An (Un)believably Artful Theft (Love’s Little Helpers #4)

Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

TWO WEEKS LATER…

“ M r. Bennet! Mr. Bennet, we have callers!” called Mama from the bottom of the attic stairs.

Kitty exclaimed, “Callers! We have callers! Oh, finally!”

“It is only Uncle Philips and Mr. Goode,” pouted Lydia.

Papa reluctantly set down his brush with a sigh. “I suppose we ought to join them.” He looked at his painting, his eyes lingering on the piece with an affection that warmed Elizabeth’s heart to see. Whatever he was working on brought him a great deal of joy. He had not allowed her to see it, his pride being too fragile yet to make himself vulnerable to others’ opinions—even someone he trusted to be kind .

Elizabeth understood his caution. To create was to expose oneself to judgment, and until he developed the confidence necessary to withstand the praise and criticism that came with exposing his work, he did well to keep it to himself. Still, she was curious… What would he choose to paint first after twenty years without touching a canvas?

“Come, Lizzy! Your uncle is a busy man and cannot have called here without good reason. Let us see what he is about.” With one last cherishing look, he stepped away from his easel.

Elizabeth cleaned her things and followed him downstairs. Uncle paced in front of the fireplace while Mr. Goode smiled adoringly at Mary despite Lydia’s best attempts to distract him.

“Lizzy!” Uncle grinned, finally standing still. “I bear glad tidings!”

Papa gestured toward the chair. “Will you not have a seat, Philips?”

Uncle rubbed his hands together. “In a minute, I thank you, Bennet.” Taking a moment to look at each of them, he pronounced, “You are all saved.”

“Says the Lord,” mumbled Mary with an impish smile. Papa chuckled, and Mr. Goode cast her an appreciative glance.

Uncle ignored them, too intent on Elizabeth to allow for distraction. “I received word from Gardiner. Ladies and gentlemen are clamoring for more of your paintings.”

“Mario Rossi’s paintings? ”

“All the same. They are scouring the countryside for your artwork, paying fortunes for them. One benefactor in particular has been purchasing more than the others, thus driving this frantic search for your landscapes.”

Elizabeth gasped. “But that would cost a fortune!”

Uncle rocked back and forth on his feet. “He is a gentleman with a fortune at his disposal.” The twinkle in his eye told her he knew this wealthy benefactor’s name.

Would it be… could it be Mr. Darcy? Could any man care so much that he would go to such a substantial cost for her? She feared to hope it was possible.

Cheeks pink with pleasure, her uncle continued, “He paid an agreeable sum for the last three I took to the gallery. Lizzy—” He stopped, ensuring that he had everyone's attention. Not even Lydia spoke a peep. “Not only do you have enough money to purchase seed and hire laborers to help you plant, but you have amassed enough to pay off the bank loan. If this continues―and I expect it will for some time―you can make Longbourn solvent again. Mario Rossi is a smashing success!”

Elizabeth reached out to the nearest chair and sank into it before her legs gave out completely. “This is too good to be true!”

“We are saved!” exclaimed Mama, her squeals of delight accompanied by her two youngest daughters. Jane and Mary smiled and expressed their wonder in a more dignified fashion .

Elizabeth was too stunned to do anything but stare open-mouthed at her uncle. She had so many questions, but she was unable to articulate even one of them. She felt her father’s hand on her shoulder, and she clasped onto it lest she float away in a dream.

“This is excellent news, Philips. Do I understand correctly that you mean to encourage Lizzy to resume painting as Mario Rossi?”

“Society has granted their approval. She may continue to paint without any concern regarding her reputation. It has become a game to find her initials in the paintings.”

Papa stiffened, his grip on her shoulder firmer. “My Lizzy shall only paint if she wishes to. Furthermore, I refuse to permit any of her hard-earned income to be used for the benefit of Longbourn. The fortune is hers to do with as she pleases. Perhaps you and Gardiner will advise her on how best to invest.”

She twisted to face him. “But, Papa, my sisters’ dowries–”

“The dowries for all of you are my responsibility, as is Longbourn. Now, I am not a complete fool. I will gladly and most gratefully accept a loan to see us through this planting and harvest, but I intend to pay you back with interest once the crops go to market.” He nodded at Uncle. “Philips has offered to help me before, and until now I have been too afraid of making another disastrous mistake to accept.”

Uncle nodded. “My offer stands, Bennet. Nothing would make me happier. ”

Papa patted Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Gardiner has offered to introduce me to some of the connections he established for you, my dear girl. I do not possess the talent of Mario Rossi, nor do I expect to sell a fraction of what you have done, but perhaps I might do well enough to provide for my family’s comfort. At the least, I will try.”

“And you shall succeed, Bennet!” said Uncle. “Now, if I may be so bold, may I inquire on the status of your current painting?”

“Do you wish to see it?”

“Dearly!”

Elizabeth did not know if she was allowed to follow, though she was just as eager as her uncle to see the painting.

When her father stopped before stepping into the hall, turned back with eyebrows raised, and said, “Well? Are you coming or not?” she jumped up from her chair. Jane came along as well, while Mary remained in the parlor with Mr. Goode, Mama, Kitty, and Lydia.

The stairs creaked under their feet, and Elizabeth’s anticipation increased until she feared her heart would pound out of her chest by the time they entered the attic.

Papa took the canvas tenderly between his hands, smiling down at the image before turning it around for them to see.

It was a portrait of Elizabeth dressed in a gown of vibrant peacock blue standing in front of a dramatic background accented with gold. But what filled Elizabeth’ s heart full to overflowing was her father’s expression as his eyes met hers.

Jane clasped her hands in front of her, whispering in awe. “She is beautiful!”

“Stunning, Bennet! You will have ladies and gentlemen lined up to have their own portraits done when they see this.”

“This painting shall stay in the family. No amount could convince me to part with it.”

“That is noble, Bennet, but why would you paint something you do not intend to sell? We must strike while the iron is hot!”

Papa’s gaze continued to caress Elizabeth like an embrace. “More is involved in practicing art than skill, Philips. Every time I feel my courage falter or fear stills my brush, she will remind me that my family is more important than accolades and sales.”

“She looks hopeful,” Jane observed.

Papa grinned. “Good! That is the emotion I was hoping to invoke.”

So drastic was the swing from ruin to acceptance, Elizabeth hardly knew how to react. That she was happy, she could not deny, but her happiness could not be complete. Uncle Philips would not give a clear reply when she asked if Mr. Darcy was responsible for her change of fortune. He had patted her hand and bid her to be patient.

Patience was an atrocious word. And yet she was forced to cultivate it.

Over the following week, Longbourn received caller after caller, each one with a ready apology for believing Miss Bingley and expressing shame for doubting Elizabeth’s reputation when the scandal of Miss Bingley’s brazen lie far outweighed Elizabeth’s progressive independence. How bad could her industry be if the aristocracy smiled upon it? Sir William was her most vocal ally.

It soothed Elizabeth to be restored to her friends’ and neighbors’ favor once again, and she could not help but wonder how Miss Bingley fared in London.

When she saw Mary slip a letter to Mr. Goode to post that was addressed to Georgiana, Elizabeth longed to know what her sister had written and if Georgiana would share it with her brother.

Was he behind her sudden success? Did he think about her at all?