Laurie's Painter (sweet Regency romance) (13 page)

There was something so
special about having food she hadn't cooked herself, always on time, always
tasty. She felt something loosening inside herself and letting go, felt as if
she was finally taking a deep breath, released from great strain. Jenny had
been the sole cook for her small family for years, with never any help or
relief from it. She took what shortcuts she could, when they could afford to
take them: bought bread instead of baked it, cooked meats ahead and ate them
cold at some meals, etc. But always, there was the next meal to think of, and
the next and the next and the next.

Sitting in a lovely dining
room with polite conversation and delicious food, wearing the beautiful clothes
Henry had insisted she buy for this trip, it felt as though they'd drifted back
in time to the old life their parents had before the money problems. Sometimes,
she felt herself smiling for no reason. It was all such a lovely rest.

The comfort of the visit
set her at ease, but another part of it made her uneasy. She was conscious of a
growing feeling of falling, of her feelings helplessly overtaking her, every
time she was around Laurie.

She told herself it was gratitude,
that it was a right and proper thing for a sister to feel.

She told herself she mustn't
be silly, that Laurie was a catch and she was hardly a beauty of the first
water. Not to mention he had a fortune and she hadn't.

Yet, somehow, she found
herself looking at him longingly and wistfully, when he was otherwise occupied.
When she caught herself, she averted her gaze, embarrassed to be so forward. But
he caught her staring at least once and teased her gently, asking if he had
something stuck to his face, and whether he should fire his gentleman's
gentleman.

She retained enough
self-preservation to teasingly reply that he ought to give the man another
chance; everyone deserved a second chance.

Having him in her life as
a visitor had brightened her days considerably. But having him in her life
consistently, seeing him many times each day, was so much more wonderful that
she was starting to wonder how she'd ever manage to go back to life without
him.

~*~

So far the visit was going
as well as Laurie had hoped. Henry was resting, Jenny enjoying his family's
home in the countryside.

He loved how beautiful she
looked in the surroundings, how happy and healthy, cheeks glowing, gaze soaking
everything in as though the sights were all she'd ever longed for.

"I haven't been to
the country since I was small," she'd confided in him. "It's so
beautiful!" She even loved the tree that was so special to him, full of
both sad and happy memories. He had not yet shared with her about how he used
to climb it as a lad, or how he and his sister enjoyed visiting it during their
walks.

He looked to her with more
fondness all the time. His mother was not fooled, he knew. Nor did he wish her
to be. She watched him and Jenny closely, but remained unfailingly polite with
their guests. Though she hadn't unbent enough to put it into words, he was
fairly certain his mother was relieved that he'd developed a tendre for such a sensible
and charming girl.

They often took walks
together. Amongst the many things she loved about the countryside, Jenny also
loved animals. When Laurie and Jenny went to the stable to look at horses, what
should she discover but a nest of small, mewling kittens?

"How I would love to
paint them!" she'd exclaimed. "But they would never be still, and I
am sure my brother wouldn't wish me to use up his paints on livestock." Crouching
by the small, furry nest, she looked up at Laurie, her eyes alight with
pleasure. "Is one allowed to call kittens 'livestock?'"

He knelt beside her and
reached out to stroke the head of one black and white kitten. "I am sure I
don't know, but I've no reason to think not. And surely we are very rich in
them; perhaps we can sell stock from this mighty bloodline and grow vastly
rich."

She laughed, her eyes sparkling
with enjoyment at his joke. In truth, he spoke very much at random. Being this
near her was heady intoxication. Her proximity (and smiles) made his blithe
words attempt to dessert him, apparently wanting to leave him a blithering fool
in front of the woman he was coming to care for so greatly, more deeply than he
had known he could.

A few tendrils of her curling
hair were coming loose, for the first time he could recall since she'd arrived.
Hardly knowing what he did, he reached out and brushed them back behind her ear.
She glanced up at him and smiled her thanks. She held one of the small, furry
creatures up to her chest, cuddling and cradling and stroking it.

Laurie had never before
envied a kitten.

Later, he and she went for
a ride. He picked his gentlest pony for her, one that could be counted upon to
give a young lady a careful ride. The pony was a dappled grey built more for
sturdiness than speed, and she had gentle eyes with very long lashes.

When Jenny saw her, she
exclaimed, "Oh! What a beauty!" and insisted upon taking several
moments to stroke the little pony. Laurie found some apples and carrots for her
to give the animal. Watching her, he could not tell who enjoyed it more.

When Jenny was mounted on
Strawberry, the pony stood proudly, steady and calm but with a pleased gleam in
her eye, as though relishing how important she felt. Jenny looked pretty and
slightly askew on the pony, her hat shifting and tendrils of her hair escaping.
Laurie didn't attempt to tell her; she looked charming.

They set out across the
fields, Jenny on Strawberry, Laurie on his Jackal. The sun was bright and the
sky clear: a perfect day for a ride.

Laurie was intent only on
a slow, friendly ride, perhaps discussing things on the way, but before they'd
ridden far, Strawberry suddenly took off across the field. The horse and the
woman were surprisingly in tune; Jenny had a fierce, glad gleam in her eyes,
whilst the pony wore an intent, excited look.

By Jove, the little pony
could gallop when she wished to!

His smile disappeared. He
didn't know how good a rider Jenny was. She might take a spill even from
Strawberry at a speed like this. After all, she couldn't have ridden much since
she was a child. Just yesterday she'd confided to him that, though she loved
horses, her life had precluded having much to do with them since her father's
death.

