Page 24

He turned stricken eyes to meet hers. ‘If I’m not myself it’s because I’m disturbed by memories of my sister Elizabeth.

It’s painful to revisit these thoughts, that dark time.

’ Corinna had long been puzzled by the nature of the tragedy in his past but something about his manner had always discouraged any questions.

Still subdued he said, ‘I have sought to keep my innermost self fearless and aloof, free of the least tremor of love or hate.’

‘That’s quite a task.’ Corinna was unpacking her brushes and had her back to him which made it easier to talk about the deepest things. She continued in a quiet voice, ‘Do you wish to tell me what happened to Elizabeth?’

Lord Purfoy slumped into the chair and as if the dam of his emotions was breached, at last the words began to cascade out unchecked.

‘It was brutal but so shockingly simple. We were at home, at Hartfield Castle. She was sixteen and I was in my early twenties and responsible for her since our parents’ death.

She was a headstrong girl, an enthusiastic rider.

My favourite stallion, Cromwell, was over-lively and she had the supreme confidence of youth.

She was determined to ride him. Perhaps in too overbearing a manner, I had forbidden her to do so. ’

He sighed as if his breath came from the depths of his being, then continued.

‘One afternoon she decided she would ride him and prove a point to me. He took fright at a dog and bolted through our park with her clinging to his back. With such speed, when a low branch knocked her to the ground, her neck was snapped as quickly and easily as if it had been a spillikin.’ His face was ashen as his head fell to his hand.

Very quietly he continued, ‘In that moment, all life, all happiness fled. On a perfect summer morning full of sunshine and birdsong, I found her lying in the grass under the oak tree whose branch had done the deed – so beautiful, so pale, so irredeemably dead.’

Corinna put down her brushes and stood beside him, her hand on his shoulder as he turned away, his face stricken, unable to meet the sympathy in her eyes.

He continued, ‘I blame myself for not selling Cromwell when I knew he was so fiery, but I loved him too much. If I’d been less selfish, less wilfully blind, Elizabeth would still be alive.

’ He then looked at Corinna. ‘Do you understand now why I had to batten everything down in order to survive?’

Corinna met his eyes and murmured, ‘The heart can only be suppressed for a time. Winter passes and with the warmth of spring it has to beat again.’

‘If it hasn’t died of neglect in the cold and dark.

’ He gave a bitter laugh. ‘I know you will appreciate how shocking it was to see Miss Gray lying, apparently lifeless, on the road, through my own selfish doing. I was crushed with the sense that I had to relive this tragedy that had destroyed Elizabeth’s life and ruined mine. My guilt could never be expiated.’

‘But Miss Gray survived and is very much alive,’ Corinna said gently. ‘Nothing ever ends, just transforms into a new beginning.’ Her concerned eyes rested on his face.

‘But that rebirth, how agonising it is.’ And with that he left the room to head back to his own house.

When Eliza entered the studio ready to sit for her portrait, she was unaware of the visitor who had just left as abruptly as he had come.

Settling into the same chair, she met Corinna’s painterly gaze.

This woman who had offered her friendship and hospitality was only a few years older, but the nearest to a motherly presence that Eliza could remember.

As she met Corinna’s scrutiny, Eliza knew that she too understood her sense of being alone in the world.

Corinna had come to London in search of family and had found it triumphantly: Eliza hoped with all her heart that this would be her story too, to tell her children.

As Corinna concentrated on painting the pale hair that waved in silvery spirals round her sitter’s face, she recalled her own youth.

‘When we long for the affection we lost as a child, it can make us unsure of it when it arrives. I remember myself feeling so bereft of meaning, not knowing where I came from and who I truly was.’

Eliza had been thinking of the morning and wondered if her longing for affection confused the realities of love.

She was puzzled: why was it so easy to be in the company of Taz and even Zadoc Flynn, for whom she felt a brotherly affection?

They shared an interest in horses and Mr Flynn’s bluff good humour and tales of his travels entertained and comforted her.

Yet Lord Purfoy never failed to unsettle and excite her.

His presence made her blood pulse in her veins, her breath grow shallow, her skin prickle with the energetic life force that radiated from him.

