Page 148 of The Mistress of Ashmore Castle

She looked at him with an urgency and, at the same time, doubt that impressed him with her seriousness. Something had happened to her. He wished he could have had a look at the drawings she didn’t want him to see.

‘I don’t suppose it’s possible. Oh, but, Richard, if it were . . . Do you think you could talk to Giles, ask him, perhaps tell him it would be all right? I don’t suppose he cares much what happens to me anyway, but he might think it wouldn’t look right – as though that matters! But it’s what I want, more than anything in the world.’

‘You haven’t told me what it is. What do you want to do?’

‘Go to art college. Don’t say anything yet! There’s a place in London, the Slade School of Fine Art, where women are taught on the same basis as men. They have wonderful teachers, and people who study there become famous, famous artists! It’s all completely respectable,’ she said, on a descending note, as though knowing it would be forbidden.

‘Where is this school?’

‘In Bloomsbury. Near the university, and the British Museum. You know University College takes women students?’

‘It hadn’t occurred to me to wonder.’

‘Well, it does, so there’d be lots of other women all around in the area, studying – decent, respectable women. For me to be there wouldn’t be anything odd or outlandish that anyone could point a finger at.’

‘Where would you live?’

‘I could stay with Aunt Caroline, if she’d have me – it’s no distance at all. I could walk, or go on the omnibus, and come home at night so everyone could see it was respectable. Oh, Richard!’

‘You really want to do this?’

‘I’m desperate to go!’ she said, and her face looked fined-down and bleak, as if some unhappiness had stripped away the last of childhood’s plumpness.

‘Well, cheer up, chick,’ he said. ‘If it’s that important to you, I’m sure it can be managed. I don’t see why Giles should mind in the least – it’s not as though you want to go on the stage.’ He thought briefly of Chloë, and contrasted the ambitions of the two. But Chloë was older, of age, and could do as she pleased. Poor little Alice was still a prisoner.

‘Would you ask him for me?’ she asked, a perilous hope in her eyes.

‘We’ll ask him together. And we’ll take your drawings to show him. I don’t suppose he realises how good you’ve got.’

He handed them back, watched her sort out the ones she didn’t want seen and push them casually under the armchair out of sight. Then she got up. ‘Can we do it now?’

‘Why not? They must have brought tea, so he’ll be in a good mood. Come on.’

Tea had been brought into the great hall, and the whole family was seated round the table when Richard and Alice arrived, preceded by the dogs, who raced to Giles, almost knocked over the milk jug with an ecstasy of tails, then sat one at either side of him, leaning suggestively, noses cataloguing what was on the table.

Giles had been telling the good news about their financial solidity. Halfway through the exposition, he thought he should perhaps have waited until Linda wasn’t there. She looked as though she was gathering herself for an appeal, and Richard arrived just in time to forestall her.

His arrival forestalled Kitty, too. She had been on the brink of mentioning her garden plans. If there was spare money, perhaps Giles would think it could be afforded – or, at least, some of it. But she could wait, and talk to him tomorrow, or whenever they were alone. Nothing could be done until the spring, anyway – and if he was going to say no, she’d rather keep her dreams for a bit longer.

Richard passed around Alice’s sketches, and gave everyone time to pore over them. Then, while Alice stared determinedly at her feet, he dropped the bombshell of her request.

Linda was the first to speak. ‘Good heavens, what an idea! A Tallant becoming some kind of Bohemian? We’d never live it down.’

Giles frowned. ‘These drawings are very good – but good enough?’

Kitty said, ‘I think they are.’ Giles looked at her. ‘You know we studied fine art at Miss Thornton’s.’

‘I remember. You surprised me by knowing about impressionism.’

‘Until then, he thought young ladies only liked pictures of kittens, and little girls feeding ducks,’ Richard said, with a teasing look at his brother.

‘Well,’ Kitty went on, ignoring him, ‘for what my opinion is worth, I think Alice has a real talent.’

‘Having a talent doesn’t mean you become a professional,’ Linda said. ‘There’s a difference between taking part in country-house dramatics, and going on the stage.’

‘Painters are not the same as actors,’ Richard said. ‘Great artists are welcome guests in the finest salons. They even get honours. Sir Peter Lely? Sir Thomas Lawrence?’

‘Men, not women,’ Linda said. ‘Women don’t become great artists.’