Chapter 17
Georgina woke in more elevated spirits. As usual, she had taken quite a lot of brandy before she went to sleep, so her memories of the previous evening were on the hazy side.
She wished to keep it that way. As she sat up in bed, she reached for the decanter on her dressing table and poured herself a large glass.
It was a fortunate circumstance that Georgina did not employ an abigail, for she took longer than usual over her dressing.
Had someone been there to witness this deviation from routine, it would have led to a good deal of speculation below stairs.
She would ordinarily dress in haste and not pay any particular attention to her choice of boots or jacket; today, Georgina tried on not one, not two, but three of her fine coats until she found one that met her satisfaction.
Moreover, she discarded several neckcloths in her attempts to create an elegant barrel knot.
Georgina stared at her reflection in the gilded Venetian mirror while she attached some sapphire drop earrings to her ears.
Her hair was already fastened up, and she affixed her black hat in place on top of her shining curls with a cabochon sapphire hatpin.
Stepping back from the mirror to assess her attire, she was satisfied that the tight breeches and gleaming boots flattered her figure well.
Glancing at her fob watch at precisely eleven o’clock, Georgina went down to the hall so that she might be waiting when Elizabeth arrived.
One of her footmen was busily arranging a large vase of flowers in the vestibule, and she greeted him cheerfully. “How is your mother, Toby?”
“Her hip has been playing up again, Miss Pace. But otherwise, no complaints,” he replied, clipping the stems of some foliage.
“Did you see they passed a bill supporting greater entitlements for attendants?” She winked at him. “You’ll be able to visit her even more regularly and go for that holiday sojourn.”
As the hand of the clock clicked to ten minutes past, Georgina’s expression sank to disappointment. It seemed unlike Elizabeth to be tardy. Perhaps she had decided not to come, after their squabble the previous evening.
Hearing hooves finally coming to a stop outside, a wave of relief washed over Georgina, and a wicked idea struck her.
She plucked one of the white roses from the vessel on the table and snapped the bulb from its stem.
She apologised to Toby for interrupting his careful design and donned her gloves before leaving the house.
Elizabeth’s phaeton was pulled up outside her house.
A groom had already sprung down and held the reins at the horses’ heads.
Elizabeth, wearing a well-fitting driving habit of gray muslin with a matching cropped jacket and pleated skirt, stepped onto the curb.
A black top hat, with a little mesh veil that scooped coquettishly over part of her face, completed her attire.
Skipping down the couple of steps to the road, Georgina greeted Elizabeth and put her hand out to assist her ladyship back into the carriage.
Once seated in the phaeton, Georgina revealed the rose-head clasped in her hand. She inspected the flower, noting the tiny cracks and blemishes on the velvet petals.
Elizabeth regarded her uncertainly.
“I had meant to give this to you,” Georgina said and sighed. “But then you were late, so I cannot think you deserve it.” She exhaled again and tossed it onto the street.
The gesture surprised a laugh out of Elizabeth. “Forgive me, Miss Pace.”
“Georgina,” she corrected her.
“Forgive me then, Georgina,” Elizabeth amended. “I was waylaid this morning. I apologise for my lateness.”
Georgina bestowed her most charming smile upon her. “You must seek a way to atone.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “You, my little thief, are very adept at cajolery,” she remarked, signalling the groom to step back from the horses’ heads.
They quickly traversed the distance from Half Moon Street to the Royal Academy on the Strand without incident.
Georgina had trepidations that Elizabeth might draw the conversation back to Henry and was relieved when she made no such attempt.
That would have made for a very awkward outing.
While she did not believe Elizabeth had intended any malice in bringing up the subject of her brother the previous evening, Georgina did not wish to discuss it again.
The groom deposited both ladies on the footpath and took over the control of the phaeton to deliver it around to the mews.
Elizabeth extended her arm, her glinting eyes revealing her pleasure.
Georgina tucked her hand in the crook of her ladyship’s arm and allowed her to lead the way towards the impressive facade of the Royal Academy.
