Laurie's Painter (sweet Regency romance) (5 page)

Jenny shook her head at
her own foolishness. Servants had never been friends to her parents; as a
child, she had loved them all (except for the stable master whose large beard frightened
her for some reason). But of course, adults did not have the same attitudes as
children, of trusting friendship toward those who worked for them. And in truth,
she'd been their only servant for so long, she wouldn't know how to act if she
didn't have to do every chore about the place.

She opened the door and blinked
in surprise. Laurie! He stood there looking remarkably trim and dapper in his
rake's clothing, smiling down at her with such warm eyes. She felt her heart
lurch and bump inside her chest, and couldn't help returning his smile.

"Hello, Miss
Wilkenson." He removed his hat politely. He had—such a clean face. It was
a strange thing to think, but nearly every other man she saw besides her
brother looked scruffy and in need of a good wash. It was wrong to look down on
them for it. No one here had much water, and one had to haul everything by hand
on the days when the pump at the end of the street was turned on. It was
certainly not likely that most people could bathe or wash often. Even simply
washing with cloths was difficult at times. Not to mention laundering their
clothes! Jenny found it extremely trying to keep up. Sometimes only shame of
what her mother would think if she gave up kept her at the attempt.

Now Jenny found a
regretful smile tugging at her face. "Hello, Mr. Joysey. I'm afraid Henry
is at work."

"That's all right. I
came to see you." He smiled. He had such very fine, dark eyes. They seemed
to hold secret worlds. A girl could get lost in them if she wasn't careful.

Jenny told herself she
knew better and needn't worry. "Oh, well, I can't invite you in. I'm
sorry. I'm alone and it wouldn't be respectable."

"That's all right. Why
not come out for a carriage ride with me in the park? If you can spare the
time, I should enjoy it very much."

His smile made her want to
forget her chores and go out with him immediately. And there was no reason not
to, was there? "Very well. Allow me to get ready. I shan't be long." She
retreated with a smile, shutting the door.

And what a silly goose she
was, grinning like a fool, back pressed against the door and hands clutched
together at her chest. Her mind raced, thinking which dress was the least
tattered and best for driving out with a fine, dark-eyed gentleman.

She ran to wash the paint
off her hands, then began to search.

Settling at last for the
dress made from her mother's old walking-dress, which looked
almost
ladylike if one didn't examine it closely, she changed as hurriedly as possible—then
rushed back to fetch her shoes, then her coat, and then her reticule.

Flushed and breathing quickly,
she stopped for a moment in front of the door to catch her breath, trying to
remember everything her mother and governess had told her about being a lady.

Stand straight—smile
politely—do not talk overmuch—take measured steps—don't forget to curtsy—

Taking a deep breath, Jenny
smiled in anticipation and moved forward. Standing straight, taking measured
steps, she opened the door.

~*~

Jenny looked charming. Laurie
could see her gown was not in the best mode nor made from entirely new
material, but it was cleverly done all the same, and she walked with the
dignity of a lady. Not to forget, of course, she was gorgeous whatever she wore.

"You look lovely,"
said Laurie. She shook her head and lowered her gaze, cheeks growing faintly
pink. He offered her his arm and smiled down at her, feeling...well he could
not remember feeling exactly this way ever before. When she reached out and
took his arm, he was on top of the world. He knew everyone was staring at the
man with the most beautiful girl on his arm.

He handed her up into his
curricle carefully, took the reins from his groom, and started down the street.

She kept glancing around. "I
believe people are watching us. I don't often go for rides with gentlemen."
She sounded embarrassed, though he didn't know why she should.

"Oh? When was the
last time?" he quizzed her.

"Well—never."

"You've hidden
yourself too well. You're too lovely to not have a dozen admirers." He
looked at her, smiling. She had a faint, mysterious, Mona Lisa smile on her
face and was shaking her head gently. "You don't think you are?"

"I can hardly believe
you are this much of a rake! Perhaps my brother was right about you." She
looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with teasing fun.

"No, really!" He
drew back as if highly offended.

Her laughter sounded
beautiful as a silver bell.

Top of the world. Really,
who knew he could feel this way?

It was different from his
mad longing for his neighbour Althea when he was a lad: better, somehow,
because he felt like he was getting to know the real Jenny instead of imagining
the perfect woman, yet not knowing her at all.

And...this slow slide into
feelings warmer than he had ever known was better than that old, mooncalf
longing. It did not feel so...soul-consuming, but all the same, it was growing.

He didn't know if Jenny
felt more than friendship, but he did. This journey into love was something he
might have been able to pull back from. But he realised, like a slow sunrise,
that he didn't want to.

Laurie never thought he'd
love again after feeling so humiliated, so foolish. But now...now he realised
he'd never really loved before.

And I think I want to
spend the rest of my life discovering this woman.

It was a terrifying and
beautiful discovery, sudden and overwhelming. He didn't even know if Jenny
could ever feel the same way, or if he would continue to feel this way. He
gripped the reins tightly and tried to clear his whirling head.

Did love make one mad? Or
had he found the truest kind of sanity for the first time in his life?

~*~

Jenny turned her head to
smile at the handsome gentleman beside her. How like a dream! She was halfway
afraid of waking up and having to get the fire going and make breakfast all
over again. But surely a dream wouldn't be so detailed? She could see each avid
face watching them in surprising detail. Could still remember the warmth of his
hand through the satin of her faded dress as he handed her up.

She'd loved the feel of that
touch: it felt intimate yet entirely appropriate. His arm was warm, strong, and
muscular. And now, riding together, it seemed as though they were in perfect
harmony, as if nothing could go wrong, they could solve any problem together
and make the world a better place. And, that if it were ever necessary, he
would defend her perfectly.

