A Mad, Wicked Folly (31 page)

OR THE FIRST
time in my life I had no interest in
art. I had no desire to draw; nothing inspired me;
everything seemed wrong.
I
felt wrong. I didn’t
know where I belonged anymore. Or who I was.
When I was a little girl, I would draw and paint and

dream. I would play all day in our garden and pretend
I was a famous artist and my toy bears and dolls would
come flocking to my studio to sit for their portraits. That
creative spark had lived inside me all the time. But that
spark blew out when Papa slapped me. I wasn’t sure I
could rekindle it. I felt ridiculous, as though everything
I had ever tried to do was laughable. Mamma was right.
Who did I think I was?

One day slipped into the next. Tension at Freddy’s
house hung in the air like coal smoke. I knew Rose did not
want me there. Whenever I came into a room, she found a
reason to leave it. Freddy was kind to me, but I could see
uncertainty in his eyes. Charlotte, with her sweet childish
ways, was over the moon that I was staying in the house,
and many a morning I woke to find her in my room, escaped
from the nursery. One morning, for good measure, she had
pushed baby George’s bassinet down the hall and parked
him next to my bed. I took comfort in their presence.

That night after Freddy brought me home to Pimlico,
I’d begged him to intervene for Sophie, to write a letter
for her himself if he had to. Without a character reference,
Sophie would be unable to find a job even as a charwoman.
The thought of her ruined because of me made me cry so
hard I thought I’d never stop. Freddy promised he would
help. I loved my brother dearly, but that night my love for
him deepened. I didn’t know what I would have done without him.

Freddy went straight back to Mayfair and waited with
Mamma for Papa to return. Freddy told me later that Papa
was full of remorse and dismayed that I had left before he
could speak to me. He had locked himself in his study and
refused to come out. At least Mamma had acquiesced to
Freddy’s pleas and had given Sophie a character reference.
Freddy saw Sophie before he came home. She told him that
she’d stay with a WSPU friend until she’d found a new
position.

I knew I needed to go to the RCA and resign my acceptance so that another woman could go in my stead, but
I found I couldn’t. I suppose I held on to some hope that
Papa, in his remorse, would change his mind. He would
yield, appear at Freddy’s house apologizing, and hand me
a pot of money.

But I was childish and fanciful in my hope because I
should have known that Papa could never forgive me.
Despite his remorse for slapping me, in his eyes I had
humiliated him, created a scandal that had far-reaching consequences. Sir Henry had wasted no time telling
his side of the story at the Reform Club, and Freddy told
me that Papa, ashamed, could no longer bring himself to
attend. So I was not surprised when Papa didn’t come to
see me. But I was surprised that Mamma didn’t either.

A week later, I went to join Freddy and Rose in the
sitting room. As I reached the door, I heard Rose say my
name. I hung back in the shadows outside the door.

“Why did you try to speak for Victoria, Frederick?” she
was saying, irritation in her voice. “Whatever were you
thinking? You should have known your father would react
the way he did.” I could picture Rose’s face as she said this,
eyes bright with righteousness. She always hated it when
Freddy leapt to my defense.

“Sweetheart, I had no idea she had been carrying
on as she had,” Freddy replied. “All she told me was that
she wanted to go to art college. Drawing that bloke was
bad enough, but she was alone with him while he was
unclothed!”

