by Aria Norton
Helena looked at him with bright eyes and a luminous smile that made his decision for him.
"I suppose we can spare five minutes," he acquiesced. "But no more, my lady."
"Splendid!" she said, clapping her hands once. "Please follow me."
Nathaniel followed Helena to a room that was clearly an artist's room. Several easels were set up with paintings in various stages. One, in particular, caught his eye. It was the silhouette of a man playing the violin. The artist had put so much strength and movement into the painting that Nathaniel felt it could pop right out of the canvas and become real. Intrigued, he stepped closer, wishing he could see the man's face, but it hadn't been done yet. The silhouette reminded him of somebody, but he couldn't think who.
"Do you like it?" Helena asked.
"It's quite striking, isn't it? You almost think that the man is actually moving, but he clearly isn't. I would love to see it when it's done. Who is the artist? Is it the same man who painted the others? It's a bit odd that he would have his studio in your attic. Unless it's your father?"
Nathaniel couldn't envision the Earl being an artist, but he could stand to be corrected.
"The artist is actually a 'she'," Helena explained.
"A she? But who..." Nathaniel trailed, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the smile on Helena's lips. "You? You're the artist?"
"That I am. Surprised?"
"But... what...? You?" he repeated, knowing that he sounded like an idiot.
"I know that it's pretty shocking at first, but you'll soon get used to it. It's a bit of a secret, so I hope you will not breathe a word of this to anyone. I only wished to show you how it is that you inspire me. This very painting is a special one I have been working on for some time now between other projects. I'll give you three guesses as to who it could be."
Nathaniel was having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that Helena was the artist behind all the paintings in the house, let alone try and guess who the man could be.
"I haven't the foggiest who the man could be."
"Indeed? Not the foggiest? Why, take a closer look, Monsieur Baudelaire. It's most obvious!"
Nathaniel did as Helena bid, tilting his head. "I must admit that it looks familiar."
"I should think so," she chuckled. "Or I am no painter at all."
Realisation struck him like a kick from a horse's hind leg. "It's me!" he said in wonder.
"It took you long enough. I was beginning to think that you would never guess the man."
Nathaniel couldn't decide if he was bewildered, flattered, or shocked. Perhaps I'm all three rolled into one. Who is this woman? What sort of creature is she? I cannot for the life of me figure her out! At least he could decide on the fact that the painting was unique and Helena was an excellent artist. Is it any wonder that she's good at painting as well? The woman seems to be outstanding at everything! I don't suppose Beatrix would like to know that someone plays the harp better than her.
He had come to the house two weeks ago to find Helena at the harp, her eyes closed and her fingers strumming the strings as gracefully as a swan at flight. Nathaniel enjoyed watching her play an instrument and often wished he could set aside his pride and ask Helena to play something for him, but he wished in vain. Grandfather always said that pride comes before a fall. If that's true, then I suppose I'm in for a massive fall. Into what, though?
"Would you like it once I'm done with it?" the confusing woman asked.
Would he? Would he want a constant reminder of Helena in his very home? I'd be crazy to, but this painting calls to me. It has the very essence of me.
"I would very much like to have it once it's done."
"Oh, I'm so pleased! I hoped you would say so. I didn't want to sell it, and I hardly have the space to keep any more paintings in the house. My parents have begged me to stop producing paintings at the speed I do."
"You sell your paintings?" he asked.
"Why, yes, but no one knows that 'tis I who paints them. The world is full of stuffy men who think that women cannot do anything but tend to a household and bear children. But you're not one of those men are you, Monsieur Baudelaire?"
Even if he was, Nathaniel would never admit it to Helena. He didn't want to be those stuffy men if she found fault with them.
"I don't imagine I am, my lady."
"Yes, you're an open-minded man. I like that about you."
She liked him? Nathaniel found himself grinning, and horrified, quickly turned his face into a frown. What did it matter if she liked him?
"Shall we continue to the garden?" she asked. "I promised that I would keep my word about completing at least three-quarters of our lesson."
Helena stood at the door, holding it open for him. Nathaniel took one last look at the painting and walked towards the woman who seemed to draw him in the longer he was in her company.
Chapter 13
Helena rocked Isabella in her arms, watching the baby's eyelids grow heavier until they closed.
"You're wonderful with babes, my lady," Anna commented.
