The Secret Life of Miss Mary Bennet by Katherine Cowley (tharntype novel english txt) 📕

The records in the family Bible were very thorough, containing every child, spouse, and connection for every single family line for the past one hundred and fifty years. Mary compared each name to those on her chart, wondering if they might be third or fourth or fifth cousins, either directly or through marriage.

Finally, Mary leaned back in the chair and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. She was getting a headache as she tried to sort out the significance of the evidence before her. Based on the records in the family Bible, Mary was not, in fact, related to Lady Trafford.

Chapter Seven

A bulletin published by the Crown Prince of Sweden to his people, after the failure of the armistice: “Soldiers! It is to arms then… The same sentiment which guided the French in 1792 and which prompted them to assemble and combat the armies which entered their territory, ought to animate your valour against those who, after having invaded the land which gave you birth, still hold in chains your brethren, your wives, and your children. Soldiers! What a noble prospect is presented to you. The liberty of Europe, the reestablishment of its equilibrium, the end of that convulsive state which has had twenty years’ duration; finally, the peace of the world will be the result of your efforts. Render yourselves worthy, by your union, your discipline, and your courage, of the high destiny which awaits you.”

–The Bath Chronicle, Bath, England, September 9, 1813

Mary attempted, for the first time in her life, to draw a still life. The master, a Richard Linton who resided in Worthing, had arranged several items in the centre of a table, given Mary a piece of paper and a pencil made of graphite encased in silver, and instructed Mary to draw.

In this she found herself anything but proficient. She could not even force a straight line when she desired a straight line, or a curved line with a proper curve.

Mr. Linton stood a few feet away, looking out the parlor of the window towards the sea, which was hardly visible because of the rain. After a few minutes he returned to stand behind Mary.

“Have you ever had any drawing instruction before?”

“No, sir,” said Mary, sinking a little in her chair.

“Have you spent much time drawing on your own?”

“No, sir,” she said again, feeling a little smaller.

“Then you have no bad habits to correct. You are a blank canvas.” He pulled up a chair beside Mary. “May I use the pencil?”

He took it and began drawing on top of Mary’s picture. She felt an initial surge of resentment but then forced it back down. Mr. Linton was a master, after all, and it was not as if her fruit or the flowers had turned out well in any case.

“The key is to draw not what you know is there, but instead, only what you can see from a particular vantage point.” He paused. “What you have done is look at the outside of the forms. Blocking your arrangement onto the page can be quite useful because it helps you lay out your image and keep the correct proportions between objects.” He made her apple a little larger and rounder and sketched a new outline for the vase.

“In the coming weeks, I will give you other supplies—graphite of different hardnesses, charcoal in different shades. But for now, I want you to master this pencil, and do all that you can with it.”

Mr. Linton demonstrated how to form a thick or a thin line by adjusting the sharpness of the pencil or the angle used. He made darker and lighter lines depending on how hard he pressed the pencil on the paper. And he showed how to use lines not only on the outer edges of an object, but on the inside, to create depth, give an appearance of shape and shadows, and make it seem as if the picture depicted more than a flat object on a flat page.

“You should write a book of these techniques,” said Mary. “I am sure many individuals would find it invaluable.”

“Perhaps,” said Mr. Linton. “But there is only so much one can learn from a book. There are many things that are best taught by a teacher, or by experience itself.”

“My best teachers have always been books,” said Mary.

“I will see if I can teach you to draw better than they did.” He directed her attention back to the page. “Now try with the apple. You need to create depth and curve.”

She tried to do as he said, adding shadow on one side of the apple, and suddenly, the sketch seemed more like the real thing.

“Add a little shading near the stem—a little bit darker, if you will. And now perhaps a few very light lines where the light is hitting the apple right here.”

She followed his direction as best of as she was able and was surprised by the results. She congratulated herself on learning from him so quickly.

Mr. Linton guided her to add lines and texture and shadow to the flowers, then gave her a second piece of paper and a mirror.

“Now take the next fifteen minutes and draw a self-portrait of your face. Think about blocking, think about light and shadow, consider how all the parts of the face relate to each other, and how each is required to make a whole.”

Mary swallowed but she lifted up the pencil. She sketched an oval very lightly, in case she needed to change it later, and then stared at her face in the mirror. Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, how hard could it be? Yet she found herself at a loss for where to begin. Her features were normal, unremarkable. She did not consider herself ugly or unattractive, but she certainly was plain.

After a minute, she began work on the nose, but the curves were challenging. She moved on to her eyes, which were much easier, then stared at her lips