The Hidden Thread

by Liz Trenow

  But now, the prospect of seeing Henri again seemed so remote that the memories only served to make her even more miserable. That day, after bidding farewell to Miss Charlotte, Anna had calculated that she would have plenty of time to spare. Aunt Sarah and Lizzie would be traveling all the way to Hackney for tea, so they were unlikely to return before five, she reckoned, at the very earliest.

  Arriving back at half past four, she fully expected to be able to slip up to her room unnoticed and resume her “rest” well in advance of their return. She approached Spital Square with caution to avoid being observed and entered the house as quietly as possible so as not to alert anyone in the office next door.

  She thought at first that she must have imagined it. But there it was again, unmistakably, her aunt’s voice, calling from the drawing room: “Anna, is that you?”

  There was no escape. Anna paused outside the door, straightening her skirt and pinning stray curls back under her bonnet while desperately trying to formulate a plausible story.

  “You are returned early, Aunt,” she said, smiling as cheerfully as possible.

  “It seems they told us the wrong day,” Aunt Sarah said. “We traveled all that way and no one was at home to receive us. It was simply too humiliating. We shall not be accepting any future invitations from that family again.”

  “I am so sorry. The good news is that my head feels much brighter after a short breath of fresh air.”

  “That is indeed cheering news, Niece. But it does not console me. The truth is that we have been back since before three of the clock and you were already gone. You did not inform Betty that you were leaving, and you have only now returned, a full hour and a half later. Please, close the door behind you and take a seat, for I am greatly disturbed and wish to hear your explanation.”

  “I have been to visit Miss Charlotte, to check on some alterations she is doing. We took tea and had a delightful conversation,” Anna extemporized. “The time flew by.”

  Aunt Sarah frowned, shook her head, and sighed. “If there is one thing I dislike more than disobedience, it is duplicity.” Her voice came out in a sharp rasp. “You are lying to me, young woman. I will not tolerate it.”

  Anna’s head began to spin. How could her aunt possibly know?

  “When you did not return within the half hour, I began to worry for your welfare. Lizzie suggested that you might have gone to visit Miss Charlotte, since she believed that you may have become acquainted. We shall speak more of this later, Niece, since it is entirely inappropriate for a young woman of your standing to cultivate such a friendship with a tradesperson, pleasant though she may be. In any case, I am fully aware that Miss Charlotte’s shop is never open on a Tuesday afternoon, for that is her early closing day. In the end, I sent Betty to see and of course the shop was closed. She knocked and rang, but there was no answer.”

  Anna lowered her eyes to avoid her aunt’s furious glare as she frantically tried to work out her next move. Should she attempt another half lie, or was it best to come clean? Either way, she was in deep trouble.

  “Have you nothing to say, girl?”

  She tried to conjure her father’s kindly face. His voice came into her head, quiet and clear, just as if she were listening to him reading the gospel in church: And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.

  “I am sorry for not letting Betty know where I had gone, to avoid your concern. But I did not lie to you, Aunt. I did visit Miss Charlotte, for I enjoy her company and I make no apology for this, for I have no other friends here in the city and find myself quite lonely at times.”

  Sarah tried to interrupt, but Anna persevered.

  “We did take tea but after that she had an errand to run, and I decided to join her. It was to deliver a design to a weaver. He invited us inside to see his looms so that we could understand better how the design would be woven. It was so fascinating that we stayed longer than we had intended.”

  Sarah’s jowls drooped with astonishment. She was no longer attempting to intervene.

  “The thing is, Aunt, I do not feel I have anything for which to apologize. I am fully eighteen years old, I am growing used to London ways, and I have the greatest regard for, and trust in, Miss Charlotte. You must not blame her for any part of this, for the decision to accompany her was entirely my own. She would not have led me into any impropriety and at no time were we ever separated. I have had a delightful and informative afternoon and cannot see the harm.”

  Aunt Sarah went to the fireplace, rearranging the ornaments and cards for several long seconds before turning back to Anna, a ferocious frown distorting her normally benign features. “You are a very willful and headstrong young woman.” Her voice was calm and controlled, but the pink spots on her cheeks belied an inner tumult. “You should know perfectly well by now how to comport yourself in polite society. We cannot lock you in, but if you continue to act like this without regard for your reputation, I fear we may have to send you back to Suffolk. I shall have to discuss the matter with Mr. Sadler, but in the meantime, please go to your room and remain there until supper or until I call you.”

  Supper was conducted in virtual silence, and afterward she was summoned to be told that her uncle would be writing to her father to review the current arrangements. In the meantime, she would not be allowed to leave the house at all, except for church or another prearranged purpose.

  She managed to maintain her composure until she reached her room. Once there, she threw herself onto the bed and sobbed until her head ached and her eyes were red and raw.

  • • •

  It was another dull afternoon, with rain clattering on the windows and the drawing room cast into such gloom it seemed as though dusk was already falling, even though it was but two o’clock. She sat by the window reading as Lizzie hammered the harpsichord, making the same mistakes over again, until Anna felt like a spring coiled ever tighter and tighter. Any moment now I shall scream and throw this book at her, or worse.

