Secrets of Nanreath Hall by Alix Rickloff

Author:Alix Rickloff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-06-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

October 1914

I adjusted the sumptuous drape of the doll’s velvet gown before setting it back amid the rest of Mr. Byam Shaw’s collection that he housed in a spacious upstairs studio cupboard at the school in Campden Street. I’d been using it this afternoon as part of my still-life class; I was instructed to create a composition that required me to exactly duplicate the rich nap and bold color of the fabric as well as the way each shadow fell within each soft crease as the skirt brushed the floor. I enjoyed these classes but found them difficult to master. I much preferred Saturday’s exercises, when I was able to submit an unsigned work for evaluation. This might be a quick pencil sketch of the newsboy on our corner or a pen and ink of our windowsill where the landlady’s tabby lay sunning amid pots of scraggly herbs. This was where my gifts lay, in distilling a scene down to its essential properties. Not cluttering a scene with a cast of thousands each in period-perfect costume and props.

Today my mind lacked the concentration needed to master the delicate layering of dark and light that would turn a flat canvas into a three-dimensional white velvet gown. Cramps pinched my stomach and my lower back ached. All I wanted was my bed and a soothing hot water bottle. These symptoms, along with the inconvenience of dealing with belts and menstrual pads, should have had me grumbling and unhappy. Instead, I was relieved at my regular monthlies, which only served to irritate me further. A child was a complication I didn’t need, but as the war’s casualty lists grew, so did my unreasonable wish for a part of Simon I could call completely my own.

Just as I finally settled into work, the creak of a floorboard and a draft from an open door alerted me to an intrusion into my self-pitying disgruntlement. I wanted to hurl my brush across the room in frustration before I realized it was Simon, dashing in gray flannels and a jaunty panama hat.

“They told me you were down here. It’s a lovely day outside. I thought we’d take the bus to Richmond and go to the Hippodrome. Afterward, we can take a punt out on the river while the weather is nice.”

For some reason, his pleasant invitation grated my already strained nerves. “I can’t. I’m trying and failing to wrestle this ridiculous painting into some semblance of art.”

He eyed my half-finished wedding scene of bride and attendants standing upon the porch steps awaiting the first strains of Mendelssohn. “Maybe it’s the subject matter that has you stumped.”

His gaze held a teasing gleam, but I was not in the mood for jokes. My face grew tight and hot, and my tongue ached from biting back so many words for so long. “I wonder whose fault that is?”

He had the grace to blush, the skin around his eyes tensing in dismay. “Here we go again. How many times do

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