Eager to learn, Eliza leaned in attentively, absorbing every word Evelina spoke.
“I never quite knew these words could paint such vivid pictures in my mind,” she breathed, her curiosity piqued. “Everything makes a lot more sense now. I had been struggling with the writer’s meaning for a while. It was all too confusing.”
Evelina laughed lightly and winked at the sweet girl. “Now this one is actually high above what is expected of you. I have to say, you surprise me. You are a remarkably intelligent young woman, Eliza.”
“Miss Balfour, do you think I could write poetry like this someday?” Eliza asked, her eyes shining with hope.
Evelina’s smile was warm and encouraging. “Of course. With dedication and a smart mind like yours, you can achieve anything you set your mind to.”
She could feel a special bond forming between her and Eliza, transcending the roles of tutor and student. Their interactions during their lessons were quickly becoming more than just educational.
They were on their fourth lesson so far, and there were more moments of shared laughter, discovery, and understanding—and Evelina was glad for it. She adored the young girl and was glad to be the one to coax her out of her shell.
As the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow through the study’s windows, Evelina realized the hours had slipped away and it was time for her to depart.
She turned to Eliza, a hint of reluctance in her gaze. “I must bid you farewell for today, dear Eliza. But worry not, for tomorrow we shall continue our adventures in literature,” she spoke softly.
Eliza’s face fell slightly, yet another sign of their growing bond. “Must you go so soon, Miss Balfour? I wish you could stay longer,” she complained, her words filled with longing.
“Oh,” Evelina murmured as she placed a gentle hand on Eliza’s shoulder, her eyes reflecting the affection she held for the young girl. “I promise to do my best to arrive a bit earlier tomorrow. That way, we can have more time together.” She gave her a warm smile. “Will that do?”
She let out a sigh of relief at the spark of joy in the girl’s eyes as she nodded in response. After reassuring her one more time, she left the study.
Evelina’s footsteps echoed softly in the grand hallway as she made her way towards the front door, her eyes darting around her surroundings. The place was large, beautiful, and very different from her home.
Her gaze traced the grandeur as she walked, and she began to notice a pattern.
The paintings were… odd.
As the thought sank in, one painting in particular caught her attention, stopping her in her tracks.
It stood out, not for its grandeur or opulence, but for its haunting beauty and unconventional style.
The painting depicted a solitary figure shrouded in shadows, their face obscured by darkness. The colors were muted, giving the impression of a faded memory or a long-forgotten dream.
Evelina felt drawn to it, as if an invisible thread connected her to the melancholy portrayed on the canvas.
As she stood before it, her thoughts swirled with a mix of curiosity and unease. The figure in the painting seemed to exude a sense of profound sadness and longing, emotions that resonated deeply within her heart.
She reached out a trembling hand, her fingertips grazing the surface of the painting as if seeking to bridge the gap between reality and the ethereal world captured within the frame.
Mesmerized by the poignant beauty, she fell deeper into its depths, losing track of time, completely enveloped by the melancholic aura of the artwork before her.
Her heart stuttered as she came to a realization. Most of the artwork in Dunmore House was like this—beautiful and depressing, just like the master of the house himself.
His dark brooding presence, chiseled frame, perfectly sculpted face…
Evelina’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she realized the direction her thoughts were taking. She let out a sigh.
Despite the Duke’s vexing demeanor, she couldn’t deny his allure. It was akin to a captivating masterpiece that demanded attention. No one could deny it.
Her thoughts shifted, and a frown creased her face as she thought about his daughter. What was the impact of such solemn art on Eliza?
She couldn’t shake the thought that the environment, filled with these somber paintings, might be what was, in fact, affecting the young girl’s spirit, contributing to her reserved and introverted nature.
The idea of suggesting a shift towards more vibrant and stimulating art to uplift Eliza’s spirits filled her mind. Another forlorn sigh escaped her lips as she deliberated on whether to broach the subject with the Duke.
“And what do you think you are doing?”
