Darcy's Trial by M. A. Sandiford

Author:M. A. Sandiford [Sandiford, M. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-05-09T18:30:00+00:00

The days that followed were among the most memorable of Elizabeth’s life. To her delight the weather remained fine, allowing pleasant outings with Bridget and other guests. On most afternoons a party set off to picnic beside the lake, attended by servants including Bertha and the nanny, who was charged with keeping an eagle eye on Georgie at all times, to avert any danger that the prized heir to the Beaumont estate might venture too near the water. Freed of responsibility, Elizabeth and Bridget held wide-ranging conversations on family and art and the place of women in society.

In the evenings at dinner Elizabeth followed Bridget’s example by leaving the talk mainly to the gentlemen, and especially to Sir George Beaumont. While appreciating Sir George’s virtues, Elizabeth soon understood that he was at root a conservative, in art as much as in politics. As a well-mannered gentleman he seldom raised his voice, yet in quietly dismissive tones he regularly castigated modern trends, with his most extreme distaste reserved for a certain Joseph Mallord William Turner, whose painting style he declared melodramatic to the point of unintelligibility. Glancing round the table, Elizabeth noticed mixed reactions to this speech, with John Constable in particular squirming in discomfort.

Next day, returning alone from a trip to the village, Elizabeth spotted the young painter with his easel set up to face the chapel, and could not resist veering into his path to get a closer look. Again she saw he was sketching, with emphasis on foliage; she noticed also that he stared more at the scene than at his canvas, sometimes biting his lip in concentration as if trying to reason out a problem. So intent was he in his work that she wondered whether he was aware of her at all, but of a sudden he laid down his palette and brushes and greeted her with an awkward bow.

‘Miss Bennet.’ He seemed to cast around for something to say. ‘I see you are also a lover of the outdoors.’

‘May I see?’

He extended an arm towards the easel in assent, and she stepped forward and studied the canvas.

‘I think I understand,’ she said after a while. ‘You are trying to apply a technique from the painter you were copying yesterday—Claude Lorrain. There is something in his method of painting trees and bushes that you would like to emulate. However, the ability to copy from a painting is no guarantee that the same effect can be recreated from nature, so now you are using as a study the row of trees beside the church.’ She smiled at him archly. ‘Or perhaps you have quite another purpose, and I am babbling nonsense—which I am informed is a common occurrence.’

‘On the contrary, you are astonishingly acute. May I …’ He coloured slightly. ‘May I ask whether you have yourself taken lessons from a master?’

Elizabeth laughed. ‘We had not even the benefit of a governess, let alone an art master.’

He picked up a brush and pointed to the canvas. ‘The problem with foliage is how to convey density without losing lightness of touch.

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