Page 2 of A Question of Character

“That is generally the safest course.”

Elizabeth laughed.

She had always enjoyed visiting her aunt and uncle. Their home lacked the rigid formality expected in many fashionable households. Conversation flowed easily. Opinions might differ without offense. One was encouraged to ask questions rather than discouraged from possessing them.

London itself possessed an animation so very unlike Hertfordshire. Every street appeared to promise some new curiosity. She had already spent two delightful days wandering bookshops, watching fashionable ladies in Bond Street, and accompanying her aunt to make morning calls. Yet each excursion increased her desire to see more.

As they approached the Strand, the streets grew busier still. Elegant equipages mingled with carts carrying barrels, drays loaded with timber, sedan chairs weaving between pedestrians, and boys darting through impossible gaps while calling newspapers or flowers for sale.

Elizabeth rested one gloved hand upon the window frame.

“I do not believe one could ever exhaust London.”

“Oh, one can,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “But not in a fortnight.”

Mrs. Gardiner smiled. “You say that every year.”

“Because every year I discover another place your niece wishes to visit.”

“And you encourage her in every one of them.”

“I should think it a grievous neglect not to.”

Their carriage continued toward the public museum, its imposing façade soon rising above the bustle surrounding it. Elizabeth had admired engravings before, but no illustration had prepared her for the building itself. The great courtyard spread before them with all the confidence of permanence.

Mr. Gardiner descended first and handed each lady from the carriage.

Visitors streamed steadily through the entrance.

Ladies in spring silks.

Gentlemen in dark coats. Young officers. Elderly scholars. Families shepherding children who appeared far more interested in one another than in works of art.

Elizabeth paused a moment before following her aunt inside.

The galleries were already comfortably filled.

Conversation remained subdued, though never silent. Here and there an admirer stood at unusual length before a favored painting while companions drifted onward just to return some minutes later. Others moved briskly through every room as though determined to inspect each canvas before luncheon.

Elizabeth slowed immediately.

“I believe,” Mr. Gardiner observed with amusement, “we have lost her.”

“I have not gone anywhere,” Elizabeth protested.

“You have ceased advancing.”

“That is because I have found something worth examining.”

She stepped nearer a landscape depicting a river winding between wooded hills beneath an unsettled sky. The handling of the light pleased her particularly.

“I prefer this one,” she said.

Mr. Gardiner studied it. “The composition is admirable.”

“The clouds are somewhat theatrical.”

“You object to the clouds?” Her aunt raised her eyebrows.