Page 11 of Engaging Sir Isaac

If she could befriend Lady Inglewood, or at least form an acquaintance based upon their mutual enjoyment of artistry, she may find a way into Sir Isaac’s trust.

Sarah came with her on the short walk to the Inglewood estate and went around to the servant’s entrance once Millie’s admittance by the butler was assured. Thank goodness for the maid’s cheerful presence. Though not many would admit to such a thing, Millie counted Sarah as a friend. Perhaps her only friend, since Emmeline’s betrayal.

The butler showed Millie to a sitting room on the ground floor. The room’s stark furnishings and windows looking out to the front walk made it a formal room, not graced with the family’s presence on a regular basis. The furniture was of the latest style, with elegant curves and stylish fabrics, but nary a personal touch graced the room, not even a single embroidered cushion upon a seat.

A painting over the hearth did capture her attention. The scene called her forward, so she stood directly below the artwork before even realizing she had taken a step.

It was magnificent. In oils, artfully rendered, was a stretch of beach with the ocean extending into the background, the sun peeking out of the clouds and bathing everything beneath in the soft light of morning. Children played upon the beach, racing behind a boy with a kite. The perspective the painter employed kept the children at enough of a distance that one could not see their expressions in great detail, but their figures were bounding across the sand with unabashed joy and delight.

“Do you like it?” a voice asked from behind, soft and somewhat uncertain.

Millie turned, startled, to see the countess standing in the doorway. She looked back to the painting. “Is it one of yours, my lady?”

“Yes.” The countess came to stand beside Millie, staring up at the painting herself. She pushed back a strand of her deep brown hair, and eyes similar to her brother’s studied the painting most critically. “I still cannot quite accept my work here.” She pointed to one of the children trailing behind the others, a little girl smaller than the others. “This painting tells the story of a memory.”

With that piece of information, Millie took several steps back and looked at the work again, tilting her head to the side as she studied it. “The other children are similar distances apart, but that little girl is twice as far from them as they are from each other. Is it you, in the painting?”

The countess blushed, but she nodded once. “I do not feel like that anymore. As though I am behind. But the memory…” She shrugged.

“You keep the painting in this room, where you do not have to see it so often.” Millie nodded her understanding and looked again. “I think it must be a good place for it, though. When you have visitors, this painting reminds you how far you have come. You are not a little girl at the rear of the group, but a countess who commands a great deal of respect. I imagine you are the one people trail behind now.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose, and she took in Millie’s words in quiet for a moment. “I wonder if you are right. Certainly, seeing it hanging here when I welcome someone new into my home has an effect. It reminds me to stand a little taller, as it were.” She lifted her chin and her lips formed a gentle smile. “Forgive me for the rather abrupt conversation. But before, when we spoke of art, you seemed to be a kindred spirit.”

Millie relaxed and nearly forgot Lady Olivia’s off-hand remark that involved taking this woman’s pride down a peg. Given Lady Inglewood’s humility in regard to her own artwork, it was difficult to imagine her ever acting anything other than gracious.

“I cannot boast of such talent as you, my lady, but I do enjoy creating things of beauty. There is a thoughtfulness in painting that makes me take notice, but my own work does not seek to tell stories so much as it does to delight the person who sees it.”

“Oh? I believe you said you enjoyed quilling and ebony painting.” The countess gestured to a seat in the room, which Millie took gratefully.

“I do. And that is what has brought me here today, my lady.” Millie folded her hands in her lap. “I understand that Aldersy is several miles away, and that the apothecary there has supplies for painting, but I wondered whether you knew if he also had the things necessary for my preferred pursuit. I am in need of ink, and a box or two on which to work. Lady Olivia does not intend to venture into the village for several days, and her supplies lack what I need.”

The request was genuine enough. Millie had no wish to disturb the marchioness, or any other member of that family, to ask for the use of a carriage. She well knew her place among them was more tolerated than it was welcomed, even with Lady Olivia as the only person who knew of the true reason behind Millie’s invitation.

“And it would be a shame to make the trip into the village and find they did not have what you needed. Worse still, to send to Ipswich if everything you had need of could be had cheaply and more swiftly.” The countess nodded her understanding, her gaze moving to the window as her expression twisted thoughtfully. “I cannot recall at the moment what is available in Aldersy. I am afraid most of my supplies are ordered from London. I am quite particular, and my husband indulges me.”

“Oh.” Millie let her shoulders fall. Drawing would have to continue to entertain her, then.

“But I might have what you need here,” Lady Inglewood said with a brighter smile. “Come upstairs with me. We will raid my supplies.”

Millie could not help but return the countess’s ready smile. “Are you certain? I do not wish to impose—”

“One artist to another, I do not mind in the least. Come.” Lady Inglewood led the way from the room, talking all the while. “I spend hours in my studio.” They went up the staircase to the first floor, then down a long, wide hallway. While their home was not so grandiose as the marquess’s, it certainly was one of the finest Millie had ever entered. “There is a very large closet, and shelves and shelves of my supplies. Perhaps I have what you need.”

Then she opened a door, and Millie followed the countess into a room filled with sunlight. The windows took up most of the wall, nearly stretching to the ceiling from the floor, and most were open to allow a breeze to circulate sea-salted air into the room. Millie took a deep breath, as much to enjoy the sensation as in awe.

The room was bright and airy, full of light and life. A couch and two chairs were the only places to sit, and they were near the door; the rest of the floor was littered with easels and narrow tables filled with books and art supplies, while the walls were lined with shelves and canvases alike.

“I have never seen a room like this,” Millie whispered in awe. Most grand houses had a room dedicated to a woman’s artistic pursuits, but they were generally small, and served also as a sitting room, or sometimes a sewing room.

There was no doubt that this room served only one purpose for its mistress—it was her place to create.

Despite her years of planning, of hoping for an elevated station in society, Millie had never pictured such a room for herself. She had the vaguest idea of being mistress of a large house, of commanding legions of servants, setting the fashionable world on its ear with her choices of dress and decor, but she had never thought of what it would mean to have a single room so perfectly situated for her own particular use.

The countess bustled about, unaware of Millie’s state of mind. “It might seem a little strange, to convert a sitting room into a studio. Lord Inglewood has offered to build me a room on the ground floor, with a glass ceiling. If we ever decide upon the design, perhaps it would be better, but I confess the idea of giving up my sea view holds little appeal.”

Millie swallowed and nodded, though the countess hadn’t glanced back at her.

“Here we are.” The countess opened a cabinet, and Millie tore her eyes from the beautiful, practical room and went to stand near her hostess. “I did order a substantial amount of things from Ackermann’s this spring when The Repository featured some clever penwork designs. I am not certain what you would need. I am afraid once the materials arrived, I was quite busy with the birth of my son.” Her eyes glowed when she turned to Millie, a secretive sort of smile upon her lips that Millie could not understand.