Hannah could only attribute it to her high energy, but she summoned from somewhere deep within her, the courage to say.
‘My apologies, Your Grace, but I will be unavailable to attend tomorrow. I will be visiting an exhibition being held by Lady Wentworth.’ As the words left her mouth, her heart raced in panic at the outrage this declaration might provoke.
Hannah saw something shift in Anne’s eyes – not the entitled, angered response Hannah had expected, but rather an expression suggesting her interest was piqued by Hannah’s activity.
Caleb’s eyes were finally on Hannah. He grabbed at the napkin next to his plate and dabbed at the corners of his mouth as he softly suggested.
‘I will accompany you to the exhibition, Hannah, if this is agreeable to you.’
To Hannah, this appeared more as a statement than a request, so she simply nodded, a little wrong-footed by his sudden attention. Following days of solid avoidance, his voice was warm; an offering of peace, and Hannah was not likely to rebuff his goodwill.
Emmeline looked subtly over at Hannah and gave her a small, conspiratorial smile.
Caleb nodded and returned to his breakfast. He had not planned on engaging with Hannah, but when she spoke up to his mother in the way she just had – boldly asserting her preference, he recognised that this was a brave stance and he wanted to support her in her courage. She deserved a husband who stood with her. Additionally, any location was preferable to another tiresome afternoon spent with Lady Lucinda trying to impress him with her watery superficial performances. Overall, Caleb had come to realise that days spent in his study had not rid his thoughts of Hannah, neither had his reclusive nature encouraged his brain to engage in business pursuits in place of emotional inclinations. It seemed that he could not be cured and so indulging in her pleasurable company could not harm him any more than his solitude.
Hannah felt quite buoyed by Caleb’s generosity of spirit – she dared to allow a glimmer of hope to reignite that perhaps they might, if not find love, at least be friends. A husband who attended galleries and exhibitions, in support of her passion would be such a blessing and reinforced that her love of art was not a frivolous waste of time. A warmth blossomed in her chest as she thought of strolling around the exhibition on his arm.
Then she recalled how tomorrow’s exhibition was not the relaxed, leisurely affair it might normally be. Lady Wentworth would be exhibiting a piece by the new artist, Alexander Burton. Hannah’s cheeks burned at the prospect of viewing her own painting, standing next to Caleb. It felt very much like a betrayal and she hated the idea of it, but to confess to him what her intentions were would be to extinguish the whole plan and to sabotage herself, so she had to simply go along with it.
‘On second thought,’ Anne declared, ‘I too, will attend Lady Wentworth’s exhibition with you both. Won’t you come, Emmeline?’
Before Emmeline could respond, Caleb dropped his fork upon his plate and protested;
‘Mother, surely you should be more comfortable at the Fairfax tea party? Why, they are terribly close friends of yours and should be disappointed if you decline…’ Caleb looked worriedly over at Hannah as he said this.
‘On the contrary,’ Anne affirmed, ‘I rather feel that dear Hannah and I may have gotten off on a wrong start and I should like to rectify the situation by demonstrating my support of her interesting avocation.’
Anne smiled falsely and Hannah could not help but detect a saccharine sweetness that seemed misplaced in her mother-in-law’s usual disposition. It set her nerves on edge, especially when she noted how Caleb shifted uncomfortably at the prospect of his mother joining them and Emmeline looked equally unsettled by the unconventional turn of events.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lady Wentworth’s exhibition was buzzing with people. The sun was shining outside but the air was still cool – the perfect combination to extract people from their homes and ensure they found somewhere warm to visit.
The grand hall was scented with paint, perfume, and pretension as lords and ladies exclaimed in dramatic voices their interpretations of various images.
With Caleb at her side and Anne and Emmeline following behind, Hannah struggled to disguise her apprehension as they entered. Her eyes darted nervously around the hall, until she recognised the top of a painting – she could not see the full picture, as there was a small crowd gathered around it. She knew the colours visible though and knew the swirls and textures like the back of her hand. Confirming what she already knew, the sign standing next to the painting was the name: Alexander Burton.
Hannah’s breath caught in her throat and she wanted immediately to walk over to that part of the hall, but she had to bide her time and treat every piece of art with equivalent interest. If she were to head directly to the Alexander Burton painting, it would be obvious to her new family members that there was something notable about it.
She feigned interest in the portrait of the prime minister in power; the placid scene of swans on a lake; the country road with a horse-drawn cart, all the while stealing furtive glances across to her painting.
Caleb guided her gently, with a warm, supportive hand on the small of her back. It felt proprietary in a comforting way but confused Hannah as it seemed Caleb swung from caring in this way, to avoiding her totally for three days solid. She allowed herself to revel in the moment and enjoy the connection whilst it was present.
Finally, they were there, in the gathering by her painting.
‘Such a crowd!’ Anne clicked her tongue impatiently. ‘Let us bypass this one…’
‘No!’ Hannah panicked, following it with a laugh, to cover her eagerness. ‘If it is drawing a crowd, it must be worthy of our attention…’
‘Hannah is correct, Mother. We must pause and observe…’
Being close now, Hannah focused in on the voices of the spectators.
‘Such innovative effect!’
‘Look how the water seems to move as you stare…!’
‘Who is this Alexander Burton? Quite notable!’
