A Closed Heart by Oster, Camille (acx book reading txt) 📕

“So what is she painting?” Julius found himself asking.

“A street scene, I believe.”

“A street?”

“Quite dark. With fog.”

“Fog?” Julius said, trying to imagine the painting. An odd subject. This must be the kind of thing she did for her own enjoyment. He wasn’t sure anyone would commission a foggy street.

Increasingly, when he learned things about her, she seemed more and more a mystery. He’d harbored a great many assumptions, but she was a woman who chose her life, had lovers and painted unexpected topics. What kind of person did that make her? A person entirely unlike him--entirely unlike anyone he knew. Well, maybe Eliza to some degree, but still much more conventional, and she’d been driven by need rather than by choice.

*

Julius watched as Jane got ready to paint. On a wooden board, she was mixing paint expertly. There seemed no uncertainty in what she was doing, or how to go about it. Again, she was dressed simply. There was nothing provocative in her dress, simply a working dress like anyone would wear—who worked. In no way was she trying to impress him with her appearance. Her hair was simply tied back again, as it had been since the moment she’d arrived.

Finally she achieved the consistency she wanted and she grabbed a larger brush and started with strong strokes on the canvas. There was no finesse that he could see, which should perhaps concern him. But then who was he to second guess her? He knew nothing about painting, and she was an expert, so maybe he should trust that she knew what she was doing.

“When did you start painting?” he asked.

“I suppose more seriously when I was seventeen. I always drew, when I could. As far back as I remembered. It was only when I finished school that I had the chance to properly paint with oils. My schools didn’t have the supplies for anything other than the most basic water coloring. It has its limits.”

“And you wanted more.”

“Yes, I wanted what I saw in the museums. I wanted to capture life on canvas, and I learned from anyone who’d teach me. Made a nuisance of myself until they agreed to teach me.”

It was hard for him to imagine it. The version of herself that she spoke about was different from how he’d seen her, which only proved he hadn’t known her well at all. As she spoke, images formed in his head of her eagerly trying to learn. Clearly it worked.

“There is an apprentice system,” she finally said.

“And were you an apprentice?”

“Yes.”

“And then you chose to do a season.”

“The opportunity came, rather unexpectedly.”

“Why did you choose to do it if you’d already decided to be a painter?”

“Perhaps for the chance to explore the path unknown.”

“Into fine society?”

“Exactly. It was interesting. I do have some claim to be there, but I didn’t really know what it meant. Spending much of my formative years in an orphanage means a rather limited worldview.”

“And you found out.”

“Yes.”

“I left you disappointed.”

She shrugged slightly. “It was fascinating. I enjoyed the parties and the balls. A chance to live another life for a few months. But when it was over, I went back to where I’d been.”

“And didn’t look back.”

“No.”

“And what of these lovers?” he asked blatantly.

“This is a very candid conversation, isn’t it?” she said with a smile. She was the one who’d divulged it. “They are men I’ve cared about.”

“But not enough to marry them.”

“Not an aim either sought.”

“And you don’t suspect they were taking advantage of your naivety?”

“I don’t think caring for someone is about taking advantage. Neither do I think it’s a transaction,” she replied, and scooped paint onto the brush to transfer to the canvas.

It could be seen as a direct judgement of him, because his marriage had been purely a transaction. But then it hadn’t been about love in any way. There had been no delusion in that regard on either side. If Cressida loved the man she spent her time with now, Julius had no idea. It was hard to imagine. His royal status might be more what had drawn her.

It was also true that his more sedate lifestyle grated on her. His preference for life in the country wasn’t readily embraced by her, who very much liked being in the center of society in the city.

In that regard, perhaps he’d chosen badly. It simply hadn’t been a consideration when the match had been proposed. There had been so many benefits to the marriage, such practicalities had been drowned out.

At no point had he expected she would leave the marriage. Spending more time in London was perhaps what he’d expected, even with paramours, if that was appetizing to her. Those were reasonable choices. Running off to the continent and taking up with an Italian prince was a little extreme. So was the request for a divorce.

It had surprised Julius when it had come, but it seemed she wanted to marry this lover of hers. As it turned out, there was now a child between them. Initially, he’d been dead set against divorce. Marriage was an oath, and he’d seen no reason to make things easier for her, but this child was innocent of its birth, as all children are. Refusing the divorce would affect the child for the rest of its life. As disappointed as he was with Cressida, the detriment to this child weighed on him.

With large strokes along the canvas, Jane’s attention was on her work. Her skin was rosy and her eyes were focused on her task. In truth, she was the picture of health. “Have you done any self-portraits?”

A smile spread across her lips as if he’d said something funny. “I am not that self-absorbed.”

“Only self-absorbed people