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Authors: Cara Elliott
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painting. In the meantime, you can work on your pencil technique."
Isabella was already opening the book to a fresh page.
"It seems that you are enjoying your lessons with Herr Lutz," remarked Alessandra.
"He is very strict and serious." Isabella tapped the tip of her pencil to her chin. "But he says that to be a good artist, one must have a great deal of discipline."
With children, there was such a fine line between being too tough and too lenient To Alessandra's surprise, the Swiss drawing master had somehow drawn up just the right course of study for her daughter. The first few lessons had been fun, and yet challenging. And when Isabella had understood that he would tolerate no nonsense from her, she had applied herself diligently to win his approval.
Biting her lip, Alessandra stared out through the misted panes of glass. Oh, if only she could see things more clearly.
For days she had been struggling to coax the pinched expression from Isabella's face. But all her efforts—a visit to the British Museum, sweets at Guenter's—had done little to lighten her daughter's unhappiness. She knew that the little girl was lonely, especially as her best friend, Peregrine, would not be returning from Kent for some weeks. London was still foreign to Isabella, and as Alessandra was somewhat of a recluse herself, they had few social invitations where a young girl might meet other playmates.
Was she being terribly selfish to subject a child to such a life? It wasn't as if she had much choice.
"Look, Mama, I've drawn your portrait."
Alessandra stared for a moment at the grim slash of a line that depicted her mouth, and quickly forced a smile. "How lovely. What a clever way you have of drawing hair."
Isabella beamed with pleasure. "Next I will try to draw a picture of Perry. Herr Lutz says it's a good exercise to try to draw something from memory. It teaches you to be more ob...ob..."
"Observant," finished Alessandra. She closed her eyes, imagining for a moment her villa and gardens overlooking the Lake of Como. "Yes, indeed it does."
"Is Herr Lutz really going to be in Bath for some of our visit?"
She shook off her momentary melancholy. "Yes, we are fortunate that he has a commitment to spend several weeks in the city while we are there. He was kind enough to schedule several lessons for you."
Isabella's dark curls bobbed as she bent her head over the paper. "Then I had better practice, so I can show him how much I am improving."
Art helped Isabella pass the long hours on the road, while Alessandra occupied herself with several scholarly books on the history of Roman rule in Britannia. But even with such distractions, both of them were happy when the carriage finally rolled into the city of Bath on the following afternoon.
"Oh, look at how the buildings curve!" Nose pressed to the glass, Isabella was eager to observe all the sights.
"That is the famous Royal Crescent, tesoro. It is a set of thirty houses designed by John Wood the Younger, and as you can see, he was greatly influenced by Roman architecture. That is because Bath is built on an ancient Roman town. It was one of the strongholds of the Imperial army, and they have left behind many fascinating reminders of their presence."
"Is that why you have come here?" asked Isabella. "To dig for buried treasure?"
Alessandra laughed. "Perry has been, telling you too many tales of pirates. We are not after plunder, tesoro. We seek to uncover the artifacts that tell us about daily life, so that we may learn valuable lessons about the past."
Isabella rolled her eyes, having heard the lecture countless times before. "Can't we dig for information in a more interesting place—like the Caribbean islands?"
She brushed an errant curl from her daughter's cheek. "I'm afraid you will have to make do with Bath."
The carriage rounded the Circus and proceeded down Gay Street. "There are many interesting things to see and do here," explained Alessandra. "We shall visit the Pump Room,
Isabella was already opening the book to a fresh page.
"It seems that you are enjoying your lessons with Herr Lutz," remarked Alessandra.
"He is very strict and serious." Isabella tapped the tip of her pencil to her chin. "But he says that to be a good artist, one must have a great deal of discipline."
With children, there was such a fine line between being too tough and too lenient To Alessandra's surprise, the Swiss drawing master had somehow drawn up just the right course of study for her daughter. The first few lessons had been fun, and yet challenging. And when Isabella had understood that he would tolerate no nonsense from her, she had applied herself diligently to win his approval.
Biting her lip, Alessandra stared out through the misted panes of glass. Oh, if only she could see things more clearly.
For days she had been struggling to coax the pinched expression from Isabella's face. But all her efforts—a visit to the British Museum, sweets at Guenter's—had done little to lighten her daughter's unhappiness. She knew that the little girl was lonely, especially as her best friend, Peregrine, would not be returning from Kent for some weeks. London was still foreign to Isabella, and as Alessandra was somewhat of a recluse herself, they had few social invitations where a young girl might meet other playmates.
Was she being terribly selfish to subject a child to such a life? It wasn't as if she had much choice.
"Look, Mama, I've drawn your portrait."
Alessandra stared for a moment at the grim slash of a line that depicted her mouth, and quickly forced a smile. "How lovely. What a clever way you have of drawing hair."
Isabella beamed with pleasure. "Next I will try to draw a picture of Perry. Herr Lutz says it's a good exercise to try to draw something from memory. It teaches you to be more ob...ob..."
"Observant," finished Alessandra. She closed her eyes, imagining for a moment her villa and gardens overlooking the Lake of Como. "Yes, indeed it does."
"Is Herr Lutz really going to be in Bath for some of our visit?"
She shook off her momentary melancholy. "Yes, we are fortunate that he has a commitment to spend several weeks in the city while we are there. He was kind enough to schedule several lessons for you."
Isabella's dark curls bobbed as she bent her head over the paper. "Then I had better practice, so I can show him how much I am improving."
Art helped Isabella pass the long hours on the road, while Alessandra occupied herself with several scholarly books on the history of Roman rule in Britannia. But even with such distractions, both of them were happy when the carriage finally rolled into the city of Bath on the following afternoon.
"Oh, look at how the buildings curve!" Nose pressed to the glass, Isabella was eager to observe all the sights.
"That is the famous Royal Crescent, tesoro. It is a set of thirty houses designed by John Wood the Younger, and as you can see, he was greatly influenced by Roman architecture. That is because Bath is built on an ancient Roman town. It was one of the strongholds of the Imperial army, and they have left behind many fascinating reminders of their presence."
"Is that why you have come here?" asked Isabella. "To dig for buried treasure?"
Alessandra laughed. "Perry has been, telling you too many tales of pirates. We are not after plunder, tesoro. We seek to uncover the artifacts that tell us about daily life, so that we may learn valuable lessons about the past."
Isabella rolled her eyes, having heard the lecture countless times before. "Can't we dig for information in a more interesting place—like the Caribbean islands?"
She brushed an errant curl from her daughter's cheek. "I'm afraid you will have to make do with Bath."
The carriage rounded the Circus and proceeded down Gay Street. "There are many interesting things to see and do here," explained Alessandra. "We shall visit the Pump Room,
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