He urged Jackal forward
and caught her up. For a moment, they raced neck in neck. Or rather, Strawberry
raced, throwing all her heart into running. Jackal kept pace easily,
companionably. Laurie looked over at his Jenny and couldn't help smiling. She
was very clearly in control of the situation, her seat admirable, her hands
holding the reins competently. He could not recall ever seeing her more alight.
And she'd lost her hat.

At last, they stopped. All
four of them were breathing hard. They slowed the mounts to a walk to cool down.
Strawberry shook her head, as if still feeling her oats but realising that the
time had come for racing to end.

"I did enjoy that,"
called Jenny. Her face flushed a pretty pink, and her hair was loose as medusa's
coils but with a far softer, gentler look. She looked so very alive.

"I believe Strawberry
did as well." He wasn't going to say a word about safety. It was an effort
to keep his voice steady and normal-sounding simply for that one innocuous
sentence.

Jenny seemed completely
unaware of the effect she had on him. She stared out over the land with a look
of happy wistfully. "I do so wish I could paint this! Everything here
makes me want to paint. The colours and the light and the great open spaces! I—don't
suppose you would let me start the painting of the house for you?" She
looked at him self-consciously. "You told Henry you would like the house
painted, and we both know I often help him. It would let him rest longer
without feeling rushed, and of course he can set the finishing touches on the
work."

Laurie's throat closed up
momentarily. Surely she couldn't look so hopeful yet uncertain had she any idea
he could've denied her nothing.

"I should like
nothing more than to see how you will paint it." He gave her a half bow
from the saddle, smiling, and her smile lit in return, brightening his day. It
had not been dim before; now the sun seemed to shine stronger than ever.

Jenny was fast becoming
someone he could not live without. And he no longer intended to try.

Chapter nine

The very next day she started
work. A servant helped her with setting up an easel and canvas on the lawn,
facing the manor with a good view, neither too close nor too far away.

She set up the oil paints
herself and spent a few moments just looking at the manor, planning out how she
would begin and enjoying the view. She relished this chance, wished to do the
best job she possibly could. Perhaps, after she had finished and Henry had
approved and put on any final touches, Laurie would even hang his commission
somewhere in the house! She'd feel so proud to know it would grace this
peerless home.

It was so beautiful here:
would have been even if she was used to such great houses, for Laurie was here,
in all his kindness and attention. Every day, she woke wondering if it was a
dream.

At last, smiling a little
as she thought of him and their amusements from yesterday, she began to put
brush to canvas, beginning the great outlines of the house, planning how she
would do the smaller details later on.

She grew quickly
engrossed, but the light had not changed and it could not have been more than
an hour, possibly much less, when she looked up, startled, to see a familiar,
trim figure in a dark waistcoat and fawn-coloured breaches stalking across the
lawn toward her.

"Hello!" Laurie
raised a hand and smiled, and she realised he wasn't stalking, but striding.

She smiled in return and
looked down at her dress self-consciously, hoping she hadn't any paint on it. She
tugged an edge straighter and reached up to feel her hair. It had not got
loose, not yet; but it seemed to be on the verge of escape. Her hair always did
seem to betray her at the worst moments when she couldn't spare the time to fix
it.

Laurie stopped before her
and gave her his singularly bright, engaging smile. She could not help but be
affected by it; she didn't know if any woman could. Nor, indeed, how he could
have remained single for so long. Surely if he'd had any wish to marry, he
could already have found himself the perfect bride, because he was so wonderful
himself.

Quickly, she cut herself
off from this line of thought. It would never do; and she mustn't start blushing
in front of him. That would be the height of awkwardness. She reminded herself
he was a friend, a dear friend, and she must not think any silly thoughts about
him. She was grateful for this time here, this eminently wonderful reprieve
from the drudgery of her ordinary life: that was all.

"Hello," she
said in return, rather more shyly than she would have liked.

Laurie noticed and his
smile broadened. "Don't be concerned, I shan't look until you give me
permission."

"Oh! Thank you."
Jenny smiled self-consciously. It
was
difficult to let her work be
examined in the unfinished stages; she always felt the need to apologise at
such times and to explain that the painting was really quite rough at this
stage. She'd hate for Laurie to get the wrong impression of her work here and
leave thinking that she wasn't up to the task. "I shall—when... when it is
nearly ready to be given to Henry to finish. You, who are so familiar with your
home, will be able to point out my flaws so I can attempt to fix them before Henry
does."

He looked at her as though
she spoke another language. "Jenny, you're a wonderful painter, don't you
know that? Why should Henry need to finish your work?"

She looked down and
blushed. "I—thank you." A compliment of this nature, about her
ability to paint, meant more to her than she dare express. Henry was the only
other person who knew of her abilities at this point; she could not be praised
by anyone whose house or children or animals she helped to paint. It did her
heart good to hear such encouraging words. But could he mean them?

"I do mean it,"
said Laurie as if he had read her thoughts.

Her gaze flew to his face.
He smiled in a gentle manner, reassurance in his calm, friendly eyes. "I don't
wish to interrupt if you're busy, I merely wished to ask if you would like to
take a break and have some light refreshments? I can walk you back, if you
wish, and a servant can clean up your paints."

Jenny shook her head. "No,
I thank you. I must finish more today. I've barely begun, and I promise you I
am used to painting for longer stretches than this." She smiled at his
thoughtfulness, though wondered why he hadn't sent a servant to ask this
instead of walking all the way out here personally.

"Ah. Well in that
case I bid you good afternoon." He sketched an elegant bow.

Lately he teased her less
frequently, she had noticed. His bows and greetings no longer seemed the least
bit silly. Perhaps she was just used to his ways.