2. Chapter 2
While he waited for his father to reappear, William drew a likeness of his nephew in his sketchbook. The little lad wobbled around the room, as unaware that his grandmother was mourning the loss of her second husband as he was that he was soon to gain a younger brother or sister.
William would copy the image onto canvas and attempt a portrait in oils. It would not be as easy as working from life, but he had spent so long watching the toddler that he had every hope of being able to transfer the salient details into his painting.
It was almost an hour later when his aunt re-entered the drawing room. Her lips were pressed together in a satisfied smile, like a cat who has just stolen cream from the dairy. Whatever she had discussed with the new Lord Harting was clearly to her liking.
Father strode toward him. “Walk with me, Will. There is much to talk about.”
That was encouraging. Was he already considering giving him the townhouse? Abandoning his sketchbook, William accompanied him outside into the gardens. For several minutes, Father said nothing. What did he wish to say that was so difficult to voice?
William took advantage of the quiet. “I want to talk to you about my future.”
“Excellent. I’m glad you’ve been giving it some thought, as the future is uppermost in my mind.”
“I wish to study at the Royal Academy. Could you be persuaded to let me have Harting House? I need a place to paint, and if I were based in St James’s Square, my clients could come to my studio instead of me having to go to them. It would make my life far easier…”
Full of hope, he turned to look into his father’s face. His words trailed off. There was no answering glow in the older man’s eyes, and his mouth had a firmness about it that William recognised. He would not like what Father was about to say.
“Let me stop you right there. I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
“But it would be invaluable to me. You must see that.”
“I have other plans for Harting House.”
“You mean to occupy it yourself?”
“No. Your grandmother rarely goes to London now, and we will continue to stay at Wessex House when we’re in town.”
“Then why won’t you let me have it?”
“Because your aunt has asked if she might live there instead of in the dower house here on the estate—and I have agreed.”
William saw his plans going up in smoke and sought to douse the flames. “That doesn’t seem like a fair exchange to me. The townhouse is a far more valuable property.” And of far more use to him.
Father raised his eyebrows just a touch, and William discovered, to his annoyance, that the action could still shoot heat up his neck and into his face.
“I am sorry it interferes with your wishes, but your aunt’s needs are greater than yours.”
Of course they were. Everyone else’s needs were always greater than his. His father didn’t take his art seriously. His ambitions were unimportant. He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I see.”
“Do you? Your aunt has lost her husband and has three unmarried daughters in her care. She has never thrived in the country, and residing on the Holybourne estate would only remind her of all she once had. Not only that, but she would find it cramped in the dower house after living for so long in a much larger home. With great wealth comes great potential for doing good. It is up to us to ensure we use what the Lord gives us well. I have the means to relieve her suffering, and that is what I intend to do. Harting House will continue to provide her ladyship with accommodation suited to her rank and income. Besides, I cannot think it would help familial relations for her to live so close to our family.”
William jerked around to face his father. What did he mean by that? The dower house was no closer to where they lived than Holybourne House, unless—
“We’re leaving the rectory and moving here?”
Father nodded.
“But I thought you didn’t approve of absentee rectors.”
“I do not.” His father exhaled deeply. “I’m giving up my parish.”
William’s jaw dropped. That was unexpected. He had assumed Father would remain a rector to the end of his days.
“I don’t understand.”
“As God did not bless my brother with sons, he must have intended the earldom to come to me. To take my seat in the House of Lords, I must be in town, and to manage this estate, I need to be here. If I’m splitting my time between Holybourne and London, I cannot be in West Meon as well.
The people deserve to have a clergyman who lives among them.
I cannot reconcile the two tasks, and so I must learn to serve God in a different capacity.
Being an earl is no less a calling than being a minister. ”
Though he saw his father’s logic, William’s mind reeled at the implications. If his father was giving up what he loved, would he expect his son to give up his painting?
No, it was not the same. William could happily settle in London.
It would be easy enough to combine his duty with his art.
Not having the townhouse was a disappointment, but he’d get over it.
With a raise in his allowance, he could take lodgings in town.
That would work just as well. Maybe even better.
“Will you increase my income then, so I can rent my own rooms?”
“Next spring. When you reach your majority.”
“Must I wait until I’m twenty-one? I would benefit from the freedom of having my own space now. You don’t want my clients knocking on your door.”
“I should think not. Your grandmother might dote on you more than is good for you, but even she would baulk at the idea of you turning part of her house into a studio.”
William’s frustration mounted. “Then where am I to paint, or must I keep visiting people in their homes?”
“I want you to spend some time here with me, learning how to run the property that will one day be yours. My father never took the trouble to ensure his sons were educated in estate management, and so I am left to acquire this knowledge rather later in life than I would choose. Thankfully, it need not be like that for you. I’ve seen so little of you of late, and I don’t want my only son to be a stranger. We could learn together—”
The cold snake of duty wound its way around William’s body. It wasn’t fair. His father had been free to do what he wanted all these years. Shouldn’t he be allowed to do the same?
“There is time enough for that. You always said my ability to paint was a gift from God. It is my duty to make the most of my talent, and to do that, I need to be in London so I can study at the Royal Academy.”
“This is not the right time—”
“Why not? I spent three years at Cambridge to please you. Three years when I would rather have been studying art. As a dutiful son, I pushed my own desires aside so I could follow in your footsteps. My studies are finished. I’ve gained my degree.
