17. Chapter 17
By morning, the wind had dropped, but rain had arrived. When Laura’s birthday dawned, it was still raining. Kitty hoped her friend had not set her heart on going for a walk along the clifftop. It seemed likely they would be forced to spend the entire day indoors.
Kitty recalled when she had turned twenty-one, two years earlier, and it brought a wistful smile to her lips. How different everything had been while her grandfather was still alive.
She joined her friend in the drawing room after breakfast. Despite the weather, Laura was in the sunniest of moods, preening in front of William and Hugh.
“Look what Papa gave me.” She lifted her chin so Kitty could admire the stunning emeralds around her neck. “And these.” She tilted her head one way and then the other to show off the matching earrings.
Kitty held out the pin-case she had made for her, embroidered with flowers. “Many happy returns of the day.”
Her friend took the modest gift. “Thank you.”
After a single glance, she put it aside and went over to the mirror to admire the much more valuable present her father had given her, whilst Kitty sat down next to William.
“I do not care to see your offering discarded so readily,” he said in a low voice, meant only for her ears.
She shrugged. “Why are you surprised? Who would look at a humble but useful pin-case when compared with such magnificent jewellery? She’ll appreciate it later, when her father has locked the gems away in his safe.”
“But you made it yourself. That took time, making it more valuable in my sight.”
Did he realise what he was saying? “You prize the practical handmade gift over the natural radiance of the emeralds?”
“Yes, I do.”
Kitty wanted to believe him, but if it were true, wouldn’t he judge a person for what was inside instead of being blinded by a glittering exterior? “I find that hard to accept. You value beauty above all else. That is what you want to paint—not the mundane.”
William opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again. He must have realised the futility of disputing what was so obvious.
He would never look past the imperfections of her appearance to see her for the woman she was. A woman who was in far more danger of falling in love with him than was safe.
When Laura had stopped admiring the emeralds, she glided over to the window. “I wish it would stop raining. I want to go for a long walk along the cliff top this afternoon.”
“Why don’t you travel into Weymouth and buy yourself a new bonnet?” Hugh said, giving her chin a gentle squeeze. “Mr Merry may borrow my carriage and drive you over to the mainland.”
Laura stroked the emeralds around her neck and failed to meet her father’s eyes.
“Would you mind if we went tomorrow instead, Papa? It always takes me so long to choose a hat, and I don’t want to spend hours inside a shop today. I’m still hopeful the weather will clear up later, so I’ll get my walk.”
“Very well, if Mr Merry is happy to oblige, he can drive you and Catherine into Weymouth in the morning. I expect you both to return with new bonnets.”
Kitty heated under the warmth of Hugh’s gaze. She would make very sure she did not come back with anything paid for by him.
Hugh withdrew to work, leaving the young people to pass the day inside as best they could.
Laura struggled to settle into any occupation.
Cards were tedious. Reading poetry to each other was boring.
Walking up and down the Long Gallery was not the same as being outside.
Kitty had never known her friend to be so fractious.
Time and again, she went to the window to see if the rain had cleared, and just before dinner, her persistence was rewarded when the sun came out.
As the meal ended, she asked permission to go for a walk down to the cove.
Hugh smiled indulgently at his daughter. “Very well, my dear. I am sure Mr Merry will be pleased to keep you company.”
“Thank you, Papa.”
She bussed his cheek and turned to leave the room, but her father laid a hand on her arm. “Laura—the emeralds.”
With a downcast face, she let him unclasp the necklace and took off the earrings and handed them to him.
“Cheer up, my dear. You will soon have another occasion to wear them. At your wedding.” Hugh raised his eyebrows at Mr Merry before turning back to his daughter. Her eyes dropped to the floor as colour flooded her cheeks.
“I believe you wished to go to the beach, Miss Barrington,” said William, breaking the awkward silence that followed. He rose from his place and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
Kitty pressed her lips together as she watched them leave the room. Was that why Laura was so restless? Was all settled between them? No, surely not. Only that morning, he had been criticising Laura’s conduct. Not the behaviour she would expect from a man in love.
She shifted her gaze to Hugh, who was smiling like a cat with a fish between its paws. There was no mistaking that look. He thought William was a husband worth catching for his daughter, and he believed he had him caught.
