7. Chapter 7 #2
“I think a pelisse and bonnet are in order if you plan to take me for a clifftop walk.”
Laura’s shoulders sagged. “You’re right, of course.”
Attired in outdoor garments, they went out into the garden.
“What beautiful flowers,” Kitty said, stopping to admire the roses. “You must love spending time out here.”
“Not really. I prefer walking along the cliff path.”
Linking her arm through Kitty’s, she led her toward a door in the rear boundary wall. Kitty spotted a second exit across the grass to the right and drew them to a stop.
“Where does that gate lead?”
Laura gave it a cursory glance. “Nowhere of importance. It’s a private path to St Andrew’s.”
“A church?”
“Not now. All that’s left is a ruin. It was abandoned when the cliff began to fall away.
Quite romantic, I suppose, with the view out to sea, but there are very few places to sit, and it’s somewhat eerie with all the graves in clear sight.
The derelict building is rather overgrown and could be deemed dangerous. ”
It sounded intriguing. “Will you show it to me? I’d love to see the old church.”
The other woman’s mouth pinched. “Another time. I don’t wish to soil my dress walking through the undergrowth.”
Though Kitty would have liked to argue, she had to remember they were not on an equal footing. She was only the companion, and Laura’s wishes must hold sway. With this thought in mind, she allowed herself to be led through the other gate onto the path beyond.
She could return another time. On her own. Her friend had dismissed the ruin as unworthy of her interest, but Kitty yearned to explore a place where people had worshipped for hundreds of years. It would be the ideal spot to reflect and pray. Where no one would disturb her.
William strode along the cliff path toward Bow and Arrow Castle. He perched on his usual rock, near the garden gate of Rufus House, and took out his sketchbook. He waited there every day, hoping for another glimpse of his muse.
It had been easy to coax Miss Barrington’s address from Mr Penn, though it had cost him some gentle teasing. The Governor had a romantic side to him and was not at all put out to discover his young friend’s motivation for choosing to stay awhile on Portland.
William had seen her a handful of times since, but only for a few moments.
As soon as he approached, she retreated inside the gate, no matter what he said.
The effortless charm that had served him so well in the past seemed to have no effect on his Venus.
At this rate, he would be forced to rely on the sketches he’d made from memory, if he wanted to capture her likeness.
He was running out of time. His portrait of Mr Penn would be finished by the end of the week, and if he couldn’t make her listen to him by then, he would have to adopt different tactics. He must paint her. Any other consideration was immaterial.
William had almost given up hope of seeing her that day when he heard the familiar rattle of the door latch and the gate in the wall opened.
He held his breath as his Aphrodite slipped through the archway.
The sun glistened on her bonnet, making her profile seem more like that of an angel than a woman.
Would she stop long enough for him to sketch her face this time? Determined not to frighten her away, he kept silent. If he stayed where he was, maybe she wouldn’t notice him, and if she ventured out on her own, he could follow her.
It was a vain hope. Miss Barrington saw him at once and glared at him. Tossing her head back so that her chestnut curls cascaded around her face, she moved along the path toward the slope down to Church Ope Cove.
William was about to set off in pursuit when another woman, taller than his muse, stepped through the doorway and hurried after her companion.
Had Mr Barrington got wise to his daughter’s wanderings and provided her with a chaperon? His parents would do so if his sisters behaved like that.
Not that Charlotte would, but Eliza had frequently carried on in a less than respectable manner before her marriage.
He grinned as he recalled how often he’d helped her to masquerade as a man, but his smile faded, soured by the recollection of how his father had raked him down for his part in risking his sister’s reputation.
But William had not expected him to approve. Father seldom approved of anything he did these days.
His thoughts flew back to his Venus, who had disappeared from view.
The two women had taken the steep path down to the sea.
It was the first time Miss Barrington had ventured outside her garden gate since their initial meeting, and chaperoned or not, that gave him the opportunity to charm her.
Maybe having a companion was not such a poor development.
A wicked smile crept onto William’s lips as he followed them down to the beach, cutting off any way of escape. She would be forced to listen to him praising her beauty now, and that must soften her toward him. What woman didn’t succumb to vanity in the end?
His long legs strode down the slope after the two ladies, his eagerness to get close to his muse speeding his progress to such an extent that by the time they were halfway down the path, he was almost upon them.
The taller female lagged behind, less used, he guessed, to the uneven surface than her companion. He could only see her back view, but the plainness of her dress and bonnet suggested she was not his beauty’s equal in status.
The woman stumbled, and on instinct, William leapt forward and shot out a hand to steady her, to prevent her from falling.
She swivelled around at his touch, and he found himself being appraised by a pair of keen eyes, the colour of the sea on a winter’s day, when the blue has almost turned to grey.
When he widened his gaze to take in the rest of her appearance, he experienced a stab of disappointment.
The fine eyes sat in an otherwise unremarkable countenance.
Her complexion was poor, and her forehead showed a few tell-tale indents suggesting she had been the victim of smallpox or some other disease that had ravaged her skin.
Her dull brown hair was pulled back from her face in a style that emphasised her overly small ears, and her lips were rather thin—though that might have been because they were pursed in disapproval.
No, this woman was not her equal in more ways than one.
She murmured her thanks and hurried after Miss Barrington. William matched his pace to hers, ready to offer his aid if she stumbled again. It would do him no disservice to win her goodwill and could ease his path to her friend.
When he reached the foot of the slope, he found the two women had moved to one side of the shingle beach, away from the jetty, where men worked on their boats. This was his chance to plead his case.
“Good afternoon, ladies. What a charming picture you make, staring out to sea.”