It felt like they were
going somewhere important together, not just to the park, but somewhere,
together, in their lives. She loved that feeling, even if she didn't completely
understand it.

Even the air smelled
special today.

A few yards ahead, a fruit
seller called, offering apples and citrus. She sometimes bought citrus for her
brother from the man. He never had an unkind word for anyone, this fixture on
their street. Sometimes he took his wares with him and sold in a better spot,
such as near an opera where wealthy people might pass by and wish for fruit. But
most of the time he was here.

Surely in a dream he
wouldn't look so real?

There were times when Jenny
felt a bit awkward and wished not to be noticed, walking outside their home,
doing errands and the marketing. Today was not one of those days. She sat tall
and proud and happy, still barely able to believe this was real life and not
some fairy-tale dream she would forget moments after waking.

When Laurie drew to a halt
in front of the fruit seller, it felt perfectly right and natural, as if that
was exactly what had to happen next in the fairy-tale.

"A dozen each of your
best apples and oranges, please," said Joysey, hopping down with elegant
grace and handing his reins to his groom. He paid the seller a far larger sum
than he should have. The fruit seller wrapped the purchase in paper, treating
Joysey like the gentleman he obviously was.

Joysey handed the fruit to
his groom for safekeeping and returned to Jenny's side, taking up the reins
again. As they moved away, Jenny spoke. "I was unaware you were so hungry
for fruit, sir."

Laurie replied in his
teasing voice. "Oh yes, I have an inordinate appetite for fruit." She
thought she heard another tone beneath his words but wasn't certain. Jenny felt
warm and happy. That they could banter like this seemed to make the gift
acceptable; of course it was for her and her brother.

She didn't know if she could
get Henry to accept it, but it would be very good for him to have fruit to eat.
Why, he could have one of each for twelve days. Or they could last twenty-four
days, if he ate one a day. If only Henry wouldn't refuse.

"Tell your brother I
didn't bring you any flowers," said Laurie, his tone turning serious
momentarily. "I forgot. I did not wish to be rude, so I hastily bought you
a gift of fruit. He'll no doubt think it shabbily done of me."

Jenny laughed. "He
shan't! He'll know exactly why. Anyway, fruit is far more useful than flowers:
I can't think why the tradition doesn't change."

"Oh! Well you know many
traditions have little practical use any longer. Sometimes we even forget why
they started."

"I assume the custom
of giving flowers started because women like pretty things," suggested
Jenny.

"Or because men
consider women pretty, and think they will appreciate evidence of that
symbolically." His gaze twinkled down at her. Oh, he was
such
a
flirt! Yet she couldn't take offense at his teasing because he was so very kind
with it. And it felt wonderful to be complimented, even teasingly.

They drove to the park and
back, talking, switching easily between serious and humorous topics, and never
seeming to run out of things to say.

For Jenny, it was as good
a time as any fairy godmother could have conjured.

~*~

When Henry returned from
his day's work whistling a snatch of a tune, it lifted Jenny's heart even
further. Her day so far had been perfect. How could it possibly improve? Yet
hearing her brother feeling well enough to whistle certainly did the trick.

She greeted him with an
enthusiastic smile. He returned it and placed a package on the table before
unwinding his scarf.

She moved forward to help
him out of his greatcoat. "What is it?"

"Mr. Ramsay was
feeling generous. He sent me home with some fruit cakes from his cook. A
pleasant surprise! And he paid me as well. We shall have coal this week after
all, Jen, and a bit extra down on the debt. That should keep the bankers at
bay!" He smiled at her and then his gaze settled on the table. His smile
stilled.

She turned with him to
look at the fruit, stacked carefully, as if arranged for a still life, though
of course they hadn't the extra paint to spare for such useless applications. Their
painting was confined to commissioned works.

"Joysey bought it for
me. Wasn't it nice of him?" She gave him her best bright-eyed, innocent
look.

"Wh-what?" he
sputtered. "He was here? Doesn't he know you have no chaperone without me
here? Why, it's unheard—"

"I didn't invite him
in. We went for a drive to the park—his groom was there, it was perfectly
acceptable—and he bought me these. He said to tell you it was because he forgot
to bring me flowers." Her eyes sparkled at him, inviting him to enjoy the
joke along with her and Laurie. Joysey, that is.

"Indeed?" said Henry
indignantly, his chest puffing up and a scowl overtaking his previously
cheerful countenance. "What brass he has! He shouldn't be visiting you
when I'm not here, taking you for drives without asking permission. Or bringing
you flowers—or buying you fruit!"

"I don't see why not,"
said Jenny quietly, leaning over the table and adjusting the position of one of
the bright green apples. "He's a very kind friend."

"He's a rake!"

"Even if he is, he's still
a good friend. I don't know about you, but I could certainly use one. Why shouldn't
I enjoy a drive with him? There was nothing secretive or clandestine about it,
and a gift of fruit is certainly aboveboard. He's been visiting and drinking
our tea and eating our biscuits. Perhaps he's simply paid us back generously and
given me a chance to get out of the house for a few minutes of enjoyment. I
promise you I've not neglected the painting, if it worries you."

At her calm words, Henry's
anger melted. His expression now held a curious mixture of regret, worry, and
fondness. "Believe me, Jen, I know how hard you work. It's not that I
begrudge you a little enjoyment, and you're right that it's not such a bad gift
when considered in that way, but..."

His brow furrowed, and he
reached up absently to scrub at it with a thumb. A paint-covered thumb; he left
a brown streak. Jenny smiled to see he hadn't noticed, but waited patiently for
his words. For some reason, she felt a little afraid what he might say when he
looked so serious.