Chapter Twenty-Two

Twenty-Two

“Mr. Hayes?” Evie said in surprise. She brought her blood bay Spanish stallion, Hephaestus, back down to a trot. “The gentleman who uses a wheeled chair?”

Stella reined in Locket. The mare shook her silvery white head in protest, preferring to continue the spirited gallop that Stella and her two friends had just been enjoying down the length of a secluded avenue on the north side of Hyde Park, far from the intrusion of the less-experienced riders in Rotten Row.

“He mentioned that you’d met before,” Stella said.

“We have.” Evie brushed back one of the curling black feathers of her stylish green felt riding hat. It was made to match the green of her habit—a masterpiece of tailoring that hugged her voluptuous figure in all the best ways. It had been the first riding costume her husband had made for her. “Mr. Hayes was staying with Mr. and Mrs. Finchley in the autumn, at their house in Half Moon Street. I was introduced to him on one of the evenings Mr. Malik and I went to dine.”

Julia slowed her ebony gelding, Cossack. Like Evie and Stella, she wore an immaculately fitted habit of Mr. Malik’s design. Rich black in color, with a stylish velvet collar, it complemented the sheen of Cossack’s coat. “Who is Mr. Hayes?” she asked.

“A gentleman artist,” Evie replied.

“One of considerable talent,” Stella said. “Though perhaps not in the fashionable sense.”

“I meant who is he to you ,” Julia amended.

Stella straightened her skirts over her legs. Her own habit was a dark plummy purple, every dart and seam placed with expert intention. It was the same one she’d worn yesterday afternoon when meeting Teddy in Rotten Row. “He’s a friend,” she said.

“Is that all?” Evie inquired.

“As to that…” Stella wavered before confessing. “He may have asked me to model for one of his paintings.”

Julia’s brows flew up. “Did he, by heaven? What extraordinary cheek!” She reduced Cossack to a walk, giving Stella her undivided attention.

Evie did the same with Hephaestus, her hazel eyes alert.

Stella turned Locket in a half circle to quiet her before resuming her place among her friends. “He didn’t mean it as an insult. If you saw his work, you’d recognize it as a singular honor.”

“Still,” Evie said sensibly, “modeling for a painting isn’t advisable, is it? Not when you have your reputation to consider.”

“Artists’ models have a reputation all their own,” Julia added. “And not one any young lady would aspire to.”

“Yes, I realize. Which is precisely why I told him no.” Stella paused. “Initially.”

Julia and Evie both burst into conversation at the same time.

“You haven’t agreed to pose for him!” Julia exclaimed.

“If this is about earning enough money to support yourself—” Evie began.

“It isn’t wholly about money,” Stella cut in. “Though, he did offer to pay me.”

Julia’s mouth fell open. “Good heavens, Stella. How is that not an insult?”

“I doubt he intended it to be,” Evie said. “On the few occasions we met, Mr. Hayes impressed me with his single-minded attention to art. Other concerns didn’t seem to enter his mind.”

“They don’t,” Stella said. “He’s rather plainspoken, in fact. I initially thought it impertinence, but I believe it’s owing to his passion for his work—and to his condition.”

“He had a fever as a boy that paralyzed his legs,” Evie explained to Julia. “That’s what Mr. Malik told me.”

“Not as a young boy,” Stella said. “Indeed, Mr. Hayes hasn’t been in his chair above five years.”

“How old is he?” Julia asked.

“Four-and-twenty,” Stella answered promptly.

Evie and Julia exchanged a glance.

Stella knew what they must be thinking. “We found ourselves in each other’s company a good deal at Sutton Park,” she explained. “And Mr. Hayes is remarkably candid.”

A cool wind rustled the branches of the trees lining the path ahead of them. More riders were approaching, and one of them coming at a quick clip. It was an older man on a dun gelding, posting at an extended trot. He touched his crop to the brim of his tall hat in a silent salute as he rode by.

The three of them inclined their heads in distracted acknowledgment.

“Is that all that inspired such confidences?” Evie asked after the rider had passed. “Mr. Hayes’s propensity for candor?”

“That and his desire to paint me,” Stella said. “He’s invited me to visit his studio on Monday afternoon. I’ve said that I will. He’ll be coming to collect me at the hotel.”

“Goodness,” Julia breathed.

“This begins to sound more and more like a courtship,” Evie said.