“What a disgusting man!” Rose said. “To sit there naked
and let a girl look at him? It’s not to be borne.”
“It’s a jolly good thing Father doesn’t know his name, or
he’d see to his ruin,” Freddy said.
“She’s come out now, so she’s responsible for her own
actions. Nothing your parents can do will save her.” Rose
pointed this last bit out helpfully. “Not a wicked girl like
that.”
“She’s ruined. I know she is,” Freddy said sharply. “You
don’t have to spell it.”
Rose sighed. “What is she going to do with herself?
She can’t stay here, Frederick. I won’t allow a black mark
on our name to match the one she’s painted on your
father’s. There is talk in my circle already. I went to June
Arbuthnot’s today to play bridge, and all discussion in the
room stopped when I came in. I was so embarrassed I came
straight home. It’s not to be borne.”
“London is no place for her now.” I heard the shuffle
of the fireguard and the sound of coals falling as Freddy
poked the fire. “I don’t see her ever finding a husband. I
fear this will follow her until the day she dies.”
Rose spoke, driving the knife in further. “Without a
marriage, she’ll never have a life of her own. She’ll be as a
child. A spinster’s life is a dreadful one.”
There was a long moment of silence, and I thought
about going in and pretending I hadn’t heard, but then
Freddy spoke again.
“She has to be sent away,” he said. “It’s what’s done in
these circumstances. Father wants her gone permanently,
but I’ve convinced him to keep her away for a year and
then see where things lie. That will give a chance for the
gossip to die down. And maybe she can come back and
start anew. It grieves me to say it, but I think Great-Aunt
Maude’s is the only place for her. At least she’ll be safe in
Norfolk, and away from anything that will turn her head
again.”
Sent away.
Like some unloved orphan in a Dickens
novel. I was a problem that must be dealt with, and then
forgotten about. Would Papa ever think of me again? Would
Mamma? Or would they excise every memory of me from
the house and their minds?
I wished with all my heart that Will were there beside
me. I could see his eyes, kind, as he heard the conversation
unfolding behind the door. I could feel his arm, heavy and
warm around my shoulders as he held me to him to comfort me.
But then I remembered the hardness on his face as he
backed away from me that day at the RCA.
I had never felt so unloved and unwanted in my life. I
swallowed and swallowed; I thought I’d choke on the tears
that threatened to overcome me.
“When will she go?” Rose sounded relieved. Of course
she did.
“I’m to take her home tomorrow night, and she’ll be in
Norfolk by the weekend.”
I pulled my shawl around my shoulders and leaned
against the wall. All I could do was breathe in and out,
in and out. This wasn’t happening to me, surely. This was
someone else’s life. But then Freddy said something that
saved me, that brought me out of the deep well of pain I
had been lost in for the past seven days.
“It’s extraordinary what she’s done, really,” he said.
“She was accepted into the Royal College of Art! How did
she do that? She had no money, no time on her own, no
art supplies, nothing, yet she did it. When I bolted, I had
money, your support, friends, and resources. She had,
what? A lady’s maid to help her?”
“She’s always been a tenacious girl,” Rose said.
“But the thing is, such tenacity would be admired in
a man. Father came round to my choice because he saw
how determined I was, and that reminded him of his own
start. Vicky tried the same thing, and everyone saw it as
bad behavior.”
“The world doesn’t work the same way for women.”
“Well, maybe it ought to. I used to think it shouldn’t, but
now I’m not so sure.”
“It’s no good to wish the world were different,
Frederick,” Rose said. “The truth is, there’s no place in the
world for a girl like that.”
I backed away from the door as quietly as I could and
went back upstairs. I sat on my bed, closed my eyes. My
hands were trembling and I gripped the edge of the mattress to calm them.
I waited. I waited for the usual whispers to tell me
I was preposterous. But they didn’t come. Instead, I
heard new ones. There were Freddy’s:
It’s extraordinary what she’s done. Such tenacity would be admired in
a man.
Rose’s:
The world doesn’t work the same way for
a woman.
Lucy’s:
How can you have what you want when
you’re denied the same rights as male citizens?
And then
Will’s:
When are you going to realize how talented you
are?
Most of all, I found the whisper of
preposterous
had
been replaced with
tenacious.
And then I felt myself
coming back, fighting through the sadness and pain and
humiliation. That girl in Bertram’s picture was sparking
to life.
In the morning I woke up to find Charlotte lying next to
me, escaped from the nursery once more. Her dark lashes
lay against her cheeks; one hand was thrown up over her
head.
What would life be like for Charlotte when she was my
age? Would tenacity be admired in a woman then as it was
in a man? I imagined her at age eighteen, going out into the
world with courage, living her life as she pleased.
But how could she do so if there was no one to show
her how? Charlotte needed someone to show her all the
possibilities of life, someone who knew what bravery was.
I may have had only one option in my father’s world,
but there were plenty of options left in another.
After breakfast, I wrote Freddy a note telling him I was
going back home, gathered up my things, and slipped out
of the house.
I took the Underground to Dover Street Station and
wandered about in Green Park until midmorning, when
Papa would be at his place of business, and Mamma at her
charity.
The house was quiet when I came in. No one was about.
I went upstairs to my bedroom to find that everything had
been packed away in trunks, most likely waiting to be
shipped to Aunt Maude’s.
I searched through the trunks until I found the one that
held my grandmother’s jewelry box. I could sell the jewelry, and that would keep me going for a bit. I had no reason
to care now if Mamma noticed it missing. I unpacked one
of the trunks to repack it with my tailor-mades and shirtwaists and a few hats. As I lifted out a stack of silk chemises
on the bottom, I saw the leather cover of my sketchbook,
the one I’d had in France. Packed neatly next to it were
my Reeves & Sons charcoal set in its beechwood box, the
silver dip pen, the bottles of ink, the tin of conté crayons in
portrait colors, the Derwent pencils, and the glass-paper
sanding block. Everything my parents had taken from me,
months ago.
I took out the sketch pad and flicked through the pages,
expecting to find the drawings torn out, but they were
all there: the sketches of Lily, the one of a nude Bertram
standing contrapposto, the one of the Black Maria with
Will’s profile in the corner, marked by a scribble of pencil
when Lucy had pushed me away. All the silly scraps of
paper were in it too—the leaflets and notices and bits of
paper that I had hoarded. And then I discovered, behind
all this bumf, the drawing Mamma had done of me as a
little girl. But it was no longer half drawn. Mamma had
completed it.
I understood now why my mother had turned her back
on her own talents. It was scary enough in my world; it was
utterly impossible in hers. But her packing my sketchbook
and giving me her finished drawing meant as much to me
as being accepted to the RCA.
I tore a page out of my sketchbook and sat down to
write.