  Betty knocked at the door: it was a letter from Charles, asking if he could visit that very afternoon. Her heart sank.

  “Oh, my dear, this is most excellent news,” Aunt Sarah declared, beaming. “Perhaps this will be the big moment.” She’s only thrilled because if he proposes they can be rid of me, Anna thought miserably.

  Her aunt was prattling on: “Ask Betty to bring two large jugs of warm water and my best bar of scented soap to your room, so that you will smell of a sweet summer’s day. You should wear the green damask, perhaps? You need to look at your most alluring without appearing to be overdressed, and I shall lend you my best lace cuffs, my dear, and some pretty starched lappets for your hair. There’s nothing like a touch of Taunton lace to draw attention to delicate wrists and an elegant neck.”

  Anna smiled politely and thanked her aunt for her kindness, but found herself strangely detached, as though all the attention was focused on another who looked like her and spoke like her, but who was not her inside. She felt like a commodity being packaged for sale by her aunt, who was desperate to seal the deal and thus be freed of responsibility.

  Alone in her room, she took several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing thoughts and think rationally. What if he really does propose, this very afternoon? Do I have a duty to accept the first offer that comes along because there are no other options? Would it be the end of the world, after all, being married to a well-to-do young man about town? She would not have to concern herself about money, and such a match would surely secure a comfortable future for her father and Jane. At least she would escape the confinement of Spital Square and could entertain herself with painting and other diversions.

  • • •

  Charles arrived promptly at four o’clock. Tea was ordered and the family summoned, and the dreary round of polite conversation proceeded. Strategically placed by Aunt Sarah on the chaise longue beside Anna, he perched in a dandyish pos
e, with chin resting on his fingertips.

  “You are looking very well this afternoon, Anna.”

  “Thank you,” she said, recoiling at the familiarity.

  “Have you been doing much sketching lately?”

  He is doing his best. I must be polite. “No, alas. I love to draw flowers from real life but the weather has been so poor.”

  “I observed you enjoying Father’s garden, when you visited with Mr. Ehret. Do you have much of a garden here in Spital Square?” She found herself fighting an attack of the giggles as his Adam’s apple bobbed comically, like a small animal trapped in his throat. What if it turned out to be a real mouse? Perhaps it would escape, suddenly leaping out of his mouth and bouncing across the room like a crazed ball, rendering him speechless.

  “No, just a small square of grass with a tree. It does not make for much of a painting. How are your studies going?” she asked quickly. “The law must be such a fascinating subject.”

  “You would think so. But I am required to commit to memory the detail of many thousands of cases, and my poor head is struggling. It is all too easily distracted, I fear.”

  The self-deprecation was endearing. Perhaps he has a sense of humor after all, she said to herself. “Which cases do you find most interesting?”

  “I regret to admit that it is the serious offenses I find intriguing.”

  “For example?”

  “I have been studying cases of murder and manslaughter. What could bring a man to commit such crimes?”

  “I do not think anyone in their right mind could kill another, so it follows that they must be out of their minds to do so. I cannot believe that anyone is born evil.”

  “You would change your views if you met some of the villains in Newgate. Believe me, the gallows is too good for many of them.”

  “Pray heaven I never have to do so.” She had read terrifying accounts of the notorious prison and the ghoulish crowds that gathered to watch hangings. “But is killing a man really a just punishment if he committed the crime when not of sane mind?”

  “Everyone has choices. That is what I believe. The poor can choose to better themselves by hard work, but the wicked and immoral are a curse on society, and we are better off without them.”

  “Well said,” William interjected. “And that is why you are learning to be a lawyer, is it not, Charlie, so you can teach them a lesson?” Anna could scarcely believe her ears. William, the thief, prognosticating about upholding the law? She wished she could expose him then and there but had to content herself with a glare, to which he returned an insouciant smile.

  After tea, Joseph and William excused themselves, citing pressures of work. Lizzie was sent to her studies, and Sarah invented some urgent business with Cook. They were alone. Anna wished she could be anywhere else but here, but one of his long, spindly legs was thrust out across the rug in front of her, like a barrier preventing her escape.

  “Dearest Anna, I have so enjoyed our little talks,” he whispered. “You are an intelligent and spirited young woman, and I find this most attractive.” As he took her hand and leaned toward her, she could smell his slightly rancid breath. “My regard for you has grown and, if I am not mistaken, I believe you may feel the same?”

  She looked into his face, trying to read his expression, trying to convince herself. If he genuinely loves me then, perhaps, my love for him could grow in time? But there was something wrong: although his lips were smiling, his eyes were cold. It was as though he were embarking upon a business transaction. In that moment, she knew that she must listen to her own heart and what her answer must be.

  What took place next was a total surprise. His hand began to shake and he seemed to falter. There was a tense silence as he looked away to the window and turned back again. He took a deep breath. “Will you come to dine at Ludgate Hill next week?” he said.

  Relief swept over her like the surf on the seashore. His last-minute nerves—or was it cowardice?—had reprieved her. Or perhaps he’d realized the truth: that neither of them loved each other. Only by biting her lip until it was almost painful did she manage to stop herself from laughing out loud.