“It’s not a courtship, I promise you,” Stella informed them before they could get too carried away. “It’s about art, that’s all. Mr. Hayes is at great pains to convince me to sit for him. There’s nothing else to it.”

“So…” Julia’s brow puckered. “He only sees you in terms of how you might appear on his canvas?”

Stella hesitated before answering. The truth was, she didn’t know how Teddy saw her. All the compliments he’d lavished on her had been in relation to her charms as a potential model.

Except for what he’d written to her about their kiss.

He’d said it was a pleasure of a precious sort. More precious than the pleasures he’d shared with his Parisienne muses.

For whatever that was worth.

“How else should he see me?” she asked at last. “As Evie said, he’s single-minded when it comes to his work.”

“It is about money, then,” Julia pronounced grimly.

“In part, yes.” Stella wasn’t ashamed to own it. “I must find ways of supporting myself. I can’t very well go back to Fostonbury, can I?” She doubted whether Daniel would have her. And if he did permit her to return to the vicarage, he was sure to make her grovel first.

Evelyn frowned in thought. “A modeling fee won’t be enough to keep you. Not unless Mr. Hayes pays you an exorbitant sum.”

“And even if you did accept money from him,” Julia said, “that wouldn’t equate to a career. You would have to be hired again and again by all manner of painters—some of whom aren’t gentlemen, I fear.”

Stella guided Locket to the opposite side of Julia, keeping Julia’s gelding firmly between Locket and Evie’s stallion. Hephaestus rarely made overtures, but when in each other’s presence, the mare and stallion always had an added spring in their steps and a certain quiver at their nostrils. It made each of them even more difficult to control.

“I don’t anticipate making a profession of it,” Stella said. “I intend to find other employment.”

Julia flashed her an exasperated look. “I don’t know why you won’t permit us to help you.”

“Perhaps because our help would make her as dependent on us as she once was on her brother,” Evie suggested.

“Nonsense,” Julia said to Stella. “We’re nothing like your brother. We’re your friends.”

“And I’d like you to remain my friends,” Stella replied. “Which is why I won’t come and live with either of you. Not permanently, anyway.”

“Impermanently, then,” Evie said. “You can lodge with me for a time. You’ll need somewhere to stay once Julia and Captain Blunt return to Yorkshire. Just until you find your footing.”

“Her footing as an artist’s model?” Julia made no effort to hide her misgivings. “I’d far rather you return to Yorkshire with me. Captain Blunt and I would be glad to have you at Goldfinch Hall. You and Locket could stay as long as you like. There’s plenty of room.”

“And I’d be, what?” Stella asked. “Your lady’s companion?”

“You’d be my friend,” Julia said.

“No. Once I moved in with you, I’d be a houseguest. And houseguests aren’t tolerable for any length of time. Not even the ones you like.” Stella gave Julia a faint smile. “I appreciate the invitation all the same.”

Julia huffed. “You’re too proud. That’s the trouble.”

“I’m practical.” Stella set her shoulders. “I shall find a position in London.”

“Doing what?” Julia asked.

Therein lay the question that Stella had been racking her brain to answer ever since she’d left Derbyshire.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m not qualified to be a governess or a teacher. Indeed, aside from riding and sketching, I’m not skilled at anything at all.”

Her friends both protested at once.

“I am good at listening, however,” Stella continued, undeterred. “And I know something about how to comport myself in society. More importantly, I excel at being invisible. All qualities which would make me the perfect lady’s companion.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be a companion!” Julia objected.

“Not to one of my friends.” Stella looked out between Locket’s elegantly curved gray ears in solemn contemplation. “But I believe I could stomach it if it earned me a wage and provided me with room and board.”

“Most of the wage would be your room and board,” Evie pointed out.

“It would be worth it if I could remain in town,” Stella said. “I could house Locket, Crab, and Turvey at a nearby stable out of the income from my inheritance. The rest could be subsidized from what I earned in my new position. My needs wouldn’t be many.”

“To have them met, you’d have to live with a stranger, and be subject to their megrims.” Julia rode up closer to Stella. “Wouldn’t you rather live with one of us? We wouldn’t order you about or make you sleep in a drafty attic room.”

Stella gave her friend another brief smile. Julia’s heart was, as ever, bigger than her head when it came to rational matters. “The difference is, if I was employed, my duties would be firmly delineated. I would know where I stood from one day to the next. I would never have to feel as though I was a burden, or…” Her smile dimmed. “A parasite.”

