The Muse (24 page)

She was thrilled at the prospect of reuniting with Imogene.  They had last been together at their father’s funeral.  At the time, Philippa had desperately wanted to bring Imogene to Wellick to live with her and John.  But Aunt Wilton had resisted the idea, feeling Imogene would rebound faster if she were in a more lively environment, full of young people and activities.  She had proved correct in the end.  The more robust home-life of Wilton Court had served Imogene well.  It
had
been the better choice.  It had brought her sister to her husband, Lord Rothvale, and for that, she could never feel anything but grateful to their aunt.

AS they pulled down the drive Imogene spied Hiram out working near the fountain and she was reminded of their introduction the day before.  “Graham, did you introduce him to me as Hiram Everley?  It sounded as if that was the name you said.”

“Yes.  Their surname is Everley.”

Imogene looked at him inquiringly.  She tilted her head a little asking the question without words.

He looked reflective as he explained.  “When their papers of emancipation were prepared, a surname had to be chosen.  As slaves they had none.  No name of their own, nor any rights to a name, either.  They wished to take my surname for their own.  I tried to dissuade them to choose another name but Hiram was determined.  They were very grateful for the sponsorship, and I know they wanted to pay their respects to me, and taking my name was a way in which they could do it.  Hiram, Antonia, Ben, and his sister, Eva, were all emancipated from Antigua.  The baby was born here at Gavandon.  A free soul.”  He smiled at her.

“And the baby, what is he called?” Imogene asked ever so softly.

He lowered his eyes humbly before answering.  “They call him Graham.”

“They honor you, and in a way of value to them.  You are so good—so benevolent.  To give them such a life as they have here, and freeing them from a hideous existence.”  Imogene looked at her husband in awe.  There was much to him that she did not know.  But she knew with certainty that the man she had married was not the typical English aristocrat.  There was substance in him.  He was a gentleman who had been born to privilege but was not content to simply sit back and squander it. He would do things—good and worthy things, and her heart caught at the thought.

“Graham, are you involved with it?  The abolitionist movement?”

“Yes.  Well, I was, before I left for Ireland.  It was the subject of my maiden speech in Parliament.”

“How was it received?”

“Well enough, I suppose.  I am in good company, as there are many that share my view.  I think it will not be long now, before we have total success on the matter.  Within ten years to be sure.”

She nodded thoughtfully.  “Did you ever meet my father?  He was involved with the abolitionist movement as well.”

“I think I must have,
chérie
, but I’m sorry I don’t clearly recollect.  It was a very hectic time in my life.  My father had just passed and I had taken up my seat.  I was five and twenty and trying very hard to meet my obligations here at Gavandon and in government.  And not doing well with any of it.  It is all a blur, that time for me.”  He paused and looked down at his hands.  “I’ll have to return to Parliament and face my responsibilities—soon I’ll have to go back.”  He lifted his eyes to her.  “I wish that I had known him,
chérie,
he was respected and served honorably.”

“I wish he could have known you…known how good you are…known you would be my husband.”

He placed both of his hands crossed, over his heart in thanks of her praise.

“You look so gratified and happy right now,” he said.  “It makes
me
happy to see you so.  Tell me about you sister.  What is she like?”

“Well, you have seen her portrait so you will recognize her.  I have been told we resemble each other my whole life.  It will be interesting to see what you think.  She is three years my elder.  There is a twelve year age difference between her and John.  But it suits them just fine. Well, you know John.  He has thoughtful demeanour in a brooding sort of way, but not when he looks at her.  Her youth and sweetness complement the serious scientist in him.  She has entranced him completely.  Her colouring is a bit darker and her hair is a deeper blonde than mine.  We have similar figures but I am slightly taller by an inch or so.  And that is where the similarities end.”

“What are you not telling me then?” he teased.

Imogene shrugged slowly. “She is wise and even-keeled.  She is ever so patient and self-controlled.  She is accomplished at the piano forte and wickedly skilled at handwork that I could never, ever do.  Philippa is a perfectly gracious, charming woman.  The consummate gentlewoman—always a lady.  When you meet her you’ll see what I mean.”

“Do I detect a sense of inadequacy next to your sister,
chérie
?” he inquired.

“Yes!  You absolutely, positively do.  But no matter, I adore her anyway for all her perfectness.”

“So, are you saying she rides expertly well?  Can she make a target at fifty paces dead on?  Does she rescue helpless creatures lost on the rocks?  Is she wickedly competitive at games and the bravest woman I have ever known?”  He paused in his questions and looked at her with solemnity.  “Well, I would not want to be ungentlemanly and take anything away from your sister’s obvious virtues as I am sure she is lovely and all you say she is, but know this,
chérie,
no lady could ever outshine you at perfectness in my eyes.”

Imogene smiled at him gratefully and blew him a kiss.  “I knew there was a good reason for marrying you.”

