In Pursuit of the Painter by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter Eighteen
Michael’s eyes darted to the clock in the corner of his studio. He only had ten minutes to finish his work for the day if he wished to make it back to the drawing room before Patience left. Most days his schedule was filled with clients, but today he had been able to spend several hours on his own projects.
He quickly locked the door to his studio, rushing to clean this brushes and hide the half-length canvas on the easel in front of him. Working from an existing painting was more difficult than working from a live subject, but he had managed to replicate his original painting of Patience quite closely by working from the one he had called The Monstrous Debutante. He had promised Patience that he would destroy the piece, but he still needed it for another week or two until he finished the final touches on Patience’s new portrait.
He held one brush in his mouth while turning to grab another, adding one detail he had missed before hoisting the canvas off of the easel and propping it against the wall in the far corner. He only had a few minutes to clean if he wished to see Patience before she left.
And he certainly did.
He positioned several rolls of canvas and a few boxes around the new portrait of Patience to conceal it before moving toward his other easel.
The painting of Orpheus and Eurydice was nearly complete, and he was proud of his work. He imagined Father would have been just as proud. Since most of the paint was dry, he had begun hiding the piece in the compartment at the back of his shop, deep within the closet where he stored most of his supplies. Since his fame as an artist had spread, there had been many more people visiting his studio or peering through the windows while he worked. The only two pieces he was protective of were his Orpheus piece, and his new portrait of Patience.
He hid the monstrous portrait with her new portrait, only to ensure it was not seen by anyone passing by the shop. He hoped society would soon forget what she looked like so Patience could venture outside without feeling the need to hide her face.
After locking his studio doors, he began his walk home, scratching at the dried paint on his hands. The very moment his mind was idle, his thoughts traveled to Patience, laughing and spinning in the leaves in her blue pelisse. He had never seen her so happy, and he was fairly certain that the effect it had had on his heart was irreversible. He had been working to pull down the walls that surrounded her for months, and now he was finally seeing the results of his efforts.
What he saw behind those walls was a beauty that matched her exterior. He wanted to know what had caused those walls that had been so difficult to remove. He wanted to know why she still appeared to be clinging to them.
Most of all, he wanted to know what was in her heart, but it seemed to be the most heavily guarded of all.
He found Patience in the drawing room. She was still holding her teacup. Mother, Emma, and Isabel’s cups sat on the tea table, completely empty. It might have been in his imagination, but Michael hoped that Patience had intentionally drank hers slower so she might have the opportunity to see him.
It was silly to have such a hope. Dangerous, really. No matter the state of her reputation, he doubted Patience would ever consider him. Just like the rumor she had tried to start at the masquerade, she would reject any proposal he offered her. The history between them was filled with so much tumult. How could her strong feelings of hate ever transform to love? It seemed impossible. But then…hadn’t his feelings transformed? He banished the thought before he could dwell on it.
Mother stood and gave him a hug as she always did when he returned home each day. Patience sat with her usual stiff posture at the edge of the settee, watching them from over the rim of her teacup. When Mother returned to her place on the sofa, Michael took the empty seat beside Patience on the settee. He cast her a smile in greeting, relieved to see her smile back. He had been worried that the progress he had seen in her the day before had already disappeared. Her eyes lingered on his a little longer than usual before returning to her teacup.
“I have been curious about your painting of Orpheus,” Patience said in a quiet voice. “Is it nearly complete?” He caught a hint of color on her cheeks. Had he made her nervous by sitting so close? That was a good sign, wasn’t it? He hardly knew. He didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable, so he shifted away slightly. Her eyes rose to his again. Was it…disappointment he saw in them?
“Yes.” He nodded. “It will be finished within a week or two.” He tried to choose his next words carefully. Mother and the twins were distracted with their own conversation, though Michael caught Mother’s attention shifting to them on occasion. A sly smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.
He returned his attention to Patience. “Would you like to come see it? I don’t have any clients tomorrow between two and three in the afternoon.”
She smiled, giving a quick nod of her head. “Yes.”
Michael’s heart melted, leaving him weak. To know that she admired and cared about his work enough to inquire after it made him like her even more. Blast it all, he was not supposed to be dwelling on his feelings. He cleared his throat. “I will see you tomorrow then.”
She seemed to take his words as a dismissal, because she made to stand. He grabbed her elbow before she could escape. “Wait.” He released his hold on her arm when he caught his sisters watching. Patience sat back down, eyeing him with curiosity. “I was not suggesting that you leave. Please stay for dinner.”
Her lips pressed together as she suppressed a look of surprise. No matter how many times he invited her to stay for dinner, she never seemed accustomed to it. Her eyes fluttered up to meet his, shielded partially by her lashes. “Very well.”
Did she realize what a puddle she made him? He could hardly breathe as her gaze held him captive. Even with his mother and sisters watching, he might have kissed her, right there on the settee.
Stop. It took all his concentration to keep his gaze away from her lips and the dimple near the corner of her mouth. The last time they had been alone together collecting leaves he had almost told her what she meant to him. He had told her how his family cared for her, but he hadn’t managed to tell her how he cared for her. These were different emotions than what his mother and sisters felt for her. The feelings in his chest were to be handled with care and hidden with even more care. It would have been foolish to tell her his feelings when he did not fully understand them himself.