She had passed by here many times but never had cause to stop.
The building was an exquisite piece of Palladian design, with large columns stretching from the ground to the domed ceiling.
Arched windows flanked the sides of the quadrangle, and symmetrical brickwork followed the length of the building.
“What are we doing here?” Georgina quizzed as they made their way across the expansive courtyard.
“I wondered when you might ask that,” Elizabeth replied. “I sponsor several of their budding artists, and my fellow board members and I are coordinating the purchase of some nearby properties to serve as their accommodation,” she explained.
This surprised Georgina. “How exceedingly benevolent of you.” She stopped walking in her tracks, her hold on Elizabeth’s arm inducing her companion to stop as well.
“Is there no end to your goodness? Defender of the virtuous, champion of the fallen, and now supporter of the creative. You put us mere mortals to shame.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched. “I will gladly confess to being a supporter of the creative. But the others are titles only you have given to me. I was pleased to assist Miss Coombes, though I have never had to do that before. Besides, Sarah was the real saviour there. Had it not been for your friend, Coulthurst, our intervention would not have been necessary.” A hint of disapproval laced her tone.
“And you are hardly fallen,” she added. “Merely somewhat wayward.”
“Well, I would like it known that if you continue to be so abominably virtuous, I will have no option but to compromise you.”
“You might try, Georgina,” Elizabeth replied.
Was that a second instance of flirtation from the countess?
Thrilled, Georgina chuckled and gave her arm a squeeze.
They strolled towards the entrance, Elizabeth pointing out various features of the building as they approached.
Georgina listened, wondering how Elizabeth could retain and impart so much information.
A few times, the pair shared a glance. When this happened, Georgina found herself losing track of the conversation, and this disconcerted her immeasurably.
Her developing interest in Elizabeth continued to puzzle her.
In nature, they were vastly different. Georgina believed that her character flaws could not be acceptable to someone as wholesome as Elizabeth.
Yet for some reason, the Countess seemed to accept—if not welcome—her interest. Georgina regularly made amusing or outrageous remarks contrived to make her smile, and she enjoyed the flutter of excitement inside her when the lady reacted.
This dynamic perplexed Georgina, who had always been on the receiving end of such efforts, and she struggled to reconcile herself to these new feelings.
***
After Elizabeth’s meeting with the many trustees of the board, where they discussed and settled upon several business transactions needed to secure the new artist’s lodgings, Elizabeth invited Georgina to explore the house where the artists busily worked on their assorted projects.
Georgina had no intimate appreciation of art, but she did not want to offend Elizabeth and agreed to this with a warm smile. She’d created this situation herself, after all, and could hardly abandon the outing now.
Side-by-side, they crossed the marble tiled floors and followed a procession of like-minded visitors from one salon to the next. Countless flickering wall sconces lit the building. Large, polished oak tables and clusters of brocade chairs and sofas were arranged at random around each room.
A vast range of people crowded the workrooms. Individuals of rank, resplendent in their finery, mingled with painters and sculptors, shrouded in stained smocks. Some sat for portraits, others strolled, enjoying the modish new painting styles and effects.
Elizabeth led Georgina into a room where a mature lady perched on a stool, engrossed in her oil painting.
A female model with golden--tan skin and black hair sat unclothed on the chaise in the middle of the room, partially covered by a sheet that draped across her body.
The artist’s eyes were trained upon her as she captured each of the model’s exquisite lines with her brush.
A few other onlookers stood in a semi-circle around the artist, observing the masterpiece in progress.
She did not seem to be aware of the surrounding company.
Her grotty, paint-smudged hand held a narrow brush as though it were a feather.
She dipped it into blobs of paint on her palette, mixed it together in a seamless movement as she went, then dabbed it onto the canvas with precision.
Georgina watched, quite fascinated by how the artist’s brush moved in such a fluid motion to capture every tiny detail of the -model’s body.
