Remy walked inside. After a pat of greeting, Mr. Goode pointed to the mat on the floor beside the doorway. “Sit,” he instructed.
Remy complied, his tail swishing contentedly as he waited patiently for his next command. Why could he not behave like that earlier in front of the gentleman and lady?
Mr. Goode cleared his throat. “I do not suppose Miss Mary has said anything to you about the book I lent to her?” His ears burned bright red.
Elizabeth pretended not to notice. “She has not yet started the book you sent.” He deflated, so she quickly added, “However, as is always the case with Mary, she has a remarkably sensible reason for delaying. She did not feel it right to begin another book before she had finished Book One ofSermons to Young Women.”
That any man should consider himself such an expert on the proper comportment of young ladies that he had sufficient material to fill,not just one,but two volumes was the height of presumption. Why could Fordyce not tell his own sex how better to behave?
“Miss Mary is reading Fordyce?” he asked eagerly.
If Elizabeth was not careful, Mr. Goode would find a way to secure book two of the sermons so he might have something else to lend to Mary. “She has threatened to read it aloud to us. Evidently, that is what Fordyce encourages.”
He nodded. “A young lady who strives to improve herself through extensive reading ought to be applauded for her efforts.”
Dear Mr. Goode. It did not matter what Mary did, he always praised her motive. “I fear that her efforts make her the butt of Kitty and Lydia’s jokes.”
“We cannot have that,” he said thoughtfully, pinching his chin. “What she needs is a diary in which to write the thoughts she would otherwise speak.”
Thiswas an idea Elizabeth had not considered! “Fordyce himself encourages copying passages in writing.” She had been unwilling to lend any merit to the idea, given its source, but now that Mr. Goode had suggested it, she recognized its potential value for Mary.
“I believe I have just the thing.” The young man rubbed his hands together, practically bouncing in place, already planning his next token of affection. Elizabeth prayed that he might get to the point oneday. His frequent hints were too subtle for her myopic sister to notice.
“Shall I show you in to your uncle?” he asked.
“He is not too busy?”
“I dare say he will enjoy a reprieve. He has been poring over ledgers all morning.” Mr. Goode turned down the hall. Elizabeth, with a final word for Remy to stay on his mat, followed the clerk to her uncle’s study.
Uncle Philips was just as Mr. Goode had said, hunched over a ledger, one finger running down the page and the other writing figures on a sheet of paper. He had a round face with thick lambchop side whiskers. His sharp eyes snapped up when he heard her enter, his gaze as solid as his steady frame. Immediately, he closed the ledger and placed the paper in a leather satchel, all of which he then locked in one fluid motion inside a drawer. Elizabeth liked that about her uncle. Her aunt might be well known in Meryton for her loose tongue, but her uncle Philips was a master at keeping secrets. He had kept Elizabeth’s secret all these years.
He rose from his chair and motioned for her to sit. “Lizzy, your timing is perfect. I just received a letter from your uncle Gardiner. I will join him in London on the morrow.” Only when Mr. Goode had closed the door behind him did he add in a lower tone, “Do you have any paintings for me to deliver?”
“Thank you, yes, there are three. Did Uncle Gardiner give a reply to my request?”
“To raise your price?” He shook his head, but Elizabethnoticed how he stifled a smile as he pulled the letter from his pocket and pointed at a paragraph on the page in Uncle Gardiner’s bold handwriting. “Only last month,twoof your landscape paintings sold in a single day!”
Elizabeth read the lines with bated breath, the details too sparse for her satisfaction. “He says they were purchased by a lady of fashion? What does Uncle mean? Was she of theton? Of high society?” If one lady of thetondisplayed Elizabeth’s work, demand was certain to grow. This was just the opportunity for which Elizabeth had been working! This changed everything!
Uncle Philips’s bushy eyebrows bunched together. “Do not get your hopes up, dear.”
It was too late for that.
“It is a testament to your skill and persistence that you have accomplished what you have, but is the risk worth the increase in popularity?” he warned.
Elizabeth tried to control the grin threatening to take over her face. “He writes that the lady inquired extensively about the artist. Surely, that means that she has some desire to secure another painting. Perhaps her friends will wish for their own landscapes.”
He looked at her squarely. “Take care not to hope too much, Lizzy. This is a dangerous game you play, and I am not the only one having second thoughts about my role in it.” He looked pointedly at the page she still held. She had skimmed over that part of Uncle Gardiner’s letter, covering it over with her thumb.
“I shall continue to be cautious, Uncle. I owe everything to you and Uncle Gardiner.” She really was very fortunate to have two uncles with progressive views. When she had made her initial appeal for their assistance four years before, she had pointed out how a certain financial independence would benefit them upon the unhappy event of her father’s death. If she could use her talent to earn enough to purchase her family’s rundown estate, her uncles would not need to provide for their needs out of their own funds. As it turned out, neither uncle had needed such self-serving justification. Their reason was more sentimental.
Uncle Philips rubbed his eyes and tugged on his whiskers. “How long do you intend to carry out this… deception?”
Elizabeth’s hackles rose.Deceptionwas too harsh a word when it wasnecessitythat had moved her to act. After all she had already done, would he suggest she stop just when fashionable society was taking notice of her work?
He held up his hand. “I think only of your future. If anyone were to find out…” He paused, and a shiver ran up her spine. She was well aware of the risk she took. It was the threat she had lived with every day over the last four years. As real as it was, she could not dwell on it. Her mother and sisters needed her.
Too stiff to shrug, Elizabeth jutted out her chin. “What? A gentleman’s daughter cannot earn an income from the labor of her heart?”