Philippa and John greeted them on the steps when they arrived.  Imogene took great pride in introducing Graham to her sister, but seeing Philippa full into her pregnancy brought a mix of emotions for Imogene.  She was very happy at the thought of a precious little one to love, but very sad at the thought that their mamma would never know this baby or any Imogene herself might bear someday.  Observing Philippa also caused her to ponder her own pregnancy.  Could she be, already?  It was possible she guessed for the amount of times she and Graham had been intimate, but her body felt just the same inside.  Would she be able to tell?  Did a woman know if she was expecting by how she felt?  Imogene resolved to get some private time with Philippa today so she could ask her about it.  Who better than her own sister and the wife of a doctor?

They stayed for a long visit and a late luncheon.  John took Graham down to his surgery for a tour of the place.  With the men gone, Philippa asked Imogene how married life suited her and Imogene was frank in her response, and in her questions.  They made plans for Imogene to come again and sorted out a visiting schedule that would work for Philippa.

As she looked around their lovely, sedate, home, Imogene pondered how different her life might have been had she come to live here without ever meeting Graham. She wondered if their paths would have eventually crossed, a mere ten miles of distance between them.  Strange was fate.  She could not see herself living here in this home with them, though.  She loved her sister and John dearly, but she simply couldn’t see it now.  Graham had changed everything.  Now she could not imagine being anywhere that he was not.  Her life was completely and utterly entwined with his.

IN the carriage on the way home they regarded each other from their seats opposite one another.  They usually situated themselves in this way.  It provided the best setting for looking at the other.  From the day of their very first meeting, this was something they had always reverted to easily without even knowing what they were doing.  Others had noticed and would remark upon this particular behaviour they exhibited for the rest of their lives.

Graham looked out the window at the rolling scenery and then back at his wife.  Sometimes when Imogene did simple things, such as blowing him a kiss or whispering an
I love you
, he felt overcome with emotion.  The effect was usually to silence him, rendering him unable to speak or to respond in a way that made any sense.  So he just remained silent and smiled at her, and revelled in the radiant glow of her love that suffused him.

Imogene broke the quiet.  “Thank you.”

“For taking you to see your sister?  You do not have to thank me for that,
chérie
.”

“Not for that.”

“For what then?”

“For finding me.  For loving me.  I realized today that I would not have been happy living there with Philippa and John even as much as I love and adore them.  So thank you.  Thank you for giving me this beautiful, lovely life.”

For the second time that day, Graham closed his eyes and just let her words float over him for he knew he would not be able to speak a response.

He that would be a painter must have a natural turn thereto. 

Love and delight therein are better teachers of

the Art of Painting than compulsion is.

Albrecht Dürer   ~ Third Book of Human Proportions, 1512

IT
had been easy, really.  So easy.  All he’d had to do was slip the drug to them by way of the maid, with whom he’d been dallying.  Flattery was a skill he possessed in abundance, along with his charm and good looks.  He knew how to use every advantage where he might gain the most benefit.

She slept in the carriage, appearing peaceful and completely unaware in her slumber.  The years had worn well on her for she was still very pretty.  He perceived the tightening in his loins, remembering her lush body from before, what he had forced her to do then.  But he didn’t need to do that now.  Generally, he liked his women willing, unless forcing them gave him an advantage.  In this case, the advantage lay asleep in his lap, and would be ever so more effective in inducement.

SHE felt as if she were clawing her way out of a fog.

Opening her eyes, she saw a face she had hoped never to see again in her lifetime.

“Hello, Agnes.  It’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

“No!” She cringed in fear until she realized that Clara was lying across his lap.  “Clara.  Give her to me.  Please, I beg of you, give me my child,” she implored, reaching out her arms.

He gave a slight shake of his head.  “No, dear, not yet.  You have something that I need.”

“What do you want from me?” She tried to quell the bitter fear screaming to the surface.

“Just your signature, my dear.”  He waved a document at her and she took it.

She scanned it hastily.  “I cannot sign this.  We’ll have nothing, no way to live!” she cried, looking at him in horror.  “You can’t do this.  He said I would never have to worry, that we would have his support for life.”

“Tut, tut, dear Agnes.”  He shook his head at her.  “We men are so…fickle.  He simply cannot be bothered with you anymore.  He has married.  A lady of rank, a politician’s daughter.  My dear, that’s changed everything.”  Cocking his head, he lifted his chin.  “Now you must see how any connection to you and your child would bring shame down on upon their noble name.”  He paused.  “Can’t have that, Agnes,” he whispered.

“I won’t sign.”

“Ah, yes you will.  You
will
sign, Agnes.  You will sign because you wouldn’t want
anything
to happen to the sweetling lying across my lap.”  He moved his hand to gently stroke over Clara’s cheek before resting it against her neck.”

Agnes broke then, giving in to the despair.  She knew what he was capable of, and that he would have no qualms carrying out any evil he might devise.  After another moment of anguished misery she relented.  “I’ll sign.”

He grinned repulsively, looking back down at her daughter.  “She is such a beautiful child.  You know, I believe she inherited the best of both of you in her looks.  Your colouring and his noble features, and those eyes, so fine…and green.”

IMOGENE had so much to learn, but lucky for her, Graham was her enthusiastic guide.  When the weather was dry they rode over the estate so she could learn its boundaries.  When the weather was wet she explored the house and learned its secrets.  It snowed one day and was a very pretty sight, but it didn’t last.  By morning it was gone.

