Improper Miss Darling

‘Of course not. He’s already been hooked and I am very proud of my little sister for having done so. Imagine Linette snapping up the youngest son of an earl. It certainly trumps anything you or I have been able to pull off, Em. Unless there’s something you haven’t told me?’ He grinned. ‘Turned any gentleman up sweet yet?’

‘If I had, I’d know better than to tell you,’ Emma said, returning to her chair. ‘You would likely tease the poor man to death.’

‘Naturally. What are brothers for?’

‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t quite worked that out.’

‘All right, stop bickering, you two,’ Mr Darling said. ‘Ridley, how are you going on with your studies? Finding the intricacies of the law to your liking?’

For the first time, Ridley looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to write to you about that, Father.’

‘Oh?’

‘There’s something I have to tell you. And I don’t want you getting upset because I have given this a great deal of thought.’

Her father’s eyes narrowed. ‘Given what a great deal of thought?’

‘My decision to become a solicitor. Or rather, my decision … not to become one.’

His father dropped his book. ‘Not become a solicitor. Why the devil not?’

‘Because I’m really not cut out for it.’

‘Indeed! Then what, pray tell, are you cut out for?’

‘Painting,’ Ridley announced decisively.

Aunt Dorothy frowned. ‘Painting?’

‘Yes. As in portraits.’

‘Of what?’ his father demanded.

‘Of society’s most beautiful and aristocratic families.’ Ridley stood up and affected an elegant bow. ‘Of grand lords and titled ladies, of cherubic daughters and stalwart sons. And of their noble dogs and horses, of course,’ he said, leaning down to scratch Ranger behind the ear.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Linette said, ‘Goodness, Ridley, whatever possessed you to do such a thing?’

‘Indeed! Giving up law to dabble in paints and brushes?’ his father said stiffly. ‘I thought you had more sense.’

‘Sense I have in limited supply, but talent I possess in abundance,’ Ridley quipped. ‘I’ve already completed five commissions and have five more waiting. And they pay me very well.’

‘Then he must be good, Percy,’ Aunt Dorothy commented. ‘The aristocracy are very particular about who they engage to paint their portraits.’

‘Exactly!’ Ridley agreed. ‘They are very particular and I am very good. More to the point, those for whom I’ve done work have passed my name along to others and I actually have more work than I can handle.’

‘And I suppose you expect me to clap you on the back and say, well done, sir, well done!’ his father demanded.

‘That would be nice.’

‘Well, I shall not! Being a barrister is a respectable occupation. One that would stand you in good stead for the rest of your days. The same cannot be said for artists.’

‘Of course not, because we are all licentious reprobates who drink too much and have naked women lying around our studios,’ Ridley muttered. ‘God knows, I’ll probably be dead by the time I’m thirty.’

‘Really, Ridley, such language in front of your sisters!’ Aunt Dorothy chastised.

‘Indeed, and in front of your aunt,’ his father added. ‘I am not pleased, Ridley. Not at all pleased.’

‘But why should you be upset? It’s not as though I’m drinking myself into oblivion, or trying to cadge money from you. I make a very good living.’

‘But it is not the occupation of a gentleman!’

‘And I have never aspired to be a gentleman,’ Ridley said in exasperation. ‘I want to paint. I’ve always wanted to paint. It is the only thing I’m good at and likely the only thing I ever will be.’

The conversation was mercifully interrupted by the arrival of Jenks.

‘Ah, Jenks,’ Emma said quickly. ‘Would you be so good as to bring some fresh tea and either a slice of cake or a piece of pie for my brother?’

‘Don’t bother.’ Ridley abruptly got up and headed for the door. ‘I’ve lost my appetite. I’m going up to my room.’

‘We’ll talk about this in the morning, Ridley,’ Mr Darling called after him. ‘Don’t think we won’t!’

Emma exchanged an anxious glance with her sister, then nodded at the servant who was still standing patiently in the doorway. ‘Thank you, Jenks, it seems we won’t be needing anything after all.’

‘Very good, miss.’

After he left, the room settled into an uneasy silence. Linette picked up a book, Emma reached for a magazine and Aunt Dorothy went back to her tambour, muttering something about mismatched threads and too-tight knots.

‘Oh well, that’s just splendid!’ Mr Darling finally burst out. ‘My youngest daughter about to marry into an earl’s family and my only son announces he’s given up law to paint pictures.’

‘Portraits, Father,’ Emma corrected tactfully. ‘And it is not such a disreputable occupation. Mr Gainsborough and Sir Joshua Reynolds were both highly respected for their work.’

‘Ridley is not Gainsborough,’ Mr Darling drawled.

‘You don’t know that. You haven’t seen any samples of his work.’

‘And I have no desire to. Knowing Ridley, I can just imagine what kind of pictures—’

The door opened and Ridley walked back in. Ignoring his father, he handed a framed picture to Emma. ‘Lord Mortimer paid me six guineas for that and his recommendation brought in two more commissions for which I shall charge double. You may not like what I’ve turned my hand to, Father, but you cannot deny I’m good at it.’

With that, he left again, this time closing the door firmly behind him.

Emma glanced at the painting and slowly began to smile. The subject was a little girl no more than three years old. She was sitting on a stool with a spaniel at her feet and a small grey kitten clutched in her arms. Her hair was the colour of ripe corn and she was wearing a pale pink dress dotted with silver stars. She was a pretty little girl, to be sure, but it was the wistfulness of her expression and the innocence of her smile that Ridley had captured so perfectly on the canvas.

‘It is excellent,’ Emma said, handing the painting to Linette.

Linette didn’t say a word, but her eyes opened wide and when she looked up, Emma saw the admiration on her face. Clearly, she’d had no idea that Ridley was so talented. None of them had. The portrait was not the work of a rank amateur. It was the work of a man who deserved to be recognised for his skill and ability.

Unfortunately, thinking about paintings took Emma back to that morning and to the unpleasant confrontation she’d had with Lord Stewart. Pity she couldn’t so easily relegate him to the back of her mind. But, there he was, front and centre once again, and she had a sinking feeling he was going to stay there until she had decided what she was going to do about this situation with Linette and Peter.