Elizabeth 03: The Art Student

Elizabeth still did not learn of the request in which Agnes had been interrupted before lunch, however. She and Agnes became so absorbed in conversation on other matters that she neglected to check her watch, and was called away back to the nursery in mid-sentence by a kitchen maid. "Begging your pardon, Miss Elizabeth, but you are requested upstairs," the girl said.

"Oh, my!" Elizabeth looked at the time now in surprise. "I am very sorry. I shall be with the children presently." Turning back to Agnes, she stood up and they exchanged kisses on the cheek. "Let us continue the conversation after I am done in the nursery. Four o'clock?"

"Certainly," Agnes agreed.

By the time four o'clock arrived, Elizabeth had quite forgotten the entire matter of the mystery request. Having at last remembered the rules to around-the-world-again, she was deeply engrossed in a round with all three of the children – even Alexandria being ready to play by that late hour – when Agnes appeared in the doorway with Edward standing shyly over her shoulder as usual. Not wanting to disturb the happy scene, the pair watched in silence as Elizabeth mimed her world travel and the children tried to guess where she was going.

"She truly is beautiful, isn't she?" asked Edward under his breath.

"Do you want me to ask?" Agnes asked. "I did build some rapport with her at lunch."

"I should not send you to do my unpleasant bidding," Edward said, though it was without enthusiasm.

"Can I help you?" asked the children's nurse, who had been sent to collect them. A notoriously stern woman, she did not welcome unauthorized visitors in the nursery, even should they be honoured guests of the house; and her tone made both Agnes and Edward stand a bit taller. At the sound of her voice, Elizabeth looked up and was surprised to see Agnes and Edward regarding her.

"Well hello there!" Elizabeth stood hastily and smoothed her skirts out as best she could, while the children also arose reluctantly. "Children, I believe you know your cousin Agnes and her fiancé, Edward?"

There was scarcely time for a chorus of "Yes" before the nurse had them filed out of the room with a curt "Thank you, Elizabeth" of her own. None of the children liked the nurse very much, and this time of day was often marked with regret on their part. Elizabeth was sympathetic as usual to the downcast look on all three of their faces as they followed the nurse off to their own rooms. Such a lonely way to grow up! But she was pleased to see Agnes again, and curious about Edward.

They, too, were aware of the children's regret at leaving. "I can see why they prefer your company, Elizabeth," Agnes said.

"They're lovely children," Elizabeth said. "But I must say, watching them grow up in this house has made me grateful for having not come of such wealthy stock myself. It all might have been good training for the cruel world of boarding school, but at least I got to enjoy my childhood up to Alexandria's age at least."

"Ah, another boarding school survivor," said Edward knowingly, as he and Elizabeth shook hands. "Some of the nastiest years of my life, right there."

"I can identify," said Elizabeth. "In any case, Edward, isn't it? I'm delighted to meet you."

"And I you," Edward said. "Agnes has told me a great deal about you this afternoon, and I have to confess we had heard from your friends in town before that even."

"So I have heard," Elizabeth said with an agreeable smile; she refused to be ashamed of such things anymore. "How are you finding the painting here?" she continued. "I had hoped Agnes might have the opportunity to show me to your studio today, but there wasn't time."

Edward looked relieved, though Elizabeth could not guess why. "Would you like to see it now?" he asked. "I had hoped for this opportunity."

"You had?" Elizabeth was surprised, but pleased. "Yes, I should like very much to admire your work." By then they were already making their way out of the nursery, which Elizabeth locked behind them. Edward prattled nervously all down the hallway about his painting and Agnes and how they loved the mansion and Westfordshire City. He never took breath even as they passed the water closets, which Elizabeth needed to use again; but she was curious as to both his painting and the cause of his agitation, and so made no complaints.

At the far end of the hall, Edward had not locked the door to his makeshift studio, and he flung the door open wide and stood aside with an eager grin, silent at last. Elizabeth stepped in, with Agnes just behind her. She was delighted at what she saw: the room was awash in colours on canvas lining every wall and several of the tables and chairs that had protective cloths draped over them. Though the furniture was ungraciously adorned with the cloths and pushed every which way to make way for Edward's work space in one corner, the fruits of his labour were a wonderful sight to behold. Landscapes and still-lifes and even studies of the room itself, both in its current state and its normal more dignified one, all of them bursting with colour and bold lines that brought the images springing to life. "These are beautiful," Elizabeth said in a hushed tone, admiring each one but remembering not to touch them. "Lovely, Edward. But I see you don't like painting people?"

