A Most Unconventional Match

by Julia Justiss

  Wondering what Everitt’s cousin wished to say that could not wait until the tea they normally shared in the afternoon, Elizabeth took off her apron and mounted the stairs to Miss Lowery’s room.

  She walked in to find Miss Lowery sitting in a chair, her eyes alert and her colour much improved. ‘Good morning, dear Amelia. How wonderful to see the roses finally returned to your cheeks!’ Elizabeth exclaimed, heartened to see her looking so well. ‘You are better, I see.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ the thin, grey-haired lady replied. ‘Improving every day. I did miss our tea yesterday. Did you enjoy your outing?’

  Was Amelia feeling neglected? Elizabeth wondered with a little pang of guilt. ‘Yes, it was wonderful! I’m sorry we returned too late for tea. Oh, I wish you could have seen how David enjoyed himself at Astley’s! Afterwards, Mr Waterman suggested we stop by the Royal Academy to view their permanent collection, which was magnificent—and so inspiring. By then David was hungry, so we stopped for meat pies before coming home.’

  ‘David has already visited me this morning, still in raptures over the trip and the wonderful Mr Waterman.’ Amelia looked down, fidgeting with the robe covering her lap. ‘You may think it’s not my place to say so, and you might well be right, but I can’t help feeling it isn’t wise for you to…to be keeping company with a gentleman so soon after Everitt’s passing.’

  Anger and a fierce resentment boiled up, surprising in its intensity. Struggling to master it, she said stiffly, ‘I am not “keeping company” with Mr Waterman. Neither David nor I have been anywhere since the funeral. David is just a child, and, though he misses his father keenly, he cannot be cooped up indoors for ever, so when Mr Waterman was kind enough to suggest the excursion, I had no reservations about accepting. I hope you are not suggesting—’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Amelia said quickly. ‘I know how much you loved Everitt.’ Her eyes welled up and she dabbed at them with a handkerchief. ‘How I still miss him!’

  Elizabeth’s anger softened. ‘I miss him, too,’ she said quietly.

  Amelia nodded. ‘I know, it’s silly of me to worry. But when Sands told me you wouldn’t be back for tea, and that when you did finally return, Mr Waterman accompanied you into your studio, the two of you lingering there alone for some time, and darkness falling…Well, it did concern me. I wouldn’t wish you to place yourself in a situation that might cause talk among the servants.’

  Since when was it Sands’s business to carry tales? Elizabeth thought, her anger reviving. ‘You may remember that Mr Waterman is the dearest friend of Lord Englemere, my sister’s husband. Acting in Englemere’s stead, he has been of great help in sorting through estate papers, which, I have to say, Everitt had left in some disarray. There is no impropriety in his “lingering”, as you put it, or even staying to dine with David and me, though he has declined to do so until you are well enough to accompany us. Thereby, I believe, showing an utmost respect for proper behaviour.’

  ‘I am relieved to hear it.’ Anxiously Amelia patted Elizabeth’s hand. ‘Please don’t be displeased with me! But we both have so little experience of the world. I don’t want you, in your innocence, to allow Mr Waterman to press you into a closer acquaintance that society at large might take amiss.’

  The boot was rather on the other foot, Elizabeth thought. If Miss Lowery had any inkling of the exceedingly improper feelings Elizabeth had been entertaining towards Hal Waterman, she would faint dead away.

  Guilt scoured her anew, along with a furious resentment. She had grieved and she still mourned. The outing yesterday and, yes, even her turbulent feelings for Mr Waterman had inspired her for the first time since her husband’s death with a sense of excitement and anticipation, a hope that the future might offer new opportunities, fulfilment…even love.

  Though she would not, until the proper time, explore or act upon the unprecedented sensations that drew her to Hal Waterman, neither did she intend to avoid his company. Regardless of the apparent disapproval of her husband’s butler or mutterings among the staff.

  ‘You aren’t angry with me for speaking of this, are you?’ Amelia asked, recalling Elizabeth’s attention.

  She forced a smile. As attached as Amelia had been to the cousin who had given her a home and a sense of purpose, Miss Lowery would probably never look favourably upon any man who seemed to be intruding upon the place Everitt had held in David’s life—or her own. In Amelia’s situation, she conceded, she would probably react the same.

