His Beautiful Bea: A Touches 0f Austen Novella Book 1 Page 3

  Then, as Felicity and Grace chattered about some roses that were prized for their colour, Bea got out her landscape and set out her own painting supplies.

  “Oh, those are lovely,” Grace said, coming to look inside the wooden box of brushes that had been a gift from Lady Clayton to Bea on her last birthday. “These are nearly as nice as the ones Miss Abernathy has, Felicity.” Grace turned to her sister. “Come, take a look. You will like them.”

  Felicity’s left brow rose and her lips pursed in an expression that declared she certainly could not be bothered to cross the room to look at a set of anything.

  “A brush is a brush. It is not the tools that make the artist great but the technique the artist uses and the talent she possesses. I tell Amelia — Miss Abernathy — ” she explained to Bea, “that all the time. And truly, Grace, it is not as if Amelia can paint better because of her brushes. She possesses no talent. Her work is still dreadful. It is fortunate she is so skilled at playing the harp and dancing, or she would be in a sorry state. What man would wish to marry a lady with no accomplishments whatsoever?”

  “One who wishes for her thirty thousand, I suppose,” replied Grace, causing both herself and her sister to titter.

  “Is Miss Abernathy someone from your school?” Bea asked in an attempt to participate in her cousins’ conversation.

  “Oh, she is my dearest friend,” said Felicity. “We were in school together, and now we attend all the soirees together. We are nearly inseparable. In fact, I have missed her dreadfully these past weeks.”

  Bea tipped her head and studied her painting, deciding both where to put some flowers and how her cousin could speak as she was about Miss Amelia Abernathy and yet claim to be her particular friend. This was why it was challenging to participate in discussions with her cousins. Their ways were so foreign to her. “When will you see her again?”

  “Oh, in a fortnight. We are to travel to her father’s home in Kent when we leave here for a house party. It will be very exciting. We might even both find a husband while we are there,” Felicity replied.

  “If we both still require one,” Grace whispered with a knowing smile.

  Felicity’s cheeks coloured as she glanced at Bea and then gave her sister a sharp look.

  Bea picked up her brush and attempted to ignore the implication of Grace’s words. Everett had been most attentive to Felicity for the past five days since their first introduction. He had walked with her, played cards with her, sang while she played the piano, and even taken Bea’s book of verses to read to Felicity. Bea made a show of concentrating on the flowers she was planting in the garden on her canvas, and said, “A house party will be exciting, I am sure.”

  “Oh, indeed!” exclaimed Grace before beginning a litany of things that she just knew would happen at this party. This, in turn, led into another recital of many of the interesting bits of gossip from the season. This meandering stream of stories which were of great interest to the Misses Loves and of little interest to Beatrice continued until there was a soft tapping at the door and in walked Max, followed closely by Everett and Graeme.

  A story about an unfortunate gentleman who had been rejected twice by the same lady ended abruptly and was replaced with excited exclamations of greeting and cries of how dreadfully dull the day had been without the gentleman for company.

  “Did you miss me?” Graeme asked Bea. He had wandered away from the shrill voices of the Misses Loves and had found his way to the corner where Bea was working. “It is a fine representation,” he said, tilting his head to study her painting. “You are becoming quite proficient in landscapes, which means you will soon have to move on to other things such as handsome neighbours whom you missed.”

  He had missed her. As he settled himself against the wall just behind her to her left, he had to admit how pleasant it was to be greeted by her smile. He had been restless all day, but here, he finally felt at ease.

  Bea chuckled. “Did I miss you?”

  “Oh, you did,” Graham replied with a smile. “I hear it was quite dull around here without me.” Beautiful blue eyes filled with amusement met his.

  “Most dreadfully, but if you do not believe me, you may ask Grace.”

  “There is no need for her to repeat it. I heard her quite well when we arrived,” he replied with a laugh.

  “Bea,” Max kissed her on the cheek in greeting. “I have put the thread you wanted into your workbasket, and this is the book you wished to borrow.” He placed it on the table next to her. “Everett apologized for not returning it when he was finished reading it yesterday.”

  “I did not realize he needed to apologize to you,” Bea said with a raised brow.

  “He was not apologizing to me, ninny,” Max said with a smile and wink. “He was sending his apologies to you.”

  “He could not walk across the room and make them himself?” Graeme’s voice was thick with contempt. “I shall speak to him,” he promised. His brother had been raised with better manners than he was currently demonstrating and the fact that it was Bea whom he was treating so poorly made it a far greater offense in Graeme’s mind.

  “There is no need,” Bea assured him. “I am certain Everett will remember to speak to me at some point.”

  Graeme nodded toward his brother, who was still engrossed in whatever it was that Felicity was showing him. Their heads were bent together over something. “Has he been like this the whole time I was gone?” Graeme had left two days ago to visit a friend and help him about a horse and had only returned that morning.

  “Like what?” Max asked. “Swooning at my cousin’s feet?”

  “Yes, that,” Graeme replied, “and doing it to the exclusion of all else.”

  Max shrugged.

  “Yes.” Bea’s answer was soft.

  “We expect a happy announcement any day now,” Max said with a laugh.

