Love's Portrait

by Anna Larner

  “That’s the only explanation that makes any sense to me.”

  Molly looked at the wrapped painting. But then Georgina hadn’t been in contact—what if this wasn’t love but just sorry and goodbye? And how could you love someone and say the things she did?

  “Did she mention me when you saw her today?”

  Fran shook her head. “No, but I got the impression she wanted to ask after you but was hesitant to. Instead she apologized to me for putting me out. I thanked her for what she’d done, and she just nodded. I think she was a little embarrassed. And then some silly man kept disturbing us to ask her questions about wine, so I left her to it. You never know—she may call in before she goes back to London.”

  “She’s going back today?”

  “The house was certainly very empty. She kept saying yesterday that she had to get on. I rather got the impression she was trying to get things over and done with.”

  Molly bit her lip. “Right.”

  “I’ll cover for you if you want to try and catch her.”

  Molly shook her head. “I’m not ready to. I need to think about things. Anyway, playing truant in the first hour of my reinstatement to see a woman I’ve been forbidden from seeing may be just a little bit risky.”

  Fran smiled. “You don’t say. Don’t overthink things, though. Sometimes things are just as they seem.”

  If that was the case, then things couldn’t be clearer, could they? Georgina was continuing to empty her father’s house, which was now for sale. She had obviously decided that Edith’s painting would be best cared for by the museum, and as far as Molly was concerned, Georgina had given Molly what she wanted. Was it an apology of sorts, or an easing of conscience? Either way it was likely that as far as Georgina would be concerned, everything was concluded.

  “Oh, Molly. Wonderful, you’ve arrived so promptly and in jeans.” Evelyn appeared at the doorway, not quite managing to venture in.

  Molly quickly stood. “I rushed over.”

  “Clearly. Anyway, I’m glad I caught you both. I wanted to let you know that the Wright Foundation has expressed an interest in supporting a project related to identifying histories within the collection that have yet to be revealed.”

  Molly and Fran looked at each other.

  “Minority histories—that sort of thing. Give this some thought, would you. Georgina Wright seems very keen on this. I was surprised to find that her keenness even extended to correcting, as she saw it, omissions in the cataloguing process. A remarkable amount of insight for a banker, wouldn’t you say?”

  Molly looked down at the floor. She could feel Evelyn’s eyes boring into her.

  “Fran will be the lead on this project. Anyway, as you were.” Evelyn turned sharply and walked away. The sound of Evelyn’s heels tapping against the floor disappeared down the corridor.

  Could she be dreaming? Georgina had raised all of Molly’s concerns with Evelyn and she was planning future projects with the museum. That didn’t sound like goodbye.

  * * *

  Georgina sat on the bottom but one step of her father’s stairs. It was five thirty. Her things were packed up all around her. Her meetings were completed, and it had been agreed that any tail-end matters she would deal with from London. It was hard to imagine that this was likely the last time she would sit on this step or make coffee in the kitchen or bend at the mat for the post or walk through the front doorway to be greeted by the imposing familiarity of it all. It was hard to imagine that the end could come and feel so small. All that was left to do was stand and walk a few paces and open the front door and leave. No one would see this, and no one would care.

  Certainly not Molly, it would seem. Georgina checked her phone for one last time, suppressing the sensation that she was a hopeless fool for imagining that Molly could forgive her.

  It was time to leave because wasn’t that what happened when there was no reason to stay?

  Autumn 1840

  City Walk, Leicester

  “So what do you think? Shall we buy it?” William looked at the house, his face lit with excitement.

  Josephine stared up at the beautiful building with its grand and yet refined exterior. She glanced along the tree-lined promenade towards the south fields and the race course. “Can we afford it? And what about the new railway line?”

  “You’re not to worry about such things.” William rested both hands on her shoulders. “But yes, my client list is full, and your father has agreed to help us, should we need it. And really, in spite of the railway, City Walk is considered to be a most desirable residential area.”

