A Closed Heart by Oster, Camille (guided reading books TXT) 📗

“Would you care for a drink?” He went to sit on one of the sofas and she followed suit, taking the one opposite.

“Yes, alright. I will have a bit of brandy this evening.”

“Most unladylike,” he said with a smile.

“Yes, well, I have now entirely given up on being ladylike.”

“I don’t think it’s entirely given up on you.” If ladylike was grace, then she had it. If it was beauty, she had that too, but there was something very appealing about the way she carried herself. It wasn’t arrogance or false bravado. There was confidence in her, confidence in herself. It may not be right to say that was the purview of a lady, but she carried herself like nothing in the world scared her.

Mr. Fuller went to assemble her refreshment and he came back shortly after. Jane accepted the glass and put it to her lips, drawing in the scent of it. “Brandy does have the most wonderful color,” she said. “It catches the light and just glows. That kind of thing is very hard to capture.”

“You seem to wish to capture things.”

“Yes, I suppose I do. What’s an artist but someone who wishes to capture the wonder of things?”

“And then you must do portraits.”

“People have their own wonder.”

“Particularly if naked, I understand.”

Jane smiled. “One cannot argue.”

There was a world, a world between lovers, and she knew it. It could only really exist if both parties wanted to be there—be lovers. Julius had seen hints of it. With his wife, that intimacy hadn’t been something she’d wished to focus on. She’d wanted to be out, to meet people and show them she was a person of importance, but she’d been uncomfortable in the cloistered space of the marital bed. It hadn’t been somewhere she’d wished to linger. But there was something very sweet there.

Clearing his throat, Julius decided to change the topic. But he didn’t know what else to say. Luckily, they were interrupted by the arrival of Eliza. Standing, Julius greeted her.

“The children are amusing themselves,” Eliza said as she sat down. Mr. Fuller attended her for a moment, and she eyed Jane’s drink with curiosity, but ordered a sherry. “Atticus is having a lovely time. You should let him come stay for a month this summer. I think the children would enjoy all being together.”

For a moment, something strived in him, but he pushed it back. It wasn’t as if spending a month in his brother’s house would ruin the boy, but it would be a completely different lifestyle from the one they had here. Surely his discipline wouldn’t melt away entirely in a mere month. Children were adaptable, they said. “That could be arranged.”

Jane watched him and he was aware of it. Her eyes sparkled in the lights around them. How was it that she seemed more alive than others?

Octavia arrived and Julius felt himself tense slightly as he always did around his sister. Truly, he wished they weren’t like this, but it was a legacy of their upbringing. It was more so between him and Octavia, than with Caius. Perhaps because he and Octavia were more alike in personality, while Caius was more quiet and withdrawn.

*

Jane knew when a man watched her. It was a feeling deep in her gut, one she had just become aware of. But that she would receive such a feeling from Julius Hennington was something she’d never expected. It made her question whether her feeling was simply wrong. It wasn’t a thing one could catch, as such—a gesture one could point to and say ‘see’. Instead, it was like an energy that flowed in the room, and one could at times feel if others had it.

The faces of Octavia and Eliza didn’t show they perceived it, but then this was so very unexpected.

When had this happened? What had changed? It wasn’t as if they were more cordial. One could say they were even a little argumentative.

Getting ready for bed, she stood and watched the moonlight shine off the view out her window. The moon was bright, and it made the parkland around the house seem almost magical. Perhaps that was the energy she was picking up on. The moon and the magic it inspired. Something she would love to be able to capture. Others had tried to varying degrees of success, but such dark paintings as capturing moonlight weren’t her natural interest.

It was said there was sadness in her painting, and that was true. As much as she loved her life, there was sadness in it—for the things she’d lost. Even some things she’d walked away from, because for every choice she made, there was one, or several, that she didn’t choose, and at times they were difficult decisions.

Getting into bed, she luxuriated in the warmth left by the heated brick left by the maids. Now that was a luxury. Normally, her room would be cold when she crawled into bed. If she’d gone out for the evening, visiting someone or even spending time in the pub, she didn’t even bother lighting a fire when she got home. An extra blanket and a warm room weren’t needed. Better to spend her money on paint.

Was her perception of Julius true? Did it matter? To her, it didn’t as much as it did to others. Attractions were disastrous for some, but for her, it was something she could pursue. There was no consequence—other than the emotions of the people involved. However, if there were expectations that she was available simply because she’d made herself free to take the option—well, then, they had another thing coming. Having options didn’t make her a light-skirt. Some people assumed so, and they were very much wrong. She had high standards, and a man thinking she was available didn’t qualify.

With a sigh, she let her thoughts settle. Sleep claimed