The Barefoot Baroness

Chapter Six

Olivia went bursting into the house, calling to her aunt. "The greatest thing, Auntie! Lord Hyatt wants to paint my portrait after all. Is it not wonderful?"

It was Mr. Meadows who received the chaperone's grateful thanks and admiration for this tremendous piece of fortune. "Think of that! Our little Livvie done by Lord Hyatt. We have you to thank, Mr. Meadows. I don't know what we would have done without you."

This familiar accolade was enough to warn Laura she had been dethroned, but she added her warning anyway, as insurance against future accusations. "You recall that Lord Hyatt has a reputation with the ladies, Mrs. Traemore."

Hettie smiled tolerantly on her old mentor and more warmly on her new. "Mr. Meadows will go along to his studio to chaperone. And of course you, too, Laura."

"Actually, Hyatt plans to do the painting in Hyde Park," Meadows mentioned.

"Fancy that! Hyde Park," Hettie exclaimed.

"That is certainly respectable. I have been for a drive through it myself. Unexceptionable."

"We are going at seven o'clock in the morning, and I am to wear Fanny's old yellow dress with the grass stains," Olivia said, laughing.

"Seven a.m. He is an early riser, to be sure. But we can do better than Fanny's old frock. Though not one of your white gowns. They would be bound to pick up grass stains."

"Laura suggested Fanny's old yellow dress, and Lord Hyatt thought it a good idea. I am to pose in my bare feet."

Laura received a questioning stare. "Livvie will catch her death of cold in her bare feet when the dew is still on the ground."

"If you do not think it is a good idea, you have only to say so," Laura said hopefully.

Meadows cleared his throat and said, "Daresay she can wear shoes till he is actually painting the feet."

"Why can she not wear slippers?" Mrs. Traemore asked.

"Hyatt plans to paint her as a sort of-nymph of nature, in her bare feet," Laura explained. "I own I am not entirely happy with it, ma'am. I told him we would have to consult you. If you disapprove…"

Mrs. Traemore turned to Mr. Meadows for guidance. He said, "It is a great coup to get him. Every lady in London is on thorns to be done by Hyatt. I shan't leave her side for a moment."

Any course that kept Meadows by Olivia's side was bound to be adopted. Mrs. Traemore sent off for a pen and paper on the instant, and Mr. Meadows agreed to deliver the note to Hyatt that same day, to ensure that all was in order.

The ladies had no outing that evening and spent the time planning Olivia's ball. Their list of guests totaled five people. At the top was Mr. Meadows, followed by Mrs. Aubrey, Lord and Lady Morgan, and Lord Hyatt.

Mrs. Traemore found nothing ludicrous in arranging a vastly expensive ball for such a small audience. "Fancy that, Livvie. Two lords and a lady, and we have only been here a few days. I daresay by the time the ball arrives, we shall have the room full to overflowing."

After they went upstairs, Mrs. Harwood and Laura discussed the painting. "I foresee opportunities for mischief, doing the picture at a public park," Laura said. "A crowd invariably collects around Lord Hyatt wherever he goes. His last model was his mistress, Lady Devereau. She is the talk of the town."

"I don't see why they don't get Lawrence to do her. Hettie had not even heard of Lord Hyatt two days ago. Why is she suddenly so eager to have him now?"

"Because Mr. Meadows arranged it. You must have noticed he has been canonized."

Her mother gave a resigned sigh. "I hoped he was beginning to feel something for you, Laura."

"Oh, he was, Mama. He felt that I was an excellent means to ingratiate the baroness. But he may have outwitted himself by dragging in Lord Hyatt. Not that he would offer himself, but once his set get a whiff of her, Meadows may be left out in the cold. Hyatt's friends are bound to be from the very tip of the ton."

"At least they will help to fill up that immense ballroom. It seems an expensive way of getting a husband for Livvie, does it not?"

