“I shall do one last look around the house and make sure everything is ready for our visitors. Did you tidy your studio before you finished up last night?” she asked.
He screwed up his face. “No, sorry, I didn’t, and I don’t have time to do it this morning before I leave for work. Could you please explain to your mother and sister that it is a workspace, and that they are not always neat and tidy places? I promise to clean it up when I get home,” he replied.
James was always leaving things in the place where he had finished with them rather than putting them back where they belonged. Leah was not used to living in anything other than an immaculately tidy and clean house. Her parents did not tolerate things being out of place.
“If I get time this morning, I will tidy things up as best I can in your studio. If not, I shall just keep the door closed,” she said.
He placed a tender kiss on her lips before releasing her from his embrace. “Thank you. I know I am a messy person. I hope you love me enough to forgive my faults,” he replied.
She couldn’t stay mad with him when he gave her one of his wicked smiles. She reached up on her toes and gave him another kiss. “Of course, I love you. But don’t you dare pass on your bad habits to our future children,” she replied.
After collecting his hat and coat, James stole a final kiss before leaving the house. Leah went about checking with the servants to make sure everything was in readiness for her guests.
Her mother and sister arrived in the early afternoon, and from the moment they set foot inside the front door, the visit went badly. The stern look which sat constantly on Mrs. Shepherd’s face was not the least encouraging. It was almost as if she had decided that the visit called for her to be more miserable than usual. Leah secretly worried that she had been instructed to behave in such a manner. Nothing that her parents did would surprise her.
“What a small house, and so close to the poor people. Your marriage is already the result of a shocking scandal, so I would have thought your husband would be trying to make things better for you. Whatever was he thinking, taking this place?” sneered Mrs. Shepherd.
Leah’s sister stood silently beside their mother, her gaze roaming the front entrance. She at least had managed a small smile in Leah’s direction upon their arrival.
After a short tour of the lower floor, Leah showed her guests upstairs to the formal sitting room. As they went to sit down, her mother stopped and sniffed the air. “Do you have workhouses nearby? Because I am sure I can smell them.”
There were some workshops and a blacksmith in one of the nearby streets, but Leah knew where the smell emanated from. It came from within the house.
“My husband is working to establish himself as a painter of landscapes. The paint fumes are a little strong throughout the house this morning. I shall go and open a window,” she replied.
She hurried from the room and opened the door of the main drawing room which James had commandeered for his work. The smell of the drying paint and linseed oil was strong. Oil-soaked rags lay flat on the floor. She stepped over several of them on her way to the window.
“Leah, what have you got yourself into? What a mess. And the smell. I knew your good sense had deserted you when you fled the wedding, but to settle for this as your future is utterly ridiculous.”
She turned to see her mother standing in the doorway, hands on hips. The look of disgust on Mrs. Shepherd’s face at the sight before her was heartbreaking. Leah’s family would never support her marriage to James.
“James didn’t have time to tidy up last night. He worked until the early hours,” she said, at pains to reassure her mother that all was not lost when it came to her youngest daughter.
“That is beside the point. Not only have you allowed this reckless man to paint inside the house, but you gave up the main drawing room. There must be a garden shed or an out-of-the-way attic that he can use. It is intolerable that a young woman of your birth should have to put up with this sort of nonsense. I thought he was going to go into the church and secure a proper living. Not this childish . . . whatever you call it. Art,” huffed Mrs. Shepherd.
Leah looked at the mess in the room. Her mother had a point. There were canvases, rags, and discarded pieces of sketch paper all over the floor.
She wiped away a tear. “Would you like some tea? Our cook has baked a fruitcake,” she offered.
“No, I don’t think we shall stay. The smell in this room has already given me a headache. I don’t know how you can live like this, Leah. Get your husband to clean up his mess and have it moved elsewhere. You are the lady of the house, and he should know his place.”
She followed her mother out onto the landing, where her sister stood waiting. With a nod, Mrs. Shepherd headed for the stairs. Her sister mouthed a “sorry” and trailed behind.
At the bottom of the stairs, her mother turned and announced loudly. “This house and its mistress are not fit for polite society. I shall inform all the best hostesses not to extend any invitations to you, Leah, until you have learned from your mistakes.”
The sound of the front door being slammed echoed throughout the house.
Leah quietly closed the door to James’s studio and went back into the sitting room. The maid had brought cake and a pot of tea upstairs while she had been gone and they were sitting in the middle of the low table which sat between the floral sofas. She poured herself a cup of tea.
It would have been easy to simply sit and have a good cry. A moment of self-pity could be well worth it. But she resisted the temptation. Tears would give her nothing but a red nose and flushed cheeks. Her private hopes for a pleasant ‘at home’ with her mother and sister had fortunately not been high; and her mother had not disappointed her.
She considered her mother’s harsh words and wished that there was not an ounce of truth in them. But her mother was right about the drawing room; she was also right about the paint fumes. Picking up the knife from the tea tray, Leah carved off an inelegant chunk of the fruit cake and stuffed it into her mouth.
The scandal over hers and James’s marriage meant that Leah had a tough task ahead of her to prove that she could be a respectable society wife. That task would be made nigh on impossible if people thought her house stank. No one would want to come for tea if they thought they were going to leave her house with a headache. There was only one solution.
James’s paintings had to go.
Chapter Forty-Six