And now, when I’m finally free to pursue my own path, you tell me it’s not the right time? ”
His father’s eyes dimmed. “I didn’t realise attending university was so abhorrent to you.”
Guilt tweaked William’s conscience, but he dismissed it. Three years ago, he’d been too unsure of himself to object to going up to Cambridge, but his parents must have known his heart wasn’t in it.
Father laid a hand on his shoulder. “I know it sounds like I’m asking a lot—”
William shook off his touch. “You are. Too much.”
Ignoring his outburst, Father continued.
“I regret to say that my brother has not managed the estate well. He has pursued profit over the welfare of his tenants. Even though I have been earl only a few hours, I have seen enough over the past months to realise we have no small task ahead, to right his neglect and care for all who now rely on us.”
“On you, Father. Not us.”
“This is your path too. I do not know how long it will be before you inherit. God willing, I’ll live to a ripe old age, and you’ll have years to prepare for this.
But whether or not you like it, this is your destiny.
One day, unless God sees fit to take you home before me, you will become earl and take over the responsibility of running this property.
You must ensure it is managed well and teach your son to care for the estate and its people after you. ”
The snake of duty tightened around William’s throat. He could barely breathe.
“So, I have no choice in the matter. I am to learn to manage land I don’t own and settle down with a wife and produce sons to run the estate after me.”
“Perhaps I am expecting you to grow up too fast. It is a lot of responsibility for your young shoulders to bear.”
William felt the weight of obligation bearing down on him. Part of him wanted to yield, to bring an approving smile to his father’s lips, but if he accepted these duties now, they would suffocate his dreams. He needed more time.
He tried to laugh it off to lessen the disappointment on Father’s face.
“Thank heavens it is not my responsibility yet. In your own estimation, I am but a boy. If I’m not to have my own lodgings in London until I reach my majority in March, you cannot expect me to take a hand in the estate until then.
Next, you’ll be suggesting I settle down with a wife before my twenty-first birthday. ”
“I would not recommend it. Though I imagine the right spouse would ground you as your mother did me, you are of an age and disposition where you would be more likely to choose the wrong woman, and that is a mistake which would lead to a lifetime of regret.”
His words fuelled William’s anger. Did his entire family believe he was unready for marriage and incapable of choosing a suitable bride?
Was his judgement so faulty? Charlotte thought nothing mattered to him but beauty.
His mother believed he would be blind to love if it stared him in the face.
Now his father had joined in the attack.
He returned to the subject closest to his heart. “Does that mean I can’t go to the Royal Academy?”
His father sighed. “Are you not moved by the plight of our hitherto neglected tenants?”
“I am sure you are more than able to look after them. They are just like a fresh set of parishioners.”
“The young Will would have jumped at the chance of spending time with me. Has university changed you so much? Don’t you care for anything other than your painting?”
Of course he did, but like a dog with a bone, William refused to let go of his ambition, and the more it was wrenched from his jaw, the harder he held on.
If he remained at Holybourne House for an indefinite period, would he ever get to the Royal Academy?
Would he be forced to abandon painting altogether because it wasn’t a fit activity for one of his rank?
William tilted his head up. “Are you ordering me to stay, your lordship?”
“I’m asking you.”
“Then I politely decline. If you do not choose to finance my studies at the Royal Academy, perhaps Grandmama can be persuaded to support me instead.”
“Ah, yes. Your grandmother. The Duchess of Wessex has done you no favours by indulging your every whim. I would forbid her from giving you anything if I thought she would listen to a word I said, but she has always walked her own path, regardless of the effect on anyone else, and she has taught you to do the same. I cannot regard her influence on you as a positive one. Deprived of her own son to spoil, she has spoiled mine instead.”
“Don’t speak ill of my grandmother to me. She at least appreciates my talent.”
“And you think I do not, because I tell you now is not the time to study at the Royal Academy?”
William gave a sharp nod.
“You are mistaken. I might not have your artistic eye, but I appreciate the skill you have. I am not asking you to abandon it. But have a care, lest it overtake you.” There was a faraway look in Father’s eyes.
“It was our love of history that brought your mother and me together, but it was a miracle my obsession with the past did not drive her away again. I would hate to see you make the same error.”
William recalled his mother’s words. There was little chance of his making that mistake. He had received a few kisses from some of his less respectable clients, but none of the beauties he had painted had ever stirred his heart.
When he found his muse, he would paint the portrait that would amaze the public. Maybe then his father would see he was destined for more than managing estates. And if by some chance she aroused deeper feelings within him, perhaps he would also end up with a wife. It was an excellent plan.
“May I go?”
Father sighed. “Once your uncle’s funeral is over, I will not demand that you stay. You still have much of life to learn. Perchance you are right, and you are not ready.”
With a bow, William took his leave. The snake of duty dropped to the floor with a thud, but continued to wind itself around his feet, threatening to trip him up.
Though free to follow his own path, his moment of triumph was tinged with bitterness. He was a disappointment. Unfit to stand alongside his father. Part of him wanted to change his mind, to win back that approval, that closeness they’d shared in the past.
But he could not capitulate. He could not stay.
Father did not understand how much he needed to do this.
To prove himself. It was time to tread his own path, not the one laid out for him by others.
With renewed determination, William closed the door on his doubts.
His duty would still be waiting for him when he returned.