Page 9 of Crimes, Conspiracies, and Courtship (Paddy’s Peelers Mystery #1)

CHAPTER 8

October , t he following week

Royal Academy of Art

“L ady Matilda, stop tapping your foot. You’ll work up a sweat and smell like a scullery maid before he arrives.” Franny put a hand on one hip.

“I don’t see anything wrong with the smell of scullery maids,” said Mr. Jones from above them. “I’m courtin’ one.”

Franny said, rolling her eyes, “It was just an example of a hardworking person.”

Mr. Jones grunted in reply, then turned on the driver’s bench to face their pair of matched grays and the majestic steeple of St. Mary le Strand. Mattie began pacing beside the curricle instead. She wore a violet muslin dress with an ivory sash and lace trim. Her straw bonnet was adorned with small ivory and purple flowers and tied beneath her chin with a violet ribbon. Loose pale-blonde curls fell over her cheeks, bouncing as she took each anxious step.

In front of them was the grand Royal Academy of Art, a Palladian-style, six-story building of light stonework. Nine arches on the first level supported Corinthian columns along the second. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Mattie studied the figures of Justice, Truth, Valour, and Moderation, standing across the attic level. They each held their related symbols of scales, mirror, sword, and bridle, standing watch over the facade beneath the many windows glinting in the afternoon light. Situated on the summit was John Bacon the Elder’s sculpture of the figures from Fame and the Genius of England supporting the British arms.

“It’s a magnificent place, isn’t it?” remarked Franny. “And the wonders inside are open to all of us.”

“It would take weeks to pay all the exhibits the attention they are due,” agreed Mattie.

“So where would you like to begin?” asked a deep tenor behind her.

“Oh!” squeaked Mattie, a hand flying to her pounding heart. “How do you manage to sneak up on me like that?”

“You were paying attention to something else.” He wore a forest-green day coat, a waistcoat of a slightly lighter shade, and fawn-colored trousers. He took off his beaver hat and swept her a bow. “Forgive me for the fright.”

I could forgive such a handsome man anything, she thought. Instead, she gushed, “I’m just happy you were able to make it.”

He offered her his arm, and they walked through the arches of the Royal Academy of Art with Franny following behind. Mr. Walters paid the modest entrance fee for their group despite Mattie’s protest. Turning east, Mattie marveled again at the Navy Stair that wound its way to the top of the building and led to the Naval Board Rooms.

“Have you decided what subject you would like to attempt today, Lady Matilda?”

She pressed her lips together, pushing back the urge to say, “You.” Franny was right in saying Mattie could easily scare him away. The way he had spoken her name was an instant reminder of their class difference. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and began the topic of the weather. When they arrived at the first gallery, she heard Franny gasp behind her.

Mattie couldn’t blame her maid. It was a bit overwhelming. Paintings were hung right next to each other in rows, from eye level almost to the ceiling. Those above their heads were tilted at an angle for better viewing. There were half-moon-shaped windows above, allowing natural light to brighten the room.

The conversation turned to art, and she found Mr. Walters had an appreciation for the classics.

“I enjoy portraitures,” Mattie said. “The idea of someone’s image lasting throughout time.”

“So no one will forget you?”

“Exactly!” She grinned at him, a thought occurring to her. “What would you like to be remembered for?”

His eyes widened in surprise at the question. “Hmm, I’m not sure if I care whether I’m remembered in a hundred years. But for those who know me, I would hope they remember I was a fair man, one who did his best to make this world a better place.”

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Walters? Something which will help you achieve this goal?” They were friends now, so it seemed appropriate to ask a more personal question.

“I work for my father’s agency. He… finds things that people need or have lost.” He smiled at her, making her stomach tumble. “It can be very rewarding.”

“What kind of things?” Did his father own a merchant ship? Did he carry goods, locate expensive items or antiquaries?

“It depends.” He pointed to a landscape. “Do you enjoy landscapes?”

She tilted her head, considering the one in front of her depicting the English countryside. “If they have a living being within, people or animals rather than just hills, fields, and trees. I like seeing the livestock that would be grazing and not just the pasture. The people who are having a picnic rather than just the park.”

“You appreciate life. It suits you.”

She laughed. “A compliment, good sir?”

“Indeed. Those who do are usually compassionate toward their fellow man and understanding of other cultures.” His brown eyes held hers. “I believe society is often cruel when confronting anything different from what they know or believe. It’s a shame. So many immigrants are treated poorly because their native language shapes their speech.”

Their conversation was taking a more serious turn. “Yes, I agree with that assumption. Rejecting or ridiculing someone or something because you don’t understand it, creates a shallow person who closes off so many opportunities for learning.”

“And you enjoy learning.”

