The Portrait

by Joan Wolf

  I walked to one of the windows, looked out and saw a stag drinking out of the lake, his antlers silhouetted against the red-gold sky. It was beautiful.

  The housekeeper had walked to a door in one of the walls and, as I turned, she opened it, smiled at me and said, “The earl requested I put you in the Red Room, Lady Isabel, so your maid could sleep in the attached dressing room.”

  I was relieved to know Elisabeth would be so close to me, and we both went to inspect her new quarters.

  The dressing room was bigger than our sitting room at home. It held a bed, a table with a washbasin, a dresser, a big mirror and a rack for hanging clothes. I looked over my shoulder at Elisabeth and said in French, “What do you think, Lisa?”

  “I like it,” she replied.

  I smiled at the housekeeper. “Thank you, Mrs. Adams. This will do nicely.”

  The woman nodded. Her gray hair was neatly parted in the middle and pulled back into a bun. She was one of those women who could have been anything from 40 to 60. She had a pleasant face with a small nose and kind brown eyes.

  She said, “In half an hour a footman will come to show Lady Isabel to the drawing room and Miss Lagasse to my rooms. I will leave you now to tidy up.”

  I said, “Thank you,” and Elisabeth said, “Merci.”

  The housekeeper led us back into my bedroom then turned to face me. Her smile was a benediction. “Welcome home, my lady,” she said. “We are all so very glad to see you.”

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. This wasn’t my home. It would never be my home. I managed a nod and she closed the door behind her.

  *

  Both our bags were delivered before Mrs. Adams was all the way down the hall. Other than riding clothes, my wardrobe was minimal. We didn’t live the sort of life that called for a lot of changes of clothes. I did have two nice dresses, which I wore to church. I decided on the blue muslin, and Elisabeth fastened the back for me. There was a cheval mirror in the room. and I went to take a look.

  As the dress was for church, it had a modest neckline and sleeves. The soft material was gathered under my breasts and fell to the tops of my shoes in simple but graceful folds. I never wore any jewelry; we spent our money on horses. Elisabeth had just told me to sit in front of the dressing table when a knock sounded on the door. She went to answer it and I heard a male voice say, “I am to escort Lady Isabel to the dining room and Miss Lagasse to Mrs. Adams.”

  Elisabeth’s English was good enough to understand this and she said, “You wait. We come.”

  “Certainly,” the voice said. “I’ll be right outside.”

  Elisabeth closed the door and almost ran over to where I was still seated. “We will have to do it a la jeune fille,” she said. “There is no time for a fashionable chignon.”

  “Just do it the way you do when I am performing,” I said soothingly. “That takes no time at all.”

  She muttered something under her breath and picked up the hairbrush she had unpacked from the bag she was carrying. She brushed out my hair and pulled it back into a simple bun on the nape of my neck. It looked fine and so I told her.

  I stood up, drew a long breath, and we went to the door.

  A footman dressed in blue and silver livery awaited us, and we followed him down the stairs. At the bottom we turned left then stopped in front of a very large room that I saw had paintings on the ceiling. “This is the drawing room, my lady,” the footman said. He waited for me to go in.

  A lump of anxiety was knotting my stomach, and I was angry with myself for feeling nervous. What did I care what these people thought of me? This was not my world. It would never be my world. I would stay for the time Papa had agreed to and then I would go back to France where I belonged. I stuck my chin in the air and walked into the room.

  Chapter Six

  I flicked my eyes quickly around the huge room and was stunned by the impression of enormous wealth. A group of people were gathered around an enormous marble chimney piece and I stepped onto the room’s thick carpet and walked slowly in their direction. Everyone’s head turned at the same time to look at me.

  The earl had been standing in front of the fireplace and he covered the ground between us with long strides. “Isabel,” he said with a smile that would melt lead. “Come and allow me to introduce you.”

  He was wearing a black coat with tails, buff knee breeches, white stockings and black shoes. He looked very different from the man I had ridden with all day, which didn’t help my nervousness.