There was much he still didn’t know about Patience, and he had a feeling it would require a great deal of patience before he could discover it all.
Patience adjusted her pelisse as the wind caught under her skirts. It was the coldest day of autumn so far. She was grateful for the dropping temperatures. It meant she could wear long sleeves without appearing out of the ordinary. She drew a deep breath before opening the door to Michael’s studio. He stood behind his easel, brown hair falling over his forehead, dark brows furrowed in concentration. He balanced a paintbrush in his mouth, holding the other in his right hand as he added strokes to the canvas. His eyes lit up when she entered, and his mouth smiled around the handle of the paintbrush as if he had forgotten he had placed it there.
She laughed at the expression. He removed the paintbrush from his mouth, shaking his head. “You caught me in a very focused state.” He wiped his hands on his smock. “Your timing is also most opportune.” He flashed her a grin. “Because I just finished my piece of Orpheus and Eurydice.”
Patience took one step forward, gasping when she saw the completed piece. The colors were vibrant, the emotions on Orpheus’s face palpable. Her heart wrenched as she took in the sorrow and regret in his features as he watched Eurydice slip away. Because of his own mistake, she was lost forever. Patience shook her head in awe. “This is beautiful.” She looked up at him. “Truly.”
A small smile tugged on his lips. His eyes softened as he met her gaze. “Will you help me give it a name?”
She studied Orpheus, then Eurydice. “Orpheus has more to lose in this moment. I daresay he is the focus of the piece.”
“I agree.” Michael’s eyes flashed with amusement as he observed her analysis.
“Since I refused to allow you to call me Impatience, perhaps that should be what you call this piece. After all, it was Orpheus’s impatience which caused him to glance back at Eurydice prematurely, thus causing the gods to keep her in the land of the dead.”
Michael’s smile grew wider before his expression turned thoughtful. “It was also a lack of trust,” he said, rubbing his chin. “He didn’t fully believe that she could be transformed.”
Patience leaned closer to the canvas, amazed by all the small details that had come together to form this masterpiece. Each layer of paint had been carefully placed, every stroke ranging from textured and thick to the width of a single hair. “Do you suppose Eurydice felt abandoned?” The woman’s expression was difficult to read in the painting, shadowed as she was. “The man she loved could have saved her, but he failed. I pity Orpheus for his regret, but I pity Eurydice more. She was left there in the darkness alone.” Patience’s heart stung. She knew how it felt to be abandoned.
Michael was silent for a long moment. “His mistake was great, but their love was greater. I do not doubt that she felt alone, but I’m certain she forgave him.”
Patience studied their hands, entwined at the fingertips, seconds away from being torn apart. “A Distant Love. There is a physical distance growing between the two, yet the emotion in their faces shows that the distance will not hinder the love they share. In such a moment of tragedy, there is hope, at least, that their love will live on.”
Michael watched her for a long moment, giving a slow nod of approval. “So it shall be called A Distant Love. I think it is quite fitting.”
“I quite enjoy naming artwork.” She walked past Michael, tapping her chin. What else have you painted that still requires a name?” She started toward the back corner of the studio. She only made it a few steps before she heard a paintbrush clatter to the floor. Michael rushed forward, stepping into her path.
She stopped, frowning. His broad shoulders blocked the corner of the room from her view. She rose on her toes, attempting to see over his shoulder. The expression on his face was far too suspicious.
“I have no other paintings in need of names.” His smile looked as though it had been painted on.
She tipped her head to one side. Why had he rushed in front of her? There was something in that corner that he did not wish for her to see. She tried walking forward again, but he moved with her, anticipating each step that she took in an effort to see around him. “Michael!” She let out a huffed breath.
He gave a nervous laugh. “I think it is time for you to leave. My mother will be expecting you for tea.”
“What are you hiding?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Nothing.”
That was precisely what people said when they were indeed hiding something. She darted around him, but he was too quick. His arms captured her from behind, lifting her completely off of the floor. With her body pressed against Michael’s, she could scarcely breathe. She had never felt small before, but by the way he had effortlessly lifted her off her feet, she felt far from masculine—a word Mama had often used in reference to her height. She was only in his arms for a short moment before he rotated her around, setting her back on her feet.
“Go on,” he said, just as breathless as she was. “There is nothing more for you to see here.” He crossed his arms over his chest—the very chest her back had just been leaning against.
She raised one eyebrow before surrendering with a laugh. Why was he acting so suspicious? She could hardly bear her curiosity. She backed away with slow steps, keeping her narrowed eyes fixed on him so he would have no doubt that she was skeptical.
He followed her until she was outside of his studio. He gave her an apologetic smile before walking back inside and closing the door halfway between them. “Enjoy your tea.” His eyes sparked with mischief as he closed the door.
Patience let out a huffed breath. It would bother her all day, yet she was not actually vexed by him. A ridiculous smile had taken root on her face since the moment he had pulled her against him and lifted her off the floor. His arms had fit so perfectly around her. If only she had been allowed more than a few short seconds to feel it. The sensation had already started to fade, much like her better judgement. Michael is a friend, nothing more. A friend. A friend. She repeated the words in her mind as she began the short walk to the Cavinders’ for tea.