Again, both her friends spoke in unison.

“You could never be a burden!” Julia cried.

“Did your brother say that to you?” Evie demanded.

“He did,” Stella admitted. Daniel’s unkind remark lingered in her heart, a pernicious bruise that refused to heal. It didn’t just sadden her. It made her doubt her worth.

That was the power of words. Especially harsh words from someone you’d once loved.

All Stella could do was ignore the pain. Ignore the doubt.

She lifted her chin. “It doesn’t matter anymore. That part of my life is over. I must make my own way now, and I’m resolved to do it. It only remains for me to find a suitable employer.” She gave Evie a hopeful look. “Might Mr. Malik know of someone?”

Evie’s brows knit. “He does have rather a lot of wealthy old widows patronizing his shop at present. I could certainly ask him if any of them might require a companion.”

“And I suppose I could ask my parents,” Julia said, rising to the occasion. “They know every medical man in the city, and have countless invalids among their acquaintance. There must be one among their number who’s searching for a companion.”

Stella was both grateful and humbled by her friends’ efforts to rally around her. “Thank you,” she said. “Both of you. You’re splendid, truly.”

Julia brought Cossack up closer to Stella. “Are you sure it’s what you want?”

“It is,” Stella said, more confidently than she felt. Locket pranced beneath her, blowing out air from her trembling nostrils. She sensed Stella’s secret anxiety. There was no way of hiding it. Stella stroked the mare’s neck to soothe her. But only a gallop would suffice.

Hephaestus tossed his head in a wordless expression of agreement. Cossack seconded the sentiment with a swish of his tail.

“Shall we let them have their heads again before it gets too crowded?” Stella asked.

She didn’t wait for her friends to answer. Leaning forward in her leather sidesaddle, she set her left heel lightly against Locket’s side. The mare responded to the cue like a lightning strike from the sky. Any thought that Evie and Julia had about interrogating Stella further about her uncertain future was drowned out by the thundering of hooves as their horses, too, sprang into action.

?Teddy arrived at Brown’s Hotel on Albemarle Street on Monday afternoon at two o’clock precisely. He wore a loose-fitting melton wool driving coat over his dark waistcoat and trousers. He’d driven straight there from Half Moon Street and, on arriving, had left his wagonette in the charge of one of the hotel footmen.

Brown’s was a luxurious establishment—rather like a richly understated country house—all dark paneled walls and elegantly carpeted floors, with fashionable people drifting through the halls. Jennings held the door open for Teddy as Teddy wheeled his chair into the hotel’s public drawing room.

Stella awaited him there, perched on the edge of a lavishly upholstered hotel chair. She wasn’t alone. A lady and gentleman waited with her, seated beside each other on the settee across from her. Stella’s hosts, presumably—Captain and Mrs. Blunt.

Mrs. Blunt was a young woman—blue eyed, raven haired, and petite. Her husband towered over her, dark and forbidding. He had a jagged scar across his face.

Catching sight of Teddy, Stella’s face betrayed a flicker of relief. She stood as he came to join them, smoothing a self-conscious hand over her carriage dress. It was made of plain, tobacco-colored silk, trimmed in a modest flashing of black velvet.

Captain and Mrs. Blunt rose from the settee to stand alongside her.

“Miss Hobhouse,” Teddy said, with an inclination of his head.

“Mr. Hayes.” Stella dropped a brief curtsy. “May I present my friends, Mrs. Blunt and her husband, Captain Blunt?”

“Mr. Hayes.” Captain Blunt bowed.

“Mr. Hayes.” Mrs. Blunt regarded Teddy with frank curiosity. “How do you do?”

“Captain. Ma’am.” Teddy gave an approximation of a bow. “A pleasure.”

Mrs. Blunt stepped closer. “You’re an artist, is that correct? And have come all the way from Paris.”

“By way of Devon,” Teddy replied. “I was lately on the coast visiting friends.”

Captain Blunt frowned. “You’re staying with Mr. Finchley in Half Moon Street?”

“I am, sir,” Teddy said. “I often do when I’m in town. My sister’s husband is something like a brother to Mr. Finchley.”

The answer appeared to satisfy Captain Blunt in some small way that Teddy wasn’t a dangerous fiend preparing to drive Stella straight to ruin. “Mr. Finchley is an excellent fellow,” he said. “My wife and I are both acquainted with him.”

