Chapter Fifteen
A week later, Justina was painting in a room at the top of the house.
Formerly the schoolroom at Traywick Manor, it got the best natural light, and Tray had allowed her to turn the space into her own personal art studio.
She knew once he had children, she would need to give the space back.
Perhaps then, she might even have a place of her own, paid for with funds from the sale of her paintings.
She added a final few brushstrokes through the lake and then stepped back, admiring her effort. The painting satisfied her in this moment. Still, she would wait a few days and then review it with fresh eyes to see if it needed any additions.
As she cleaned her brushes, her mind no longer focused on her work.
She couldn’t keep her thoughts from turning to David and their parting.
She had heard from their servants that his lending library was up and running, and that a great many other books had arrived, as well.
Those would be the ones designated for sale.
She had not rushed to the village to offer to help him in sorting those.
Because it would have hurt too much to see him.
A week’s worth of sleepless nights had kept her thinking of him. Of their kisses. Of how easily they laughed together. She had lied to herself, saying she did not want to be wed. She did.
To him.
That would never come to pass, however. He thought himself beneath her.
In truth, his social standing would always stand between them, and she hated that was the case.
It reinforced her ill feelings toward the ton.
Why did the opinion of a handful of people in a country the size of England have to make such a difference?
Yet the small numbers of Polite Society weighed heavily on every aspect of life.
Being a woman, she was practically invisible when it came to having an opinion.
At least her family seemed to view men and women as equals within their marriages.
She only wished she could have introduced David to her many cousins and their spouses so he could have seen that.
They would have accepted him because he was important to her.
Yet he had no time to run off to town and celebrate the Season.
Not when he had a shop to run and a living to earn.
To ease her heartbreak, she had painted manically this past week.
Some of her rage came through in her paintings, ones she would most likely never be able to sell.
She had calmed in the last two days, though, getting back to the roots of her talent, painting places she loved within the Lake District.
Yesterday, she had even seen Lady Elinor, someone she had been avoiding because the young woman reminded her of David.
She had taken her friend to Lia’s, wanting the two to become acquainted with one another.
They had played with the children in the nursery, and Justina saw how Elinor was a natural around them.
She would make for a good mother someday.
They had taken tea with Lia, and Lady Elinor had brought up the Season, pushing for Justina to make her come-out next spring.
She had merely said she would think about it.
Tray and Rupert had joined them for tea, and Justina wondered if her brother had spoken to David.
He had been so willing to continue their explorations before suddenly ending all contact between them.
She suspected Tray had stepped in, but she would not bring up the subject with him.
What was done, was done—and she could not change things.
She was about to return downstairs when a maid entered the schoolroom.
“A note came for you, my lady. The footman has been asked to wait for a reply.”
“Let me see what it says first,” she told the servant, breaking the seal. Her eyes fell to the bottom, and she saw Lord Marbury’s signature. Her eyes returned to the top, and she began to read.
My dear Lady Justina –
I have received a letter from Mr. Layton, the art dealer who has sold your paintings. I am pleased to inform you that all four of your pieces have now sold, and Mr. Layton is looking to continue your business arrangement, already asking for more work.
I believe we need to discuss this at length, and so I am inviting you and Lord Traywick to dinner tomorrow evening to discuss your future in the art world. Papa also has a few opinions of his own and is ready to share them with you.
I hope you will accept this invitation.
Cordially yours,
Marbury
Glancing to the maid, she said, “No written response is required of me. Merely tell the footman that Lord Traywick and I will be happy to come to dinner tomorrow evening at Norwood.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Justina left the schoolroom, heading to Tray’s study, in order to tell her brother they had plans for the next night.
She only wondered if David Rochester would also be in attendance.
*
Justina dressed with care, preparing for dinner at the Duke of Norville’s.
She liked the older man quite a bit and would be eager to hear what he had to say regarding the next steps in her art career.