  Graeme glanced at Bea, who was applying herself to her work with fierce determination. It was a sign that she was not at all happy. He had worried that leaving Stratsbury was a bad idea, but he had promised his friend that he would accompany him to get that horse. Now, he knew that he had been correct, and the person he had hoped to help see happy was far from it. “It has not progressed to that in so short a time, has it?”

  Bea lifted one shoulder and let it fall.

  “Are you well, Bea?” Max asked as he finally noticed his sister’s distraught look.

  Bea’s smiled as brightly as she could at him. “I am well. Rainy days tend to make me quiet. You know this, and you must also remember that I have been listening to our cousins all day. My ears are weary.” And so was her heart.

  “Do you need a rest?” Max pressed. “We can entertain Felicity and Grace while you go lie down.”

  “I am well,” Bea insisted. “Mama will call for tea now that you are home, and I shall stay behind to work up here. A few moments of silence and my spirits shall be restored.”

  Graeme doubted that last bit, and from the look on Max’s face, her brother was not convinced either.

  “If you are certain,” Max agreed uneasily.

  “I am.”

  “Very well. Then, I shall see if tea is being made ready and return. Shall I fetch you a cup?”

  “That will not be necessary,” said Graeme. “I will bring her one when I get mine.” He tipped his head and raised a shoulder in a half-shrug in answer to Max’s startled look. “I, too, find your cousins grating, and I might not be able to refrain from speaking harshly to my halfwit brother. Therefore, it might be best if I invade Bea’s solitude.” While it was true he had no desire to listen to the Misses Loves, he also did not wish to leave Bea. He needed to see her smile. He turned toward her and placed a hand on his heart. “I promise to do it quietly.”

  An actual smile, not a forced one, curled Bea’s lips while delight shone in her eyes, and Graeme knew in that instant he would promise just about anything to see that expression always on her face. She was a dear friend, after all, and he always wishe
d to see his friends happy; therefore, it was only natural that he should feel so about Bea, he told himself in an attempt to reason away the startling thought.

  “Are you certain you are not courting my sister?” Max asked with a grin. “I would not mind, you know.”

  Bea rolled her eyes and shook her head.

  “I do not think she would have me,” Graeme said with a smile on his lips and an odd ache in his chest.

  “Well,” said Max as he turned to leave, “if she ever changes her mind, you have my permission to court her, and I am confident I could persuade Mother that you are not a complete reprobate.”

  “Lying is not becoming,” Graeme said to Max’s back.

  “You are not a reprobate,” said Bea.

  “I am not?” Graeme pulled a chair over near her and sat down. “It is very disappointing to hear I have not succeeded since I have tried so hard to be one.”

  “No gentleman with a heart as good and kind as yours could ever be termed a reprobate.” Bea looked over at him sitting in a chair that was designed for someone much younger and shorter than he and giggled. His knees were nearly as high as his chest. “There are other chairs,” she suggested.

  “Not over here,” he answered. He was not leaving her side until he was required to gather their tea. “You think I am kind?”

  “I do.”

  “I shall have to work on that,” he muttered in a lighthearted tone.

  “Please don’t,” Bea said, turning towards him for a moment. “I like that you are kind — and honest and occasionally polite.” She tipped her head, and mischief twinkled in her eyes.

  He shrugged. “I will allow it to be so, as long as you promise not to tell anyone else. We rogues have an image to maintain.”

  “I promise to not say a word,” Bea agreed with a laugh.

  “Everett,” Graeme called, “you should come see Bea’s picture. It is nearly complete, and I think she has captured the meadow nearly to perfection.”

  He heard Bea’s small displeased gasp. She would likely be rather put out with him for drawing attention to her work and complimenting it. But her painting was good, and his brother had yet to even extend a polite greeting to her. And that last fact was one Graeme wished to see corrected immediately. He was not unaware of the hurt such neglect had caused Bea.

  “You are painting the meadow?” asked Grace.

  “I am.”

  “Has she truly captured it?” Grace turned to Everett.

  “I said she did,” Graeme muttered.

  “A few more flowers, and it will be very like how I remember it,” Everett said with a smile. “It is very good.”

  “Thank you,” Bea murmured. She found it difficult to accept praise, for, to herself, she could see the imperfections and the places she would like to improve.

  “She was also grateful to have her book returned.” Graeme tapped the book that lay on the table and glared at his brother.

  “Was that your book that Mr. Everett Clayton was reading to us?” Felicity asked.

  “It is not mine, but it is one I had borrowed and had not finished reading,” Bea explained.

  “I am sorry I forgot to return it,” Everett said with a sheepish grin.

  “I am happy you did not forget longer,” Bea replied. “I am looking forward to finishing it.”

  An odd sense of pride swelled in Graeme’s chest at her words, and he felt a desire to congratulate her for not just brushing the apology aside with an “It is of little significance.” He knew from the way her cheeks flushed that replying as she had done was not easily accomplished.

  “I thank you for being so understanding,” Everett replied, shifting as if he were going to lean against the table and begin a conversation.

  “Let me take your likeness,” Felicity suggested, placing a hand on Everett’s arm and drawing his attention away from Bea. “I am very good at it,” she coaxed.

