by Raine Miller
“Of course,” he replied, his face alight, thinking he would get his way after all.
Imogene took in the countenances of all three men as they trained their undivided attention on her. Byron wore one of deceit; Tristan, one of amused anticipation; and Graham, one of foreboding. She honored Byron with an enthralled glance before presenting her plan, praying he would accept it. “Since you have expressed a sincere wish to observe Mr. Mallerton at his talent, what if you were to sit for your portrait during your stay here? We could come and keep you company while you sit. It would be for a worthy cause. I believe it might benefit all of you in the end.” Imogene looked at all three men individually before continuing. “George, you will have the opportunity to learn about the prospect of seeing Mr. Mallerton go about his excellent work, and he will get credit for it. My husband will have a superbly executed painting, with which to gift to the nation for the portrait gallery when it is ultimately founded. And lastly, your likeness will be preserved onto canvas for posterity and future generations, securing your contributions to the literary world as worthy of the highest honor.”
They all watched as Byron’s demeanour changed from interest to one of self-satisfaction. He really did think quite highly of himself, falling easily into Imogene’s trap. Extolling the importance of his image being preserved in honor of his literary talent, she snared him. “I think it is an excellent plan and I will agree to it, but only if you keep your promise to stay with me throughout the sittings—you know, ease the boredom of it.”
“YOU have my word,” Imogene replied serenely to Byron, looking down the table at Graham, whose expression was at that moment, filled with utter amazement at the genius of his wife. Unbelievable…my precious Imogene has captivated the most famous poet in England, if not the world. Thank God I found her before Byron ever did. Graham could not hold back the involuntary shudder that coursed through him at the thought of what Byron would have done with an innocent like Imogene.
And combined with her earlier questioning as to why he didn’t want to go for an extended visit to Everfell made him ache that he couldn’t tell her the real reason.
I am afraid and I wish I could take you far away. I want to shield you from the ugliness that is brewing. So you cannot know, and will not turn from me.
Later that night in the privacy of their bed, both of them pondered the interesting conversations they had shared with Byron. “Well, thanks to you and your sharp mind, chérie, all survived the evening without great insult being thrown. You have gifts and talents that astound me, Imogene. The way you dealt with him was miraculous to behold. He could not have refused you if he had wanted to, so securely you ensnared him. Are you over the strain of it, my sweetheart?”
“Oh yes. But before you thank me, please remember that we will still have to bear his company through the sittings. And what is it about him that is so different? I cannot put my finger on it, but strangely there is something about Byron that is atypical. What is it do you think? And what of he and Tristan? They are close friends?”
Graham sighed. “I knew this day would come eventually.”
“What is it? Have you kept something from me?” She looked hurt.
He pulled her close and kissed her hair. “Just trying to protect you. You are so innocent, and the world is not.”
“Tell me please! Trust me, Graham.”
He sighed again and squeezed her a little. “They are good friends and have known each other since our school days at Harrow. Byron is a few years younger but school is where they met. Tristan was always different from the other boys and his difference had to be kept secret.”
“Why ever for?”
“To keep him safe. There are those who would cast him out, shun him for his predilections.”
“His predilections? And they are what, exactly?”
“He does not love women, or rather he is not attracted to the fairer sex for companionship. He is attracted to men in the way that most men are attracted to women. It is the reason he is a bachelor and will remain as such.” He raised his eyebrows, looking to her reaction.
She was quiet but nodded her head in a way that suggested she finally had a complete understanding of Tristan.
Graham continued to wait for her to respond. When she did not, he asked gently, “What do you have to say about what I have just told you?”
Imogene worded her response carefully. “It certainly explains some things, his situation and some comments he has made. I think I understand him now.”
“What comments has he made?”
“Once he told me that he was probably the only painter in England who could not be tempted by me. I believe it is also the reason why you trust him to paint me without a chaperone present. Is that correct, Graham?”
“Correct. And do you feel differently about him? Do you still wish to call Tristan your friend?”