The happy mother had come to pay them a visit and introduce her baby to the household. Mimi had been right about Anna having a girl, and thankfully, Anna's husband was happy about his daughter. Helena had been worried that Jeffrey would complain about his first child being a girl as many other men did, but the man was utterly smitten with little Isabella. I don't blame him. I am as well.
"Isabella is a good baby," Helena answered. "I think anyone would be good with her."
"She's not like this with everyone, my lady," Anna insisted. "You have the magic touch. You'll make a lovely mother one day."
Helena grimaced. "As long as it is somewhere in the distant future. Should I put her down? I think the kitchen's warmth has put her into a deep slumber."
The baby was now fast asleep and had become surprisingly heavy in Helena's arms.
"Here, I will take her," said Anna, holding out her arms.
As Helena handed the child over, Rose walked into the kitchen carrying a basket of vegetables.
"You're back from the market already?" Helena asked. "I thought you would be gone for another hour."
"I would have been longer if I did not have Arthur hounding me," Rose complained. "The man cannot take no for an answer. It took all I had within me to stop myself from clouting him on the head with a cucumber."
Arthur was sweet on Rose and had gotten it into his head that he would marry her. That was his mistake. Rose did not take kindly to anyone making assumptions about her, especially when they did it without her consent.
"The poor man is clearly in love with you," said Anna. "But I don't condone his decision to spread it about the town that he is marrying you this summer. If my Jeffrey ever did that, I might not be married to him today."
Cook gave a little chuckle behind them, making them all turn around to look at her. The older woman continued to stir the stew pot, pretending not to notice them staring.
"What did you find amusing?" Helena asked.
Cook paused, giving them an over-the-shoulder look. "Do you really wish to know?"
It was just like the woman to do that. Cook had a habit of prolonging things, dropping hints, withholding explanations, or keeping a mysterious air about her as though she had all the answers in the universe.
Trying to keep the exasperation from her voice, Helena nodded. "Yes, we really wish to know."
Looking pleased with herself, Cook put down her spoon, and wiped her hands, turning to face them.
"I think girls of today are too fussy," the woman began. "In my day, we were happy when a man showed any attention. Arthur is an honest man who makes a good living. That's all that should count. Rose should be happy that such a man desires to marry her."
Helena gave her friend a side glance, surprised that Rose appeared calm and not at all annoyed.
"I don't suppose it matters if the man is right for you or not," Rose questioned.
"What is right?" Cook countered
. "A woman needs to marry, have children, and look after her family. If a man is able to provide you with the means to do that, then he is right."
"Is that all?" said Rose sounding surprised. "Goodness! And here I thought that the man had to love his wife, or at the very least, have some form of true affection for her. Perhaps a happy marriage is not necessary at all. How foolish I've been! A woman should be happy that her husband provides for her, she should not expect anything more than that. Well, I am glad that we have cleared that!"
By the time Rose was done, her voice had risen several notches. She must be more annoyed than I thought. Arthur must have said some words that riled her up, and now Cook has added to them. The older woman's eyes had widened to twice their size, and her chin had doubled.
"Well, I never!" said Cook.
"Me neither," said Rose, and promptly turned to Helena. "I think we should make our way to the parlour. Monsieur Baudelaire should be here at any minute."
Helena wondered if she should do any damage control, but could see that Rose was not in the mood to continue with the conversation.
"Yes, let's go upstairs," Helena agreed.
She said her goodbyes to Anna and her baby and followed behind an irate Rose. Helena could hardly keep up with the woman as she marched into the hallway and up the stairs towards the main parlour.
"Rose! Do slow down!"
The woman paused, looking back. "I'm sorry. I needed to get away from foolish opinions before my temper erupted."
"Yes, I see that," said Helena, drawing up to her. "It's not like you to have such an outburst. I thought you would give your opinion and be done with it. You were quite sarcastic, yes?"
Rose sighed. "I suppose I was. I'll have to apologise to Cook later, but at this moment I cannot stand the sight of her."
"Arthur must have said something to upset you."
"I do not wish to discuss anything right now. You should be happy that your Nathaniel is not as self-centred and egotistical as others."
Helena didn't bother saying the usual 'he's not my Nathaniel'. Not in her current mood.
"Well, we could argue that, but I do believe Nathaniel is better than most men."