  “Thank you, that would be delightful,” she replied, crossing her fingers behind her back.

  “Well?” Aunt Sarah whispered once Charles had gone.

  “We had a very pleasant time,” Anna said. “He has invited me to dinner at Ludgate Hill next week.” She watched her aunt’s face deflate and then brighten once more. How desperate she is to see me settled. She has given her word to Father and won’t rest until she has done so.

  • • •

  Aunt Sarah was all aflutter. Augusta Hinchliffe had sent a note to inform her that the portraitist Mr. Gainsborough would be traveling to London from his home in Bath for a few days and would be available to see prospective customers at his painting room in Pall Mall.

  “Mr. Sadler has agreed to the notion, and we have made an appointment for tomorrow morning,” she declared at breakfast. “It is only sensible to be prepared for when Mr. Sadler is elected Upper Bailiff, don’t you think?”

  Anna had heard and read so much about the man—definitely the up-and-coming artist of fashionable society. Although he made his living from portraits, he was said to enjoy painting landscapes more, and certainly his trees and plants—often lightly sketched—were wonderfully lifelike. If only she too could meet Mr. Gainsborough!

  After breakfast, she pleaded her case to Aunt Sarah.

  “Mr. Gainsborough is an excellent choice. He is sure to do justice to Uncle Joseph’s anticipated new status.”

  “You know his work?”

  “Know it? I adore it, Aunt Sarah. His landscapes and rural backgrounds are wonderful. I’d give anything to meet the man.”

  Sarah smiled fondly at her niece. “Perhaps when you and Charles are married, you could commission him yourselves?”

  “What a splendid notion,” Anna said, seizing her moment. “In that case, might this present a good opportunity to make his acquaintance in advance?”

  Her aunt thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose that would do any harm. I will ask your uncle. If he agrees, you may come as my companion.”

  • • •

  The houses in the West End were so much grander than any that Anna had previously entered. The carriage drew up outside an imposing redbrick mansion, and she began to marvel that any artist—however famous—could earn enough to afford such a residence.

  However, Mr. Gainsborough’s lodgings turned out to be but a small part of the building—just two rooms on the ground floor. He appeared to have no servant and opened the door himself: a tall, fine-looking man in his midthirties, Anna guessed, with a good head of dark hair, a long nose, and full lips that seemed to give him a permanently amused expression.

  They were ushered into a large room smelling strongly of oil and turpentine, almost empty save for a chaise longue, a table, and a few chairs. To one side was another table covered in brushes and bladders of paint, various bottles and jars, a pestle and mortar, and what Anna was pleased to recognize as a maulstick, used to steady the painter’s wrist when working in detail. Standing on the floor was a small wooden mannequin dressed as a child and a tall easel holding a large canvas concealed with a cloth.

  After the introductions they were invited to take their seats and Mr. Gainsborough disappeared into a rear room, returning with a notebook and a set of papers.

  “And so, how can I help you today?”

  Uncle Joseph explained the reason for the commission.

  “What an honor, Mr. Sadler, I am delighted,” Mr. Gainsborough said. “My family was in the same trade, in a small way. My father was a weaver of woolens.”

  They chatted about the trials of the textile markets for a few moments before getting down to business. Mr. Gainsborough explained the types of portrait he could offer: the most economical w
ould be a single figure pictured from waist upward, with plain background and no hands, ranging up to the most expensive, a full-length group or pair with landscape background, extra for animals.

  He took notes and answered a few questions before handing over the set of papers. “These contain illustrations of each type of portrait and examples of the costs. Please feel free to write to me at any time with any further queries. I should require up to six sittings, depending on the composition you choose, which can take place here or at Bath, whichever is the most convenient.”

  A moment of silence fell, in which Anna desperately wished to ask him about the painting on the easel but was afraid it might be impolite. Fortunately, Uncle Joseph seemed oblivious to such sensitivities. “May we see your latest work?” he asked.

  Mr. Gainsborough hesitated for a second and then went to the easel, pulling off the cloth with a flourish. “It is unfinished, as I am sure you will appreciate,” he said.

  It was an almost full-length portrait of a handsome gentleman in a pale-pink silk jacket leaning proudly against a rock, with a classical landscape in the distance. The figure was striking enough, but it was the foliage in the foreground, particularly the ivy growing across the rock, that caught Anna’s eye.

  “It is marvelous, sir,” she said quietly. “I have long held your portraiture in the highest regard. But I have to confess that it is your depictions of landscapes and nature that I most admire.”

  Mr. Gainsborough, so stiff and formal during the earlier discussion, seemed suddenly to become animated. “I am happy to hear this, madam, for it is that which I most enjoy painting. Nature is my recreation. I find it a relaxation from the disciplined focus required for depicting the variations of the human face and form.”

  “This man has a very fine face, however. May we inquire who he is?” Joseph asked.

  “It is Joshua Grigby, a lawyer at Gray’s Inn,” he said. “His family is from my own beloved county of Suffolk, where I learned my love of landscape and nature.”

  “You are from Suffolk!” Sarah exclaimed. “My niece is also lately come to the city from that same place.”