  “You’ve spoken with my father?”

  “Yes, of course. We have agreed that this could be a fresh start. It has broken both our hearts, Jo, to see you so sad for so long.” William reached for Josephine’s hand and held it against his heart. “And we have so much to be thankful for. This is the place where our family can take root and where generations of Wrights can thrive and flourish.”

  Josephine watched the future glint in William’s eyes, like half-buried gold, as he stared wide eyed at the house.

  “Yes, this is the place. I shall ask for a viewing.” He turned to Josephine and said with a voice thick with emotion, “Let’s bring Adelaide, even James—we shall make our final decision as a family.”

  Were decisions hers any more? Had they ever been hers? An unblemished reputation of good works, a husband of standing, a beautiful family, and now a home of stature. It was what she had chosen. Wasn’t it? This should have been a day of such excitement with the thrill of her future beating alive in her heart. But all Josephine could think about was that this was what she had chosen over Edith, over love. This life, her future, felt so empty in comparison to her time with Edith, which had felt so full. Love would have been enough. Edith had been right. And now everything in all its perfection felt so wrong.

  With her head down, Georgina hurried past the museum with her eyes fixed at the leaf-trodden ground.

  “Georgina!”

  She slowed her pace in surprise. She stopped and turned with her eyes seeking after the sound as if to catch it. There was something in the tone of the shout, something fervent, that it was almost like Georgina was lost and the person shouting was trying to find her.

  “Georgina, wait!” Molly shouted again as she ran towards Georgina, stopping with a breathless gasp in front of her. “Are you leaving?”

  “I don’t know.” Georgina shook her head. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing any more. All I know, all I can think about, is how sorry I am. I can’t believe how I have hurt you, the terrible things I said.”

  “I hadn’t known what to do myself. And all I know is how panicked I felt when I saw you leaving.” Molly raised her palm to Georgina’s cheek, resting it briefly there. “Does knowing that help at all?”

  Georgina nodded and then looked up at Evelyn’s office, at the movement of a shadow, at the sense of her. Molly turned to look as well, dropping her hand from Georgina’s cheek.

  “Thank you for going in to battle with her, for Edith, for me,” Molly said.

  “That’s just it—I would do anything for you.”

  Molly’s eyes filled with tears. “Then don’t leave, as least not tonight.” Molly inched the bags from Georgina’s hold to carry them for her and gestured in the direction of George Wright’s home.

  Georgina followed her gaze. “It’s empty.”

  Molly shook her head. “It won’t be empty. We’ll be there.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Without turning on the light, Molly stood in the sitting room looking around at the space furnished only with echoes. The light and movement from the promenade cast shadows onto the bare walls. The features of the room, which were once so familiar with their soft curves and angles, had become foreign, exiled from the context of the life they were once part of.

  Only a beanbag resting in place of the armchair offered a suggestion of life. Molly turned in the direction of the kitchen at
the sound of the boiler firing and of the pop of the cork from a wine bottle.

  “The beanbag’s a nice quirky touch to welcome the new buyer.” Molly joined Georgina in the kitchen.

  “What? Oh, yeah.” Georgina shook her head and ripped at the tape securing one of the boxes set aside for charity. She pulled out two glasses and filled them with wine. “There was a brief moment where I wondered whether I could take it on the train with me, but thankfully sense prevailed. Here.” Georgina handed Molly her glass and leaned against the worktop opposite. “I kept a couple of bottles for myself from the wine merchant’s grasp.”

  “Good idea. Thank you.” Molly rested her wine on the counter and climbed up onto a stool. “And I see Penguin’s still coming in useful.”

  “Oh God, yes, I’m sorry, I should have returned it to you. I promise it wasn’t going to charity—there’s no way I was letting it go.” Georgina hung her head. “It was all I had of you.” She looked up at Molly with her eyes swimming with tears. “I can’t tell you how ashamed I am by my outburst and by my complete inability to see sense. But most of all I shudder at the thought of the things I said to you. In fact I don’t deserve for you to be talking to me.”