If Mr. Layton truly wanted a good number of her paintings, she could see herself moving about the country, taking paintings from her various cousins’ walls across England.
The thought caused her to chuckle. If she did ask for them to return the paintings she had gifted to them, she would need to promise to replace them with a similar painting.
She knew her family would be cheering her on, wishing her success.
They arrived at Norwood and were taken to the drawing room.
As she suspected, David was present. It only made sense because he, too, had been present at the original meeting with Mr. Layton and might have insight as to what arrangements she should now come to with the art dealer.
David greeted Tray and her cordially, and Justina hoped they could remain so the rest of the evening.
“Normally, I would not condone doing business with guests invited to dinner,” the duke said, “but I know Lady Justina is most eager to hear my son share what Mr. Layton has written to him about.”
“Shall we take a seat?” Lord Marbury said, and they all settled themselves.
“The most important thing is that all four paintings David and I took to town have sold. Two went to the same client, who told Mr. Layton he wished to own more of your work, Lady Justina. I have Mr. Layton’s letter to me and will let you take it home with you tonight.
What we need to discuss is what you see as your future, my lady.
Do you wish to continue your association with Mr. Layton? ”
“If you do,” the duke said, “you will need to obtain legal representation. Lord Traywick’s solicitor in town would most likely be the expert you consult in this matter.
Henry told me of the arrangements he made with Layton, and since the man is ready to establish a more lasting business relationship with you and sell more of your paintings, you should not only negotiate new, more favorable terms, but have those in writing,” the duke advised.
Justina nodded, taking in what they said and then asked, “What if I revealed my gender to Mr. Layton? Might we discuss that?”
They did for several minutes, talking over the advantages and disadvantages of stepping forward and letting Mr. Layton—and the public at large—know J Fulton was Lady Justina Fulton.
After their discussion, His Grace and Tray both suggested that she keep her identity secret.
“I am afraid the buyers of your paintings might turn fickle,” His Grace said. “And refuse to purchase anything in the future painted by you.” He looked apologetic. “It hurts to hear that, but we must face reality, my lady.”
“I agree,” Tray said. “You would end your career even before it began, and I know that is not something you wish to do, Jus.”
“Lord Marbury?” she asked.
“I am wavering, my lady,” Marbury admitted.
“While I understand that you wish to make your identity known and claim your work, talented as you are, it might be to your detriment. And yet, a female artist might become a novelty, with people wishing to see how a woman paints. That could bring attention to your art.” He sighed.
“I think you need to carefully weigh your options and only after careful consideration, make a decision.”
“I disagree.”
She turned her attention to David, her heart beating rapidly. “Why, Mr. Rochester?”
“I encourage you to be true to yourself, Lady Justina,” he told her, his gaze holding hers.
“You will not be happy doing otherwise. I believe you will never be comfortable if you try and hide your identity. You must be open and acknowledge the work as yours. Will it keep some from buying your art? I think it will. There is an inherent prejudice against women, with many men—regardless of class—not believing a woman can think as rationally as a man.”
He eyed her steadily. “Well, I believe they can. And not only can women think for themselves and be as smart as, or smarter than a man, but women can be talented in their own right, as you have demonstrated with your art. Your talent is too great to hide behind the illusion of J Fulton, my lady. Your art will speak for itself. Those who truly love it will not let the gender of the artist influence their appreciation of your work.”
David smiled. “Besides, you are always talking about your rather large family. You have plenty of relatives who will stand up for you and sing your praises to the ton and the London art world. Let them show their support of you now, just as you have supported them in other matters.”
She knew he spoke from his heart. “Thank you for your kind words and sound advice, Mr. Rochester,” she said formally—when all she wanted to do was throw her arms about him and kiss him.
Lord Marbury said, “David is right. Besides, does it truly matter what Polite Society thinks? Or should the deciding factor be what you think, Lady Justina?”
