“I see there is a great deal of rivalry.”
“But of course. There is more rivalry in art than in anything else. We are watching those around us. Each of us wants to be the great artist who will live forever, whose name is known to millions. That is the great achievement. So naturally we are watchful of our rivals.”
His conversation was racy and amusing. I learned a good deal about Lars Petersen. He was without doubt extremely attractive and lived a merry life. He was not serious about anything but his art; he was immensely ambitious, determined to make a name for himself and to enjoy himself on the way to success. It was impossible not to like him.
I watched the progress of the portrait. It was good but it lacked that subtle quality which Gerard had brought to his. Perhaps that was because I had not opened my heart to him as I had to Gerard. There was not the same rapport between us.
Gerard used to come in at the end of the morning sittings, and the three of us would eat together. After that, I would go back to the house and spend the rest of the day with Marie-Christine. We went sightseeing with Mademoiselle Dupont. I learned a great deal of French history, for Mademoiselle Dupont had a habit of turning every jaunt into a history lesson. Marie-Christine and I exchanged secret glances, and sometimes we found it hard to restrain our laughter.
We frequently visited Gerard’s studio, and on these occasions usually managed to elude Mademoiselle Dupont. Gerard came to the house, too, so we saw a good deal of him during the visit.
There was one disconcerting incident which baffled me.
I was in Lars Petersen’s studio when he needed some special paint of which he had not sufficient. He knew Gerard had some and said he would go and get it from him. So I was left alone in his studio.
As I sat idly there, waiting for his return, I noticed that a piece of cloth had been caught in the door of a cupboard and was partially protruding. It was probably a duster, I thought. I had made a habit in Lars’s studio, as in Gerard’s, of putting things in their place, for they were both inclined to be untidy. So I rose, went to the cupboard, and opened the door with the intention of putting the duster right inside; but as I did so, a stack of canvasses fell out. I was putting them back when I saw a sketchbook among them. Picking up the canvasses, to my amazement I saw that one of them was a picture of a nude woman in a pose which could only be called provocative. It was, without doubt, Marianne.
I felt myself flushing. I was obviously not meant to see what was in this cupboard. I hastily put the canvas back and stacked in the others. The sketchbook was lying on the floor. I picked it up and glanced through it. It was full of pictures—all of Marianne in various stages of nudity.
I threw the sketchbook into the cupboard, shut the door, and went back to my seat.
The painting and the sketches were the work of Lars Petersen. She must have posed for him thus.
I felt deeply shocked, for I felt there was something behind this.
Lars had come back into the room.
“All is well. This is just what I needed.”
He went on working, but I could not stop thinking of those pictures. Marianne must have posed for him in such a way.
She was an artist’s model. Was this the manner in which she posed? I could not help thinking that there must have been some special relationship between Marianne and Lars Petersen.
Marianne
It was a week after I had returned from Paris when I received the letter from Lisa. When I read it, I was so profoundly shocked that I had to read it several times before I could believe it was true. She wrote from Leverson Manor.
My dear Noelle,
There is so much to tell you, and I want you to hear it from me. I could not bear that you should hear it from any other source.
I wrote to you about my accident. I thought it was nothing much at first, but how wrong I was! After three weeks resting, the doctor gave me a terrible shock. He said I had injured my back permanently and, far from getting better, it was getting worse. Imagine my feeling! I had gone on that night, ready to show everyone that I was every bit as good as Lottie Langdon … and I would have done it, too. It was really my great chance … and then … this happened.
Dolly was kind in his way, but all he really thinks about is the production. I knew there was no hope of getting a place in anything else. I was finished.
I was so wretched. I just wanted to die. My life … all my ambitions … had come to nothing.
Then Roderick came to town and saw me. He was horrified by the change in me. Oh, he was so good to me, Noelle. You know he would be. He has always been good and kind to people in trouble. He understood as nobody else did what I felt like. I was frantic, really. I could not think what I should do now I could no longer work.
He took me down to Leverson Manor. Lady Constance was none too pleased, but Fiona was very good to me. She made me interested in helping her, which I was able to do. She was getting married to a young man she had met some time before through her work. He had come down to Leverson because there was a lot of work over this Neptune temple. He was now helping her and they will live in Fiona’s house, now that her grandmother is away in the hospital.
I don’t know why I’m going on like this. I suppose it is because I am trying to bring myself to tell you.
I am not at all sure how you’ll take it, after what happened between you two. I was so desperate. I was in despair. I even thought of killing myself. I might have done so if it had not been for Roderick. He knew what was in my mind. Nobody understood as he did. I had not only lost the work which meant so much to me … but a means of livelihood. You can imagine how I felt.
Well, we both had to make something of our lives, and then suddenly he said he would look after me. He would marry me.
And that is what has happened, Noelle.
I feel so different now. Charlie is very good to me. He is such a kind, good man, and so is Roderick.
Lady Constance is very angry, but you know how calm and cool she can be … at the same time letting you know how much she resents you.
I didn’t care. I had a reason to go on living.
Noelle, forgive me. I know just how you must be feeling. But it wasn’t to be, was it?
Roderick says we have to make something of our lives, and that is what we are doing.
I do hope something very good will turn up for you as it has for me. Sometimes we can’t have what we want in life, can we? We just have to take what is there.
My loving thoughts are with you.
God bless you and bring you some hope of happiness … as Roderick and I have found.
Lisa
I was stunned. Roderick and Lisa … married! I kept remembering scenes from the past. That first meeting in the park; that night she had taken my mother’s place; Roderick had been there; she had asked him to come and see her performance. Of course, right from the beginning, she had been in love with him.
Somewhere at the back of my mind, I had hoped that a miracle might happen, that everything would come right. How foolish I had been! How could it ever come right? And now … this was the end. He was married to Lisa.
I had to forget. I had to stop thinking of him.
I put the letter into a drawer, but I could not forget it. Again and again, I took it out and read it.