“He’s a first-rate gentleman, I agree.” Teddy looked to Stella. His mouth tugged into a smile. “I trust you’re ready for our drive?”

“Indeed.” Stella turned to Mrs. Blunt and her husband. “If you don’t object?”

“What manner of gig are you driving, Mr. Hayes?” Captain Blunt asked brusquely. “A curricle?”

“A wagonette,” Teddy said. “It’s an open carriage.”

“And your horse? Not too wild, I trust.”

“Quite the opposite. Samuel would rather doze than take the bit between his teeth.”

“Where are you bound for? Hyde Park?”

“Covent Garden. We’ll be back within the hour.”

Stella flashed Mrs. Blunt a meaningful look.

Mrs. Blunt slipped her hand through her husband’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, my love.”

“I’ll take care of her, sir,” Teddy promised them both. “You may rest assured.”

Captain Blunt withdrew his pocket watch. He made a point of checking the time. “I’ll expect Miss Hobhouse back by three o’clock.”

“Of a certainty,” Teddy said. “Miss Hobhouse? Shall we?”

“Yes, indeed,” Stella said.

Moments later, she and Teddy were seated in the front of his wagonette, with Jennings and Teddy’s wheeled chair firmly ensconced in the back.

Teddy gave Stella an interested glance as he started his horse. “Captain Blunt is rather protective of you.”

Stella rested a hand on the seat between them. Her skirts were bunched against the outside of Teddy’s leg, just as they’d been during their sleigh ride. “Only because he promised my brother he’d look after me,” she said. “And only because I’m a close friend of his wife. I do believe he’d pave the moon if Julia asked him to. Theirs was a love match, you see.”

Teddy had gathered as much from the way Captain Blunt and his wife had looked at each other.

“They were married last summer,” Stella said. “Indeed, all of my friends have recently married. Anne’s wedding was only last week.”

“I saw mention of it in the papers. It sounded like a grand affair.”

“The grandest. The Countess of Arundell does nothing by halves.” Stella gazed out at the afternoon traffic. Carriages and omnibuses passed in a clatter of wooden wheels and steel-shod hooves.

Teddy moved easily among them, Samuel completely unfazed by the encroaching traffic. Teddy himself was somewhat less sanguine. He was still thinking of the row he’d had with his sister and Alex. Of that dratted ultimatum Alex had given him and what it would mean for Teddy’s plans to paint Stella.

Granted, it wasn’t as if Alex would put Teddy onto the steamer against his will. Things hadn’t yet stooped to that level. All Alex had done was give Teddy a choice. A false choice, to be sure, but a choice all the same. Teddy could either accompany them back to France, thereby keeping the peace, or he could remain in London, both breaking Laura’s heart and imperiling her health—and the health of her child—in the process.

What was a devoted brother to do? A brother who desperately wanted his freedom?

The only gentlemanly solution was to temporarily acquiesce to the Finchleys’ guardianship. Teddy would stay with them for the next several months. They wouldn’t interfere with his work, he knew. They were sensible people, and sensitive as well.

That didn’t make the prospect of their chaperonage any less irksome. Teddy recoiled from it on principle.

“Tell me about your studio,” Stella said. “It’s in Covent Garden, you said?”

“In Maiden Lane.”

She furrowed her brow. “Maiden Lane? I can’t recall—”

“It’s where Turner was born.”

Her mouth tilted with humor. “Ah yes. I remember. But you don’t mean you’ve really managed to let a place there?”

Teddy’s spirits perked, recalling how he’d felt as Mr. Chakrabarty had led him through the house’s lower rooms. He’d known immediately that it was the place for him. “I have. The property just came available. It’s been rather neglected. The solicitor nearly didn’t show it to me.”

“It’s not Mr. Turner’s actual house?”

“Lord no. That was torn down ages ago.” He guided Samuel around a hackney cab blocking the road. “No, this place is a distance away. But it’s not the house itself that’s important, it’s the location of the street. It’s near the river.”

“Why is that important?”

“The water. The fog. The atmosphere.”

“The light?”

“And the light.” Teddy smiled briefly. “It’s not as I’d like in the house itself, but outside…yes. It suits me perfectly.”

The bustling streets of Covent Garden, with its theatres, fruit stalls, and flower market, lay but a mile from the luxury of Brown’s Hotel in Mayfair. Teddy continued driving north of the Strand, turning down one street and then another until, finally, arriving at a narrow lane that was flanked on either side by shops, pottery works, and close-set blocks of private dwellings.

