A Minx for a Merchant : Book 5: Primrose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet)

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A Minx for a Merchant : Book 5: Primrose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 5

by Arietta Richmond


  “I suspect, Lady Primrose, that there is more to this call than your desire to inspect the latest paintings on my walls. What can I help you with?”

  Primrose swallowed – Sera was always straightforward about things, her experiences after her brother’s death having left her with little tolerance for small talk and fussiness, but Primrose was not sure that she was ready, yet, to go straight to the heart of her reason for calling – after all, to do so involved potentially admitting to her eavesdropping. Although, perhaps she could use the fact that Mr Morton had told her about the trip… she took a deep breath, and gathered her courage, but as she was about to speak, the door opened, and a maid brought in the tea tray.

  She stayed silent as the maid left, and Sera poured, making sure that Millie was given a cup too. Finally, fortified by a few sips of the excellent tea, she tried again.

  “I… ah… I was told that you and your husband are about to travel to the Canary Islands. I wanted to talk about that, if you will grant me such licence?”

  Sera looked puzzled, but thoughtful.

  “Of course – what did you wish to discuss?”

  “I… ah… I want to go with you. Oh! That sounds so forward! But…”

  Her voice trailed off and her cheeks flushed to a heated red in embarrassment. Surely, having put her request so baldly, it would be refused – but her desperate desire to travel had overridden all sense of polite conversation. She studied Sera’s face, waiting for the rejection which was sure to come.

  It didn’t. Instead there was silence. Which went on far too long, as Primrose felt her hope fading with every moment. Then, when she was ready to simply stand up, apologise and leave, Sera smiled.

  “I see. And… why do you want to do that?”

  “I… I want to see distant places, with my own eyes, I want to draw the things I find there, especially the plants and flowers, to represent them as they are, not as an interpretation, like so many painters do. I have always longed to do this, but how might I ever have the chance to go to such a place, as an unmarried woman, unless I go with someone close to my family, who will be viewed as a suitable chaperone? When I heard that you were to go…”

  “That does make sense, for the restrictions on women of the ton travelling are significant. I believe that I could entertain the idea of you coming with us, and even convince Raphael, and your parents, that it is a good idea – on one condition.”

  Primrose suddenly felt faint. One of her life’s dearest dreams was almost within her grasp.

  “One condition? Dare I ask? Is it truly something possible? I want this so very much…”

  “I have heard – and I suspect from the same source from which you heard of our planned travel – that you are a very talented artist, that this is not simply the whimsy of a bored young woman, but is a genuine skill and interest. You know that I own an art gallery – one patronised by the ton, and even the Prince Regent. I am always seeking new artists to present in the Gallery, and new types of paintings. I have found that, that which is different, sells well. The aristocracy are tired of the English landscapes and hunting scenes with which their ancestors populated the walls of their homes, and they want something brighter, more exotic. You only have to look at how popular chinoiserie items are to see what I mean.”

  “Yes… but how does that relate to me, to this trip?”

  “My condition is simple – if you wish to come with us, you must commit to creating a body of work whilst we are away – drawings and paintings of everything you see – from flowers to landscapes and anything else of interest, and then to allowing me to exhibit, and preferably offer for sale, most of those works, once we get back.”

  Primrose felt her jaw drop open, and forcibly closed it – gaping was never a good way to look! If she had heard correctly, she was being offered the chance to do the two things she most desired to do – travel, and draw and paint what she saw while doing so – and the only requirement was that those paintings be exhibited to the public view when they returned.

  Admittedly, that was a challenging concept, for if the ton knew that she was the artist, many would disapprove, both because she was a woman, and because the pieces were for sale – which would be ‘sullying her hands with trade’.

  Could she do that? What would her family say? Or could she make her paintings ‘anonymously’ like her sister Lily made her poetry?

  “I… would the paintings have to have my name attached? Or could we exhibit them under a pseudonym?”

  “It could be done either way – I think it would be better as you – for you deserve the recognition and respect that success would bring – but if you wish to keep out of society’s critical gaze, I do understand – either way, I am sure that the exhibition would be a success.”

  “Then I will do it – and decide, later, how it is to be presented – I sign my paintings with my initials only, anyway, so, if we do need a pseudonym, any name with the same two initials will do. But… will you help me present this idea to my parents, as soon as possible?”

  “Indeed I will – I will talk to Raphael tonight, and then call upon your parents tomorrow. You had best start arranging all of the artists’ supplies you will need for the trip!”

  Chapter Six

  Primrose struggled to sleep - the thought of the next day’s conversation preyed so strongly on her mind. What if her parents said no? Finally, exhaustion made her drop into fitful sleep, not long before dawn. Which meant that, when Millie came to rouse her, she was rather out of sorts, and found it difficult to start her day.

  By the time that she had eaten, and consumed two strong cups of tea, she felt somewhat better, if still filled by impatience. The day seemed to crawl by as she listened for the moment when Lady Porthaven would knock upon the door, and ask to speak to her parents. Even drawing could not take her mind off the insidiously slow ticking of the mantel clock, but, when she was about to lose all hope that anything would happen, that Lady Porthaven would ever arrive, she heard a carriage draw up outside.

