‘I must enquire whether it is for sale…’
Hannah felt she was holding her breath as she listened in, hardly believing those comments could be observations of her work. Voices whispering low were filled with awe and the critics gesticulated wildly, their exclamations rising and falling as they discussed the piece.
It took a moment before the crowd parted and the painting was there in front of the Montwood family, in its full glory.
Seeing it in this setting, it appeared new and brave to Hannah. As if it were an old friend reappearing in a fresh dress and new haircut; familiar, yet so much more impressive than they had previously been. Hannah could not repress the smile – nobody was looking at her, after all, but she tried hard not to let her eyes well up, as that would be a lot harder to justify should anybody see her.
Hannah covertly glanced sideways at Caleb, to watch his reaction to the painting. His sharp inhale was audible and his mouth fell agape as he looked at it. His eyes glittered as they explored every area of the canvas. For a surreal moment, Hannah feared he had guessed her secret – yet, that could not be so, as Caleb had never seen any of her art; there was no risk he would recognise her style. His gasp therefore must be borne of some visceral reaction to the painting.
‘Quite remarkable….!’ He muttered under his breath.
He liked it! Hannah’s heart soared. It was incredible to hear critics and members of the public speaking highly of her work, but she realised at that moment the approval that pleased her the most was that of her husband.
Hannah’s heart hammered in her chest so forcefully that she felt sure it must be visible or that patrons would be able to hear it.
‘Is this a new artist?’ Caleb asked of a renowned critic who had hovered at the painting for a while.
‘It is – one Alexander Burton.’ The suited man nodded.
Hannah pinched her lips together, determined to keep her secret, as it threatened to burst from her mouth. She wanted Caleb to know this piece of art that had astounded him was her creation; that he could not only be impressed but be proud. She so desired his adulation – after days of isolation and evasion, to feel the spotlight of his awe would be enlightening. Hannah promptly reminded herself of the reasons she could not and swallowed back the temptation.
‘A new artist?’ Caleb asked, barely removing his eyes from the canvas.
‘Indeed. There is some speculation over whether he will be here today – nobody seems to know who the fellow is…’ the critic cast his eye across the room.
‘The effect of the waves – and the depth of colour; it is voluminous and rather hypnotic to view, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely; you note the textures the artist has employed? See here – the layering and dappling to achieve the consistency of the foaming surf.’
Hannah leaned in close and felt the words form on her tongue. She could so easily whisper to Caleb right at that momentIt’s me – I am Alexander Burton! This painting is mine!She took a breath that quivered as she released it and felt a flush run up from her neck to her cheeks. Immersed in her emotional turmoil and frustrating dilemma, Hannah neglected to notice the responses of the people around her.
Anne was watching Hannah with a sharp glint in her eye. She saw her look to Caleb for his reaction; she noted how Hannah was honing in to listen on the conversations around her, with frenetic energy; she observed how the girl seemed to hop slightly from one foot to another in an anxious dance and how the blush crept upon her face. This young Duchess could not lie, nor deceive convincingly. Anne supposed this was an asset; truth-telling and honesty were valuable traits in a character, but they had failed Hannah in her pursuit of secrecy.
‘Have you seen the Alexander Burton?’ Nathaniel’s voice rang out from across the gallery as he led an affluent-looking older couple across the hall. Hannah turned and Nathaniel caught her eye with a mischievous twinkle.
‘You really must! It is the belle of the ball and no mistake! This new artist has emerged from absolute anonymity and is certain to be the prevailing, celebrated artist within the coming months, I assure you!’ Nathaniel strutted toward Hannah, keeping her eye contact held. He unnerved her with his confidence and brazenness. Hannah had presumed Nathaniel was aware of how much was at stake and what an enormous risk she was taking, posing under this pseudonym, but she began to worry that he could blow her cover with his demonstrative glances and extravagance.
He arrived at the group where the Montwoods stood by the painting and held his arms wide, dramatically presenting.
‘Here it is! The delectable, obsession-inducing painting from the enigmatic Alexander Burton!’
The couple arriving alongside Nathaniel drew in breaths of wonder as the piece was revealed to them. Hannah dropped her eyeline, stifling an inappropriate giggle. The whole scenario was surreal to her.
Across the hall, Sophia viewed a painting of a dark study; the room gloomy with mahogany wood covered in dust but sunshine blazing through a window, where cloudless blue skies could be seen above inviting green hills. Sophia tilted her head as she considered the contrast of the two stark scenes within the same image and, engrossed, did not notice Albert approach her.
As he neared Sophia, Albert appreciated the delicate curve of her pale neck, her flawless complexion accentuated by the patterned lace of her collar. He whispered something at her shoulder which caused her to pause and smile, recognising his voice next to her ear and turning with a welcoming warmth. They bent their heads low together as they privately discussed the painting. Sophia was yet to reach the Alexander Burton canvas and had not noticed the frantic predicament her cousin was causing for her best friend.
‘If I may be so bold…’ Nathaniel paused, theatrically, revelling in his performance to his gathered crowd and looking across at Hannah before continuing ‘I will confide in you all that the artist wishes to remain unidentified but hewillbe attending Lady Wentworth’s exhibition here today!’
Nathaniel’s audaciousness attracted the attention of the majority of patrons within the hall and as he revealed this nugget of intelligence, there was a collective breath of excitement, followed by whispers of enthusiasm.
Hannah felt her cheeks redden further, trembling with the fear that Nathaniel’s passionate declarations could inadvertently expose her. She tried to warn him with her eyes, widening them at him with a request for caution.
Anne saw it and the look confirmed to her what she already suspected.
Relishing the moment, the Dowager Duchess spoke loudly, cutting clear and keenly through the buzz of conversation like a newly sharpened knife.
‘Hannah dearest,’ her words dripped with insincere sweetness. ‘ThisAlexander Burtonfellow paints in a fashion similar to yours. Why, I could almost swear I were looking at a piece created by Her Grace, Hannah, Duchess of Montwood!’