"Indeed it does, but she is enjoying it all very much. She can afford one grand, expensive season. Better than we could, I fear."

"I never begrudged the expense, dear, just the outcome. Let us just hope that Livvie has more success than we had."

On this reminder of her failure, Laura went to bed.

The baroness spoke to Fanny to arrange for her yellow frock. "You must wash it and have it ironed by seven, Fanny."

"You might have told me before eleven o'clock."

"I just remembered."

"What do you want to wear that old rag for, with your closet full of new gowns?"

"Cousin Laura suggested it. Lord Hyatt agreed."

"Aye, I thought as much. Your fine cousin Laura is out to spike your gun, milady. Jealous as a green cow. She had your nice curls chopped off till you looked like a shorn lamb and had the ribbons ripped off your new gowns. Now she is having you painted in rags. It's time to grasp the nettle and put your foot down. If you don't look sharp, she'll steal whatever beau you settle on."

"I fear I am the one who has stolen her beau, Fanny. She denies it, but I believe she is in love with Mr. Meadows."

"Let her have him. You can do better than a Mr. Meadows. How about this Lord Hyatt? Quite an Adonis, I hear."

"He is the most handsome thing you ever saw. He looks for the world like the picture of the Angel Gabriel in my Bible Stories for Children at home, except of course for the wings."

"And a lord to boot," Fanny said, nodding her head sagely. "I'll stake my head he's after you for more than a picture."

"But Mr. Meadows is nicer," Olivia said simply.

"I daresay Miss Harwood has her sights set on Lord Hyatt?"

"She agrees that he is very handsome, but she has warned me that he is fast."

"That is her stunt to keep you away from him. Pay her no heed, missie. Go for the title, say I." Olivia looked interested but said nothing. "I'll launder the yellow frock and get up early to press it.”

Laura was awakened by a rude shaking in the morning. Daylight had hardly dawned, and she was still tired. It was Olivia, come to rouse her for the early appointment in the park.

"It is six o'clock, cousin. Time to get up."

"Yes, I'm coming," Laura yawned, and dragged herself out of bed. She opened the curtains, hoping for rain to forestall the outing. A brilliant beam of sunlight pierced her eyes.

Mr. Meadows arrived punctually at twenty to seven. Between coffee and the crisp morning air, Laura was fully awake by the time they reached Hyde Park. It was lovely in the early morning, with no crowds to distract them from the acres of greenery. Sunlight shone through the new leaves and fuzzed treetops with a golden haze. It looked like some ancient Eden, only of course a little more cultivated.

Hyatt was not to be seen, but he had left a footman to direct them to the spot he had selected. It was off the beaten track, a sort of wilderness hidden by hedges.

He wore a navy smock and was hatless, and even in that strange outfit he looked stunningly handsome. His easel and tools were already arranged, ready for work, when he came forward to greet them. "Let me see the dress," he said to Olivia as soon as they had all exchanged greetings. She removed her pelisse and bonnet and circled for him to examine her. The frock was utterly without style and worn nearly threadbare. It had a simple round neck and short, puffed sleeves. The top was fitted, the full skirt gathered to allow easy movement. There was not a single scrap of ornament on it.

"Excellent!" he decreed. "I want you to stand there, just between the mulberry tree and those soaring pines. Move around a little, till I see what pose suits you."

"Shall I take my shoes off?"

"There is no hurry with that. The grass is still wet."

Olivia went to the spot chosen and began an artless little dance, lifting her skirt and moving to some imaginary music. Laura could not help thinking how embarrassed she would be in Olivia's place, but her cousin had never looked more natural or graceful. Sunlight glinted off her Titian curls and lit her youthful face.

"I freckle in the sun, Lord Hyatt," she called. "You must promise to paint them out if I get spots."