  Molly shook her head. “I want to talk to you, and I can see how sorry you are. And in fact what you didn’t deserve was what happened to you at the opening. I’m not surprised you lost it—anyone would have done.” Molly paused. “It’s just, well, I thought…”

  “You thought what? Tell me, please.”

  “I thought you knew me,” Molly said. “More than that, though. I’m not sure I know how to explain. You see, for me everything about you felt right. When we kissed, it was like your lips were somehow meant for mine, it was so…I hoped you felt the same about me, and for a while I thought you did.” Molly fell silent with her gaze resting on her hands clasped together in her lap.

  Georgina joined Molly, taking a seat on the stool next to hers. She rested her arm across the worktop, closing the gap between them. “I did. I do, Molly. Please believe me.”

  Molly nodded. “I want to.”

  “Then I have a confession.”

  Molly’s stomach tightened at the word confession.

  “I’d seen you many times in the square before we met.” Georgina glanced out to the hallway that led to the promenade and the square beyond. “You were the beautiful woman who in those last few weeks of my father’s life I found myself looking out for.”

  “You did?” Molly tried to think of herself in the square and tried to imagine what Georgina might have seen and what she might have thought of her.

  Georgina’s cheeks flushed with her confession. “Yes. One day you’d be feeding the birds or looking up into the sky. The next you’d be chatting away to a random person or Fran, of course. One time even”—Georgina smiled—“you were sitting in a circle with a group of schoolchildren drawing daffodils. They were utterly captivated by you.”

  “I remember the daffodil day. It had been really wintery weather until then.”

  “Yes, that’s right. My father had me open his bedroom window to let in the air. I brought up from his office the photo—you know, the one that he’d taken of his garden—and hung it in his bedroom so he could see it. He died a few days later.”

  Molly rested her hand on Georgina’s knee. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be, because it was the sight of you that brought me such comfort, and just the thought of you now keeps me believing that the world isn’t entirely bad. So”—Georgina’s voice broke—“not only does everything about you feel right, but you fill my life with hope. Hope and joy.”

  Molly’s voice caught in turn as she swallowed down the emotion tightening her throat. “You know, when I first saw you, I swear my heart stopped beating.” Her cheeks tingled with the memory. “You were so striking. You were stunning. I almost didn’t think you were real. I’ve never wanted to reach out and touch someone so much.” Molly shook her head. “From that moment I couldn’t get you out of my head. And as we began to spend time together, I couldn’t wait to see you again, and then I swear I began to miss you even before we parted. I kept hoping you’d kiss me. Willing you to. So when you did…Thank God for Edith’s painting and for the Wright room for keeping you here.”

  “You kept me here. I returned each time for you,” Georgina said with a calm and certain tone. “The painting was the excuse. You were the reason. You will always be the reason for me.”

  Molly struggled to say, “No one’s ever said things like that to me before.”

  “And I’ve never cared about anyone enough to want to say them.” Without another word Georgina kissed Molly with such urgency and passion that it left Molly in no doubt of the integrity of Georgina’s words and the conviction of her heart.

  Georgina’s kisses were perfect, just like everything about her. Her lips, soft and urging, left Molly desperate for the taste of her, for the feel of her, craving Georgina with the madness of addiction. She broke away to ask, “We could go to my place? Now. If you wanted?”

  “Yes,” Georgina said without a moment’s hesitation. “Or…” Georgina glanced out into the hall. She shook her head. “No, it’s a crazy idea.”

  “I’m a big fan of crazy, just so you know.” Molly squeezed at Georgina’s hand, encouraging her to finish her thought.

  Georgina laughed. “Okay, well, it’s just…I have a bed, not that I’m suggesting or indeed presuming—”

  A bed? “What here? Really?”

  Georgina nodded. “I should add it’s the bed from my childhood. It’s not quite a single and not quite a double, that kind of thing.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I should probably add it creaks terribly.”

