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.Ned grinned and said, “What a devious way to discourage an importunate suitor.”* * * *Several days of fine weather enabled Polly to finish the picture of Loxwood Manor before drizzle once more confined her to her studio.She was drawing a posy of yellow and purple pansies, and wondering how best to paint the velvety sheen of their petal faces, when Nick burst into the room and shook like a wet dog.“I went down to the Onslow Arms to fetch the post,” he announced.“There’s a letter for you.The ink on the outside has run a bit in the rain but it looks to me as if it comes from Brighton.”Chapter 10Polly doubtfully examined the damp paper.She had never seen Kolya’s handwriting, but the address was written in what looked like a feminine hand.Then she brightened as she recalled that the Russian alphabet was different.He might have had someone write it for him.He might have had some female write it for him—but at least he had written.The smudged scrawl in the corner, haloed where the ink had run, definitely said Brighton and she knew no one else there.“Open it,” said Nick impatiently, offering his pocket-knife.She slit the seal and carefully unfolded the sheet.Her eyes went straight to the signature at the bottom: Lady Sylvia Ellingham.“Is it from Kolya?”“No.”“Oh, then I’m going to get something to eat.” Nick took himself off.Subduing her disappointment, Polly read the letter.Lady Sylvia Ellingham had bought one of her paintings, a picture of a child, in a Brighton shop.She wondered if Miss Howard would be so kind as to come and stay with her for as long as it would take to paint the portraits of her two daughters.She suggested a fee of one hundred guineas, but if this was insufficient she would be happy to negotiate.One hundred guineas! Polly’s landscapes had sold in Tunbridge Wells for seven guineas apiece, five for her and two for Mr.Irving.How much had Kolya received for the pictures she had given him?Not that it mattered.He needed money desperately, and she hoped he had realised a goodly sum.All the same it hurt to know that he had so quickly parted with them, after asking for them as mementos of their friendship.No, he had changed the word “friendship” at the last minute.Polly forgot that she had been the first to say “acquaintance.”Brooding over their last meeting was pointless, she told herself firmly.She turned back to Lady Sylvia’s letter, but even before she reread it her mind was made up.She would go to Brighton.Between new scenes, new faces, and the bracing sea air, her megrims would vanish.The pansies abandoned, she dashed through the rain to the house to write to Lady Sylvia.* * * *Mrs.Howard wept and worried.Nick congratulated Polly enviously—she was going to see the sea.Ned, once assured of his sister’s determination, borrowed an outdated edition of the Peerage from the manor’s library and looked up Lady Sylvia Ellingham.Her ladyship was the daughter of the Earl of Bridgnorth and had married James, Viscount Ellingham, in 1812.Lord Ellingham’s country seat was in Warwickshire and he owned a small estate, Dean House, near Brighton.Since the volume was published in 1813, there was no mention of offspring.Ned assured his mother that Lady Sylvia was the acme of respectability, and Polly diverted her by asking her assistance in packing for a stay of several weeks.Nick carried Polly’s trunk down to the Onslow Arms.Two days after the arrival of the letter, in the middle of another wet afternoon, Polly stepped off the stage at the Ship Inn in Brighton.* * * *She had never seen such a confusion of carriages, ostlers, waiters, porters, and travellers.As she looked around uncertainly, a liveried coachman jumped down from the box of a smart landau and approached her.“Be ‘e Miss Howard?” His voice was slow and countrified, soothing, his face creased with smile lines under his dripping hat.“Yes, I’m Miss Howard,” she said thankfully.“Lady Sylvia sent Oi to pick ‘ee up, miss.If ’ee’ll just show Oi which be thy boxes, us’ll be off out o’ this hubbub.”The coachman seemed to have a preference for the quieter back streets, but through the drizzle Polly caught glimpses of fine houses, elegant terraces, and gardens.To her disappointment she did not see the exotic domes of the Pavilion.Nor, of course, was there any sign of Kolya.The buildings became smaller and more scattered, with fields beyond.They looked new, and a number were under construction.Then the landau turned in at a gateway and stopped before a pretty Queen Anne house.Even in the carriage Polly could smell the purple-blooming wistaria which grew up its brick front and over the roof of the projecting porch.Ned had warned Polly that she would be in an awkward position, neither guest nor servant.Doubtfully she regarded the stone-flagged porch with its two white pillars and three steps up to the green front door where a brass lion-head knocker gleamed.Ought she to ask the coachman the way to the servants’ entrance? Before she could make up her mind, the door swung open.“So ye found Miss Howard all right and tight, did ‘ee, Dick?” called the plump middle-aged woman on the threshold.She wore a black gown and white apron and cap.The housekeeper, Polly decided as she bustled down the steps with a friendly smile.Dick opened the carriage door and let down the step.“This be my old ‘oman, miss.”“Now what sort of an introduction is that?” scolded his wife.“I’m Mrs.Borden, miss, and welcome to Dean House.Her ladyship’s expecting you.Put miss’s trunk under the porch, Dick, out of the rain, then stable the horses afore ye carry it up.Please to come this way, miss.”“Thank you, Mrs.Borden.” Polly picked up her bandbox, stepped out of the carriage, and followed the woman into the house.The first thing she noticed in the hall was a vase of flamboyant tulips, scarlet slashed with yellow, reflected in the glossy surface of a beechwood half-moon table against the wall.She stopped to gaze at them in delight.Seeing her interest, the housekeeper said in an indulgent voice, “My lady grows ‘em herself.She’s a great one for flowers.I daresay ye’ll be wanting to tidy yourself afore ye meets her ladyship, miss.I’ll show ‘ee your bedchamber and have hot water brought up.”Polly’s bedchamber was on the first floor, a pretty room with ivy-leaf patterned chintz curtains at the windows and the tester bed.The floor was polished oak with a large green and gold rug between the bed and the washstand, and a small, warm-toned Vermeer interior hung on one whitewashed wall.“Just ring the bell when ye’re ready, miss,” said Mrs.Borden.“Summun’ll come to show the way [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]