I ’m not going to Norfolk to stay with Aunt
Maude. I ’m going to stay with a friend. I have
to find my own way in the world. Don’ t worry about
me. I will be in touch soon.

I left the page on my dressing table and finished
packing.
I dragged my trunk down the staircase, thumping on
each step. Mrs. Fitzhughes and Emma stood at the bottom
of the stairs, watching me openmouthed.
“Miss Darling?” Mrs. Fitzhughes said. “May I ask—”
“Actually, if you can ask John to fetch a cab for me, I’d
be most obliged,” I said, as the trunk dropped off the last
step. I stood up and blew the hair out of my eyes. “If he
could do that, I’ll be on my way.”
Mrs. Fitzhughes blinked and blinked. “I . . .”
“I’ll sort that for you, Miss Darling,” Emma said, and
then hurried off. I thought I heard her giggle as she rounded
the corner.
“I’ll be off then, Mrs. Fitzhughes.” I dragged the trunk
through the hall and outside.
“Where are you going? What shall I tell your parents?”
“Tell them . . .” I hesitated. “Tell them not to worry.”
I directed the cab driver to the RCA in Kensington, and
asked him to wait. I went inside, pausing in the vestibule to
look at the art.
Someday, someday I’ll be up there
, I vowed.

I went down the hall toward the clerk’s office, but saw
Mr. Earnshaw, the man who had given me advice on applying back in March, coming down the corridor. His face
creased into a smile when he saw me.

“Miss Darling!” he said. “It is so good to see you.
My heartfelt congratulations to you. I heard you were
accepted.”

“Thank you, Mr. Earnshaw. But unfortunately I must
resign my place.”
Mr. Earnshaw looked taken aback. “I’m sorry to
hear that, Miss Darling. I saw your work and I was most
impressed. Most impressed. True, you have a lack of technique, but that can be learned. The panel agreed there is a
strong sense of emotion in all of your subjects, in particular the figure study of the young man posing as David.
That is very rare in a young artist and almost impossible
to teach, because one must see the emotion in one’s subject
and know how to portray it almost intuitively.”
This was all astonishing for me to hear. It heartened
me greatly but saddened me, too. Will would have been
the first person to celebrate that with me. But I couldn’t tell
him, not after what happened the last time I saw him.
“May I ask why you’ve had such a sudden change of
heart?”
“It’s not my heart that has changed. It’s my circumstances. I can no longer afford the tuition. But I wish to try
again next year, if I may. Now, please tell me what I can do
to gain a scholarship. I’m sure I lost it because of my poor
showing on the arithmetic section.”
Mr. Earnshaw smiled. “No, not at all. The woman who
won the scholarship was no better on that part of the test
than you were. But she is more established in the art world.
She’s won a prize in an art show and she’s had some work
published. If you came back a mature artist with something like that in your portfolio next year, I’m sure you’d
win the scholarship then.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do. And whatever happens, I hope you will never
stop creating art, Miss Darling, for you have immense talent.” He reached out his hand and I shook it.
“It won’t, sir. I promise you that.”