“I like your landscapes very much,” His Grace said. “And I will make no secret of that when I go to town this spring. A duke can be a leader in many areas. Perhaps if I voice my favorable opinion of your art, it might tip the scales in your favor, my lady.”
“Even if I might have to sacrifice a few sales, I do wish to be known as the artist. I think I will find enough clients which are happy with my paintings. If Mr. Layton chooses not to represent my artwork, then I will find someone who will.”
“Will you continue to sign J Fulton to your paintings?” Lady Elinor asked.
She thought a moment. “I believe I will. It is what I have always done, and I wish to continue that tradition.”
The butler announced that dinner was ready to serve, and they made their way into a small dining room.
Justina liked that. With the size and grandeur of Norwood, it would not have surprised her if they had sat at a table which seated two or three dozen, having to shout as they conversed.
This much more intimate setting pleased her.
At dinner, she asked, “Mr. Rochester, how are things at your bookshop? I have not called this week and was curious as to your progress.”
He sat across from her and looked directly at her, replying, “The lending library has done brisk business this week. I have had another dozen members join, including the surly Mrs. Cress. As far as the other half, I received shipments from the two London bookshops I purchased a good quantity of books from, as well as from a publishing house. I have spent my time organizing things, and the books available for sale will be ready come Monday.”
“I went into the village for a dress fitting, and everyone seemed to be talking about the novel they all are to read,” Lady Elinor said. “Sense and Sensibility. I think I would like to participate in this discussion.”
“It has an Elinor in it,” Justina told her. “You would like her character. I returned my copy to Mr. Rochester by footman this week after having read through it twice. I have a true admiration for Elinor Dashwood and Colonel Brandon, in particular.”
“Lady Justina has agreed to lead the first discussion,” David told the group. “That is, if you are still willing to do so?”
“I am,” she said firmly.
“Since we have both read the novel now, perhaps we might meet and talk about what the discussion should consist of,” he said. “When would be a convenient time to do so?”
“Since tomorrow is Saturday, we might meet at Mrs. Little’s teashop when you close for the day,” she suggested. “If that is agreeable to you.”
“Yes, I can meet you there. It should take no more than an hour to have our discussion.”
“If you would like company, I would be happy to escort you into Kidsgrove, Justina,” Tray volunteered.
“You have not read the novel and would be bored,” she told her brother. “I will ride Cleo into the village and meet you at three o’clock, Mr. Rochester.”
“Three o’clock, it is,” he agreed.
After dinner, Justina and Lady Elinor entertained the men in the drawing room. She insisted upon playing the pianoforte while her friend sang.
“Are you certain you would not wish to sing a duet with me?”
Laughing, she said, “I am terribly offkey when I sing. At least I play adequately. I could play better if I practiced more, but I would prefer to paint instead of practicing my music.”
They said their goodnights after a few songs. Lord Marbury gave Justina Mr. Layton’s letter, and Tray said that he would write to his solicitor in town regarding the issue of representing his sister’s interests in the art world.
In the carriage, Tray said, “I am proud that you want to be known as the artist behind your landscapes, Jus. I only hope that you will not face too much disappointment.”
“You mean discrimination,” she said. “No matter what Mr. Layton says, I intend to keep painting in the meantime and build my collection. I am determined, Tray. I will stay the course.”
“Are you certain you wish to meet alone with Mr. Rochester tomorrow afternoon? I was supposed to go and see Rupert, but I can always delay that.”
She snorted. “I am perfectly capable of handling myself, Tray Fulton. And as you probably know already, I have not seen Mr. Rochester once this past week. The . . . friendship we began . . . has run its course. Still, I value his opinion, and I do want to help him see this book discussion become a success.” She paused.
“Besides, I can guarantee he will not kiss me in Mrs. Little’s bakery. ”
“Justina!” her brother roared.
“Well, he would not do so in public. And I would not let him even if he tried.”
Tray gave her a withering glance. “I hope not.”
She only wondered how things would be between David and her when they were alone tomorrow.