  She set her drawing journal aside and brushed her skirts smooth, listening intently as the knock sounded on the front door. Moments later, Marks showed Lady Porthaven into the parlour.

  “Lady Porthaven. I will let their Graces know that you are here.”

  He stepped back into the hallway, and closed the door. Primrose stood and went to greet Lady Porthaven, suddenly terrified – her dreams were so close, and yet not certain at all.

  “Good day. Is all well? Did Lord Porthaven agree?”

  Sera laughed, and gently embraced Primrose.

  “Of course Raphael agreed. He could immediately see the potential for your art, but also for you providing me with company, when he goes off, as he undoubtedly will, negotiating trade arrangements. And that is the part of the concept I will focus on, in the conversation to come.”

  Primrose almost sagged with relief as she stepped back, and invited Sera to be seated. Now, if her parents would simply agree…. At the thought of them, the parlour door opened, and they entered. Lady Porthaven rose, as did Primrose.

  “My dear Lady Porthaven, it is a delight to see you again,” the Duchess rushed forward to greet Sera, her smile wide, “You don’t, perchance, have more of those wonderful chinoiserie style paintings available, do you? I have been thinking of redecorating my private parlour.”

  “I do, indeed, if you would like a private showing of what is available, I will be happy to arrange that.”

  “Wonderful, wonderful.”

  As the Duchess exclaimed, the Duke stepped forward.

  “Do be seated again, my dear lady, I suspect that there is more purpose to your call today than to indulge my wife’s desire to redecorate?”

  They settled into seats, and the Duchess rang for tea and cakes. Once that was done, Lady Porthaven spoke.

  “Indeed, whilst I am always delighted to see you, and anyone of your family, today I have called with a purpose. I would like to ask you a favour.”

  “I am s
ure that we will be happy to provide whatever you may need, my Lady.”

  Primrose could tell that her father was, instantly, intrigued. Lady Porthaven and her husband were as well connected as Primrose’s family, and as wealthy, if not more so – which meant that if Lady Porthaven wished to ask for something, it would not be anything ordinary. Still, even knowing that her father’s thoughts likely ran that way, she suspected that he would be most surprised by Lady Porthaven’s request.

  “I am hoping that you will be – although my request is unusual. To be blunt, I would like to ‘borrow’ your daughter, for an extended period of time.”

  The Duchess looked startled.

  “Borrow? Which daughter?”

  Sera indicated Primrose, who positively shook as she sat there, afraid to breathe.

  “Lady Primrose. Let me explain. My husband promised me, when we married, that we would travel, that I might see more of the world than England. He intends to fulfil that promise very soon, with a trip of some two months, to visit the Canary Islands. But, being the man that he is, the journey will involve the investigation and likely negotiation of some new trade agreements.”

  The Duke nodded, a glint in his eye.

  “And you would like some company? For those moments when the discussion is of matters in which you have no interest?”

  “Correct, Your Grace. Whilst I am always interested in knowing about the business, and the items we import, I must confess that the discussion of legal contracts is not particularly appealing to me. I fully intend to discover whether there are artists in the Islands, whose work I might import, but there will still be times when I will have little to do. So the idea came to me to invite Lady Primrose to accompany me – for her interest in art means that we have much in common to talk about. It seems a positive situation for both of us – I get the company of someone who appreciates art, and might help me assess local artists, and Lady Primrose gets the experience of travel, and seeing other places, as well as a chance to sketch what she sees.”

  Primrose watched her parents, waiting for the little signs which might give away their thoughts. Her mother appeared torn, but her father was smiling – hope filled her. Tentatively, the Duchess spoke.

  “I see. That seems… a sensible arrangement, assuming that Primrose wants to go to such a place. A little… unusual, for an unmarried young woman, but with you as chaperone, there could surely be no question of propriety… and it is summer, so society is not very active. How long did you say that you would expect to be away?”

  “About two months – so we would return in the Autumn.”

  Her father was watching Primrose.

  She forced herself to stay still, waiting until he spoke.

  “That is not so long a time. Primrose – do you want to go? I know that you have always been interested in the tropical flowers in the conservatory, and in paintings, but is that a strong enough interest for you to wish to endure the hardships of a journey on a ship, and to expose yourself to a place so different from here?”

  “Yes, I want to go. This is a chance I might never have again, a chance to see somewhere else in the world, to see plants and flowers in their natural habitat, and… perhaps… to find new plants to bring back for you…”

  Her father beamed at those words, and that small flame of hope she had been nurturing burst into a veritable conflagration.

  “Well, that would be excellent, should you manage it, indeed.” He turned to her mother and waited, knowing that he need not speak the words for the Duchess to know what he was asking her. Her mother was absolutely still for a moment, then gave a definitive little nod. The Duke turned back to Primrose and Sera. “I believe that we see no impediment to Primrose accompanying you, my Lady. I have always told my children that I will not stand in the way of what they truly want, where allowing it is safe, and this case is not different from any other in that matter.”

