Read Online The Golden Cross by Angela Elwell Hunt - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Angela Elwell Hunt
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the onlookers, and Aidan tensed at the noise, ready to leap out of her chair and flee. Whatever had possessed her to invite him here, where everyone could see her? And why had she kept this rendezvous with the old gentleman? He was a respected artist, she was nothing.
He said she had a gift … but when she looked up again, she saw that his eyes were fixed upon her picture. He was not smiling.
“Did I—did I do something wrong?” She lowered her voice as the crowd of onlookers moved on to find other amusements.
“No, my young friend,” Van Dyck said quietly. “You did nothing wrong. You did everything right.” He reached out and turned the picture so he could study it more closely. “You have a remarkable talent. Have you studied under a drawing teacher here?”
Aidan felt the corner of her mouth twist. This man wouldn’t want to know about the kind of teachers she’d had in Batavia. Betje had taught her how to pick a man’s pocket; Francisca had taught her how to cut a man’s purse string while dancing ….
“No, sir,” she answered, leaning back. “I haven’t had anydrawing teachers. But if you could give me some instruction or a few ideas that might be useful, I’ll be very grateful. I know you have other important things to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait.” Leaning his chin on his hand, he looked across the table at her, his eyes gleaming with speculation. He might have been planning to offer her a bag of golden guilders or employ her as a maid. Aidan couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his expression encouraged her. His was a gentle smile, not at all like the leering grins of the seamen who swaggered up to her in the tavern.
“You have a remarkable gift, young woman,” Van Dyck repeated. “Now we should begin to improve it. I’m not quite certain how I can help you, for I will be leaving Batavia in a few weeks, but I am certain God wants me to lend you my attention. And while my artistic eye pales in comparison to yours, I am skilled with the tools of the craft. I am a cartographer by trade, an artist only by avocation, but I think I may be able to offer some assistance as you begin your artistic endeavors.”
Aidan shifted her weight in the chair and glanced at her picture again. “I don’t have the faintest idea how to begin an artistic endeavor,” she murmured. Suddenly her picture looked very poor. “Perhaps this is not a good idea.”
By his own admission, Van Dyck would soon leave Batavia, and what good would a few art lessons do her? Perhaps it was better not to hope, not to whet an appetite that could never be satisfied. A serious study of art would require months—perhaps years—of instruction, time to learn and practice and paint. She would also need a patron, for neither Lili nor Bram would willingly spend good money on a frippery like art.
“My dear.” Van Dyck leaned forward eagerly. “Please listen. I am willing to help you all I can. I am leaving Batavia soon, but I’d like you to come live in my house until I have to depart. I will teach you all I can in whatever time we have, and I give you my word that you will be treated with respect and honor.”
Stunned speechless, Aidan snapped her head back. She’d heard such propositions before, usually from drunken seamen or young gentlemen who wandered through the wharf looking for a night of naughty fun and devilment.
“Sure, and don’t I know what that means?” She blinked in consternation, unable to believe a gentleman could issue such a brazen invitation. “No matter what you may think, sir, I’m a decent girl. I’ve never lived with any man, and I’m not about to begin now, no matter how many lessons you offer.”
“Oh, my.” A flush of color rose up from his collar. “My dear, what you’re thinking—I mean, I never intended what you’re thinking. I can assure you, there is nothing untoward or indecent in my offer. You would be completely chaperoned at all times. My housekeeper will attend
He said she had a gift … but when she looked up again, she saw that his eyes were fixed upon her picture. He was not smiling.
“Did I—did I do something wrong?” She lowered her voice as the crowd of onlookers moved on to find other amusements.
“No, my young friend,” Van Dyck said quietly. “You did nothing wrong. You did everything right.” He reached out and turned the picture so he could study it more closely. “You have a remarkable talent. Have you studied under a drawing teacher here?”
Aidan felt the corner of her mouth twist. This man wouldn’t want to know about the kind of teachers she’d had in Batavia. Betje had taught her how to pick a man’s pocket; Francisca had taught her how to cut a man’s purse string while dancing ….
“No, sir,” she answered, leaning back. “I haven’t had anydrawing teachers. But if you could give me some instruction or a few ideas that might be useful, I’ll be very grateful. I know you have other important things to do.”
“Nothing that can’t wait.” Leaning his chin on his hand, he looked across the table at her, his eyes gleaming with speculation. He might have been planning to offer her a bag of golden guilders or employ her as a maid. Aidan couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but his expression encouraged her. His was a gentle smile, not at all like the leering grins of the seamen who swaggered up to her in the tavern.
“You have a remarkable gift, young woman,” Van Dyck repeated. “Now we should begin to improve it. I’m not quite certain how I can help you, for I will be leaving Batavia in a few weeks, but I am certain God wants me to lend you my attention. And while my artistic eye pales in comparison to yours, I am skilled with the tools of the craft. I am a cartographer by trade, an artist only by avocation, but I think I may be able to offer some assistance as you begin your artistic endeavors.”
Aidan shifted her weight in the chair and glanced at her picture again. “I don’t have the faintest idea how to begin an artistic endeavor,” she murmured. Suddenly her picture looked very poor. “Perhaps this is not a good idea.”
By his own admission, Van Dyck would soon leave Batavia, and what good would a few art lessons do her? Perhaps it was better not to hope, not to whet an appetite that could never be satisfied. A serious study of art would require months—perhaps years—of instruction, time to learn and practice and paint. She would also need a patron, for neither Lili nor Bram would willingly spend good money on a frippery like art.
“My dear.” Van Dyck leaned forward eagerly. “Please listen. I am willing to help you all I can. I am leaving Batavia soon, but I’d like you to come live in my house until I have to depart. I will teach you all I can in whatever time we have, and I give you my word that you will be treated with respect and honor.”
Stunned speechless, Aidan snapped her head back. She’d heard such propositions before, usually from drunken seamen or young gentlemen who wandered through the wharf looking for a night of naughty fun and devilment.
“Sure, and don’t I know what that means?” She blinked in consternation, unable to believe a gentleman could issue such a brazen invitation. “No matter what you may think, sir, I’m a decent girl. I’ve never lived with any man, and I’m not about to begin now, no matter how many lessons you offer.”
“Oh, my.” A flush of color rose up from his collar. “My dear, what you’re thinking—I mean, I never intended what you’re thinking. I can assure you, there is nothing untoward or indecent in my offer. You would be completely chaperoned at all times. My housekeeper will attend
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