  ‘No, of course not. I know you speak out of love.’ Though that didn’t make her advice any more palatable.

  ‘Well, I expect you’ll be wanting to get back to your work. You will come by later for tea? I’ll look forward to visiting with you then.’

  After giving Miss Lowery a hug, Elizabeth proceeded back towards her studio. Though the anticipation and excitement she’d felt earlier had by now dissipated, perhaps she could still accomplish something useful.

  She paused by the library door, a little thrill passing through her at the thought that Mr Waterman might even now be seated behind the desk. Before she could succumb to the urge to peep inside and see, a footman trotted up and handed her a message.

  Her heart leapt again at the bold, masculine scrawl in which her name had been penned on the outside. She tore open the seal, her anticipation fading as she read the short note in which, begging her pardon for the short notice, Mr Waterman wrote that unexpected business had arisen that would prevent his calling upon them today.

  The titillation of holding in her hand something that had been penned by his was offset by the disappointment of knowing she would not see him after all. With a sigh, she refolded the note and proceeded toward her studio.

  No need now to rush to her easel. Which was just as well, as the enthusiasm that had energised her when she mixed her paints an hour ago had wholly deserted her.

  She’d just reached the studio door when Mrs Graham, the housekeeper, approached at a brisk pace. ‘I’m glad I caught you!’ she said, dropping a curtsy. ‘There’s been quite a commotion in the laundry. That…animal of young Master David’s got into the back garden and ran after the sheets hanging on the line, tearing several to shreds! Being that we was short on linens anyway, I’ll need you to give Sands some coin to purchase more material at once.’

  Closing her eyes with a sigh, Elizabeth wondered what else could go wrong. As far as her work was concerned, this day that had begun with such anticipation was looking to become a complete loss.

  With resignation, she led Mrs Graham to the bookroom and retrieved Everitt’s strongbox, then counted out the staggering sum the housekeeper said would be required to purchase the new linens. Her small remaining stock was nearly exhausted. She knew little about wills beyond the fact that they often took months to probate. In that case, she probably should ask Mr Waterman to begin selling some of Everitt’s statues, lest they run out of cash altogether.

  She smiled grimly, wondering how Sands would react when the interloping Mr Waterman started disposing of his master’s treasures. Well, his master shouldn’t have borrowed funds to buy them in the first place! Maybe instead of dismissing Gibbons, she ought to replace Sands, she thought defiantly.

  The butler himself entered as she was locking up the strongbox. ‘A visitor to see you, Mrs Lowery.’ Despite the note informing her it could not be Mr Waterman, none the less her senses jumped in anticipation before he continued, ‘I installed Sir Gregory in the blue salon.’

  There was no hint on Sands’s face of the frown he seemed to direct towards Mr Waterman. Elizabeth also recalled seeing, prominently displayed in Miss Lowery’s room this morning, the flowers the baronet had sent her. Apparently the household considered it acceptable for Everitt’s long-time friend to visit his widow and son.

  By now it was nearly nuncheon. She might well as resign herself to not getting any painting done today and receive Sir Gregory. Though, she thought mutinously, after her wonderful excursion yesterday, if the baronet said a single disp
araging word about Hal Waterman, she would show him the door!

  ‘I’ll go in directly,’ she told Sands, knowing—and not caring—that Sir Gregory’s discriminating senses would probably be offended by her receiving him in her shabby painting dress.

  She was an artist. A serious artist. If her garb offended him, so be it. A decided stomp to her step, she followed Sands to the blue salon.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Lizbet, how good of you to receive me!’ Sir Gregory exclaimed, coming over to take her hand as she walked in. ‘I see you’ve been painting. I hope I didn’t interrupt.’

  His acknowledging her work and managing to utter that speech with only the faintest of flinches over her unfashionable attire soothed some of Elizabeth’s irritation. ‘Thank you, Sir Gregory, for your kindness in calling. And, no, you didn’t interrupt. The morning has been such a disaster, I never began.’

