White Mist (Regency Rakes Book 4) by Jaclyn Reding

Author:Jaclyn Reding [Reding, Jaclyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2024-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

11

In the days before Michaelmas, Juliana became more fully engrossed in her wall painting, until it seemed she wanted to do nothing else. Even the promise of Màiri’s sweet treacle bread and a cup of warm milk early that chilly morning wouldn’t entice her away.

She would spend hours at it at a time, silently drawing, never tiring, adding freely to the mural as she enhanced the image first with tangled, wind-swept trees and distant shadows of the various standing stones that peppered the island landscape. Later, figures of some of the more familiar inhabitants of the isle began to take shape, scattered here and there about the idyllic setting.

The painting itself was really quite good. Even at her young age, Juliana showed the keen eye for detail that was the mark of many a talented artist. It was uncanny, really. Even more remarkable was that somehow, without any instruction, she seemed able to capture the very personality of each figure she drew simply by the manner in which she illustrated them.

There was the family of MacNeill, all standing outside their small thatched croft, fleecy sheep teeming around them like landlocked clouds while Donald sailed by on the murky waters of the firth in his small skiff.

At the opposite corner, Juliana had brushed in the imposing structure of Dunevin, the figure of the viscount standing high in the castle tower with Cudu flanking his side, a pair of silhouettes against the sullen clouds that stretched across the sky overhead.

Below them, the tender figure of Màiri stood on the castle yard, her trademark apron tied around her waist as she tossed bits of crumbs to the scattered chickens while Angus, the groomsman, watched on from the open stable door.

Each day, some new image would appear on the mural. Just when Eleanor had thought she’d finished, Juliana would add in something more to it.

The day before, she had spent a great deal of time drawing the small, round-headed figure of the seal who often followed them when they walked, peeking out from behind the water’s surface. And that morning, she had begun sketching in yet another set of figures, this time a pair of them standing closely together at the edge of the shore while a third waved to them from a rocky mull overhead.

At first, Eleanor had thought the two figures nearest the water were meant to depict her and Juliana, with their skirts hitched up to their knees as they had waded out to gather periwinkles for Màiri’s stew several mornings ago. The water had been so cold their toes had tingled for some time afterward.

But when Juliana had enhanced the figure that was waving to the two from afar with dark hair and eyes, dressing it in a pale green frock very similar to one of her own, Eleanor realized that the one waving was meant to be herself. The other two, she surmised, were likely meant to be Juliana herself and Young Donald, who had joined them in the winkle pool that day.

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