  Instead of taking my arm, he took my hand in his large, warm grasp and led me across miles of carpet to the fireplace. I curled my fingers around his so he wouldn’t desert me. At last we reached the circle of uncomfortable-looking gilt chairs occupied by people dressed as if they expected to go to a ball. The elderly woman, whom I supposed must be the great aunt the earl had told me of, glanced from me, to the portrait over the chimneypiece, then back to me again. I looked at the picture myself.

  It was the same one the earl had showed Papa and me in London. He must have had it sent back here. I stared once again at the gray-eyed woman in the portrait. Her face might have my eyes and features, but there was an air of arrogance, of superiority, about this woman, an air that the world was hers for the taking. I looked at this proof of my ancestry and wanted to take a knife to it.

  “You could have sat for that portrait,” someone said, and I tore my eyes away from the portrait that had destroyed my life.

  The earl said, “Aunt Augusta, may I present Lady Isabel Lewins.” He looked down at me and said in a gentle voice, “Lady Augusta is your mother’s aunt, Isabel. She is your great-aunt.”

  He squeezed my hand lightly, dropped it and motioned me forward with his eyes. I went to stand before the woman who was sitting ramrod straight in the gilt chair closest to the lit fire, thought briefly that perhaps I should curtsey, banished the notion and instead held out my hand and said steadily, “How do you do.”

  She took my hand and held it between her vein-ridged old ones. “Dear God,” she said in a shaking voice. She looked at the earl. “I didn’t know if I should believe you, Leo, when you wrote you had found Maria’s lost child. But she is the exact image of Beatrice.” She turned back to me and said in a voice that trembled, “Welcome home, my child. Welcome home!”

  A short silence fell. She was probably waiting for me to say I was happy to be here. But I wasn’t happy to be here, and I wasn’t going to say I was.

  The earl said smoothly, “And this is my brother, Robert Sommer, and his wife, Margaret.”

  I offered my hand to Robert Sommer, who had stood when I came in. He was a pale replica of his brother, with hair so blond it was almost white, and light blue eyes. His smile looked warm and genuine as he greeted me.

  “How do you do,” I said again.

  Margaret Sommer was a beauty with red-gold hair and green eyes. She greeted me politely and I made a polite reply.

  Next came Roger Lavery, the earl’s cousin. According to the earl, he had gambled away all his money and was living at Camden Hall because he had nowhere else to go. He had dark red hair with a foxlike face to match. He looked me up and down, smiled and said, “So pleased to meet you, Cousin. I hope we’re going to be friends.”

  I had seen that sort of look before and I narrowed my eyes.

  A bell sounded from the doorway, saving me the necessity of replying, and I turned to see Hobbs standing there. “Dinner is served, my lord,” he intoned in a voice so deep and solemn he might have been announcing the Pope.

  Everyone stood up.

  Aunt Augusta said, “I think it would be appropriate for you to take Isabel in, Leo.”

  His name was Leo. Leo the lion, I thought. The name was appropriate.

  He said, “How thoughtful, Aunt Augusta,” then, to his brother, “Rob, will you take Aunt Augusta in?”

  “Of course.”

  The earl took my arm, and to my astonishment, we proceeded to line up as if we were in a parade. We
actually did parade into the dining room, where filled soup plates had already been placed on a magnificent mahogany table. The earl escorted me to the seat on his right, and Lady Augusta sat across from me. Robert and his wife sat across from each other and Roger sat alone. Hobbs was posted next to a side table that held decanters of wine, and two footmen stood with him.

  Did they do this every night? Everyone was beautifully dressed, the men in perfectly cut black evening clothes and Aunts Augusta and Margaret in dresses that put my simple blue muslin to shame. The footmen were resplendent in satin livery and white wigs. I looked at the soup that was sitting in front of me and my stomach quivered with hunger. I picked up my spoon.

  The soup was broth. It was also thin, tasteless and lukewarm. I wondered how long it had sat on the table waiting for us to parade in. I managed a few sips. At home our soup is hearty and always, always hot. Nobody I knew would dream of serving lukewarm soup.