"Oh, he has a few of those too," Agnes said, directing Elizabeth to the far corner by the bay windows. "He did these in art school, and has brought them along for a reference to work from." Elizabeth followed Agnes to the corner, where she revealed a few modest nudes of the all too typical thin and plain variety. Virtually alone among the collection, they wanted for spark and excitement; the faces of the women looked bored or even expressionless.

"Not much good, those, I'm afraid," Edward said apologetically. "I'm still learning how to paint the human form, as you can see, and I need a model with a certain mind-set to work with me on that, I think. The ladies they provide us at school, to them it is only a job, not a true matter of art."

"I'm afraid it shows, Edward," Elizabeth said. "I think you do indeed need someone who appreciates being appreciated, if you will." She could not resist a naughty smile as she said it, for her prescription reminded her very much of her own fondness for being seen in the nude at the baths.

Edward looked at Agnes, bewildered. "I thought you had not asked her?"

"I didn't," Agnes confirmed. "But it sounds to me as if you just have, indirectly."

"Asked me what?" But Elizabeth had already figured out the answer to her question, and she could feel herself blushing furiously of a sudden – so that was why they had both been admiring her so at breakfast!

Edward sat down on the couch at the centre of the room, the only piece of furniture not draped in cloth or stacked with paintings. "Forgive me, Elizabeth. This was a most inappropriate way for me to make a most inappropriate request. But having seen your lovely form around the house throughout my stay here, and then having heard from your friends about the unique beauty you possess underneath it all, I felt I had to pursue the opportunity, no matter how uncouth. You would make a superb model for my paintings, and as you yourself said, I am desperately in need of such a model. This was a most clumsy way of introducing you to the idea, and I am truly sorry for my behaviour in the matter. Agnes will tell you how I am no master when it comes to addressing women, and I am afraid this is simply a particularly nasty example of how I relate to the fairer sex when I want only to create beautiful art."

As Edward made his apology, he could not bring himself to look at Elizabeth. And so he did not see her once again admiring all his paintings throughout the room, nor could he have known she was imagining herself among the beautiful scenes, indoor and outdoor alike, or that her face had broken into a pleasantly embarrassed smile.

Agnes did see the smile, but she misinterpreted it as she was coping with her own role in the uncomfortable aura that now prevailed. When Edward had completed his remarks, Agnes added, "We truly are sorry, Elizabeth. We had intended to make a formal request in far more comfortable conditions. Now that obviously cannot be done, but I do hope we can still be friends. I would certainly still like to accompany you to the baths, and we need never discuss this at all."

Elizabeth took Agnes' hand gently and then looked at Edward, who finally dared make eye contact with her. "Agnes, Edward," she said gently, fighting down a sly smile. "I do not believe I ever said 'no,' now, did I?"

Though flattered and delighted at this turn of events, Elizabeth suspected Jonathan would not be pleased at the news. Regrettably, she was correct.

"What is it with you all of a sudden?!" he demanded, throwing his coat on the armchair in Elizabeth's room. "First that patronizing comment about me letting you down this morning, and now you're getting naked for an audience? Christ, Elizabeth!"

"Patronizing comment?! I said you never let me down, and you don't! Except maybe right now!"

"It's the way you said it! 'Oh, he never lets me down,'" Jonathan mimicked, in a whining murmur dripping with sarcasm. "Couldn't have been any clearer that you were really saying I was a disappointment and you were only humouring me."

"I was not saying that at all!" Elizabeth insisted. "You were the one who sounded disappointed in me, with that 'Oh, gee, I wonder' nonsense! And after you had to be reassured of just that earlier this morning!"

"No one else knew about that!"

"It doesn't matter if they did!" Elizabeth replied. "I knew! I knew the man I love was feeling inadequate and there was nothing I could do to fix it, and you had to announce that to the world, Jonathan! There was no excuse for that, and you know it."

"And that makes it right for you to put your body on display in a gallery somewhere? For anyone who cares to look?!"