Even if he was confusing at times. Helena knew that she had a budding friendship with Nathaniel, but they had yet to actually call each other friends. Perhaps one does not need to use a label to be something. They had all the makings of good friends with their shared interests, and their genuine interest in each other's lives. Sometimes, he pretends not to care, but I know he does.
Slowly but surely, Nathaniel had opened up to her about his life in Paris, and the students he taught. There were some details about his life that Nathaniel kept hidden away, but he seemed interested in her life. Helena had never thought about her life as anything but regular, but Nathaniel made it seem as though it were miles removed from his own. We cannot be that different if we have so many common interests. And neither could they spend so much time together if they were so different. Somehow, their lessons had gone from once a week to four or five days a week. Most of those days were spent conversing about everything and anything.
"From the amount of time you spend with him, he has to be an extraordinary man," said Rose. "Tell me, don't you find it strange that you're not running for the hills from spending nearly ten hours a week with him? I do not think I have ever known you to spend even an hour in the company of another man."
That was true, but Helena didn't like what Rose was implying. "He is my tutor. Naturally, I will spend a significant amount of time with him."
Rose smiled, tapping her cheek with her index finger. "Oddly, I don't hear much music coming from the music room anymore, and you do spend more time outside of the room than inside it."
Helena couldn't stop the blush that stole upon her cheeks. "Oh, do be quiet and stop reading into matters! There is more to learning the violin than just playing it."
"Yes. There's much to learn about your tutor's life, too, isn't there?"
Rose seemed to be pushing this matter a little too far, but the woman wasn't lying. That doesn't mean that I want my interest in Nathaniel questioned. As far as Helena was concerned, it was perfectly all right for a person to show interest in another person's life.
"Stop dissecting this matter and please see to our tea. Nathaniel will soon be here."
Nathaniel had finally acquiesced and agreed to share the afternoon tea or a meal with her, often coming half an hour to an hour before the lesson was due to start. Rose kept a straight face, but Helena knew she wanted to laugh.
"I have asked Olivia to put together a tray of cold meats, fruit, and a few small tea cakes. Is there anything else you might like today?"
Helena was about to say no but thought better of it. "Yes, there is. But I don't know if you'll be able to give it to me."
Rose's eyebrows lifted. "Oh? I don't think I've ever come across anything I cannot give or get you."
"I want you to stop reading into any interest I may have in Nathaniel. I have a great interest in you as well, but no one would question it, would they? Nathaniel is an interesting man with a marvellous talent that I admire. Furthermore, we have a good many things in common. Naturally, we will have things to talk about. Imagine someone were to hear you suggest that something else may be brewing between Nathaniel and I? We'd have a scandal on our hands faster than you could say Pollyanna picked plump plums prettily."
"Alliteration?" came Lady Pembroke's voice. "Dear, you must be rather annoyed. What has happened?"
Helena and Rose both gave a little gasp, turning to see the Countess walking towards them.
"Mama! You gave us quite a fright. We didn't hear you walking."
The older woman smiled. "No, I don't suppose you did. You both seemed too busy discussing something that has riled you up, dear. You always turn to alliteration when annoyed, which is rarely. What has you so bothered?"
Helena didn't think that telling her mother about Rose's ideas about her interest in Nathaniel would be a good idea. Her mother would take it the wrong way and assume Nathaniel was taking advantage of her.
"Oh, uh, I wanted a syllabub for my afternoon meal, but I forgot to ask Cook to make it."
The lie seemed petty, but it was the best that Helena could come up with. Her mother frowned slightly, her still pretty face confused.
"That's not like you to forget anything, but I also know that you're not so keen on syllabub."
Oh, yes, that was right. "Why, yes, you're quite right. What I meant to say is that Nathaniel is fond of them and I wished to surprise him this afternoon."
"You have another lesson today?" her mother asked. "My, you are giving a lot of time to learning the violin. Perhaps I can sit in on your lesson today to-"
"No!" Helena interrupted.
The thought of her mother intruding on her time with Nathaniel would stifle the easy conversation they had cultivated over the months. It had taken a fair bit of time for Helena to get through Nathaniel's cold exterior, and she did not wish to ruin it.
"No?" her mother asked, a tad taken aback. "Why ever not? You have never minded when I have sat in on your other lessons."
Yes, but her other tutors had never been as engaging as Nathaniel. Rose often joined them during their lessons or was at least within calling distance, but Nathaniel didn't seem to mind her. He would undoubtedly feel awkward if Mama was around.