  “Oh, she is,” Grace assured and then, as they moved away, continued on with the same information she had shared with Mrs. Tierney about the instructor who used Felicity’s work as an example to instruct others.

  “He is an idiot,” Graeme grumbled. “So easily led by a pair of fine eyes and ample — ” Graeme coughed as he realized what he was going to say about Felicity’s figure was perhaps not appropriate to be saying to Bea.

  Bea smiled sadly. “I am beginning to agree.” And she was. Everett had always seemed so discerning, so sensible — until he had met Felicity. Since that day, he had been only a shadow of his former self. He was still attentive, but only, it seemed, to Felicity.

  “Ah, but they will be leaving in what?” As disappointed as he was with his brother, he could not help but push his frustration to the side and attempt to lift her spirits. He truly did not know what she saw in his brother. She deserved better. She deserved someone who would not ignore her or place her behind another.

  “Ten days,” Bea said with a sigh. Ten long days.

  “And then, he will return to himself,” Graeme said it hopefully, but he knew that ten days was a long period of time when desires were stirred, and hopes, such as Miss Love appeared to have for his brother, were ignited.

  Bea nodded and continued mingling small white and yellow flowers with the blue ones that were already in the scene. As she worked, she peeked up occasionally at Felicity and Everett, wishing the days to pass quickly and that he would not be lost to her forever, though she suspected he already was.

  Chapter 4

  For two days, the clouds prevailed in the sky, spitting out the occasional burst of rain — sometimes soft and gentle and other times as if someone in the heavens had kicked over a mop bucket. The greyness of the days and the dampness of the ground again kept Bea and her cousins indoors.

  For those same two days, Heathcote was blessed with the presence of the Clayton brothers. One came to sit for and fawn over Felicity, and the other, to watch and grumble.

  So it was that the day when the skies finally cleared was greeted by Beatrice with some relief, for now they could take their drawing and painting into the sunshine where Grace’s exclamations of delight over the drawing her sister was doing could reverberate off of the trees and flowers rather than the walls of the schoolroom, which had become to Bea a very constraining room with so many people of a talkative variety to fill it.

  Then came the joyful day two days later when the ground was declared to have sufficiently dried out, and it was decided they would pack up their art supplies along with a picnic lunch and finally seek out the meadow Grace so desired to see.

  On this morning, as her cousins eagerly awaited the arrival of the Claytons, Bea handed her bag of drawing supplies to her brother, who stored them next to the picnic basket.

  “You are not bringing your paints?” he asked.

  Bea shook her head. “I prefer to draw when in the meadow and paint when in the house.” She drew in a deep breath and released it with satisfaction. “It is a beautiful day, is it not?”

  “I will not argue that,” Max replied. “I am pleased to see you looking so happy. I dare say you were beginning to look a bit wane by last evening.”

  Bea wrapped her arm around his and walked with him back toward the house. “I shall be able to find a quiet spot,” she said, laying her head against his shoulder for a moment.

  She loved moments of solitude. They refreshed her as nothing else could. Usually, she would find a few moments each day to steal away to the schoolroom, her bedroom, or some corner in the garden, but since her cousins had arrived, finding both those moments and any place that was not invaded either by person or voice had been nearly impossible. There had been a few times of refreshment during their visits to Stratsbury when she was left to herself in the garden or in the library. However, they had not ventured from Heathcote in four days, and Bea’s equanimity was wearing thin.

  “Whatever the reason, I am glad to see your improvement. Perhaps we will be able to arrange the drives so that you can even enjoy a bit of quiet whil
e travelling. You look tired.”

  Bea sighed. “I am. I must admit I have not slept well, but I suspect today will help with that as well.”

  Lying upon her bed at night had been the only place where she had been able to contemplate the events of the day, which was as necessary for Bea as eating or getting fresh air. However, her ruminations had not all been of the particularly pleasant sort. There was no denying in her mind that things were progressing between Felicity and Everett to a point from which there was no turning aside of affections. And so, she had begun to prepare herself for the inevitable disappointment.

  She tugged gently on her brother’s arm, causing him to stop. They were nearing the house, and she needed to speak to him where her cousins could not hear. Her heart seemed to leap into her throat, but there was something she needed to ask him — no matter how distressing his answer might be.

  “I have listened to our cousins speak endlessly of their desires to marry.” Her cheeks grew rosy. It felt wrong to be asking what she was, but, she reminded herself, it was only information for her own sake and not gossip that she sought.

  Max tipped his head. His brow furrowed in question. “I do not plan to ask either of our cousins to marry me if that is what is worrying you. I know Grace has batted her lashes at me and all that, but I have not developed a fondness for her.”

  Bea smiled. She had been wondering about that, almost as much as she had been wondering about Everett’s intentions. “They have spoken most frequently of Felicity’s hopes.” The fingers of her free hand ran back and forth along the seam of her gown nervously. “Does she hope in vain?”

  Her brother’s cheeks puffed out for a moment before he blew out a breath. “Everett has not mentioned his intentions, but he seems smitten.”

  She swallowed the disappointment that rose at such a statement. “Do you expect him to offer for her?”