slowly, Clara raised her head again, meeting Eustacia’s eyes and giving a small but definite nod of agreement.
“Oh! Capital!” Eustacia exclaimed in delight. “I am so glad. Can we begin tomorrow?”
“Very well,” Clara said, looking a little more confident than she had. “B-But only between one and three thirty. My aunt naps then and so she w-won’t miss me until four o’clock, but I must be back in time to take her tea up.”
“Absolutely,” Eustacia said at once, willing to agree to anything to ensure she came.
“Well,” Anne said with a smile. “That is all settled. I must warn you, Eustacia, that it is likely you will have another guest calling upon you very soon too.”
Eustacia, who had begun pouring out the tea, looked up in surprise. “Oh? More of the Venturesome Ladies?”
“Well, quite possibly those too, for I know Miss Honeywell was most eager to visit you, but I was speaking of Captain Rowe Underwood.”
“Whoever is he when he’s at home?” Eustacia asked with a laugh. “And why on earth should he call upon me?”
“I believe he is a riding officer of the Preventative Waterguard. You are new to these parts so perhaps you do not know, but there is a good deal of smuggling in the area, and Captain Underwood is determined to rout it out,” Anne told her frankly.
Eustacia, who had felt herself pale somewhat at this information, shook off her concern, for her brother was not and never would be a smuggler, but she could not help but fear his association with that wretched pub might have been taken notice of.
“I see,” she said, somewhat diffidently. “And how does this concern me?”
“Oh, it doesn’t, not in the least,” Anne said, and with such conviction Eustacia relaxed again.
“Only you have a tremendous view of the coast from up here, and I rather think Captain Underwood might seek to take advantage of that. Of course, whatever arrangement you make with him is your own affair, but I believe I would be remiss if I did not advise you that the people of Little Valentine have a rather er… open minded view of smuggling, and you would do well not to be seen to help the good captain overly much.”
“You mean I would become a social outcast,” Eustacia replied, startled and rather amused by this discovery.
“Well, perhaps not quite that, but you might find the price of things goes up when you shop and that the shopkeepers themselves were not quite so polite to you as you might expect them to be.”
“And living on top of a hill so far from town and much farther from any other commerce, I should find that most inconvenient,” Eustacia supplied before the lady could suggest it.
Anne accepted her cup of tea, smiling ruefully as she lifted it to her lips. “Just so,” she agreed placidly.
“Well, well,” Eustacia said with a delighted laugh. “I do believe I shall enjoy living in Little Valentine far more than I ever anticipated.”