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Updated: June 17, 2025
Lord Findon gave his authority, and then Eugénie held out her hand. 'We are so glad! She had thrown back the gauze veil in which she had shrouded herself during her drive with her father, and her charming face still so pale! shone in sympathy. Fenwick awkwardly accepted her congratulation, and shook the proffered hand. 'I expect it's your doing, he said, abruptly.
'I hear your picture is charming, she said, distractedly; and then, suddenly perceiving the expected figures, she swept forward to receive them. 'Very sorry, my dear fellow, we have no lady for you; but you will be next my daughter, Madame de Pastourelles, said Lord Findon, a few minutes later, in his ear, passing him with a nod and a smile.
'Thank you, said Watson, with a grave inclination 'I'm a hermit. The door closed on a gay and handsome presence. Lord Findon could not possibly have been accused of anything so ill-mannered as patronage. But there was in his manner a certain consciousness of power of vantage-ground; a certain breath of autocracy. The face of Watson showed it as he returned to look closely into Fenwick's picture.
What was to be done? Should he on the first opportunity set himself right with Lord Findon speak easily and unexpectedly of Phoebe and the child? Clearly what would have been simplicity itself at first was now an awkwardness. Lord Findon would be puzzled chilled. He would suppose there was something to be ashamed of some skeleton in the cupboard.
He said to himself that he was sick of the whole business; and he would gladly have slipt through the open door down the stairs, and out of the house. He was restrained, however, by the protest of a sore ambition which would not yet admit defeat. Had he set Lord Findon against him? ruined the chance of a purchaser for his picture and of a patron for the future?
'Papa! is the carriage there? It was her voice calling. Lord Findon noticed with relief its even, silvery note. The carriage was waiting, and in a few minutes she was seated beside him, and they were making their way eastwards through the sunset streets. 'Dear? he said, with timid interrogation, laying his hand momentarily on hers. Eugénie was looking out of window with her face turned away.
Thus Eugénie's walks with Fenwick through the enchanted lands that surround Versailles became daily more significant, more watched. Lord Findon groaned in his sick-room, but still restrained himself. It was a day or rather a night of late October a wet and windy night, when the autumn leaves were coming down in swirling hosts on the lawns and paths of Trianon.
The delicate greenish light fell on the soft brown hair, the white face and hands. Eugénie's deep black had now assumed a slight 'religious' air which disturbed Lord Findon, and kindled the Protestant wrath of her stepmother.
If he's genius, he'll do as he likes and if he hasn't Lord Findon shrugged his shoulders, and then, throwing back his head against the back of his capacious chair, proceeded to 'sip' his tea, held in both hands, according to an approved digestive method ten seconds to a sip he had lately adopted. He collected new doctors with the same zeal that he spent in pushing new artists.
Fenwick replied that he might some day, but had too many things on hand to think of it yet a while. Then with no explanation and a rather hasty hand he turned the page. Cuningham looked at him curiously. They were still busy with the sketch-book when a voice was heard on the stairs outside. 'Lord Findon, said Cunningham.
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