Without hesitation, she spoke assuredly which relieved him greatly. “Of course I still consider him a friend. He is the same man I knew before you shared this information with me. A good person and a true friend to you and to me. Even if I could not accept his preferences, the fact you trust him and value him as your friend would be enough for me. I trust you and know you to be honorable in judging character. You would not put me in his path if you did not think him worthy.” She pondered it some more. “Are there many men like him?”
“There are, and even though society reviles such practices publicly, in private it is tolerated as long as discretion is applied. You probably have the acquaintance of others with such predilections but you would never know of it. I don’t believe they can help it. It is just the way that they are born.”
“I had no idea.”
“You have been sheltered from such things, as you should have been.”
“What of Lord Byron? Does he love men? He looks at me like he wants to…most improper, flirting outrageously…and there is talk of his many female conquests.” She looked confused.
“Byron is not exclusive to men. He indulges in debauchery and his weakness is his lack of discretion. It is well known that he went to Greece to have encounters with young men. Even so, he still pursues women and could not be trusted in any situation with a beautiful woman alone. I could never leave him with you alone. He knows I would not. Byron simply cannot be trusted. He is not evil, but regardless, a complete libertine who does not apply restraint of any kind. He does as he wishes and the consequences be damned.”
“What is his relationship with Tristan?”
“They are friends of long standing. Beyond that, I am not entirely sure, chérie, and quite frankly, I do not care to know. Whatever they do in private is none of my business just as what we do in private is nobody’s concern either.”
“I agree with you. I have no wish to think about such things in regards to others. I will be relieved when Byron is gone, but what a story we’ll have to tell our grandchildren, hmmm?”
“Yes we will. You are exceptional, my dearest. A definite diamond in a sea of glass. You are so wise and clever. How did you ever think to ask Byron to sit for his own portrait instead of watching your sittings? You were brilliant and I thought I would burst with pride for you tonight, seeing you catch up Byron at his own game. It was a delight to view as the whole business unfolded.”
“You do not give yourself enough credit, Graham. It was you who suggested the idea to Tristan and inspired me. What I did could never have been accomplished without you there for encouragement and support, and let’s not forget your most noble protection and defense.”
“Je toujours ici pour vous mon chérie…I will always here for you, my darling.” He whispered the words against her beautiful lips as he descended.
NINETEEN
…Or like a fairy trip on the green,
Or, like a nymph, with long disheveled hair,
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:
Love is a spirit all compact of fire…
William Shakespeare ~ Venus and Adonis, 1593
IN the end, Byron stayed just a week with them. It was enough time for Tristan to get his likeness onto canvas, and gratefully to Imogene’s relief, her secret was not divulged.
Busy with preparations to depart for Everfell, she had two important things to accomplish before they made their journey, however. One was to get in the final sittings for the dishabille portrait and the other was to secure the plans and preparations for Graham’s birthday celebration at the end of April. Only a week would remain whence they returned from Everfell, and she wished to have everything in place for the event before they left Gavandon.
The celebration of Graham’s birthday was meant to be a surprise so Imogene enlisted the help of Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Jacobson, to ensure success. There were many letters to write and responses to receive, and she worked diligently on her tasks.
Imogene looked forward to seeing Elle again, and the great house of Everfell, and hoped Graham came around in his feelings about the visit. Imogene sensed something was not right within his business or possibly a family matter she’d not been privy to, nor had been shared with her. She could tell he carried the burden of worry about something, and he had bad dreams in the dead of night sometimes. He always apologized for waking her and claimed not to remember.
The prospect of going to London for the Season was discussed, but after baring their hearts in all honesty, both were delighted to find that neither one of them desired to go. Graham felt that the pressures of running the estate to be demanding after so long an absence, and Imogene saw no purpose for her to go at all. Graham suggested they could go to Somerset at Kilve in late summer if she might enjoy a holiday by the sea. He told her of the lovely seashore cottage there, called Marlings. It had been his Aunt Mary’s house. He spoke of how he had enjoyed visits there as a youth, had ridden along the beaches, and of viewing the beautiful sunsets over the ocean. He told her that he would dearly love to take her there. It had been several years since he had visited, thinking it might make a lovely substitute for Ireland until they could manage a trip as far away as Donadea.