  One of the footmen left his post to remove the soup plates from the table. The second footman took a platter of food from a third footman who had brought it from the kitchen, or so I supposed.

  Footman number two was circling the table, offering the platter to each of the diners. I took a piece off the platter planning to ask for more if I liked it, and when I inspected it more closely, I saw it was fish. I love fish. I took a bite. It was overcooked. I took two tiny bites to be polite and waited patiently until the appropriate footman came and took it away.

  The vegetables were on the table and when the earl held a bowl of carrots for me, I took them eagerly. My life might be in tatters, but I was hungry.

  The carrots had been overcooked until there was virtually no taste left in them. The potatoes were better. It’s hard to ruin potatoes.

  The next course offered by one of the footman was a plate of cutlets. I shook my head. I had no idea what they were, and I wasn’t inclined to find out.

  After the cutlets had been removed, another footman placed a large roasted turkey in front of the earl. I could feel myself perk up. I allowed the footman to place several slices on my plate and—to my astonishment—they were delicious. I ate them all and asked for more.

  The earl, who had been keeping up a conversation with Lady Augusta, turned to me and said humorously, “Thank God you like something, Isabel.”

  It’s the only food that’s been properly cooked. I thought it but I didn’t say it. I merely returned his smile and took another forkful of turkey.

  Once the dessert had been served—a very good apple pie—the earl rose and said, “I believe that in honor of Isabel’s arrival we should all return to the drawing room together.”

  I looked at him in bewilderment. Did the English usually go their separate ways after they ate their very formal meal? At home Papa and I gathered for dinner around our old dining room table in front of a roaring fire to eat the delicious cooking of our housekeeper, Estelle. We rarely ate alone. There was always someone from the circus visiting, and we talked over ideas for new acts and joked and laughed and drank wine and stayed at the table for hours. It was much nicer than this tableau the English performed at dinner. It was…home.

  We all stood and suddenly I had had enough. I put my hand on the earl’s sleeve and said, “My lord, will you mind if I retire? It has been a long day and I am tired.”

  “Of course, you must go to bed if you are tired, Isabel,” he said immediately. “I know…” he frowned. “I know this isn’t easy for you.” His blue eyes suddenly glinted. “Would you like to go for a ride before breakfast tomorrow? I can show you around the park.”

  Would I like to get out of this house and into the open air? “Oh yes,” I said. Then I remembered, and sadly shook my head. “I want to give Alonzo a day of rest after the long trip yesterday.”

  “Isabel.” He held my eyes. “I have twenty horses eating their heads off in my stable. I’m sure we can find something for you to ride.”

  I felt tears sting behind my eyes. This will not do. I straightened my shoulders, thanked him, and agreed when he told me to meet him in the library at 7:00 a.m.

  Chapter Seven

  Elisabeth was waiting for me. She undid my dress, hung it in the mahogany wardrobe and brushed out my hair. Her touch was so loving, so maternal, that I almost begged her to sleep in the huge four-poster with me. There was certainly enough room for two people.

  But I needed to be strong for the both of us, so I kissed her good night and watched as she disappeared through the door that led into her little room. I climbed into the big bed and thought with longing of my bed at home.

  Everything in this house was alien. These people who were supposed to be my family, were total strangers. They lived a way of life I would never approve of or understand. At dinner Lady Augusta had spoke of presenting me to the Queen to validate my social status. What had she been talking about? I was a prisoner here for six months and then I was going home.

  I was very tired, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I lay in that big bed, in that huge room, listening to the silence of that enormous house. At home, if I were sleepless, I would go to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk. But here, in this huge palace, I was as trapped as a rabbit in a cage.

  I must have fallen asleep eventually because I was awakened by the sound of my door opening. I sat up with a jerk, pulling the soft wool blanket up to my chin.

  A girl in a maid’s uniform was in my room. “I’m sorry if I startled you, Lady Isabel,” she said, “but his lordship told me you were to go riding with him this morning.”

  The sun was coming up as I sorted through the things Elisabeth had unpacked yesterday. The maid turned from the fire she had been making up to say, “Do you need some help dressing, my lady?”

