Chapter Nineteen
Justina awoke, stretching lazily. They had arrived in town late yesterday, and she was happy to have a respite from traveling for the next few days.
They were to visit with Mr. Evans at his offices this morning, and she hoped that he had also made arrangements for them to speak with Mr. Layton today.
If he decided not to display her artwork upon learning she was a woman, she hoped they would be able to find someone reputable who would have faith in her and her paintings.
This afternoon, she would meet with Madame Laurent, which made the idea of her come-out begin to be real and not some abstract idea.
Nerves flitted through her as she rang for Bessie.
The maid brought hot water with her, and Justina washed and dressed.
She wanted to look her best, especially if she were to be meeting with Mr. Layton, and had instructed Bessie to press one of her favorite gowns, a sapphire blue.
It was simple yet elegant, and she allowed Bessie to dress her hair in a style which suited the gown.
Glancing into the mirror, Justina felt confident in her appearance.
More than anything, she wanted Mr. Layton to accept her as an artist. She did not know if she would have had the courage to come out from hiding behind the J Fulton signature on her paintings if not for David’s encouragement.
Though many miles now separated them, he was never far from her thoughts.
She breakfasted with Tray, and he told her of appointments he had tomorrow with his banker and financial adviser.
“I hope things go well with Layton today,” her brother said. “If not, we will see if Mr. Evans might be able to arrange for us to meet with other art dealers the day after tomorrow. I know you are a capable woman, Jus, but I want to be with you when you meet with anyone regarding your art.”
“I have always appreciated your support, Tray, and I agree that the presence of an earl by my side would make a difference.”
An hour later, they left for Mr. Evan’s offices and were greeted by his clerk, who took them immediately to see the solicitor.
“Ah, Lady Justina, Lord Traywick. It is so good to speak with you in person.”
They took a seat, and the solicitor handed them copies of the agreement he hoped would be reached with Mr. Layton.
“We have an appointment with Mr. Layton this morning. If all goes as planned, I will be able to fill out the few missing pieces within these contracts, and things may be settled quickly. If Mr. Layton decides to pass, however, then I have the names of three other art dealers. I have looked into their credentials and found all three to be worthy candidates to represent Lady Justina’s paintings. ”
Tray explained that he would be in meetings the next day, so any subsequent meetings—even ones with Mr. Layton—would need to occur the following day or beyond.
In the carriage, Justina asked if Mr. Evans would let them enter first, saying, “I wish to witness how Mr. Layton treats a prospective client.”
“You do not wish to reveal your identity to him right away?” Tray asked, frowning.
“No. Simply follow my lead.” She grinned. “You are going to be my doting husband and indulge my every whim.”
Her brother laughed. “I might have known you would have something up your sleeve.”
Once they arrived, she told Mr. Evans to wait ten minutes before joining them. She and Tray exited the carriage and entered the building. Justina saw a good number of paintings hanging upon the walls, along with a few other objets d’art scattered about the space.
A distinguished-looking man with gray hair spied them and began moving toward them, and she believed from Lord Marbury’s description that this was Mr. Layton.
“Good morning,” he greeted. “I am Mr. Layton. Might I know what you might be interested in today?”
Tray turned to her and asked, “What did you say you might be looking for, my dear? You know I will purchase whatever you wish.”
She noticed he did not introduce either of them, which made perfect sense to her. Mr. Evans had been corresponding with Mr. Layton, and the solicitor would have provided the information that Lord Traywick was his client and that the earl was related to the artist in question.
“I have not quite made up my mind, darling. Perhaps a seascape. We have so enjoyed our visits to seaside towns in recent years.”
“Ah,” Mr. Layton said. “I have a painting which might interest you, my lady. Come this way.”
He led them to a different section, and they paused in front of a painting of the sea and its shore. Mr. Layton told them the location of the landscape and the name of the artist.
Justina pursed her lips, studying it for a moment before saying, “This is rather nice, but it does not speak to me as I had hoped. Might you have any paintings of the Lake District? I am very fond of that area, as well.”
Mr. Layton shook his head. “I wish I did, my lady, but that is a very popular subject now amongst art collectors, mainly because of the interest the Lake Poets have stirred because of what they have written about the area.” He smiled.