"What business is that of yours, Jonathan?" Elizabeth demanded. "Who are you to tell me I can't sit for that painting if I wish to?!" She stood fuming by the door, waiting for Jonathan's response and all but daring him to invoke his male privilege over her.

Jonathan no doubt knew that the unspoken challenge hung in the air. But even in the fury and frustration of the moment, he was far too much the gentleman to say such a thing. "Elizabeth," he said calmly. "You know I would never tell you to do anything. I know you would never obey me, and you know I would not assume to be your boss. You know that, and I believe that is one reason why you love me. It is certainly one reason why I love you."

"Thank you, Jonathan; but you are not talking like a man who loves me at this moment."

"It is because I love you that I am so very frustrated with all this at the moment."

"All this?" Elizabeth asked. "All I have done is agreed to participate in an activity I will enjoy for the benefit of an artist who wants to create something beautiful."

"I wish I could see it that way," Jonathan admitted. "But I cannot, not just now in any case." He collected his coat back up off the chair. "Elizabeth, I am going home for tonight. Perhaps we can discuss this on Monday."

"We can discuss this as soon as you have defeated your puritanical prudishness, Jonathan!" Elizabeth grumbled as she watched him let himself out of the room. She made no move to kiss him goodbye as she normally would. And she was off to bed early that night, helped along by three glasses of red wine that at least took off the worst of the sting.

Elizabeth and Jonathan had made plans for lunch with Irene and her true love, Benjamin, the next day. Elizabeth could still have joined them, as Edward had explained that the natural light would be right for posing only in the afternoon; but she was still stung by the spat with Jonathan and chose not to.

Jonathan was still working through his own exasperation with Elizabeth by lunchtime. He had reservations about going as well; but he suspected Elizabeth would stay home. If she did, there was no point in his also failing to meet Irene and Benjamin; and if she did not, it would be as good an opportunity as any to swallow his pride and apologize. He knew he would be ready to do so sooner or later; no sense in wasting time continuing to act angry even if he really was.

When Jonathan arrived at the café and saw Elizabeth was not there, he had every intention of keeping his irritation to himself when Benjamin and Irene arrived. But Irene of course knew her cousin well enough to see trouble in his demeanour. So, it soon emerged, did Benjamin: although he was the newest member of their circle of friends and lovers, his entry had occurred in an intense, intimate circumstance a few months prior. Unlike Irene, though, Benjamin did not know Jonathan well enough to ignore the signs of displeasure. "Hard weekend at work, was it, Jon?" he asked brazenly even as Jonathan was still settling himself across the table from Benjamin and Irene.

"Benjamin!" Irene exclaimed, poking him on the shoulder. "He may not wish to talk about that! Whatever that is," she added hastily with a sympathetic look at Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded with a sad smile. "Well, I don't, but I do," he said. "The odd thing is, I don't even really know what's wrong."

"A problem with Elizabeth, then," Irene said. This brought laughs from both of the men, though Jonathan's rang a bit hollow. "That is so often the problem in love, isn't it? Something goes wrong and we don't even know what it is."

"Well, in this case I do, sort of," Jonathan continued. "But it's a problem I thought we had under control, or not really a problem at all, even."

"Oh, that," said Irene, who knew Elizabeth more intimately than Jonathan in certain ways. "Always likely to be an issue with her, really, though, isn't it?"

"Oh, what?" asked Benjamin. "Sound like girl talk to you, Jonathan?"

Jonathan laughed again, more genuinely this time. "Well, you know how close those two are, Ben," he said. "I suppose Irene has read between the lines what my problem with Elizabeth is because the two of them have discussed the matter at the baths."

"I'm afraid we have, Jonathan," Irene admitted. "Would you rather not discuss this in public?"

"There is nothing the three of us and Elizabeth are not welcome to share amongst one another anymore, now is there?" Jonathan reminded Irene; the quartet had enjoyed an extremely intimate weekend in the countryside a few months earlier.

"I suppose not," Irene said, feeling herself blush with the fresh reminder. Turning to Benjamin, she explained, "Elizabeth, as I suppose you know, is extraordinarily randy almost all the time."

"I had guessed as much," acknowledged Benjamin, whose own intimate hirsutism rivalled Elizabeth's.

