Read Online Laurie's Painter (sweet Regency romance) by Alice M. Roelke - Free Book Online
Authors: Alice M. Roelke
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tried to comfort her, to tell
her that girls had special things to do and boys had special things to do, and
she would be old enough for her own teacher soon. But she was inconsolable.
She and Henry prevailed
when Mother, a gentle soul, sided with them shortly: Jenny could sit in on Henry's
classes if she kept quiet. She felt so special learning his lessons with him,
and when art was part of it, she was allowed to have her own canvas.
Even at a young age, she'd
been able to keep up with Henry's art. After he started at school, on holidays
he taught her from memory, describing beautiful scenery and places he'd been. He
was sometimes impatient and demanding, but the discipline of painting together in
those days had allowed her to spend more time with her brother then, and allowed
her to help him now.
With few neighbours their
parents would admit to being of their social rank, and most of their time spent
in the countryside, Jenny had little opportunity to make friends other than her
brother.
Jenny's life had been
sheltered until their abrupt reversal of fortunes. She'd had a governess and
new dresses, and they'd always had plenty of servants and excellent meals. They
lived in a beautiful country home, spacious and draughty, full of cold in the
winter and always with new corridors and rooms to be explored.
She remembered it as an
impossibly large place with fires always lit and aglow, and everything so tall
and glittering and ornate. She also remembered her parents shouting, and Mother
bursting into tears, and slammed doors. She and Henry never heard the
arguments, but the children's whole world seemed to end whenever their parents
fought. It was worse when Henry wasn't there.
She supposed she'd been a
clingy sister, and lucky her brother put up with her so well. Actually, she had
no complaints about him. He'd been sometimes bossy, but more often protective of
her and quick to teach anything he knew and she didn't, sometimes enough that
mother worried about her growing up to be ladylike and took extra pains with
her instruction in womanly behaviour.
But her mother's careful
and diligent training didn't avail much in this current life. She sighed
heavily, and thought of her mother, who'd gone into a decline soon after Father
died. It was as though, despite their conflicts, she simply couldn't live
without him.
Or perhaps it was that she
couldn't live without the money. Father had died from an untimely illness when
his fortunes were at their lowest ebb. He always believed he would come about
at the gaming table or the horse races. And often he had; but this time he
never could again.
The family had been decked
in black, and tears streaked Mother's bleak face for some time to come. Grief
hit the family hard, and harder yet because of their now near-penury. No
relatives wanted to help them. They set up housekeeping without servants in the
City, in a poor part of town, whilst all their old belongings and their home
were sold off. None of the estate was entailed; Henry would have nothing.
And still the debts piled
up high. It seemed as though Henry went from a rosy-cheeked schoolboy on
holiday one day to a pale and worried, undersized man the next. The next few
years were difficult, with barely enough to live on and more debts coming due all
the time hanging over their heads.
Henry hadn't been able to
attend school anymore, but was still too young to find the good employment he
desperately wanted. He and Jenny cared for their mother, in some ways taking
over the role of parent to her child and shielding her as much as possible from
their new world of poverty. It was not always possible.
Painting lessons continued
for Henry, when they could afford them, and he taught Jenny all he learnt. It
was their one escape and one promise for the future. Henry longed to be an artist,
and had heard that portrait painters made a good living. Since it was obvious
that Henry would never be a very strong boy, and higher education was now
her that girls had special things to do and boys had special things to do, and
she would be old enough for her own teacher soon. But she was inconsolable.
She and Henry prevailed
when Mother, a gentle soul, sided with them shortly: Jenny could sit in on Henry's
classes if she kept quiet. She felt so special learning his lessons with him,
and when art was part of it, she was allowed to have her own canvas.
Even at a young age, she'd
been able to keep up with Henry's art. After he started at school, on holidays
he taught her from memory, describing beautiful scenery and places he'd been. He
was sometimes impatient and demanding, but the discipline of painting together in
those days had allowed her to spend more time with her brother then, and allowed
her to help him now.
With few neighbours their
parents would admit to being of their social rank, and most of their time spent
in the countryside, Jenny had little opportunity to make friends other than her
brother.
Jenny's life had been
sheltered until their abrupt reversal of fortunes. She'd had a governess and
new dresses, and they'd always had plenty of servants and excellent meals. They
lived in a beautiful country home, spacious and draughty, full of cold in the
winter and always with new corridors and rooms to be explored.
She remembered it as an
impossibly large place with fires always lit and aglow, and everything so tall
and glittering and ornate. She also remembered her parents shouting, and Mother
bursting into tears, and slammed doors. She and Henry never heard the
arguments, but the children's whole world seemed to end whenever their parents
fought. It was worse when Henry wasn't there.
She supposed she'd been a
clingy sister, and lucky her brother put up with her so well. Actually, she had
no complaints about him. He'd been sometimes bossy, but more often protective of
her and quick to teach anything he knew and she didn't, sometimes enough that
mother worried about her growing up to be ladylike and took extra pains with
her instruction in womanly behaviour.
But her mother's careful
and diligent training didn't avail much in this current life. She sighed
heavily, and thought of her mother, who'd gone into a decline soon after Father
died. It was as though, despite their conflicts, she simply couldn't live
without him.
Or perhaps it was that she
couldn't live without the money. Father had died from an untimely illness when
his fortunes were at their lowest ebb. He always believed he would come about
at the gaming table or the horse races. And often he had; but this time he
never could again.
The family had been decked
in black, and tears streaked Mother's bleak face for some time to come. Grief
hit the family hard, and harder yet because of their now near-penury. No
relatives wanted to help them. They set up housekeeping without servants in the
City, in a poor part of town, whilst all their old belongings and their home
were sold off. None of the estate was entailed; Henry would have nothing.
And still the debts piled
up high. It seemed as though Henry went from a rosy-cheeked schoolboy on
holiday one day to a pale and worried, undersized man the next. The next few
years were difficult, with barely enough to live on and more debts coming due all
the time hanging over their heads.
Henry hadn't been able to
attend school anymore, but was still too young to find the good employment he
desperately wanted. He and Jenny cared for their mother, in some ways taking
over the role of parent to her child and shielding her as much as possible from
their new world of poverty. It was not always possible.
Painting lessons continued
for Henry, when they could afford them, and he taught Jenny all he learnt. It
was their one escape and one promise for the future. Henry longed to be an artist,
and had heard that portrait painters made a good living. Since it was obvious
that Henry would never be a very strong boy, and higher education was now