17. Chapter 17 #2
Kitty made no further complaint, though the stiffness of her posture suggested she was still not happy with the arrangement.
“Forget I am here, Miss Lacey. Imagine a boat sailing toward you, bringing your brother home to England.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath, but his words had the desired effect. Her shoulders relaxed, and he thought she showed to advantage as he sketched her willowy figure next to Miss Barrington’s more rounded form.
“You can turn around now,” he said. “I’ve finished.”
Both women walked over, and Kitty took the sketchbook from his hands. Her friend uttered a string of compliments as she studied the drawing, but it was not until Kitty’s lips curled into a gentle smile that he felt satisfied with what he had depicted.
As Miss Barrington raised her eyes from the page, her face lit up. His chest tightened. He snatched his sketchbook from Kitty’s hands and frantically began to draw.
It was the expression he had been waiting for—and he was desperate to capture it on paper before it disappeared.
All else was forgotten as William’s pencil raced across the page. His heart thrummed in his chest as he raised his eyes to Miss Barrington’s face again and again, each time adding a few more strokes to his picture as he reproduced what he saw.
Never in his life had he sketched so fast, but it was worth it.
As he stared down at the drawing, he pressed his lips together, struggling to contain his laughter.
He’d done it. With this as his guide, he would be able to make subtle adjustments to Miss Barrington’s portrait that would bring it alive.
He raised his gaze one last time to check he hadn’t missed anything, but it was too late. The expressive eyes and soft lips had gone. His muse was gazing across the cove, frowning.
William turned around to see what had provoked the change. Mr Jenkin was strolling over the pebbles toward them. Poor man. That didn’t augur well for him if he had elicited that frown. He must be smitten to pursue Miss Barrington, even though her interest seemed to have waned.
His conscience twinged at the realisation that he might be responsible for that, but he quickly banished it. Mr Barrington would never condone the match with the riding officer, so it was already doomed.
“Ladies, Mr Merry,” the man said with a stiff bow. “May I wish you many happy returns of the day, Miss Barrington?”
“You may. I trust you have recovered from the scare you had at Cave Hole.”
“Thank you, I have. Your father was correct,” he said in a measured tone. “It was a careless mistake. I should have been paying more attention.”
“I see your bruises are yet to heal. You still give the impression of having walked into a wall.”
“Would you have me stay at home until they are better, Miss Barrington?” he asked, lifting his brow and fixing her with an inquisitive look.
Her cheeks pinked under his gaze, and after a moment’s hesitation, she turned away. “No, indeed. There must be urgent matters demanding your attention, which I would not want you to delay.”
“There are. Thank you for your understanding.”
“Why do you need my daughter’s understanding, Jenkin?” demanded Mr Barrington, marching across the beach to where they were standing. William had not even noticed his approach.
“Merely that my duty will not wait for my battle wounds to heal, sir.”
“Alas, no. The perils of your occupation.”
Mr Jenkin twisted to face William. “How is your work progressing, Mr Merry? Is it nearly done?”
“Indeed, it is. I am confident I can finish Miss Barrington’s portrait tomorrow.”
“And then you will be leaving?”
He was about to agree when Mr Barrington cut in. “Don’t be in such a hurry to get rid of our resident artist, Jenkin. I hope to persuade him to paint another likeness—of Catherine.”
Kitty turned a deep shade of red. After sketching her today, the notion appealed to William even more than the last time it had been suggested, but he did not care for the implications of the request. That she was part of the family—or soon would be.
“I am certain Mr Merry has other commissions awaiting him.” Kitty glared at him as if daring him to contradict her.
Reluctant to let her down, he didn’t want to confess that he had not. Nor was he in a hurry to admit he painted for pleasure, not profit. A fact that Mr Barrington already knew.
Before William could come up with a credible answer that didn’t upset Kitty, the older man intervened.
“Don’t be shy, Catherine. I am sure Mr Merry would be delighted to paint you. Though talented, he is but a young artist setting out on his career. You must not expect him to have an order book to rival Mr Lawrence’s.”
“Unfortunately, it won’t be possible, sir. I have delayed my trip to Devon long enough, and I would not want to upset my sponsor.” Not that his grandmother was expecting him, but if he didn’t persuade her to fund him, he could be waiting years to study at the Royal Academy.
Kitty seemed to relax at his words.
“Then I wish you well,” said Mr Jenkin, holding out his hand. “May I be permitted to view the portrait before you leave? Perhaps tomorrow?”
“There is no point in calling then to see the picture,” said Miss Barrington.
“We are going into Weymouth to buy bonnets. You won’t cry off from our trip in the morning, will you, Mr Merry?
We are quite depending on you, and it can’t be delayed until Papa is free to take us, for you must perceive how badly Miss Lacey needs a new one? ”
Poor Kitty flushed again as everyone stared at her black bonnet, which might have been handsome once, but was now worn with age. “I have no need—”
“Don’t forget I would like you to choose a hat too, Catherine,” said Mr Barrington. “You may charge it to my account.”
“You are most kind, but that won’t be necessary.”
William was encouraged by her words. Kitty did not wish to be beholden to the man, which implied she was going to refuse him. However, he feared it put her in a potentially embarrassing position, as he doubted she had enough money to pay for a new bonnet herself.
Perhaps it would be better if he refused to go. But that would only delay the inevitable, and she would be thrown back on Mr Barrington’s mercy. Besides, he had promised to take her to look for her father’s baptismal record before he left.
No, he would drive the ladies into Weymouth tomorrow and fulfil his promise. And if he could buy Kitty a new bonnet, so she need not be indebted to Mr Barrington, he would. It was the least an honorary brother could do.