“However, I have carried several paintings of J Fulton recently. He is an up and coming artist, and I am hoping to have more of his work on display very soon. Fulton’s brushstrokes are remarkable, and his use of color is exquisite.
If it is the Lake District you are interested in, Fulton is the artist whom you need to see.
I can send a message to you if you would like once I receive more of his work.
I guarantee you that waiting for his next piece to go on sale would be well worth the wait.
Until then, is there anything else I might show you? ”
Justina saw Mr. Evans enter and said, “I would like to sit and speak further with you, Mr. Layton. With Mr. Evans, of course. And here he is now.”
Mr. Layton frowned, clearly confused.
Tray now introduced himself. “I am Lord Traywick, and Mr. Evans is the Fulton family’s solicitor.” He turned to her. “This is Lady Justina Fulton, my sister—and the artist whom you previously praised.”
Shock was apparent on Mr. Layton’s face, as he put together that J Fulton was a woman. He recovered quickly, though, and greeted Mr. Evans, who had now joined them.
“If you will come with me,” he said crisply, leading them to the rear of the space and through a door, nodding at a gentleman as they passed. Justina supposed he would mind things while they spoke.
After everyone was seated, Mr. Layton asked her, “Are you truly J Fulton, my lady? The artist whose paintings I previously represented?”
“I am, indeed, Mr. Layton,” she replied. “I wish to find out today if you are the man whom I hope you are. One who will continue to represent my landscapes.”
“I must admit that I am taken aback by learning your true identity, my lady. Lord Marbury led me to believe that you were a man.”
“No, Mr. Layton. You assumed I was a man, and I had instructed Lord Marbury and Mr. Rochester not to correct any assumption made on your part. I was afraid you would discriminate against me if it were known I was a woman. It is why I have always signed my work as J Fulton.”
“Have others purchased your art in the past besides myself?”
“No, I have merely gifted it to members of my family. I am, however, currently looking for representation because I plan to make a career in art.” She paused, her gaze meeting his.
“You liked my work enough to display it. To contact clients about potential sales. You sold the four paintings in your possession rather quickly,” she reminded him.
Smiling, she added, “And you even recommended J Fulton to my brother and me a few minutes ago.”
He looked a bit flustered. “Yes, my lady, but I did so thinking that J Fulton was a man.”
Justina frowned. “Does the gender of an artist truly reflect in their work? I am the same painter that I was before you knew my identity.”
Mr. Layton grew thoughtful. “You are correct. I suppose there is an innate prejudice against women. Not only in the art world, but in society, in general.” Looking at her directly, he said, “And I hope you and I can change things—for the better.”
Excitement filled her, hearing his words. “Are you saying what I believe you are indicating, Mr. Layton?”
“I wish to represent your work, Lady Justina.”
“I am pleased to hear this, but I also need to hear that you will not hide my gender from potential clients. I do not think it should begin every conversation you hold regarding one of my pieces, but at the same time, I believe a buyer should know that J Fulton is Justina Fulton. If you can agree to that, Mr. Layton, then I would be happy to have you represent my work.”
She saw him ponder her words, and finally he nodded. “Yes, my lady. I can agree to that.” He looked at her wistfully. “I will be candid. It is going to cost you sales—and me, commissions.”
“I expected that to occur, but those who look beyond my gender and see my art? Those are the ones worthy enough to purchase my landscapes.”
“I will need to contact the three gentlemen whom I sold your paintings to previously,” he shared. “They must not think that I sold them the art under false pretenses.”
“But you did not know Justina’s identity at the time of the sale,” Tray protested.
“Still, I run a reputable business, my lord. My reputation is spotless. If any of the current owners choose, I will refund their purchase price and reclaim the painting. I will display it again until it sells.” Mr. Layton turned back to her.
“And they will do so, my lady. There will be those who can look beyond the fact that a woman painted the landscape they are interested in purchasing. Just as I told you of my admiration for your technique and use of color, I still believe in that. And you. Eventually, others will, as well.”
Mr. Evans had remained quiet up until this point. He withdrew a sheaf of papers from his satchel and handed them to Mr. Layton.