18. Chapter 18
William helped the ladies into the carriage and took his place opposite Miss Barrington’s maid.
He couldn’t stop grinning. Since first light, he had been working on the portrait, using the sketch he’d taken the previous day, and he had finally done it.
After weeks of trying, he had reproduced the radiant expression that had captivated him. The result was all he had hoped for.
Kitty shot him a lopsided smile. “To judge from the look on your face, I assume you have finished the painting.”
“I have.”
“Oh! Why didn’t you say?” said Miss Barrington. “I would have liked to see it before I left.”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t possible. You were eager to be on our way at ten, and I only completed it in time by skipping breakfast. You may come and look at it when we return.”
For a few moments, she stared blankly, as if her thoughts were elsewhere, but then she broke from her reverie, fluttering her eyelids and shooting him a dazzling smile. “Yes, of course. I can see it later. After our trip to town.”
“Will you submit it to the Royal Academy exhibition?” Kitty asked.
“That is my intention. I am confident Mr Barrington won’t object to having his daughter’s loveliness universally admired.”
Miss Barrington bit her lip. “Do you think so?”
“Without a doubt,” said Kitty, “but I’m certain it won’t just be your beauty that wins widespread approbation, but also Mr Merry’s skill as a portraitist.”
William was warmed by her praise. Maybe it was not presumptuous to believe his painting would be accepted by the Royal Academy. He would be taken seriously as an artist at last.
“I’ve directed the coachman to take us to the Golden Lion,” he said. “Which milliner do you intend to go to, Miss Barrington?”
“Mrs Hyde’s.”
“May I suggest you try Mrs Fisher’s in St Thomas Street?”
“What’s wrong with Mrs Hyde’s?”
“I think you’ll find Mrs Fisher’s creations far superior.”
“Perhaps I will patronise her establishment for a change, if you recommend it,” she said, hugging her reticule to her stomach, and leaning back against the squabs.
Kitty narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you know about bonnets?”
“I have sisters.”
“Many men have sisters. That does not mean they understand ladies’ hats. Do you frequently go to the milliner’s with them?”
“More often than I care to admit. I think it has something to do with the artist’s eye.
Georgie and Eliza have long sought my advice, and begged me to take my twin in hand.
Charlotte cares nothing for fashion and would be as happy wearing a deep poke bonnet like a country bumpkin as one of Mrs Fisher’s confections, but it wouldn’t do, not since—”
He broke off just in time. He had almost told them his sister had recently become a titled lady. Which would reveal he hadn’t been honest about who he was.
“Since what?” asked Kitty.
William hesitated. Should he tell her? Would she understand why he’d hidden his identity? He feared her reaction and took the coward’s way out. “Not since my sisters are determined to stop her from becoming an old maid before her time, even if that is her wish.”
She glowered at him, as if she knew he’d changed what he was going to say. “I hardly think she need worry about that just yet. She can’t be more than twenty-one or two.”
“No, indeed. She won’t reach her majority for another six months, but my elder sisters married young, and I believe some ladies would consider themselves on the shelf if still unwed at such an age.”
His cheeks warmed as he realised that by divulging how old his twin was, he’d revealed himself to be only twenty—a fact he’d done his best to conceal, along with his title.
Miss Barrington jerked upright. “I hope you’re not suggesting that I am on the shelf, Mr Merry.”
William hastened to reassure her. “A lady as beautiful as yourself will never lack suitors. You’ll only remain unwed if you choose to be.”
Miss Barrington seemed satisfied with his answer and relaxed into her seat again.
Kitty leaned toward him. “But at three and twenty, I am past hope.”
Though her tone was light, the underlying truth niggled him. She was reminding him that with her age and lack of prospects, the offer from Mr Barrington would probably be the only proposal of marriage she would ever receive.
It was so unfair. Why should one woman have both good looks and money, whilst the other lacked both? Though that was debatable. As he studied Kitty’s face, he realised he no longer thought her plain. Perhaps it was her inner beauty shining through.
Kitty hoped William hadn’t put ideas into Laura’s head. She was most definitely not on the shelf, and there was no need for her to rush to get married.
Her friend had fallen silent. Though she leaned against the squabs, her posture was rigid, as if anxious about something. But what had she got to be nervous about? The most pressing problem she would have to deal with today was which bonnet to choose.