Why long to be with him, yet feel so uneasy when he was near?

Eliza met Corinna’s concerned gaze as she asked, ‘Is this why stirring up deep emotions is so uncomfortable?’

‘May I ask, is it Lord Purfoy of whom you talk?’

Eliza could barely acknowledge such a thought to someone who knew and loved him. ‘No! I mean, how presumptuous of me. There is such a gulf between us.’ Her pallor was suffused with pink.

Corinna picked up a pot of rose pigment and started mixing it.

‘I want to capture that colour in your cheeks; it so enhances your eyes.’ As she started delicately dabbing on the newly mixed paint she said, ‘You’ll find love is no respecter of boundaries.

’ She looked up, narrowing her eyes, and extended a paint brush as she measured the proportions of the face before her.

She then put down her palette and folded her hands in her lap as her voice turned pensive.

‘When I first saw Mr Wolfe, I was a young vagabond woman masquerading as a youth, without a home, family or prospects. He was a well-established young man with the world at his feet and no thoughts of love.’

‘But you were brought up to be a lady while I lived amongst the circus folk: I know Lord Purfoy finds me shamefully unladylike.’

‘That isn’t the case, I assure you. I think his spirit is burdened with a weight of self-blame.’

Eliza leaned forward. ‘Blame for what?’

‘It’s not my place to tell you any more, other than I think his sister’s death may somehow be on his conscience.’

‘He had a sister?’ Eliza was pleased for any information about this unknowable man.

‘Yes, she was called Elizabeth.’ Corinna looked at her and the words were heavy with significance.

Eliza felt a pang of connection but then checked herself; what a foolish fancy that she could share anything with an unknown beloved sister, mourned by her brother.

Corinna watched Eliza’s emotions pass quickly over her face.

She said gently, ‘Once you have discovered something about your family, you will feel more secure in the world.’

‘But even if I were a lost heiress, it wouldn’t make him love me.’ Eliza’s voice was defiant and she was shocked by the force of emotion, shocked that she had named it as love.

‘My dear, nothing can make anyone love us. All we can do is live our own lives well and turn our faces to the sun.’ They both laughed at the image as Eliza gazed towards the window where a suffused light cascaded over her face like water.

Corinna then added, ‘And don’t forget, whatever you may currently believe, Raven Purfoy is not the only person worthy of your love. ’

Corinna’s words seemed to hit a raw nerve.

Her eyes brilliant with feeling, Eliza said, ‘I fear he is. There is no other. From that first sight of him kneeling by my side on the road, my spirit unfurled and seemed to meet his there in the cold and dark. I will never forget that night, that moment’s recognition of another’s soul, whatever the pattern of my life might turn out to be.

’ Eliza was shocked that her thoughts, so long suppressed, had burst from her like molten lava through a fissure in the rock.

Corinna seemed just as taken aback at the rush of emotion.

‘My dear Miss Gray, you don’t have to be so averse to compromise, so neck or nothing, you know.

You are young and behind that flower-sweet face, there’s a brave and reckless spirit.

Recall the will for adventure that brought you here.

Few young women would launch themselves on a dangerous world with nothing but intelligence and beauty to commend them. ’

Eliza attempted a more conversational tone of voice, and smiled. ‘I have never thought myself beautiful, and have no reason to consider myself intelligent. Until I came here and you pointed out my unusual eyes and lent me your lovely clothes, I barely thought of my physical appearance at all.’

‘Well, tonight we will go to the Bassett ball where everyone who is anyone will attend and you will have your beauty affirmed by them all.’ Corinna was closing the pots of pigment and looked up at Eliza and then at her portrait.

‘Remember, you don’t need anyone to tell you who you are, you already know. ’

Eliza stood up to walk over to the painting.

It was her first sight of it and it startled her so profoundly that for a moment she stopped breathing.

She was silent for so long that Corinna glanced at her in concern.

Eliza had grown up without mirrors; here before her on the canvas was her face as regarded by others.

It was certainly recognisably her, but revealing something she had barely acknowledged in herself: love, courage, vigilance, but also with an eagerness for life.

Moved by the revelation, she turned to Corinna.

‘I have longed to be seen, to be known; you have seen me and shown me myself.’