“Hand me your brush, won’t you, dear heart?” Hanna asked.
It was that rare moment of quiet in the house, hours after dinner when the children were mercifully put to bed, their chatter stilled. The days were growing longer and I’d already drawn my curtains closed against the lingering light. The velvet drapes softened the air in my room, shrouding it into a deadened silence.
I sat in front of my vanity, dressed in a long nightgown of ivory batiste and my favorite silk robe, tightened securely around my frame. Hanna, my nursemaid, my friend, and my closest confidante, had been bustling about behind me, tidying the room, turning down the linens. Next would be hair brushing, then tea. We’d had the same evening ritual for years.
Hanna removed the comb holding up my dark tresses and began working her crooked fingers through the waves, seeking out any last remaining hidden pins. Those clinked in the catchall dish at my right, a clamshell Artie had found on the beach last summer. He’d carefully polished the concave surface till itglowed and presented it to me, his round cheeks lifting with unmistakable pride.
“Mercy wrote,” I mentioned, leaning forward to remove the envelope from the drawer I’d cast it in before dinner.
“And how is the young ingénue?” Hanna started brushing out the ends of my hair with practiced strokes, careful not to tug on any knots.
I broke the wax seal and withdrew the contents. There was Mercy’s letter, soft and sinuous curves scrawled across just a single page—short this week—and a second envelope bearing my name in an unfamiliar hand. I flipped it over and studied the seal. Intricate floral vines cascaded over a heart aflame.
“Do you know this crest?” I asked, holding it up for Hanna to inspect.
“That looks like the People of the Petals. In Bloem,” she added.
Bloem was a tiny province near the heart of Arcannia. The people of the region worshipped Arina, goddess of love, beauty, and the arts, and Bloem was known for being the most refined and cosmopolitan area in the country, even putting the capital to shame. Its streets had as many fashion houses as they did theaters and salons.
So I’d read.
I ran a thoughtful finger over the seal. The wax had a deep purple hue, a sign of nobility. “I don’t know anyone from Bloem, do I?”
Hanna frowned. “Not that I can recall. Perhaps Mercy’s letter will explain everything.”
Nodding, I set the envelope aside and picked up my sister’s missive.
“ ‘Dearest Verity,’ ” I began, reading aloud for Hanna’s sake.“ ‘You missed the most marvelous party last night. There were so many guests in attendance. My dance card was never empty but I still managed to take a turn about the room with Princess Beatrice, though of course we pretended it was nothing more than a laugh. Still. Sometimes I think that girl shall drive me mad with her charms.
“ ‘Two of the guests were the Duke and Duchess of Bloem, Gerard and Dauphine Laurent. They have a grand apartment in Arcannus, as well as their family estate in the country—Chauntilalie. Beatrice, Euphemia, and I stopped there on summer progress last year. It’s beautifully decrepit and wistful. Lavender fields and so many little hills and dales, truly a bucolic dream. You would love it.’ ”
I stopped, briefly wondering what it would be like to simply go on a tour of the kingdom. Mercy seemed to spend half her life traveling with the court, a companion to the princesses, and she never made it sound like the awful lot of work Camille claimed it to be.
“ ‘Dauphine surprised me by visiting my suite yesterday afternoon and we caught up over tea. She was quite enamored with a series of your paintings I have on display—the little one of the sunrise over Selkirk, the tide pool with that darling crab, and of course, the portrait you did of me. She wanted to know all about them and was delighted to hear how well I know the artist.’ ”
“Look at that,” Hanna said, the brush now at the crown of my head. “A duchess fancying your work!”
I closed my eyes for a moment against her gentle ministrations before continuing on.
“ ‘I was seated next to the duke at dinner—such a dear oldsoul—and he asked if I might relay this letter to you, from Dauphine. Apparently, they’d like to offer you a commission, little sister. What fun! You should absolutely accept, of course, and make sure your travels involve a stop in the capital. I miss you and can’t wait to show you off to all my favorite friends. Please come soon. Your dearest, Mercy.’ ”
“A commission,” Hanna echoed. She set down the hairbrush and began dividing up sections of my hair to braid.
“How odd,” I murmured, burning with curiosity. I’d never received a letter from someone who wasn’t a relation, and my fingers traced the lilac seal once more before I broke it.
Thick and creamy and edged with a glint of rose gold, the paper inside was far nicer than Mercy’s usual stationery. The duchess’s hand was a refined copperplate, written in a shocking shade of orchid ink.
“ ‘My dear Miss Thaumas,’ ” I began, bringing the letter closer to me. A cloying bouquet danced in the air. The paper had even been sweetened with perfume! “ ‘First, I wish to introduce myself to you. My name is Lady Dauphine Laurent, Duchess of Bloem. I’m an acquaintance of your sister Mercy and hope to become a friend of yours. Second, I wanted to commend you on your obvious talent as an artist. Your work is exquisite and fresh. I’ve greatly enjoyed your portrait of Mercy and admire the style in which you captured her.
“ ‘My son, Alexander, turns twenty this year and my husband would like to mark the occasion with his first adult portrait, as is the tradition for all Laurent heirs. As you may know, Bloem boasts of several academies and conservatories. In the last month I’ve looked through so many portfolios of work, I feel as thoughmy eyes have crossed and I honestly can’t remember a single piece from them. But there was something in yours that stayed with me.
“ ‘To be short, I want you to be the one to paint my son. We will obviously pay you for your efforts and would be more than pleased to host you at Chauntilalie while you work. Please respond to my request at your earliest convenience. Alexander’s birthday is in just three months, and I know it would please my husband to unveil the portrait on his special day.
“ ‘Yours most earnestly, Dauphine Laurent.’ ”
“They want you to go all the way to Bloem to paint?” Hanna mused, tying off the braid with a ribbon in dark blue. She tapped the top of my head, work done.
All the way to Bloem…
