Mr. Hardy instructed his staff to bring in the paintings, and they were taken to an empty gallery, unwrapped, and hung by the staff.
“Ah…” Mr. Hardy said as he walked the gallery examining each painting with intense concentration. George could tell the man knew what he was looking for.
George had his hands in his pockets and became very nervous as the man said nothing as he browsed. George took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow.
“Any thoughts yet?” George finally asked.
Mr. Hardy turned to him and smiled. “Another moment or two, please.”
George could barely contain himself, and he began to pace.
Finally, Mr. Hardy turned to him with no particular expression. “Son, walk with me.”
George followed the director around the gallery. They stopped at each of his paintings, and Mr. Hardy pointed out aspects of praise or concern. Some he liked, and with a few he had issues.
“I should like to keep these to show.” He pointed to nine paintings. “The rest I do not believe are suitable for public display. A few you might be able to work on, and the rest are just not up to our standard.”
“I see,” George said, with a mixture of acceptance and disappointment.
“But these others are splendid, and I urge you to take my comments into consideration. Rework what you can and certainly move forward with new work. I believe you are learning and improving. And in time, I believe you will become quite successful.”
“And the subject matter. Do you have any comments on that?”
“Landscapes always sell well. Still lifes are difficult, and portraits are mostly commissioned by the party being painted. However, I would encourage you to find some commissions for portraiture in your area and plunge in. To be a truly successful painter, you must be able to execute a fine portrait. It will deepen your craft.”
George let out a repressed sigh. “Mr. Hardy, I shall take your comments under advisement. And thank you for your time and offering to take the nine paintings.”
“I should like to have a solo exhibition for you eventually, but I do not feel you have enough recognition, nor the depth of work just yet.”
“I understand.”
“Let me know when you have more pieces you wish to show me, and I shall be happy to take a look.”
“Most certainly.”
“Hello, is this gallery room open?” A lady standing at the entrance asked.
Mr. Hardy gave the lady a smile. “Lady Benson-Wright. What a pleasure to see you again. Yes, please come in. I am just reviewing this new work from one of our artists, Mr. Grayson.”
The lady came in and began browsing the room. “Quite lovely,” she said standing in front of a landscape before continuing to view the rest of the paintings.
Mr. Hardy and George stood silently in the middle of the room as Lady Benson-Wright continued her examination. When she had viewed all the paintings, she turned to George. “Charming landscapes. And you are from…”
“Dorset, your Ladyship,” George answered.
She went back to the painting she had previously admired and studied it again. She placed her gloved forefinger against her cheek and tilted her head, taking a few steps backward and then a few steps forward.
“It is a view of the valley where I live. I assure you the cows and sheep are quite genuine.”
Lady Benson-Wright chuckled. “I feel quite certain they are.” She then turned to George and gave him a charming smile. She walked up to him and placed her hand on his arm. “Do you also do portraits?” she asked, running her hand down his arm and giving him a coy look.
“I have done a few. However, they are not my main study—just yet.”
“Hmm.”
She turned back to the landscape. “And what is the price for this painting?”
George turned to Mr. Hardy, for he had no idea what a fair price would be.