  ‘I thought you looked somewhat…perturbed,’ he said, watching her with a discriminating eye. ‘What’s amiss? I would be delighted to assist if I can.’

  She had no intention of telling him Miss Lowery had reproved her for being in Mr Waterman’s company or that the dog he’d given David had shredded the sheets. Perhaps she could, though, mention the problems among the servants. As master of several diverse households, he might have some useful advice.

  ‘I hesitate to trouble you over such a trifling matter,’ she began.

  ‘I could never consider anything that disturbs your tranquillity “trifling”,’ he responded.

  Reassured by that, she continued, ‘There was a minor fracas among the staff, for which Sands believed I should dismiss my maid, although no real wrongdoing was proved against her. After hearing them both, I determined that she should stay, but Sands clearly resented having his opinion disregarded. Did I act rightly? I fear I have little experience in resolving such disputes.’

  Sir Gregory frowned. ‘It is not the place of the servants to question what their mistress decides.’

  Elizabeth sighed. ‘That may be true, but I do so hate having the peace of the household disturbed!’

  ‘Of course you do! Nor should you now be troubled by the sort of perturbation that, in the past, I expect Everitt settled before you were even aware of it.’

  A pang of sadness resonated through her. Truly, when Everitt lived, she had never heard more than a hint of any problems among the staff. A fierce longing filled her for those lovely, carefree days when he and dear Amelia had so deftly handled all the household concerns, when she had felt cherished and comfortable and always secure.

  ‘Sands is involved, you said?’ Sir Gregory continued, his frown deepening. ‘As the highest-ranking domestic in the household, he should know better than to dispute whatever resolution you decide upon. Would you like me to speak with him?’

  How wonderful it would be to have tranquillity restored—and without her having to be any further involved in the process! Vastly tempted, she said, ‘You don’t think it would make it worse to have an outsider intervene?’

  Sir Gregory smiled. ‘I’ve run tame here since Everitt and I were boys! I hardly think Sands regards me as an “outsider”. Besides, knowing how close I was to his late master, he will believe my judgement represents what Everitt himself would have decreed. Having my support would only reinforce your authority.’

  Relief welled up in Elizabeth. ‘Then, yes, I would be most grateful if you would speak with him.’

  ‘I shall be happy to do so. Men, even servants, can be rather forceful at times, I fear. ’Tis best for Sands to realise that though your husband no longer directs this household, you have not been left completely without a gentleman’s advice and support. Shall you send for him?’

  Feeling better already, Elizabeth rang the bell pull. A few moments later, Sands bowed himself in. ‘Shall I bring wine?’ he asked.

  ‘In a moment,’ Sir Gregory said. ‘First, Mrs Lowery tells me there has been a disagreement among the staff.’ Bending a stern look upon the butler, he continued, ‘As their senior representative, I would expect you to set the example by upholding her judgement in every particular. Nor should you trouble your mistress, a lady in mourning whose tender sentiments are still so easily disturbed, with resolving petty disagreements that should never have occurred. I trust I need say nothing further?’

  To Elizabeth’s surprise, rather than seeming resentful of Sir Gregory’s unexpected intervention, Sands’s face reddened. ‘You are right, Sir Gregory,’ he said, bowing deeply. ‘I beg your pardon.’

  The baronet gestured towards Elizabeth. ‘’Tis Mrs Lowery to whom you should apologise.’

  Sands turned and bowed again to Elizabeth. ‘I’m sorry if it seemed I was questioning your authority, ma’am. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘Indeed, it had better not,’ Sir Gregory said sharply. ‘We’ll have that wine now.’

  ‘At once,’ Sands said, making a hasty exit.

  Elizabeth stared at the closing door, then looked back at Sir Gregory, both astonished and a little resentful of how quickly he’d cowed the butler. ‘How did you do that?’

  Sir Gregory laughed. ‘Gentlemen wield authority much more convincingly than ladies. ’Tis the way of the world.’

  Apparently donning trousers and a waistcoat made it easier to run a household, Elizabeth thought, still a bit indignant. None the less, she owed Sir Gregory her gratitude for improving Sands’s attitude so speedily. ‘I am not so sure I approve of the world, then, but I do thank you.’