"On the contrary. I shall paint them in if they don't materialize." He arranged his two hands as a frame, to select the perimeter of his sketch and to place Olivia in it. "Hold the hem of your skirt up with one hand," he ordered. Olivia complied. "No, the other hand, Baroness." Again she did as he said. "Turn your head to the side-just a little. I think I might do your face in three-quarter profile. You have lovely cheeks."

Laura and Meadows stood behind Hyatt to see what pose he was choosing. "Do you want the straw hat?" Laura asked him.

"I think not. Her hand looks so graceful, just poised in the air, does it not? With her skirt lifted in the other, as if she were dancing. Perhaps we'll toss the hat on the grass beside her, as if she had cast it aside. It will add to the spontaneity."

Laura laughed. "I did not realize that spontaneity was so carefully planned."

He flashed a quick smile at her. "You don't believe that old canard that art imitates life, Miss Harwood? No, indeed, we improve on it. Our spontaneity is all contrived. There is a thermos of coffee in that basket, if you and Mr. Meadows would like to find a seat and have a drink." As he was busy, Laura and Meadows followed his advice.

Meadows said, "I know you had some reservations about this scheme, Miss Harwood, but you can see Hyatt is all business when he works."

"Yes, you are right. He is quite a perfectionist, I think. I wish I could afford to have my picture done by him."

"Once he realized who the baroness is, he was keen to do her. I thought he might be."

"What do you mean, exactly? Is it her being a wealthy baroness?"

"That-and the fame she will soon have. She will be a great hit, you must know. Everyone is talking about her already, and she hasn't even appeared in public yet."

"Lord Hyatt does not have to court fame in that way."

"It is not fame he is courting. He does whoever catches his interest. My own opinion is that he wanted to do the lady who came to town in the Turtle. That alone was enough to tell him the baroness was an Original."

Laura found Mr. Meadows entirely conversable, but she could not fail to notice that he was happiest when discussing the baroness. His enthusiasm appeared genuine, but did he like her for herself or for her fortune?

Hyatt worked for a little over an hour; then Olivia said she was tired, and the session was over. Meadows and Laura joined them at the easel.

"Are we allowed to see the sketch, or are you one of those artists who make everyone wait till the oeuvre is complete?" Laura asked.

"To astonish you with the brilliance of my conception and execution? Need you ask, Miss Harwood? Naturally I am of that repellent sort." She read the laughter in his eyes and went to examine his work. "Take a good look, for once I begin applying the paint, I do keep the picture under wraps, to prevent well-meaning but unwanted advice."

He had sketched in the outline of Olivia, poised between the spreading mulberry and the soaring fir trees. No paint had been applied yet, except for a patch of yellow and green. Hyatt stood behind Laura, while Olivia complained to Meadows about the fatigue of her arms.

"I was just testing the colors to see if I would get the desired effect," he mentioned.

"It suggests a meadow in springtime. You often do see yellow flowers scattered about the meadow. And usually some white and blue flowers, too. I like the blue ones best myself, but I see what you are about. You will call this 'Springtime,' or some such thing, I collect?"

"My first thought was ‘Primavera,’ but I wish to make it more individual than just a pretty young woman symbolizing spring. It is a portrait, after all. I shall call it 'The Barefoot Baroness.' It suits her. I am delighted that she mentioned running through the grass in her bare feet. It is just the primitive touch I wanted."

Laura looked uncertain. "You aren't going to make it a travesty, I hope? Poke fun at her, I mean." His admiring tone had already lessened her fears on that score."Parody that delightful girl? Good God, no! Where did you get such an idea?"

"Your other paintings all have sophisticated backgrounds. This one is-unusual."

"The baroness is an unusual lady," he said, his eyes sliding to where she sat with Meadows, drinking coffee. "Society has not got at her and spoiled her yet. It will be a tribute to her youth and naturalness, not a travesty."

Laura followed Hyatt's gaze and studied her cousin, who was babbling merrily. "Yes, she is unspoiled."

Hyatt looked at Laura for a moment. When he spoke, his words surprised her. "Don't let them spoil her," he said softly.

