‘Your Grace! How wonderful to see you, my friend! We were unaware you were home!’
Caleb’s gaze shifted to Nathaniel and he only now seemed to notice that it was his romantic nemesis here in his house. He looked, quite shocked, between Hannah and Nathaniel, then to Sophia, before remembering himself and necessitating the expected formalities; shaking hands with Nathaniel.
‘Lord Bryant, a pleasure. Pray, what brings you here today?’ His tone was friendly, but Hannah sensed impudence underneath.
‘We have been visiting your wife’s new art studio and I have been borne the honour of viewing her art work for the very first time!’ Nathaniel revealed dramatically.
Caleb looked to Hannah questioningly.
‘You must be overwhelmed with pride to have such an exquisitely talented and perceptive wife!’ Nathaniel gushed.
Caleb looked between Hannah and Nathaniel, seemingly unsure of how to respond.
‘Hmm,’ he agreed with an air of indifference. ‘Of course.’
There was no enthusiasm in his voice and Hannah dropped her eyes to the floor, despondent.
Hannah watched Caleb, feeling bereft. Sophia watched Hannah’s face and felt such a sadness for her friend.
The group said their goodbyes and when Hannah had waved Nathaniel and Sophia off, she closed the door, acutely aware that it was now just Caleb and herself alone together in the foyer.
They stood metres apart and stared at one another. Caleb opened his mouth as if to say something and seemingly thought better of it, closing his mouth and blinking.
Hannah so desperately wanted to know what sentiment had almost been expressed.
He was unable to speak and afforded her a curt nod before striding purposefully away down the hall.
Hannah watched him go, her enthusiasm and excitement of the last hour evaporating. She had been swept away by Nathaniel’s tall tales of showcasing, recognition and accolades, but realised now, standing in the cold hall with her husband walking away from her that she should shelve this dream as delusional. The life of an esteemed artist was not a path available to her. The authorities over her would never approve and she felt foolish for having invested any time in believing that she could.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hannah breathed out as she stood back to review the painting she had just completed. She had been caught up in the inspiration of it and now wondered what stories it told of her inner turmoil. The image depicted a haunting landscape of rolling hills and a distant, mist-shrouded manor house, almost Gothic in the deep greys and shadowing she had layered in oils. The tumultuous clouds swirling over the turrets on the bewitching house disclosed the turbulent agitation in Hannah’s heart and mind.
The small figure she had added, holding a hood over its head, shielding against the storm and battling through a field in the foreground of the painting, divulged the conflicting way Hannah felt she must battle on despite all adversity, feeling that her environment was hostile and inhospitable.
Hannah grazed the border of the frame with her finger, unintentionally leaving behind a smudge of grey. She stared at that grime on the otherwise flawless frame, wondering if it symbolised her – the smudge on the Montwood family’s name.
She briefly looked over her shoulder at the charcoal station across the room – she had not revisited the sketch of Caleb since she had felt so let down by him. She knew that to return to sculpting those eyes would bring up too much raw emotion for her. He barely looked at her now and when he did, it was as if he were a stranger – the affection and warmth had been stolen away, leaving her bereft and questioning everything she had previously considered to be true.
The blank page still covered the canvas of his face and Hannah wondered if she would ever allow it to see the light of day again.
Sophia’s voice broke the silence.
‘All done? It looks chillingly compelling!’ She stood from where she had been seated, slightly behind Hannah. Lucy and Hannah had established that if Sophia was met outside the house and entered quietly, there was really no need for the Dowager Duchess to be aware of any guests and this meant that Hannah could retain her close friendship and regular visits from Sophia, just as she had back home at the Haworth residence. Sophia’s presence was a comfort to Hannah and introduced one aspect of normality that she was severely lacking in this new lifestyle.
‘Another masterpiece fromAlexander Burton!’ Sophia jested and waited for Hannah to turn and deliver her sardonic expression.
‘I told you, Sophia – there is far too much risk involved. I fear it would not end well.’
Sophia clicked her tongue and gazed out the window, wistfully.
‘You should paint the blossoms; they are beautiful just now,’ she mused.
‘I shall. They are next on my list,’ Hannah agreed.
‘Then what shall you do with it? Hide it in a box? And what of the Gothic house on the hill? Face it to a dark corner?’
Hannah’s face fell at her friend’s reprimand – she was unused to an attack from Sophia and it felt as though she were being accused of having done something wrong when her head told her that avoiding the exhibition was the only correct way of proceeding.
