Page 149 of The Fortunes of Ashmore Castle

‘Such a blunt question. Because to get away from home influences opens you to other influences, which allow you to grow. And growth is essential for an artist.’

Alice frowned, trying to work out what he meant. He watched her, with that same gleam of amusement, as if he could follow her thoughts and they entertained him.

‘A true artist is always an outsider,’ he went on. ‘The detached observer, looking into the lighted room through a window, himself unobserved, outside in the dark street; separate from but witnessing life in all its glory, tragedy and absurdity. You have that quality, Miss Tallant, in embryo. It should be nurtured, allowed to grow to its full potential.’

His talk fascinated her, and not only because she didn’t entirely understand it.

‘You think I have potential?’ she asked hesitantly. There was something of subtle mockery about him. She didn’t want to take him at face value and find she had misunderstood or misjudged. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself – especially not with him.

But as if he had understood her doubt, he said more kindly, ‘I know that you do. Your work shows great promise.’

She felt her face glow with pleasure, and knew that he had observed her blush. He gave a little nod, as if a question had been answered.

‘When school resumes next term I should like to give you some extra tuition. I invite a few special girls to tea at my studio each week, for discussion and instruction. You will come on the first Tuesday, at four o’clock.’

‘I have a class every day at four,’ she said awkwardly.

‘That is not a problem. It is understood by the rest of the staff that my chosen girls will be released for my tea parties. There will be no difficulty.’ He gave her a bend of the head that was almost a bow, and walked briskly away.

Bron was soon by her side and asking what had been said. ‘Oh, you lucky thing!’ she said, when Alice told her. ‘Extra tuition – from Ivor Wentworth! I’d give my hair for that! He must think you’re very talented to bother with you. You could be the next Angelica Kauffman or Laura Alma-Tadema!’

Alice laughed. ‘I don’t think so! He said he takes lots of girls, and they can’t all become famous or we’d know.’

‘Well, it’s an opportunity, anyway. And you might get to see him at work. If you do, be sure to notice everything and report back to me. You never know if you might pick up something that helps – some trick or other.’

‘Great art isn’t a trick,’ Alice objected.

‘Of course it is. They all have their little secrets – that’s why they have us copy the Old Masters. Genius is a knack.’

‘I thought it was a gift from God,’ Alice said solemnly.

‘Oh, goodness! Don’t say that to him or he’ll think you a simpleton.’

‘You are far too world-weary for a young girl,’ Alice said.

‘Great artists are always world-weary. Hadn’t you heard?’ said Bron.

Mr Cowling did not understand Nina’s wish to keep the news secret. His inclination would have run more to banners across the street and employing the town crier.

‘Just for a little while,’ she begged. ‘Just until after Christmas. I need time to get used to the idea.’

‘Get used to it?’ he said, but good-humouredly. ‘It’s the best news anyone could ever have.’

‘Yes, but it will change my life in so many ways. I need to think about it.’

‘You think too much about everything,’ he said, still kindly.

‘Please, Joseph.’

The fact that she used his given name, and that the conversation was taking place in bed, tilted the balance in her favour. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘You know I can’t deny you anything. But I was looking forward to telling everyone at the Castle this Christmas.’

Yes, she had been right that he would want to accept the invitation. In fact, as soon as she relayed it to him, he assumed they would be going.

‘But just think,’ she beguiled him now. ‘We shall be sharing the Christmas after that with a child of our own.’

‘A child of our own,’ he repeated, his tone rapturous in the darkness. ‘Oh, Nina!’ And he gathered her in to hold her close. ‘You’ve made me so very happy,’ he whispered.

She lay quiet in his embrace and thought, Yes, the child is yours. The other, slight possibility she had dismissed from her mind. It had raised itself briefly and painfully, but she would not contemplate it – not now, not ever. She had made her peace. This was her life now, and she would go to the Castle as Mrs Cowling, Kitty’s schooldays friend. It would be lovely to see Kitty again.