4. Chapter 4 #2
As I’m sure you will have heard from your mother, Augusta has given birth to a boy. The Duke is eager to see his namesake, so we are travelling post-haste to Plymouth.
I am sorry to have missed you, but I was not surprised.
Your father sent word of Harting’s death, and I assume you were delayed by his funeral.
I hope your new duties will not keep you from painting.
It would be a shame, for I have been boasting about your prowess and all but promised Mr Penn, the Governor of Portland, a portrait.
Accept his commission, if you can, as a favour to me, but if your father needs you, I give you leave to decline it. All I ask is that you deliver your answer to Mr Penn in person.
I hope you will still be in Weymouth when we return.
Your loving Grandmama.
Mr Penn? A middle-aged gentleman? Not quite what William had in mind for his muse.
He could ill spare the time if he was to paint a piece worthy of submission to the Academy exhibition in the few months he had before his majority.
It might take a dozen more attempts before painting something that satisfied him.
However, the last thing he wanted was to alienate his grandmother.
He needed her full support if he was going to stand any chance of studying at the Royal Academy in the foreseeable future.
He would have to visit the Governor and decline the commission in person, as requested, before following the Duke and Duchess to Plymouth.
If William surprised Mr Rowson by only staying one night, the trusted servant gave no sign of it. By the time he had finished breakfast, the travelling chariot he’d arrived in was ready for departure, harnessed to a team of the Duke’s horses with his trunk already fastened behind.
William glanced across the bay at his initial destination—the Isle of Portland. He had many fond memories of the place, having visited often in his youth. With sea views on every side, it had been one of his favourite places to paint.
Even the name made him smile. As a boy, he’d argued that it wasn’t a proper island, as it was connected to the mainland by a long beach of pebbles.
Chesil Bank had always fascinated him because of all the stones, but he wouldn’t have the chance to go there today if he were to start his journey to Plymouth in good time.
With considerable reluctance, William climbed into the carriage, leaving the morning sunshine behind.
He was not looking forward to the awkward interview ahead.
However reluctant he was to spend who knew how many hours painting Mr Penn’s portrait, there was a part of him that hated to let people down.
They drove out of Weymouth on the road toward Wyke before dipping down the hill to where the rope ferry took them across the mouth of the Fleet.
After travelling through the village of Chiswell, the horses laboured up the steep incline to the top of Portland, but picked up speed again as the ground levelled out, and bowled along until the carriage stopped outside Pennsylvania Castle.
The mansion was as impressive as he remembered. Not the ancient building that the word castle conjured in your mind, but a modern creation whose battlements would never be used for defence. As unfit for war as the romantic clifftop ruin of Bow and Arrow Castle, which towered above the beach nearby.
Leaving Keating to see to the horses, William sought the Governor. It would be convenient if Mr Penn was away, thus relieving him of the need to excuse himself from painting the man’s portrait.
His wish was not granted. The butler informed him that his master was at home, but closeted with the constable.
Whilst eager to be gone, William felt obliged to wait until Mr Penn was free so he could turn down the commission in person and take his leave in the dignified manner his grandmother expected of him.
Though invited to step inside, William was too restless to sit clicking his heels. He’d go for a walk along the cliff top instead and reacquaint himself with the area.
He paused for a moment to absorb the view, which fell away from the house toward the cliff edge.
Full of breakers, whipped up by the wind, the sea crashed onto the shore below in a froth of white.
Above the torrid waters, herring gulls gathered, squawking, and in the distance, he could see ships on the horizon.
There was something about the sea that evoked powerful feelings in him.
A sense of freedom—and freedom was somewhat elusive of late.
He walked through the woods next to the house and onto the path he had often taken as a youth. To his left were the remains of Bow and Arrow Castle, perched on the cliff edge, whilst in front of him was the steep trackway leading down to Church Ope Cove.
A gull squawked. William halted mid-stride. But it was not the bird that caught his gaze. It was the sight of a lady standing on the path just ahead of him, gazing down the track to the sea. She stood at such an angle that he had a full view of her face—and what a face it was.
His pulse quickened. It was as if he had been walking in darkness and now the sun had come out. He could see nothing else—only her. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her figure was rounded in all the right places, and her heart-shaped face was framed by luscious chestnut curls escaping from their pins, unhindered by any bonnet.
Full red lips, an adorable snub nose, and long lashes shielding her eyes, which shone with such intensity that he wondered if he was dreaming.
Who was she? William didn’t care. He had only one thought in his mind. This woman was the muse he had been seeking—and he must paint her.
As he stared with undisguised admiration, she became aware of his presence, and the spell was broken.
She started, as if surprised to discover she was not alone, and cast her eyes about wildly, flitting along the cliff to her right, to the trackway down to the beach, and then resting on him, with a hunted look in their depths.
William wished he could have captured her previous expression with his paintbrush, and he desperately wanted to bring it back.
Without a word, she moved past him, scurrying toward Bow and Arrow Castle.
William hurried after her. He could not let her leave before discovering who she was.
If he did, he might never see her again.
There was no sign of a companion. Indeed, her bonnetless, chaperon-free state suggested she was more likely to be a maid than have one.
Her status didn’t bother him. He could charm a maid as easily as a lady, and if she were a servant, he need have no compunction in addressing her.
“Please don’t run away,” he begged, grabbing her arm as he reached her. “Take pity on me—a captive to your beauty. I assure you I do not bite.”
William thought he caught a half-smile on her lips, but it disappeared in a flash, and she glared down at his hand until he released it.
“I mean you no harm,” he said, keeping alongside her as she resumed her walk. “I want to paint you. It would be a crime not to.”
Still, she wouldn’t stop and listen to him.
“At least give me your name. If you don’t, I shall have to call you Aphrodite.”
That made her blush. Perhaps he was getting somewhere. He had thought her face perfect before, but the faint pinkness in her cheeks only enhanced her beauty. He would have to paint her like that.
Should he tell her who he was? Maybe he could dazzle her with his rank. “Would it make any difference if—”
“Is this fellow bothering you, Miss Barrington?”
William jerked around. A dark-haired man strode down the path toward them. A gentleman, judging by his clothing and bearing, though not one of high standing. His pinched mouth oozed disapproval.
Interesting. It was clear from the man’s address that William’s muse was a lady, and not a maidservant.
Did this fellow have some claim over her affections?
Would his presence conjure that captivating expression on Miss Barrington’s face again?
Apparently not. The lady’s colour was high—her mouth as pinched as the gentleman’s.
“There is no need to be alarmed, Mr Jenkin. This gentleman wishes to paint me, that is all.”
“Indeed,” he replied in clipped tones, as if he didn’t believe her.
Or maybe he just mistrusted William’s intent.
“Your father would not wish you to be walking out alone. You should bring your maid with you to avoid being accosted by strange gentlemen.” He offered his arm to the lady, and she hastened to his side to take it. “I will escort you home.”
He glared at William and gave a stiff bow. “Good day, sir.”
William nodded. “Good day.”
He watched the pair walk away but made no attempt to follow. He had discovered what he needed. No doubt the Governor could supply him with more information now he was armed with her name.
The prospect of painting Mr Penn’s portrait had suddenly become much more inviting.