  Primrose emitted a highly unladylike squeak of joy, before quickly repressing it. Her mother gave her a reproving look, but her eyes were filled with amusement. She swallowed, and composed herself before speaking.

  “Thank you, Mother, Father.”

  Her Mother fixed her with a stern gaze.

  “You will, of course, do what you are told, by Lord and Lady Porthaven, at all times. There is no room for any untoward behaviour in foreign lands.”

  “Yes Mother, of course.”

  A silence fell, and as it did, a maid came in with the tea tray, set it down on a table near her mother, then hastily departed the room. The Duchess set about pouring tea and offering cakes, as if this were an ordinary afternoon call, rather than the most momentous occasion in Primrose’s life. Primrose sipped the tea she was given, and nibbled at the cake, wondering what to say next. Lady Porthaven solved that problem for her.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I will let you know exactly when our departure will be. I believe that Mr Manning is examining the shipping schedule at present, to determine which ship will best be available. But I suggest that Lady Primrose should prepare as soon as possible, so that all she requires to take with her can be obtained and packed suitably. As we will be travelling on one of our own ships, there is no constraint on luggage – but I would think that there is no need to be excessive – perhaps one gown suitable for a formal occasion, just in case, but mainly day dresses suited to summer weather other than that. With appropriate bonnets and accessories, of course, and at least one pelisse, as the breeze at sea can be very chill. Oh, and there will be no need of sending a maid – my maid will be travelling with us, and can attend to both of us.”

  “Wise advice, my Lady. See that you take note of it, Primrose.”

  <<<>>>

  By the end of that day, Primrose had two trunks mostly packed with clothes and accessories, and a separate trunk packed with artists supplies, all swaddled in cloth to keep them safe. She had sent a footman to the business from which she purchased those supplies, with a large order for everything she did not have enough of, and the trunk sat open, with the space waiting to be filled by that delivery on the morrow.

  Satisfied, and having triple checked everything, Primrose collapsed into bed, and slept deeply, dreaming of exotic coastlines and tropical flowers. But, in her dreams, Mr Gabriel Morton stood by her side.

  When she woke the next morning, it was far earlier than she was accustomed to waking, and she lay in bed, imagining what the trip might bring, holding the fact that she was actually going to go somewhere different close, like a treasure which might disappear if she released it.

  She rose when Millie came in, and went down to break her fast, feeling happier than she had for some time.

  In the breakfast room, her parents were not to be seen, but her brother and her two younger sisters were there. Thorne turned as she came through the door, raising an eyebrow.

  “My, this is early for you, sister. If all it takes to make you rise early is the promise of travel, perhaps we should have tried that years ago.”

  “Thorne, what possible cause might I have had, years ago, to rise this early? I was too young for anyone to offer me an opportunity to travel then, anyway.”

  “True. So – when do you leave?”

  “I don’t know yet. But soon. Why – are you so desirous of getting rid of me?”

  He laughed, shaking his head.

  “It will make little difference – I will still have Violet and Iris here to bedevil me.”

  Iris straightened in her seat, and dropped her knife to her plate.

  “Really Thorne? I rather thought it was the other way around – that you were the one who bedevilled us.”

  Primrose filled a plate at the sideboard, and settled at the table as her sisters and brother good naturedly teased each other. This, she realised, was something she might miss, whilst away for two months or more. The teasing of the siblings had been a constant in their lives, forever – it would be odd not to see them each day.

  Her thoughts were interrupted when Marks came to the d
oor.

  “I apologise for intruding, but a messenger has just delivered an urgent letter for Lady Primrose.”

  He proffered the correspondence tray, upon which rested a sealed letter on high quality paper. Primrose set aside the near empty plate and took it, caught between excitement and fear. The seal was Porthaven’s. She broke it, and unfolded the letter.

  Silence fell in the room as she did so, her siblings waiting to hear what it contained. She read the words, then read them again, rather shocked at the content.

  Thorne, as usual, ran out of patience first.

  “Well, what does it say? Who is it from? You look rather pale – is all well?”

  Primrose looked up and met his eyes.

  “Everything is perfectly well, thank you. I am just a little shocked – apparently, we sail on tomorrow morning’s tide, early. I am glad that I packed almost everything yesterday evening.”

  And with that, she left them sitting there, and ran from the room, cast into a whirlwind of activity to ensure that everything which still needed to be done would be in place in time.

  To her great relief, her box of art supplies was delivered by early afternoon, and she was able to finish packing that trunk, and tighten the straps around it. Millie was still finishing the cleaning and pressing of the last few gowns, but by shortly after dinner time, everything was actually ready.

  Her parents had been shocked when she had informed them of the departure time, but had understood – apparently, the ship they were to travel on had already been scheduled to sail to Morocco and back, before going into drydock at Portsmouth for a major refit of her interior, and maintenance on her hull to ensure that she stayed in perfect order. Mr Manning had adjusted the schedule, so that she would deliver them to the Canaries, then go to Morocco and back to collect them before returning to Portsmouth – adding four weeks to her arrival in Portsmouth, but in no other way affecting the schedules of the Morton shipping fleet.

 

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