  “No, thank you,” I said. “If you have finished with the fire you may leave.”

  The maid jumped to her feet. “Of course, my lady. I didn’t mean to be in your way.”

  She looked to be about my age, and I felt ashamed I had been so curt. “I’m sorry if I sounded abrupt,” I said in my usual voice. “What is your name?”

  “Mary Ann, my Lady. I will be making up your fire and cleaning your room.”

  I let out a long breath and said humorously, “Does that mean I don’t have to make the bed myself?”

  “No, no, Lady Isabel. I will make the bed for you!” Mary Ann looked absolutely horrified.

  We chatted for a few more minutes, then she left and I began to dress in the riding clothes I had unearthed. I had put on my breeches and overskirt when Elisabeth’s door opened and she came in.

  “You should have waked me,” she said reproachfully.

  “Don’t be silly. I can put on my own riding clothes.”

  She walked to the dressing table and picked up a brush. “Your hair has come out of its plait. Come, let me fix it for you.”

  Elisabeth smoothed out my hair then tied it at the nape of my neck with a blue ribbon.

  I said, “I’m supposed to meet the earl in the library, but I don’t know where it is.”

  “Someone will be downstairs to show you.” She smiled, kissed me on the cheek and said, “Have a nice ride.”

  I grinned at her. The thought of going to the stables instead of meeting the family again had cheered me up.

  A footman was in the hall downstairs and he was happy to escort me to the library, which lay off the hallway beyond the drawing room. When I peeked in from the hallway, I saw the first room in this enormous house that I liked. It actually looked comfortable. Cushioned sofas and chairs were scattered about, as were an assortment of various-size tables. A thick rug covered the floor, and shelves of books lined the walls.

  The earl was standing behind a large desk looking down at a paper in his hand. His head lifted when I came in. I stopped in the center of the rug and turned in a slow pirouette, looking at the four book-lined walls. “Do you know how many books are here?”

  “They number several thousand I believe.”

  “Goodness.” I began to walk toward him.
“I won’t ask if you’ve read them all.”

  “Thank you,” he returned emphatically. “Everyone else who comes in here for the first time always asks that question.”

  “And what do you answer?” I inquired.

  “I always say that I have.”

  I laughed.

  He came around the desk and looked me up and down. “I have to admit I wondered what kind of riding clothes you wore,” he said. “I just couldn’t see you in a sidesaddle.”

  I looked down at my outfit. In a show I always wore a uniform in the style of St. Cyr, but to ride out in public I wore men’s breeches and high boots with a skirt over them. The skirt was split in the middle to accommodate my riding astride. It achieved modesty because it covered my legs.

  I said, “To ride properly one has to have two legs on the horse. A whip cannot replace a leg.”

  “I agree. Come let’s walk down to the stable. I told Stoddard to have Gypsy ready for you. She’s a thoroughbred mare, and she can be a bit of a handful, but I think she’ll behave for you. She’s one of my favorite rides.”

  “If I am riding your mare, then who are you riding?”

  “My old gray gelding, Silver Boy. He’s almost twenty but he’s perfectly healthy and I know he’ll enjoy an outing.”

  We left the house and began to walk along a wide path that led through a flower garden that would be magnificent when all its buds burst into bloom. A stone fountain stood in its middle, with the statue of a maiden pouring water into an ewer. As the water overflowed the ewer it splashed into the fountain.

  “I like your fountain,” I said.

  He looked down at me and grinned. “I do too. We have other fountains that are considered finer statuary, but I like the simplicity of this one.”

  He looked younger when he smiled like that. I wondered how old he was and so I asked.

  “Very old,” he returned gravely. “I turned thirty my last birthday.”

  He didn’t look thirty to me. The sun had risen above the horizon and the morning sun was warm on my head. With his bright hair and intensely blue eyes, the earl looked like a Viking pirate. No wife had appeared at dinner last night and no one had spoken as if a wife existed. I briefly wondered why. He owned this vast estate. Wouldn’t he want heirs to inherit it?