He slowed the wagonette in front of a slightly sagging, three- story redbrick house with a splintering white wooden arch over its entrance. A single, shallow front step led up to the door.

Stella gazed up at the place with doubtful curiosity. “This one is yours?”

“As of two days ago, yes.” Teddy cast a thoughtful eye over the half-boarded windows and the peeling paint on the door arch and window frames. The house was old, and crooked on its foundation, but, with its inviting front entrance and the effect of the sunlight reflecting off the leaded windowpanes, it had character in abundance. “It won’t look like this long. I’ll have stonemasons, painters, and paper hangers in presently. With some minor refurbishment, it will be good as new.”

Getting the place up to snuff would take the lion’s share of Teddy’s income from the perfumery, but he reasoned to himself that it would be worth it. Inspiration was a large part of art. And this house, with its inherent charm and storied location, was inspiration personified.

Stella surveyed the shabby property from her seat in the wagonette, looking from the disintegrating roof tiles to the cracked stonework below. Her expression brightened at the sight of a black-and-white tomcat wandering boldly past the step.

“Does he come with the house?” she asked.

Teddy had seen the cat before when he’d visited the property with Mr. Chakrabarty. The fluffy feline reminded him a little of Magpie. “As far as I’m aware, he has no fixed abode.”

“Poor thing,” Stella said. “Now you’ve taken the place, you must take care to feed him.”

“He looks well fed enough to me,” Teddy said. “No doubt he’s already getting free meals from every tenderhearted shopkeeper on the street.”

“You make him sound rather mercenary.”

“Most cats are. I say that with affection. My family keeps a cat, not unlike this one. Magpie is his name. He’s as mercenary as they come.”

She gave him a curious look. “You never mentioned you had a cat.”

“Should I have done?”

“You might have,” she said. “It occurs to me that, outside of art, and the fact that you once loved a young lady named Miss Talbot, I don’t know very much about you.”

“Love is stretching the word where Miss Talbot was concerned. As for not knowing anything about me—you know my family makes lavender water. And you know I studied with Charles Gleyre in Paris.”

“Art again,” she pointed out.

“Very well. How about this—I don’t only like cats. I like dogs, too. And birds. I enjoy visiting the seaside. I prefer the city to the country, Beethoven to Brahms, and my favorite dessert is charlotte russe.”

Her chin dipped, concealing a smile.

“Shall we go in?” he asked abruptly.

Stella blinked. She clearly hadn’t expected they’d be getting out. “Is that—” She stumbled over her words, briefly flustered. “It wouldn’t be too inconvenient for you, or difficult—”

“Not at all.” Teddy called to his manservant. “Jennings? If you’ll assist Miss Hobhouse down?”

Stella uttered no further objections as Jennings handed her down from the wagonette. She then waited, quietly, while the manservant attended to Teddy.

It was a painstaking process that first required Jennings to remove Teddy’s wheeled chair from the back of the wagonette and place it on the house’s doorstep. The manservant next lifted Teddy down from the driver’s bench and—leaving the placid Samuel dozing in his traces—bodily conveyed him up the house’s shallow front step to his waiting seat.

Teddy didn’t look at Stella as it happened. He was fully focused on doing his part—his jaw tense and the muscles in his neck corded with effort as he gripped Jennings’s shoulders. It was only when Teddy was firmly established in his wheeled chair that he turned his attention back to her. His face was heated from the exertion.

Or perhaps it was embarrassment.

She’d witnessed him at his weakest, both when he’d boarded the wagonette and now when disembarking from it. She’d seen him vulnerable and reliant, just as he’d been when he’d joined her in the sleigh in Hampshire.

He didn’t want her to view him that way—as a man who must rely on the strength of others. He’d rather she recognized that he was strong himself.

Jennings used the key Teddy gave him to unlock the door of the house. He opened it wide before backing away from the threshold to make room for Teddy and his chair.

The piebald cat watched them from a safe distance, eyes squinted and tail swishing.

Stella glanced back at the horse. A gust of wind down the lane stirred the hem of her skirts and ruffled the wide silk ribbons of her spoon bonnet. “Who will stay with Samuel?”

“Jennings will,” Teddy said. “I don’t need him for the next part.” He paused on the threshold. “After you.”