Was she concerned about the amount of pin money in her reticule, which she had been hugging to her chest all the way? She’d certainly made enough fuss about making sure they left by ten o’clock. Perhaps her eagerness to go shopping was matched by the size of her purse.
That would explain why Kitty’s own enthusiasm was lacking. She’d spent many hours thinking about today’s trip. It was time to start planning for the future, and that required one visit which was not on Laura’s schedule. A visit she needed to make alone.
After taking the ferry to the mainland, the carriage climbed the steep hill into Wyke.
As they passed Dumbarton House, she thought of the bitter lady who lived there.
How easy it would be to become like Mrs Barrington, full of resentment because life hadn’t worked out how she wanted.
Moved by a burst of compassion, she prayed for the old woman—and for herself, that whatever happened to her, she would not follow the same path and let bitterness take root in her heart.
The coach set them down at the Golden Lion. William put on his hat and, with Laura on his left arm and Kitty on the other, they walked along St Mary Street.
Ahead of them, on the right, stood St Mary’s Church.
The sight made Kitty think of the father she had barely known.
Had Mrs Barrington lied about the dubious circumstances of his birth?
She had claimed her papa was born in this parish and that his baptismal record would prove she had been telling the truth.
But would it? Would Kitty’s worst fears be confirmed or laid to rest?
For a moment she considered stopping to see if the rector or curate was about, who might be able to show her the records, but her courage failed. William was yet to make good on his promise, and she couldn’t face this alone.
And he was leaving soon. It was best if he did—for his sake and her own. It was time to forge a new path for herself.
She would let it be. Then she could continue to believe that her grandfather was just that—her real grandfather.
Kitty was pulled out of her reflections by the sight of a familiar face. The riding officer was standing in the churchyard by the rearmost tombstones, watching them as they passed. “Look—there’s Mr Jenkin. Should we stop to greet him?”
“No.” Laura maintained her pace, forcing them all to keep walking. “I have nothing to say to him, thank you.”
What a brusque response! “I thought he was your friend.”
She gave a brittle laugh. “A colleague of my father’s—no more.”
“Don’t you think it suspicious that he’s here on the mainland on the same day as us, rather than working on Portland?” William asked. “Are you sure the man isn’t haunting your footsteps?”
Laura kept walking. “You are imagining things, Mr Merry. There is no need to be jealous. His mother lives in Weymouth. I expect he is employed on some errand for her.”
“Ah, that would be it,” he said, as they turned into St Thomas Street. But the wry smile he shot in Kitty’s direction suggested he did not believe it.
Nor did Kitty. Poor Mr Jenkin. She had suspected Laura’s attachment to him on numerous occasions, but it seemed she had been mistaken—and so had he.
Mrs Fisher’s millinery and dressmaker’s shop was on the left. The bonnets in the window display were smart, and for a provincial store, they appeared, to Kitty’s inexperienced eye at least, very fashionable.
They were about to enter the establishment when a gentleman crossed the road and stopped in front of them. The dark-haired man was impeccably attired in a deep blue jacket and black pantaloons. His coat fitted his broad shoulders to perfection, and his neckcloth was tied in an intricate style.
There was a lazy smile about his lips and a twinkle in his eyes as he addressed William. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding yourself—escorting beautiful women around town. Will you present me to your lovely companions?”
William hesitated, a wariness in his gaze. Did he object to performing the introductions? Was the gentleman not respectable enough, despite appearances?
Kitty transferred her attention to the stranger, and was in time to see a slight lift to his brow as Laura said, “Yes, please introduce us, Mr Merry.”
“Ladies, may I present my friend, Mr Warren? Anthony, Miss Barrington and Miss Lacey.”
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” the man said. Taking Laura’s hand, he lifted it to his lips and bestowed a kiss on her gloved fingers.
He then turned to Kitty and did the same. She knew she could not inspire such immediate devotion, but liked him the better for not making the distinction between her and Laura.
“Ladies, please go ahead into Mrs Fisher’s while I have a few words with my friend,” William said.
How curious. First, they had exchanged strange looks, and now he wanted to talk to Mr Warren alone.
Laura entered the shop, and Kitty supposed she would have to follow. Which was a pity. She would very much like to know what the two gentlemen had to say to each other.