"Who? What do you mean?"

"You are older-an experienced lady. Your friends would not all be suitable for the baroness."

She blinked in astonishment. He came close to calling her a dasher, which was the most foolish thing anyone had ever said to her. Her first response was anger, followed swiftly by a pleasanter sensation. Lord Hyatt thought her a dasher! He thought her an experienced lady, which removed the sting from the heedless 'older.'

Her ironic smile fell into place. "I shall be at pains to protect the girl," she said. "And my first priority, sir, is to call you to account. Yesterday you were too busy to do my cousin. Today, your schedule is magically freed. What are your intentions?"

His smile was not one jot short of flirtation. Hyatt never limited himself to one flirt at a time. "My intention, Miss Harwood, is to paint her. What my intentions are vis-a-vis your charming self are yet to be discussed. I expect you will be taking the baroness to Lady Morgan's ball this evening?”

"Indeed I shall."

"Then we shall discuss my intentions at that time, if you will do me the honor of standing up with me.”

"I will be very happy to, Lord Hyatt."

He began assembling his gear. "How does it come I have not met you before?" he asked over his shoulder.

"I have not taken in a Season recently."

"I know that much. I would have met you, if you had. Why did you not?"

At a loss for an answer that did not tarnish her image, she said vaguely, "I found my first Season a dead bore."

He gave a cocky smile and said, "That must have been the Season I was in Italy, studying the masters. Not a word about mistresses, Miss Harwood, or you will reveal yourself for a dasher."

She turned quite pink and followed his advice regarding not mentioning mistresses. "No doubt your absence would account for the dullness. And now I see Olivia is ready to leave. Tomorrow, same time?"

Hyatt gave a mental smile at her blush. He was intrigued by that air of ironic innocence. "Seven is damned early, I know. You must have been cursing me at about the time the cock crowed this morning. This schedule will play havoc with your beauty rest. I shall see that you are sent home from the ball early-as soon as I have had my two dances with you."

"Two?" One dance was standard; two suggested a particular interest.

"We encroaching fellows-give us an inch… But we are not debs, you and I, Miss Harwood," he said, in an effort to plumb her character. "Surely we fully mature adults may risk two dances, without having any peals rung over us. I would like to know you better."

"Oh, I do not improve on closer acquaintance," she said, and laughed nervously, but in her heart she felt it was true. Hyatt would soon become bored, when he learned she was not the dasher he took her for. Better to make their meetings less frequent, and she might scrape through the Season without being revealed for the provincial miss she was.

He just looked, with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "One does not contradict a lady, but you must allow me to be the judge of that, ma'am. You have definitely improved since our first meeting."

"Perhaps that is because you failed to look at me the first time," she retorted.

They parted on this quizzing phrase, and he went to speak to Olivia. Laura was so excited she hardly listened to what they said, but she was soon aware that Olivia was now the butt of his praise, and for reasons totally at odds with what he seemed to like in herself. It was the baroness's 'freshness' and 'country charm' he mentioned. Laura had to conclude that Hyatt liked all kinds of ladies, providing they were youngish, with some modicum of beauty.

None of the party, including Lord Hyatt, paid the least heed to the young buck who drove into the park as they parted. Mr. Yarrow had borrowed his chum's nags to test them before making an offer. The park, before it was cluttered up with rigs, was the best place to do it, for the streets were full of postmen and delivery wagons and workmen as soon as the sun rose. He slowed his team to a walk, looked, then looked again. Lord Hyatt! By the living jingo, what had he stumbled onto here? Was Hyatt painting some lady in a public park? It sounded extremely unlikely, but Hyatt had said, "We'll meet tomorrow at the same time." And his footman was carrying a wooden case that might very well hold paints and brushes.

He glanced at his watch. It was quarter to nine, and they were leaving. Must have been here since eight or so. He'd just drop by tomorrow morning and see what was afoot.