As her daily meeting with Mrs. Griffin was winding down with the usual business concluded, Imogene broached a new topic with the housekeeper. “Mrs. Griffin, now that I have had time to know our tenants, I intend to continue with the visits, regularly assisting where it might be needed in households facing illness or other troubles. I know from experience that if you do not have a personal relationship with the tenants, you will not know of their needs until it is too late, and by then the seeds of resentment have set and situations deteriorate.”
“Your insight is extraordinary, Lady Rothvale, but then you were raised understanding these matters, weren’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose so. My mother had high expectations for my sister and me, and she was an excellent teacher until her illness prevented her. That is another area where I am well experienced, Mrs. Griffin. My mother was ill for years and I attended to her every day. There is little of the sickroom to offend me. I have seen and touched all of it. It will not bother me. If I can give some relief and comfort to the sick, I am glad to do it.”
“My lady, your attentions will be very welcomed and appreciated I know. We have been without a lady’s presence here, and also since we have no rector, or more importantly, a rector’s wife to see to visits of this kind, there has been no one to call upon. I must admit your disclosure this morning is a bit of a relief.”
“Thank you. Do you think everything could be organized while we are away at Everfell?”
“Yes I do, my lady. We will be ready for you upon your return from Everfell, with this matter and also the other of the master’s birthday.” She smiled conspiratorially.
“Thank you again, Mrs. Griffin, you are most accommodating and easy. I feel very blessed here at Gavandon. I know I am fortunate,” she offered sincerely. Mrs. Griffin smiled at her kind words of praise. “You mentioned the rectory. How long has it been vacant?” Imogene was curious.
“Oh, it has been more than five years now at least. The old rector passed on before Mr. Jasper even,” she said quietly.
“And the post was never filled?”
“Not to my knowledge, no.” Mrs. Griffin was not forthcoming with any more information than that, so Imogene let it go. She would investigate and get to the bottom of it later.
“I must ready myself to attend my last sitting for the portrait with Mr. Mallerton. Please inform my husband if he should return home before me.”
”Oh, before I forget to mention, my lady, a package has arrived for you. I’ve had it sent up to your room.”
Imogene hurried to dress quickly into the silver gown, which was annoying really when it was merely a sham to throw everyone off of her real purpose in posing for the other portrait. As soon as she was dressed she passed through and spied the package Mrs. Griffin had mentioned. Her curiosity was piqued and so she quickly opened the thin parcel after checking for a hint of the sender. There was nothing on the outside, which she found to be very odd.
As the brown paper was removed a smaller bundle wrapped in tissue paper was revealed. Inside was a pair of finely crafted ladies gloves. Buff coloured leather ones. Exactly like the gloves she’d discussed with the man in the modiste shop in London before her wedding—
Imogene felt the hair on the back of her neck raise up when she noticed a slip of paper peeking out of one of the gloves.
A note…
Dear Lady Rothvale,
My congratulations on your marriage. Consider this a wedding present from a grateful friend who you may call upon if ever you find yourself in need. I am an excellent listener, and could provide you with answers to some questions you will have cause to ponder in the near future. Apologies for being cryptic, but know that I am ever your servant.
Ralph Odeman
She dropped the gloves into a drawer and buried them deep with the note tucked back into the left one.
Imogene didn’t know what to make of the mystery, for it was certainly that, and a very disturbing mystery on top of. Something wasn’t right about Mr. Odeman and his…gift. And it was completely inappropriate for him to send her such a personal item when she didn’t even know him beyond his name. How did he even know where they lived? Did Mr. Odeman know Graham? Imogene remembered how she’d spotted him on the London street in front of the shop staring at her through the window of her coach. Even remembering the look upon his face then, made her shiver now. Graham would not like this news. He would be outraged in fact. Imogene knew this much and she didn’t want to shatter their peace when she could tell her husband was already burdened with other matters.
