Chapter 13

The afternoon passed as though in a dream. Aurelia sketched, and for the most part, Dawson sat still. He was an easy subject, and Aurelia could not help comparing him to Silas, who had complained at her for not working more quickly, even as he had insisted on her making multiple copies of his appearance.

"Am I immortalized yet? No one's ever painted a portrait of me before," Dawson said as Aurelia filled in the details of his eyes.

He was handsome, but his appearance was very different from that of the pale countenances favoured by his English contemporaries. A charcoal sketch could not capture the burnished bronze colour of his skin, though Aurelia hoped she had depicted his weather-beaten face, with its lines on the brow and bushy eyebrows as he would have wanted.

"It's not a portrait, it's just a sketch. But you'll have to have your portrait painted, won't you? All the earls have theirs," Aurelia said, glancing up at the study's walls, where the bookcases were intersected by large frames displaying the past holders of the title, including another portrait of Isaac, glaring down at them.

"Would I have to sit for someone else? They could use your sketch. I'm sure it's good enough – more than good enough. Can I see it now?" he asked, but Aurelia shook her head.

"I need to add the background in first. What background should I draw?" she asked.

She had intended to sketch in the outline of Wimbourne Hall, but Dawson thought for a moment and smiled.

"Cornfields – like in Kentucky. Draw me as though I'm there," he said.

"Oh, but I don't know anything about Kentucky," Aurelia said, for she could not picture anything about America.

"I'll describe it to you. Close your eyes, then you can see it. Imagine a horizon as big as you can, stretching out into an endless sunset. There's an orange glow over the golden cornfields, the crops swaying gently in the breeze. It's late evening, the shadows are lengthening, and you're looking out across the landscape towards a ridge of trees silhouetted against the evening sky. You can feel the warmth on your face, and there's a sweet scent in the air – the smell of wildflowers all around you," Dawson said.

Aurelia smiled. She could picture it just as he described.

"And where are you?" she asked, for there was no one else in her imagining, only the landscape he described.

"All right, picture the fences – long fences stretching out over the prairie. I'm leaning on one of them, grinning at you," he said, and Aurelia laughed.

"I can see you," she said, opening her eyes and looking down at the charcoal sketch before her.

His description fitted the sketch, and now she could easily imagine him there, leaning on the fence with his customary grin.

"And can I see me?" he asked as Aurelia put the final touches to the sketch.

She felt suddenly embarrassed, fearing he would not like the picture of himself and remembering her sister's words regarding her talent – or lack thereof.

"All right," Aurelia replied, and now she turned the sketchbook to show him, blushing as he rose to his feet to examine her efforts more closely.

"I think it's wonderful," he exclaimed, clapping his hands in delight.

"Do you really mean it? I wasn't sure …" she said, but now he took the sketchbook from her and held it up to examine it.

"It's perfect. You've got a remarkable talent, Aurelia. I really mean it. You should pursue it. You really should," he said.

Aurelia had never considered herself to have any particular talent. She enjoyed sketching, but as for pursuing it further …

"Women don't do such things," she said, and Dawson groaned.

"Nonsense. Women can do anything they want if they put their minds to it. It's society – all your foolish rules – that says women can't do this or that. In Kentucky, a woman's horizon doesn't need to be limited in the same way. Look at Roxanna," Dawson replied.

Aurelia nodded. He was right, of course. A woman's horizon did not need to be limited, yet the world she inhabited put limitations on every aspect of a woman's life – where she went, who she went there with, and what she did and did not do. Even who she married. It was a sad but true fact, and Aurelia knew she could never be like Roxanna.

"You're right. I know you're right, but it's not as simple as that, is it?" Aurelia replied.

Dawson groaned.

"But it could be, Aurelia. You've got a real talent here. I mean it. You should be proud of yourself. You should be an artist," he said, holding up her sketch to examine it further.

Aurelia was proud of herself. But to hear another person say so – to hear Dawson say so – gave her own feelings a greater sense of meaning. He was kind – more than that – he was encouraging, and even though Aurelia knew she could never be or do what he was suggesting, it was still good of him to say she could.

"Well, I'm glad you like it," Aurelia said, and Dawson nodded.

"I like it very much. I only wish I could draw you in return, though I don't think I'd ever be able to capture you … truly," he said, and Aurelia blushed as she held his gaze and smiled at him.

He stepped forward and placed his hand on her arm. A shiver ran through her at his touch, even as she knew it was hardly appropriate.

"I …" she began, looking up at him, as still he held her gaze, leaning forward as …

"I just can't believe it. Why do I have to ask your permission to go on a picnic with Reuben? I can go on a picnic with whoever I … oh, Aurelia, I didn't realize you were here," Roxanna said, bursting through the door as though in a whirlwind.

