Page 70 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

Regarding the Finchleys, the answer is yes—I have met Ahmad Malik, on several occasions. I have even met his wife, who I little knew had the honor of being one of your close friends. I do not believe in fate or spiritualism or all that other metaphysical claptrap, but more and more I see the threads of our lives intertwining and connecting us. Can it be more than mere coincidence? I begin to wonder.

In all seriousness, you mentioned selling my portrait. I beg you would hold on to it. If worse comes to worst, I shall buy it back from you myself. In the meanwhile, do consider that I would not expect you to pose for my oil painting for nothing. Artists’ models are compensated for their work. When you come to London, and when you agree to my painting you, I promise that you will be well taken care of.

As for my experiences with Parisienne muses…

I will not say I have not had them. But the frozen starlit evening you are referring to cannot be counted among their number. To me it was a pleasure of a far more precious sort.

Your friend,

Teddy

Mr. Edward Hayes

Greyfriar’s Abbey

King’s Abbott, Devonshire

7 February 1863

Dear Mr. Hayes,

It had not occurred to me that models received compensation. Is it enough for them to live on? And I don’t mean a rented room above a rookery gin shop and a crust of bread for their supper. I mean live—truly live.

A lady in my position has little opportunity to make her own way. Not unless she has a fortune of her own. But to work, to really work, for a living and to be free to do as one wishes does indeed hold a profound allure.

Until now, my brother has had the management of my small inheritance. I do not dare approach him with questions about funding an independent existence. For that, I was obliged to meet with our village solicitor, Mr. Underhill. For a fee, he informed me of what I already know: that in order to afford food, lodgings, and the wages of a companion, I would have to give up the expense of Locket and her groom. It is something I would never do. Which puts me right back where I was when I returned home after Christmas—squarely at my brother’s mercy.

It is not so terrible, not so long as I refrain from speaking and not so long as I submit to accepting Miss Trent and her mother’s instruction and advice. They have so far refashioned all the arrangements of the household to their taste. Miss Trent has even put herself forward as my drawing master. (Her artistic style bears a striking similarity to that of my old governess, Miss Callis.)

My brother is in full accord with the Trents. He must be so. He and Miss Trent are set to marry in March. While they wait, I remain in the box room, which has begun to bear a striking resemblance to the Island of Elba.

You write of when I come to London and when I pose for you. How can you be sure that either will happen? Does your confidence know no bounds? As for me, I know full well that I cannot travel without a chaperone. And I will not leave my horse again. My only hope is that, once married himself, my brother will relent on the subject of taking me—and Locket—to London. We need not remain a week, only long enough to attend the ceremony. Lady Anne and Mr. Hartford have already sent invitations. Their wedding is set for the first day of spring.

If I attend, perhaps I shall see you in town?

11 February 1863

Dear Stella (if I may presume to address you so),

Of course, you will come to town next month, and of course, you will see me there. I shall be in Rotten Row the second day of spring, sitting along the rail, in full anticipation of encountering you on your mare. What do you require to make it happen? A servant to accompany you? Money for railway fare? A groom to escort your horse? Perhaps you ought to sell back my sketch to me after all.

As for your own sketches—never mind a drawing master. Your skill surpasses most I have seen. It will not be hindered by lack of instruction until you can find someone worthy to guide you.

15 February 1863

Dear Teddy (as I shall presume since you so presumed),

I could not take money from you, not even for the return of your portrait. What kind of lady would do so?

19 February 1863

Dearest Stella,

An enterprising lady. A determined lady. In short, you.

26 February 1863

Dear Teddy,