  “I still don’t care,” Molly said, her heart drumming with excitement.

  Georgina’s eyes sparkled in the brightness of her broad smile. “And I’d need to retrieve the sheets, pillows, and duvet from the charity bag.”

  Molly laughed. “Fine. I’ll grab the wine. You grab the linen. Meet you up there.”

  Molly waited in Georgina’s room lit only by the landing light. Even though the space was, all bar the bed, emptied of its furniture, Molly could still feel the presence of the teenage Georgina.

  Had her father kept the room as Georgina had left it? Maybe with its posters of pop stars or a corkboard with its rash of pins hung above a desk and stickers perhaps on the wardrobe peeled off, the torn strips of sticky white paper left behind. And had a favourite teddy, love-worn and dusty, waited on the bed in vain for the return of the child who had loved it so?

  Molly sighed at the thought of Georgina finding sanctuary in these four walls, distressed at her mother leaving, mistrusting and hating the world beyond.

  She moved towards the window, her gaze tracing the curve of the crescent moon. A long garden stretched out into the darkness of early evening with its shape formed of shadows caught by the moonlight. It was grand and formal, and just like the house, silent and withdrawn with winter and no doubt grief.

  Molly imagined Georgina as a young woman looking out from this window. Had she dreamed of her future and of who she might become and who she might one day—

  “No curtains, I’m afraid.” Georgina leaned against the doorframe, her body silhouetted in the landing light.

  “Right, noted,” Molly said, feeling slightly caught off guard at Georgina’s arrival. “I was just picturing you when you were young being in this room.”

  Georgina stared into the space of her youth. Her attention seemed to have been caught by the light from the hallway which fell as it would likely have always fallen in long rectangles against the same wall. “My parents would leave the landing light on for me because I couldn’t fall asleep in the dark,” Georgina said, her voice hazy in the mist of remembering.

  Molly moved to Georgina, reaching for her hand. “I won’t let the monsters get you.”

  Georgina smiled. “Thank you. Although it was a long time ago.” She briefly
looked away to the bed, and when she turned back to her, Georgina’s eyes seemed to sparkle with more than just moonlight. “I’m all grown-up now.”

  “I can see that,” Molly said. “You did a good job of growing up, by the way. Perfect body.” Molly smoothed her hands along Georgina’s shoulders with her fingers catching at her collar. “Perfect features.” Molly lightly kissed Georgina’s cheeks. “Perfect everything. You’re so unbelievably beautiful.”

  Her thoughts, let alone her words, evaporated into heady mists of arousal as Georgina leaned in to kiss her neck, the warmth of her cheeks pressing against Molly’s skin.

  Molly held her close to her with her palms flat against the top of Georgina’s back as Georgina’s hair softly fell against her.

  Georgina then awkwardly, with frustration it seemed, pulled at the sleeves of her blazer in an attempt to release her arms.

  “The curse of the tailored suit, eh?” Molly teased, adding, “Let me.” Molly slipped Georgina’s blazer off her shoulders, her sleeves unrolling from her arms, leaving the blazer to fall to the floor. In a seamless motion Molly ran her fingers down Georgina’s shirtsleeves, pausing to unfix the button at the cuffs.

  “Wait, just a sec.” Georgina switched the light off in the hallway, leaving the moonlight to light her way back to Molly.

  “Good thinking.” Molly reached out her hand, guiding Georgina to sit with her on the bed. She turned her attention to the line of shirt buttons rising and falling against Georgina’s chest. She slowly released the top button. Georgina took a deep breath with her breasts rising against the edge of Molly’s hands.

  “Tell me if you don’t want to,” Molly whispered. “If you’re not ready.”

  “I’m so ready.” Georgina drew Molly ever closer. Their bodies pressed against each other. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

  Molly swallowed down the overwhelming sense of relief at finding the woman she’d longed for was here with her now saying the words she once could only dream of hearing.