  ‘You are very welcome. And I cannot agree in disapproving of circumstances that allow a gentleman to be able to render assistance to a fair lady. Speaking of which, had I known you had steeled yourself to begin going about in public, I would have already invited you to go out. And would have chosen a venue more appealing to a lady than the smell of horses and dogs at Astley’s.’

  Startled, Elizabeth’s gaze shot to the baronet’s face. ‘How did you know I’d been to Astley’s?’

  ‘Sands mentioned you’d spent all afternoon and into the evening there when he escorted me in,’ Sir Gregory said. ‘I hope you didn’t fatigue yourself.’

  ‘Sands concerns himself a good deal too much with what I do or don’t do,’ Elizabeth said with some heat.

  ‘Insomuch as he watches after your well being, I can’t fault him,’ Sir Gregory said.

  ‘’Twas an outing for David as well, and we didn’t go just to Astley’s. We also stopped by at the Royal Academy. I can’t believe Everitt never took me there! The paintings were astounding, awe-inspiring! I could hardly wait to get back to my work today. Though sadly, assorted difficulties this morning prevented me from accomplishing anything.’

  ‘There is always tomorrow,’ Sir Gregory said with an indulgent smile.

  ‘Yes, I’m so eager to continue.’ Should she mention what Hal Waterman had recommended about her work? On the one hand, she hated to speak aloud of it, so new and fragile was the dream of announcing herself to the world as a serious artist. On the other hand, Sir Gregory was quite familiar with her paintings. If he considered her work as worthy of public viewing as Mr Waterman did, perhaps she ought to be bold enough to exhibit it.

  She would ask him, she decided. Summoning all her courage, she said, ‘After we returned home, I showed Mr Waterman some of my paintings. He thinks them accomplished enough that he urged me to consider submitting something to the committee for possible inclusion in the Royal Academy’s exhibition. Do…do you think I am skilful enough?’

  ‘Your work is charming! Though ’tis naughty of you to tease me by saying you plan to submit it for exhibition.’

  Elizabeth stared at him. ‘I wasn’t teasing. I am considering submitting work to the committee.’

  Sir Gregory’s smile faded. ‘You can’t be serious.’

  Elizabeth raised her chin. ‘And why can’t I? I remember you saying my oil study of David was exceptional!’

  ‘Heavens, this has nothing to do with your skill! Surely you must know…’ He sho
ok his head in disbelief. ‘Apparently, living as removed from society as you have, you don’t, though even as dreadfully unfashionable as he is, Mr Waterman certainly should! My dear, you couldn’t possibly consider submitting your work to the Royal Academy! It’s quite acceptable for a maiden of gentle birth to draw and paint for the amusement of her family and friends, but no genteel lady would do something so vulgar as exhibit her work in a public gallery! As if she were some…some Cit trying to attract a patron. ’Tis the purpose for which artists petition to show their work there, you know, hoping that men of wealth and discernment viewing the exhibition will be impressed enough to offer them commissions. Which in your case would be unthinkable!’

  ‘But I am an artist,’ Elizabeth said, feeling the bright colour mount her cheeks. ‘I would be thrilled to paint on commission.’

  ‘My dear Lizbet, you don’t know what you are saying! If Everitt were here, he would tell you as I do that you mustn’t think of such a thing. Even if you were willing to face the scandal and reproach that would be directed at you personally, you must consider the effect such an action would have on the welfare of those dear to you. Lord Englemere’s family would be humiliated; your youngest sister, who must even now be anticipating her upcoming Season, would have her chances to make a respectable alliance destroyed. And David! Only consider, my dear, the scorn that would be heaped upon him at Eton and Oxford as the son of a lady who so betrayed her birth as to work as a common portrait painter! It would hardly be worse for him were you to proclaim yourself a courtesan.’

  Gritting her teeth, Elizabeth listened in silence as each dire pronouncement piled more weight on her fragile new dream, until it shattered into wistful fragments under the onslaught. Sir Gregory knew society well; there was no way she could dispute his arguments. And though she might not worry overmuch about what the ton thought of her, she could never do something that would embarrass her family—or ruin the prospects of her little sister or her beloved son.