“And when would you like to get started?” she asked when they’d both finished the soup course.
“Do you have all the materials you need?”
“Yes, I came prepared.”
“Then we should perhaps start tomorrow.”
“The afternoons would be best,” she said. That would also give her time to construct the canvas. “The orientation of the folly would be optimal in the early afternoon.”
Julius didn’t say anything for a moment, or look at her, but he gave a quick nod in acknowledgement.
The main course came and it was fish, and like before, it was flavorful. “You have a gifted chef,” she said, feeling as if her voice was too sharp and loud for the silent room.
“French. He is gifted. Trained with a very prominent chef.”
Jane wondered if what they ate was from the estate, but she didn’t voice the question.
This was painful levels of discomforts. They had nothing to talk about. Why had she agreed to do this? So she could pay her rent, she reminded herself. But really, was there any reason they should dine together?
“I saw some stately horses in the distance,” she said, unable to think of anything else to say.
“We breed some fine racehorses. It was my father’s hobby, as well as mine.”
“I was sorry to hear of his passing.”
“You heard of his passing?”
“No, not really. It just seemed the appropriate thing to say.”
Silence returned.
It was Julius’ turn to break it this time. “Portraits seems like a lucrative venture.”
If one can tolerate the company, she held herself back from saying. “They can be, but it takes time to paint them. It is, unfortunately, something that cannot be rushed.” Or she would slap some paint on the canvas and be on her way. No, she had to take the time needed to produce the best painting she could. “They can be tricky. If you get off on the wrong foot, it doesn’t seem to come right. Better to discard it and start again.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” he said dryly.
Looking at him, she found herself wondering how to approach him. Until he cleared his throat and she realized he’d caught her staring. She smiled. “You’re going to have to get used to me watching you.”
“As I eat?”
Jane ignored the question. “Do you have a preferred side?”
“No.”
The answer surprised her. People usually had a preference. “Your face is very symmetrical.” His handsomeness had always been there.
“From you, is that a compliment?”
“Merely an observation.”
“I don’t normally eat dessert,” he said. “If you have a preference for sweeter things, you should let Mr. Fuller know. I‘m sure he could organize with chef to cater to any desires you should have.” He rose abruptly as he spoke. “Please excuse me. I have some things to attend to.” Mere seconds later, she was alone in the dining room, her cutlery still in her hands. Granted there wasn’t much left on her plate.
Mr. Fuller walked in shortly after. “Miss Brightly,” he said with a quick bow. “I trust everything was satisfactory with your meal. I am happy to pass on any particular requests you have to the chef.”
“It was a wonderful meal. Please let him know.” She put her cutlery down and leaned back. “His lordship seemed to have something urgent to attend to.”
Mr. Fuller nodded but didn’t say anything. “If there is anything else I can get you?” he said expectantly.
“No, I am fine. Mr. Fuller?” she asked, trying to form her words. “Am I expected to dine here for all meals?”
“It is generally expected. It hadn’t been discussed in any detail. Is there a problem?”
She smiled. “It’s just that I’m used to having my meals while I work.”
“That can be arranged if it’s your preference.”
“It would be much appreciated,” she said with an even brighter smile, glad she’d found a way out of this uncomfortable predicament.
“Now in terms of a space. Do you need another space other than the folly?”
“I’m happy to use my room. It’s sufficiently large, and the light is quite good if I set up near the windows.”
“As you please,” he said. “I have found a tarp you can use. I will have it brought to your room.”
“Thank you.”
In fact, she was itching to do a bit of painting. It was both relaxing and a means to let her think through things. Not a day went by when she didn’t paint—mostly. And now she’d gone two days.
An hour or two on one of her unfinished paintings was exactly what she needed. “I think I’ll work through supper tonight, if that’s alright. I’m also still a little weary from the travel.” The statement was both true and not. More pressingly, she didn’t want to sit through another strained meal with Julius Hennington.
Chapter 7
THE INSIDE OF THE FOLLY had been dressed with good quality furniture and the globe that Mr. Fuller had suggested. A few other tasteful objects were included, but it wasn’t packed with things. In fact, a few objects sat across the room and Julius wondered if it was Miss Brightly who’d removed them. Mr. Fuller could get overenthusiastic. Sometimes Julius wondered if Mr. Fuller had more pride in the family history than any of the Henningtons.
“Now,” Jane said, “do you wish to sit or stand? Sitting would be more comfortable in the long run.”
“I do care about my comfort,” he said.
“The Russians have started doing more informal positions, as if you catch the person in a conversation.”
“I’m not sure informality is my style.” A smile ghosted across her lips as if he’d said something poignant.
“Please take a seat,” she said, indicating to a bench. “In terms of framing, we have some options. Many choose a portrait that captures from the waist up, while others choose a more full portrait. There are tradeoffs with