Unable to watch him gloat any longer, Kitty hurried from the room. If her reasoning was right, William needed her presence as a chaperon more than ever.
Did he know how perilously near he was walking to a cliff edge? A few more steps and he would find himself falling into a loveless marriage.
William led the way down the path to the beach, with Miss Barrington close behind. He slowed his pace, realising that in his haste to get away from her father, he had ventured outside without the one thing he should have taken with him—a chaperon.
As they reached the bottom, he glanced up the slope, hoping to see Kitty following, but she was nowhere to be seen. Was he in her black book again? He couldn’t blame her if he was. Mr Barrington had made it sound as though he were engaged to his daughter. No doubt to pressurise him into proposing.
Although there was a certain appeal in having his muse at his beck and call, so he could paint her whenever he wished, William didn’t desire to make Miss Barrington his wife.
Perhaps his view of marriage had been spoiled by the love matches his elder sisters had made, but why would he want to settle for less?
All his flirting had been to one end—to produce that elusive expression on her face so he could capture it. It had failed to achieve that, or to evoke any warmer feeling than admiration. Maybe he wasn’t the romantic sort.
Or perhaps she was just the wrong woman. She was too like those emeralds her father had given her—beautiful, but hard. He didn’t feel as if he knew her any better now than when he began painting her portrait.
No, he would not propose marriage to her unless it was required of him as a gentleman, because he had compromised her reputation. William shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Standing alone with her on a beach, he was in danger of doing just that.
He heaved a sigh of relief as he spotted Kitty’s familiar figure, in her drab grey dress and black bonnet, making her way down the path toward them.
Assured of a chaperon, he turned his attention to the scene spread out before them. A group of men were using a winch to unload cargo on the right side of the cove, and several others were milling around near a couple of boats drawn up on the shingle.
“Where did you wish to walk, Miss Barrington?”
She pointed to the area beyond two stone huts. “That’s where we normally go. Away from the boats.”
He offered her his arm as they walked across the pebbles, but when they reached the shoreline, she pulled free and stood alone at the water’s edge, staring out to sea.
William positioned himself so he could see her face, took out his sketchbook, and began to draw.
A few minutes later, a warm breath tickled his ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed Kitty peering over his shoulder. “Drawing another picture of your beloved?” she whispered.
“She is not my beloved—merely my muse.”
“Does she know that?”
William glanced across at Miss Barrington, who seemed oblivious to his presence. “She knows.”
“Does her father?”
He returned his gaze to the paper in front of him, focusing on the lines his pencil was making rather than risk meeting Kitty’s eyes. He could imagine the accusation in them.
“Mr Barrington is mistaken.”
“Hugh is a powerful man, William. Be careful. Leave while you still can.”
She fell silent, leaving him to mull over her words. The concern in her voice did nothing to put his mind at rest. Was it time to abandon any hope of reproducing that elusive expression on his muse’s face and declare the portrait finished? He could pack up his things right now and depart.
The thought of escaping did not give him as much relief as he had supposed it would. Was he going to spend his life running away from difficult situations?
His eyes rested on the lady at his side. Was she part of the reason he was reluctant to flee? He did not wish to abandon her and leave her a prey to Mr Barrington’s advances.
A lesser woman would stoop, bowed down by the blows that life had dealt her, but not Kitty. She held her head up high, and William had a sudden desire to include her in his drawing.
“Go and join your friend, Kitty. Let me draw both of you gazing out over the water.”
Her steely glare was back. “What do you hope to achieve by that? I have no wish for the comparison.”
William refused to be thwarted. “Two ladies looking out to sea is a more interesting composition. Miss Barrington,” he said in a louder voice. “Persuade Miss Lacey to join you, so I can draw you together.”
“What a splendid idea, Mr Merry. You must turn your sketch into an oil painting for me to hang in my house when I’m married. It will be how I’ll always remember you, Kitty. A loyal companion.”
“I have no desire to be painted, thank you,” she said in a tight voice.
“Nonsense!” Miss Barrington walked over to them and looped her arm through her companion’s. “Come, we must appease the artist. Perhaps we’ll end up on display in the Royal Academy exhibition.”