The overpowering smell of the paint was intoxicating, and so transfixed was she by the sensual beauty of the model, Georgina did not hear Elizabeth speak to her.
“I’m sorry?” she said, reluctantly dragging her gaze away.
“This is Lady Maria Bell. She is a very talented painter,” Elizabeth repeated. She appeared completely indifferent to the model’s nudity.
Georgina blushed. “Indeed, she is.”
Elizabeth smiled and led her to a section of the room where other artists were tutoring aspiring painters in technique and method.
After spending a moment taking in the scene, Georgina observed a familiar, spectacled face peeping out from behind an easel, balancing precariously on a stool that was a little too tall for him.
“It’s Arthur,” Georgina called in delight, taking Elizabeth’s hand and pulling her over. She introduced the two, watching their exchange closely. If Elizabeth became acquainted with Arthur, perhaps she would rethink her alliance with Mrs Gardner.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Coombes,” Elizabeth said, bestowing a curtsy. “I am encouraged to see so many people are here enjoying the facilities we offer.”
Arthur nodded. “I was a g-good painter b-before. But now I am e-excellent.”
Georgina stepped back to inspect his artwork. He was recreating a still life painting of a vase with some beautiful flowers. He should be truly proud of his talent. “Indeed, Arthur. This is wonderful. Perhaps you will paint a picture for me one day.”
“You must buy it, G-George.”
His candour always made her laugh. “Of course, Arthur.” She leant towards him and embraced him warmly. “We must continue on. I will see you again soon.”
With pink cheeks, he bade them both goodbye and resumed his painting.
Georgina locked her arm onto Elizabeth’s. “Arthur is a breath of fresh air.”
“I can readily understand why he has such a firm place in your heart. Perhaps I should inquire of him as to how one goes about achieving that.”
Georgina flashed Elizabeth an arch look. She felt heat rush to her cheeks.
In silence, they moved into another large hall hung with various paintings of different sizes and styles. Beautiful frames completed several of the paintings that styled the walls, while unfinished canvases were displayed on easels around the room.
Distracting Georgina from her embarrassment and restoring comfort, Elizabeth commenced describing the histories of the many pieces they inspected as they strolled through the room.
“What do you think of this one?” she asked, referring to a landscape painting with rolling hills and impressive storm clouds.
“I prefer Lady Bell’s,” Georgina replied, giving it the barest of appraisals. “This one is quite insipid. The colours are not vibrant, and all the lines are blurred.”
Elizabeth looked at her with piercing eyes, her eyebrows knitted in thought. “Do you not enjoy art, Georgina?”
Having no wish to prevaricate, Georgina gave a little shrug. “Not particularly. Though I appreciate many other people do, so I suppose there is a purpose to it all.”
“It seems I have brought a sympathetic philistine to the Royal Academy,” Elizabeth commented.
This made Georgina laugh. It was indeed the truth. However, even though she did not take great delight in the artwork herself, she felt increasingly fond of her guide. Elizabeth’s instruction throughout kept her amused, and she liked peeling back the layers of the mysterious Countess.
“Do you like this piece at all?” Elizabeth asked, moving Georgina on to the next painting.
“No,” she replied without hesitation.
Elizabeth’s lips twitched. “Can you see the skill in the brushwork used to achieve the effect of distance?”
Georgina crinkled her nose and squinted, leaning closer to the canvas. “No.”
A gentleman standing beside her made a loud scoffing sound and strode off, jostling Georgina as he went.
“Well, really,” Georgina remarked, shocked. “How rude.”
Again, Elizabeth teetered on the brink of mirth. “That was the artist.”
Georgina bit her lip and suspected she might be blacklisted from here forever.
“Come, let us leave now before you bring further condemnation down upon us. I’ll take you for tea at Gunter’s.”
She placed her hand on Georgina’s back and ushered her through the hall.
Once they had retrieved the phaeton, Elizabeth navigated the crowded streets with light hands on the reins, and they soon pulled up in Berkeley Square.