So she decided to say nothing for now.
GRAHAM was grateful the journey to Everfell was a relatively easy one, the distance being only seven and twenty miles from Gavandon. He’d watched Imogene take in the wild scenery from the window and was pleased she appreciated the stark beauty of it. The past week had been very full with preparations for this trip, and he could tell she was feeling a little weary as she rode in the carriage. He watched her getting drowsier and drowsier until she finally succumbed and fell asleep with her head against the seat cushion.
It gave him time to think about what he needed to do. As soon as the opportunity presented itself he needed to speak with Jules about his problem. Time was running out and the dread of stone-cold fear was getting the upper hand.
Watching Imogene so peaceful only made his worry worse. If she found out he couldn’t say what she would do or how she would feel about him—
She stirred and lifted her head, blinked and rolled her neck as she woke up from her nap. “Oh! Did I sleep the whole way? I cannot imagine why I did that. Sorry, my darling, for not keeping you company.”
He smiled lovingly, “You were out cold, chérie, so you must have really needed a rest. How do you feel now?”
“I am well.” She glanced out the window as she attempted to smooth her hair and dress. “Can the house be seen yet?”
“If you lo
ok to your right, you will just start to see the house as we come round this next curve… There.” He pointed as the grand estate came into view. “Now before you is all that is Everfell,” he said silkily, observing her reaction.
He saw her eyes widen at the sight of it. “Oh! I—I can see why it is so celebrated. Why, it’s positively palatial! And the grounds—and the lake!” She looked at him quizzically, her brows furrowing just a little. Opening her hands, she lifted them in question.
He took delight in her confusion. “You look as if you’d like to ask me something, chérie.”
Flustered, she replied, “You obviously relish vexing me with mysteries, but fine, I’ll humor you. Why does the Barony of Rothvale hold Gavandon and not Everfell?”
“Ah, so you notice the inequity of the houses,” he said dramatically, “are you disappointed that you shall never be mistress of such a grand residence?” He paused. “You’ve got a title instead.”
She seemed to choose her words carefully. “Everfell is magnificent indeed, but I assure you I am well suited to our home, or rather it is well suited to me.”
“How is that, chérie?”
She continued to take in the view of it through the carriage window before she answered. “Well, for one, I am a country girl and I like a country house. Everfell is, as I said before, palatial and would be wasted on me. No, I am very happy as we are.”
“What a relief. Here I have been worrying that you would be jealous of all the splendour and be discontented with Gavandon once you saw Everfell, but I can see now I worried for nothing.”
“You teasing man. You know I do not care about such things. My question is merely one of curiosity. How did such a grand house slip away from the barony?”
“Sorry for the teasing, chérie. I know I am wicked to do it, but I cannot help myself sometimes. You are so unspoiled.” He admired smugly. “I will submit to any punishment you deem fit for me…later.” He raised his brows suggestively before answering her. “My great-grandfather was the one who made the vast fortunes, in wool mostly. He acquired the house with some of that fortune, and made sure it was not entailed with the barony for he wished to gift it to his second son. My father inherited the title and the family estate and his cousin, my Uncle Jameson got Everfell, sans title. Uncle James went further and married very well in distinction and in money, with the Julian family, which garnered him the means to make Everfell flourish and to increase the lands. Jules has had a burden of responsibility in taking it on at such a young age, but he has done admirably. Everfell is unique and he enjoys all of the advantages of wealth and connections, but not the title. I have the wealth and the connections with the title, but not such a magnificent house.” He grinned. “But I do have a magnificent wife.” He blew her a kiss from across the carriage. “And she assures me that she prefers our bucolic country home to this one. For me, I care not about the houses, just the wife,” he finished neatly. “And there you have it, chérie.”