"I had rather suspected you might have," Irene agreed with a twinkle in her eye. "And you probably have also guessed by now that Jonathan does not stay nearly as hungry." Turning back to her cousin, she continued. "Jonathan, we know what it's like. In any relationship, one person is certain to want to play more often than the other."

"It is simply the nature of things," Benjamin agreed.

"Surely Elizabeth understands that as well," Irene said. "I know she has struggled with the same problem before; she has told me of it many times."

"I'm afraid it is I who am struggling now," Jonathan said. "Elizabeth is wonderfully patient with me on the matter. But I am increasingly concerned that my own duller burn is not satisfying to her, and I cannot help but worry that I am inadequate in that regard." He stopped and took a gulp of tea; Elizabeth's influence had led to him adopting her fondness for the beverage. "Heavens, I would hate to lose her love just because I would rather sleep a bit later sometimes."

"Have you told her of your concern?" Benjamin asked.

"You should," Irene agreed. "We all know Elizabeth; surely this is nothing that cannot be addressed if you both try."

"And I cannot imagine for one moment that you are in danger of losing her," Benjamin said. "Everyone can see how she loves you when the two of you are out and about."

Irene nodded her agreement. "I'd have some inkling of it by now, I am quite sure, if there were any danger. She loves you more than she loves sex, I assure you!"

By the end of the meal, Jonathan was feeling much more confident and resolved. Though the inevitable necessary heart to heart talk with Elizabeth had him a bit nervous, Irene and Benjamin had him feeling thoroughly reassured that the uncomfortable moment in their relationship had been but an unfortunate misstep. He did not, however, tell them about Elizabeth's decision to pose for the painting. Even through his irritation with her, he felt it was best left up to her to share that news. Additionally, Jonathan was still conflicted as to his own feelings on that matter. In the dewy noonday sun on the way back to his flat, though, he allowed himself to imagine the painting for the first time and found little doubt that it would be absolutely lovely.

It also occurred to Jonathan on the walk home that Irene had kept one secret in their conversation. On the topic of Elizabeth wanting to make love more often than he did, she had said, "Jonathan, we know what it's like." She had not revealed whether it was she or Jonathan whose blood ran hotter. The matter of which it might be was an amusing riddle to Jonathan as he walked home and let himself in for a quiet afternoon on his own.

Unbeknownst to Jonathan, Irene's comment also hung in the air between her and Benjamin in the cab back to her flat. Benjamin was far too polite to broach such a topic in public; but once they were ensconced in the privacy of her home, he could hold back no longer. "Irene," he said calmly without removing his coat, "Is there something we need to discuss about our own lovemaking?"

"Whatever do you mean, Benjamin?" Irene asked, hanging up her coat. "Making love with you has been wonderful from the very first time. You know that."

"Your remark to Jonathan," Benjamin explained gingerly. "That we understand how it feels when one wants more than the other. I don't recall ever arguing about that, or even discussing it, Irene. Have I been too demanding of you?"

Irene looked shocked, but happy. "Oh, Benjamin –"

"I have always made every effort to respect your boundaries, my dear, and never complain when you have not been in the mood, whatever the reason."

"But Benjamin –"

"If I have made you uncomfortable with my demands, Irene..."

"Benjamin, stop it!" Irene snapped. "I had rather thought it was I who demanded too much of you at times!" With the words finally out of her mouth, she stood at arm's length from her love, looking into his eyes with a blend of adoration and frustration. As her anger ebbed away, she felt her lips curling into a smile, and then a laugh.

Benjamin finally joined in on the laugh, and they embraced. When he pulled away from her, he said, "Well, this is a welcome surprise, Irene."

"I can't believe you ever thought otherwise," Irene said, reaching back to unclasp her dress without fanfare, for it was inevitable now that they were going to spend the afternoon in bed. "Have I ever rebuffed you, Benjamin?"

"True enough, you have not," Benjamin said. "It is only that there have been many evenings when I opted not to make an overture to you at all. A sixth sense, I suppose, indicated the answer would be no."

"How could you know if you never asked?" Irene was down to her brassiere and short pants; she sauntered up to Benjamin and set about unbuttoning his shirt.

"Excellent question," Benjamin admitted, reaching around to caress Irene's back as he did. "I suppose it is only, one hears so very much about how men live for these things and women merely tolerate it."