Aurelia stepped back, embarrassed at the thought of what the scene must look like, as Dawson stepped back, too, and cleared his throat.

"What's … all this, Roxanna?" he asked, and Roxanna shook her head.

"It doesn't matter – it's just these foolish societal rules. No offence, Aurelia. Apparently, you're my ward, and so whatever I do has to be with your permission," Roxanna said, shaking her head.

Dawson smiled.

"Well, you have my permission for whatever you want to do," he replied, and Roxanna rolled her eyes.

"It's the fact I've got to ask. Who makes these rules? Oh, but it doesn't matter. How are you, Aurelia? I'm sorry, was I interrupting something?" she asked, as the merest hint of a suggestive smile played across her face.

"No, not at all. I was just leaving," Aurelia said, for she felt embarrassed at how close she had come to …

In truth, she did not know what she had come close to or if there was anything to come close to. But the look in Dawson's eyes had said something more than words ever could – was there an attraction there? The thought of it made her blush.

"Do you have to?" Dawson asked, and Aurelia nodded.

"Yes, I … I just remembered I offered to help my sister with some embroidery. I quite lost track of time. You can keep the sketch – please, I insist," Aurelia said, and Dawson smiled.

"Thank you – and I hope we'll see one another soon. I'm sure there's still lots I need to learn – more lessons to be taught," he said, and Aurelia nodded.

"Absolutely," she replied, and still feeling embarrassed, she hurried out of the drawing room.

Aurelia had not meant to come so close to whatever they had come close to. She felt confused about her feelings towards Dawson, torn between his obvious charms and her love for Silas.

The afternoon they had spent together had been pleasant – more than pleasant; it had been a delight. He had been the perfect sitter, and Aurelia had been pleased with the sketch of him she had produced, but beyond that, she found herself wondering what might have been had Roxanna not interrupted them.

"But I couldn't betray Silas," she told herself, even as their encounter in the shrubbery had left her with many unanswered questions.

Taking a deep breath, Aurelia reminded herself she was being foolish. She had staked too much on the fact of her feelings for Silas, and to betray them over a foolish whim was nothing short of ludicrous.

"And that's the end of the matter," Aurelia told herself as she adjusted her bonnet in the hallway mirror.

But just as she was about to leave, the drawing room door opened, and Roxanna appeared, holding a book in her hand.

"Oh, Aurelia, I'm glad I caught you," she said, hurrying over to Aurelia who looked at her in surprise.

"Roxanna – is everything all right?" she said, for she wondered if Roxanna was about to attempt to play matchmaker …

Roxanna sighed, slipping her arm into Aurelia's and drawing her to one side.

"I'm sorry if this is awkward for you, Aurelia, but … well … I was hoping you might be willing to talk to your brother," she said.

Aurelia looked at her in surprise. She knew Reuben and Roxanna had become friends and her brother had intentions towards her. To see them together, Aurelia had assumed Roxanna felt the same …

"Reuben? About what?" Aurelia asked, and Roxanna blushed.

"Oh … he's lovely, and he sent me this book," she said, holding up a volume of poetry Aurelia recognized from her brother's collection.

"Do you want me to return it?" Aurelia asked, but Roxanna shook her head.

"No, it's just … well, I don't want him to have unrealistic hopes, that's all. I like Reuben. He's a good man, but I'm planning my grand tour. I'm not ready for … well, what he might hope I am. I don't want him to get the wrong idea, that's all," Roxanna said.

Aurelia nodded. Reuben could get carried away when it came to romance. He had fallen in love before and had found himself disappointed – heartbroken when the woman he had declared his love for had turned out to be in love with someone else …

"I see. Well, I can talk to him, yes. He'll be upset, of course," she said, and Roxanna nodded.

"I know he will. I don't want to hurt him. And it's not that I don't have feelings for him. But he's got his responsibilities here, and I don't want to be tied down. I'm a free spirit, Aurelia," Roxanna said.

Aurelia admired Roxanna for just that fact. They were so different, and the thought of setting out on a grand adventure – alone – filled Aurelia with awe.

"I'll talk to him. He's been … hurt before," Aurelia said.

With other women, she would not have dared to be so open about her brother's romantic failings. But Roxanna was not like other women – not like other English women, at least.

"And I don't want to hurt him now. That's why I'm nipping the rose in the bud, so to speak," she said, and Aurelia nodded.

"I'll talk to him," she replied, and saying goodbye, she left the house, her mind filled with thoughts of what the afternoon had brought and what might have been…