The Secrets of Blythswood Square: The gripping and scandalous new 2024 Scottish historical novel from the acclaimed author of The Fair Botanists by Sara Sheridan

Author:Sara Sheridan [Sheridan, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781399701600
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2024-02-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

At St Enoch’s Square, after dark on the eighth of the month, a satisfied lethargy has fallen over the studio that is unaccustomed for a Wednesday evening. The air feels heavy like the aftermath of a party the star guest has left, and indeed Grace Sutherland was photographed here today and now has gone. The cosmetics tray is set with the grape salve and crumbled wood ash with which Miss Sutherland allowed Jeremiah to paint her face, the ash to her eyebrows and her lips in a cupid’s bow. A dark red negligée, the colour of port, ribbons for Miss Sutherland’s hair, a pair of delicate slippers and matching stockings with garters are bundled into a bag now to go back to the theatre. Jeremiah sits back and yawns. It is only after six of the clock but he did not sleep the night before. He and Mr Lennox played cards till late and then played other, more diverting games till even later. There was no point in sleeping. ‘That went well,’ he says.

Ellory glances at the print room. ‘I think so.’ She feels as if she has swindled somebody. It was too easy: Grace, like Jane, was an excellent model.

Jane returns from fetching the sign they put on the door downstairs. ‘Private sitting. Come back tomorrow.’ She stows it in a drawer. It will be dark soon enough and Ellory intends to work late making the negatives so she can make prints from them when the sun comes up. However, they know already that the pictures are scandalous. From the moment Ellory watched the actress climbing down from her carriage, she knew they would be.

Miss Sutherland arrived outfitted in burnt-orange silk with a glamorous trail of feathers. She took the stairs elegant as a cat about to catch a mouse. Once she had changed, they all had to wait as she spent a good deal of time considering her image in the mirror. ‘These are my shoulders,’ she said, her still eyes inspecting her perfect pale flesh, a long pearl necklace draped across her creamy clavicles. ‘These are my ankles,’ she turned her gaze downwards. Then she held a joyous, silent laugh just as she had in Ellory’s office, but this time watching herself in the mirror. She shifted and did so again at a slightly different angle. Mr Hill’s female models were never so studied but none were near as beautiful. There is a self-possession to Grace Sutherland which is wild in its ambition. She is a living mannequin; perfect and contained. A goddess of skulduggery.

The image they all prefer is one where Jeremiah draped a white feather boa across Grace’s body, creating the line of a Japanese print. Jane stepped into the frame, an accustomed model herself now, and made to undress the lady as if she were Miss Sutherland’s maid. Jeremiah brought her a white apron and cap while Ellory set the camera on the edge of the table. There was something intimate in the moment: Grace reflected in the mirror and Jane standing next to her, fixing her buttons.

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