“It’s the thorn in my mother’s side. I would rather enjoy a good book than spend an afternoon making inane conversation with a man who couldn’t care less about me.” She gasped. “I apologize. It was a rude comment.”

“Speaking the truth is not rude, Lady Matilda. I admire a forthright person.”

Her cheeks warmed, but before she could respond, he turned to Franny. “And what type of art do you prefer, Miss Tilbot?”

“Oh, I love the sculptures, sir. Thank you for asking,” Franny said, beaming at the inclusion.

Mattie realized Mr. Walters was closer to her maid in class. He could just as easily be here as Franny’s companion. The thought sent a flash of jealousy through her. Stop it, she scolded herself. No romantic notions, for it will only lead to trouble. “Shall we move on to the sculptures?”

The afternoon passed quickly. She found Mr. Walters to be discriminating in his tastes, and much more knowledgeable than she’d assumed. He also made sure to bring Franny into their conversations. “Were you formally educated, Mr. Walters?”

He chuckled. “Educated, yes. Formally, no. My mother taught me to read and write before I attended public school. I learned to use the library to satisfy my curiosity on other subjects that interested me.”

“Your interests must be quite varied, then,” she said, admiring his profile as they headed toward the exit.

“Lady Matilda, there’s a cart selling refreshment. Are you thirsty?” asked Franny when they emerged from the Academy.

“Allow me, ladies,” intervened Mr. Walters. “What would you like?”

“Lemonade, please,” Mattie said, realizing how dry her mouth was from all this conversation. Franny echoed her agreement.

He returned, holding three cups between his large hands. The ladies each took one, and he held his cup up. “To an excellent day with lovely company.”

Both women blushed, though Mr. Walters’s umber eyes stayed on her. She had the oddest feeling he knew more about her than she realized. Ridiculous, of course, for they had only spent hours together. Then again, she had been comfortable with him from the moment they met.

The lemonade was quite good and a perfect ending to the afternoon. Mr. Walters escorted them back to the curricle, where Mr. Jones was speaking with two women. His hat was tucked under his arm, his dark curls mussed, and his free hand moved about as he spoke. Both ladies appeared quite taken with the handsome driver.

When Mr. Jones saw them, he bowed to the women, who giggled and went on their way. He pulled down the steps of the conveyance and opened the door, his eyes growing wide when Mr. Walters held out his hand from the opposite side.

“May I?” he asked Franny and helped her into the curricle.

“Lady Matilda,” Mr. Walters turned to her, holding out his hand.

She placed her gloved hand in his, wishing he was joining them in the carriage. “Can we take you home?”

“I’m afraid I have business to attend. Besides, it wouldn’t be proper.”

“Will you meet with me again?”

Mattie saw the hesitation but gave him her most brilliant smile when he agreed. “Wonderful. Could we visit the Royal Menagerie?”

Franny let slip an excited “oh” and Mattie laughed.

“I’ve only gone once,” Mr. Walters agreed, “so it would be a pleasure.”

“Same time next week?”

He nodded, tipped his hat, then walked away. Mattie watched his figure disappear down the street, wondering if he had a romantic interest. Not that it was any of her concern, of course.

* * *

The butler opened the door for them as soon as the curricle stopped in front of the Darby townhouse. She hurried up the portico steps and smiled at Mr. Hamley, who nodded in return. “Lady Darby would like to see you in her sitting room.”

“Oh.” Mattie hoped her mother wasn’t upset with her. Had she found out where she’d gone? “Thank you, I’ll go right up.” She handed her bonnet to Franny and took the stairs to the second floor.

“Hello, Mama,” she said, bending to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Did you want to see me?”

The smile Mattie received eased her mind. Again, she marveled at how well they were getting along lately. Perhaps she wanted to have another practice at conversation.

“A friend of mine is visiting London. I haven’t seen her in years, though we’ve corresponded regularly. She’s here with her son, and I’ve invited them for dinner at the end of the week.” Her mother leaned forward and patted Mattie’s arm. “This will be an excellent chance for you.”

A knot formed in her belly. “Of course, Mama.”

“I will ask your brother to attend, but other than that, I’ll keep it small.” Her mother’s blue eyes held kindness.

“Thank you, Mama, for your understanding. And I will do my best to be entertaining and charming.” She would. After an afternoon with Mr. Walters, she truly felt as if she could.

“I know you will, my dear.” Lady Darby cleared her throat, a nervous expression on her still pretty face. “Would you like to… go to Hatchards tomorrow with me? The fashion magazines are coming out with the upcoming winter styles. I thought I’d purchase the latest La Belle Assemblée .”

“Oh, Mama, I’d love to.” Mattie’s heart swelled. They were meeting in the middle. She would talk with young men, and her mother would go with her to the bookstore. “Shall we have tea?”

With a broad smile, she yanked the bellpull and said a silent prayer for mute swans.