Read Online Wonders of the Invisible World by Patricia A. McKillip - Free Book Online Page B

persuade her to accept some supper. Another time, perhaps, Miss Slade. I will see you tomorrow at noon?”
    “Unless my brother needs—”
    “Now, Miss Slade,” Wilding interrupted gently. “We discussed this. I need my Boudicca. I will be more grateful than you can imagine for your time.”
    “I would be happy to join you, Miss Slade,” Ned offered. “I would like to see Mr. Wilding’s work.”
    “Oh, yes—”
    “Alas, I find it difficult to work when I’m watched. You understand, Mr. Bonham.”
    “Perfectly,” Ned assured him, watching the monkey rise on the wall behind Wilding and fling what looked like a chestnut from last autumn’s crop at Wilding’s head. It bounced off its target with a satisfying thump.
    “Mr. Wilding,” Emma said, her hands flying to her mouth. Her voice wobbled. “Are you hurt?”
    Wilding turned briefly to stare at the monkey as he rubbed his head. “Perfectly fine, I assure you.” He added, his eyes on Ned, “I should tell you that there are occasionally creatures in the garden who might be dangerous if surprised. I need to know exactly when my guests are coming or leaving so that I can have them put away. You were fortunate that I’d already done so before you came in. Didn’t Slade tell you?”
    “He did not,” Ned answered, surprised. “Perhaps he thought I would find Miss Slade on the street.”
    He offered his arm to Emma, whose face had lost expression.
    “Miss Slade,” Wilding said with his charming smile.
    “Goodnight, Mr. Wilding,” she said perfunctorily, and went through the gate without a backward glance. “I don’t believe in his dangerous animals,” she whispered when the gate closed behind them. “I think he just said that to keep you away.”
    “Why—”
    “Mr. Bonham, do you know where Marianne Cameron’s studio is?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “Will you please take me there now?”
    “Not the park?” he said wistfully.
    “I’m sorry.” Her fingers tightened a little on his arm; she added ruefully, “I know none of this makes much sense. But when I speak to Miss Cameron, you’ll understand.”
    The women’s studio, which Ned had visited several times, was the second floor of an old warehouse along River Road. Ned smelled paints and turpentine, mold and the lingering odors of mud flats as they climbed the creaky flight of stairs. The stairs ended at a long sweep of floorboard beneath unpainted rafters. Light came from tall windows overlooking the river, inset where doors had once opened in midair for goods to be grappled and winched up for storage off boats in the full tide below. Older windows on the other side gathered the morning light. The vast room was filled with easels, canvases, paints and paper, stools with stained smocks hanging over them. The painters had vanished into the fading light; only Marianne was there, lighting lamps to continue her work.
    She looked stricken when she saw Emma, and came to her quickly. “Oh, Miss Slade, I do apologize. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’m so glad you came here. Hello, Mr. Bonham. Have a stool.”
    “Hello, Miss Cameron.” He sat, looking at them puzzledly. “I wish someone would explain what I’ve missed.”
    “Mr. Wilding—” Emma began.
    “I invited Miss Slade to pose for us—”
    “And then Mr. Wilding begged me to pose for him, and I refused because I had promised Miss Cameron, and anyway I wanted to come here and paint—He knew that, and yet he found a way to sabotage our plans.”
    Miss Cameron’s broad face flushed. “He offered us an exhibit, Mr. Bonham. A promise to talk to the owner of a new gallery about a women’s show. If we let him have Miss Slade first.”
    “Will he keep his promise?” Emma asked grimly.
    “As long as he gets what he wants, he will. I felt dreadful giving you up like that, but—it was too much to refuse. I’ve been trying for years to get someone to agree to exhibit us. And he paints wonderfully well; you’ll be pleased with