There were many people to meet and names to learn.  One new acquaintance shadowed her everywhere; the dog, Zuly.  The elegant creature had taken an immediate liking to Imogene, attaching herself to her new mistress with utmost loyalty.  It was absolutely no trouble to quickly grow affectionate of her new four-legged friend.

They settled into the habits that suited them.  For instance, Imogene preferred to take breakfast in their sitting room except for the weekends or if they were having guests.  Graham rose earlier than she did and would be up and about, and then come back to breakfast with her when she arose.  For now they slept in the master’s chamber and would continue to do so until Imogene’s rooms were done up.  Her things were still kept in her room and she bathed and dressed there, she just did not sleep in there.  This caused some concession in regards to Phelps, Graham’s manservant, but they worked it out.  When Graham first woke in the early morning he saw to himself.  Later, after breakfasting with Imogene, he would have Phelps attend him in his chamber for bathing and preparing for the day whilst Imogene had retreated to her chamber by that time, to be assisted by Hester.

Graham preferred to concentrate on estate business during the first half of the day.  He often rode out with his steward, Mr. Duncan, attending to tenant issues and matters relating to crops and livestock.  If not riding out, he conducted meetings in his study.  Imogene used this morning time for her work as well.  She met with Mrs. Griffin each day, and Cook, a few times each week.  For now, she was busy learning the workings of the house and the names of the servants.  By and by, she would have more decisions to make, and accounts to manage, but she wasn’t in a great rush to take charge of everything.  She made plans to begin tenant visits; as the new mistress of Gavandon, it was now her duty.  Mrs. Griffin would help her in the beginning, until all families were known to her.  The housekeeper seemed sensible.  Imogene liked her for being so approachable.

After luncheon, correspondence took priority for both of them as the post had arrived by that time, and responses usually required their attention.  Imogene preferred working from the library.  It was housed in one of the front towers, and thus was a round room.  There were abundant windows, which afforded a most lovely view of the formal gardens and fountain out the front.  Graham arranged for work spaces set up for both of them in the library and started joining her there for the purpose of writing his letters.

The later afternoon was for recreation.  They might go for a ride or a walk if it was not raining.  They both liked to read and had other interests to fill the time.  Sometimes they played cards.  Graham worked on his ancestry project and Imogene wrote in her journal regularly.  He read the paper and she embroidered as a last resort if she had to stay inside.  She knew that when spring arrived she’d definitely be spending more time outside.

Graham took her around the village at Whichford, introducing his new bride to the inhabitants there.  Whichford was situated only three miles from Gavandon, having been a market town since medieval times, dealing in the wool trade for centuries.  The entire village was built of red brick and very picturesque.  They attended church there and Imogene found the parishioners to be welcoming and friendly.  There had been instances of awkwardness with some persons exclaiming on the likeness between her and the previous Lady Rothvale, but it was soon forgotten.  A few had paid courtesy calls on them, eager to become acquainted with the new mistress of Gavandon.  Imogene sorted through the invitations that arrived for them, and Graham helped her with the responses.

There was one surprise when Graham showed her the fencing studio that he had created in a lower room, below ground.  It had beautiful wooden floors, and because of its basement location, he explained how it was kept cool in summer and warm in winter.  The windows were set along the ceiling, which opened out at ground level, at the base of the house.  They afforded light and fresh air aplenty.  Imogene was impressed by how well apportioned it was.  Racks of equipment; foils, sabers, masks, gloves, padded jackets; everything was all organized and arranged along the walls.  She looked forward to watching him and wondered at his reaction should she ask him to teach her to fence.  She didn’t ask him, but the idea was definitely kindled when she was shown that beautiful fencing room.

SHE did not recognize the man on the path.  As she approached the house, he appeared to be leaving it.  He carried some fine linens in his arms; shawls, runners, throws, a rug, were all draped over his arm.  As they drew near to one another he slowed, stopping on the path, smiling at her, slowly dipping his head in a bow.  “Finally we meet in the flesh.”

Imogene was surprised by the familiarity of his words. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, finally we meet in the flesh.”

“I heard what you said, sir, but have we met in any other fashion?”

“Officially no, but I certainly feel as if I‘ve known you for quite a while now.”

Imogene took in his appearance; his stained hands, the linens draped over his arm, his Bohemian appearance.  She knew who this man was.  “Mr. Mallerton I presume?”

“Graham said you were very quick.  Guilty as charged, Lady Rothvale.  It is an honor to meet the lady who has captured his heart so absolutely.”  He bowed again, this time with more of a gallant flourish.

Imogene suppressed a giggle.  This man was most unconventional, and irreverent, and utterly charming.  She liked him.  “Thank you, Mr. Mallerton. ’Tis a pleasure.  I imagine we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other.”

“Yes, well, that could be an understatement.  I’ve just come from him you see, and he has quite a lot of portraits planned for you, milady.  I hope we don’t get sick of each other,” he replied archly.

“Ah, time will tell, Mr. Mallerton. Time will tell on that score, won’t it?”

“I would like to start tomorrow and set up a schedule of sittings for the first portrait. Tomorrow at one o'clock?  Will that suit you?”