Chapter 5: Leda

June 1831

After two weeks at Woodbridge, Richard had to return to London, to continue his work. There was also business in the Lords, as Lord Grey, the Prime Minister, was pushing the Reform Act with the support of a new House of Commons, but against stiff resistance in the Lords. Although he had held the seat for a ‘rotten borough’ for a few months, Richard could see the necessity for a reallocation of parliamentary seats, which still reflected the England of the sixteenth century. Ellen saw this need, too, and supported Richard’s wish to exert what influence he had.

The young women at the Manor rode their horses on a daily basis, and Ellen quickly regained her trim appearance, although her bust remained larger than before the birth. The women often stopped by the river, and Melissa sketched scenes as she saw them. One day, whilst they were resting on the river bank, two swans with their young drifted by. The male swan trailed behind, and Ellen threw him some bread crumbs, enticing the big white bird to swim closer. She managed to get the animal close enough to feed it by hand, much to the amazement of her companions. Melissa sketched furiously all the while, and when the swan finally left, she looked at Ellen with an unspoken question on her face.

“What is it, Melissa?” Ellen finally asked.

“You ... you looked wonderful with that big white swan eating from your hand. I just had this idea, don’t be mad at me, it’s just an idea. Would you pose for another painting for me?”

“What kind of painting?” Ellen asked amused.

“Leda and the Swan!” Melissa exclaimed.

“But that swan will probably never come back here,” Ellen answered.

“That is all right. I have my sketches. Would you sit for me? You would have to sit, how shall I put this, with scant clothing? You know the story of Leda? The swan was Zeus, and he came to Leda, and she had a child from him.”

“You want me to pose in the nude?” Ellen asked, and Colleen looked at the other women with an open mouth.

“Not completely,” Melissa said, blushing, “perhaps your chest?”

“Have you any idea how big my breasts are right now?” Ellen asked. “Besides, what would you do with such a painting?”

“Of course, I could not sell it,” Melissa admitted. “That would cause a scandal. You are too well known. I would have to keep it, or rather, gift it to you.”

For the next hour, Melissa tried to talk Ellen into posing. She seemed rather obsessed with her idea, and she promised that all the sketches and the painting would be in Ellen’s possession. After a while, Ellen relented.

That evening, they rummaged through the house to find linen for a Greek style dress for Ellen, and the next morning, the three women returned to the river. Ellen took Dicky along to warn them of approaching people. Once they were at the river bank, Melissa began painting the background, a sand coloured blanket. Then Ellen had to lie down, covered only partly by the thin fabric they had found. With her left hand, she held the fabric between her breasts, whilst her right arm was bent back behind her head. The pose showed her full breasts to advantage.

For the next six hours, Melissa painted like a woman obsessed. From time to time, Ellen could take a break whilst Melissa worked on other parts of the picture. The swan was particularly difficult, because its wing was behind Ellen, whilst its long neck and head rested between her breasts. Although she worked feverishly, Melissa could not finish the painting that day, and they returned the next morning to continue.

Finally, by mid-afternoon, Melissa put her brushes aside. Ellen covered herself and came over to have a look at the painting. She held her breath when she saw it. This was not a typical mythical painting, this was highly erotic. Was this really she who laid back languidly, offering herself to the swan?

“What do you think?” Melissa asked apprehensively.

“It is wondrous, yet outrageous. It is beautiful, yet scandalous. I like it, but I would die if it were seen by anyone safe by Richard. Can you accept that this painting may never be shown to anyone else?”

Melissa nodded. She had been aware of this right from the start. For a woman of Lady Lambert’s standing, this painting could mean her social ruin.

“I shall pay for your work, Melissa,” Ellen said softly, “but then I shall hide the painting until my husband has a chance to give his opinion.”

The women returned to the Manor, and Ellen carefully hid the painting in her bedroom. When Eleanor visited the next morning, she showed it to her sister-in-law, though, and Eleanor was speechless at first. But she was appreciative, too, complimenting Ellen on the way she had recovered the firmness of her body so soon after giving birth. Ellen laughed at that.

“You know, once my breasts are down in size again, I’ll feel much better. But as long as I feed Anthony, I shan’t become pregnant again, and that’s nice, too.”

“So you and Richard, are you doing it again?” Eleanor asked curiously.

Ellen nodded, and Eleanor had another question.

“How is it, I mean, after giving birth?”

“Better than ever,” Ellen confided. “I’m a little wider now, and it’s a better fit.”

Eleanor left it at that, and they both rejoined the others downstairs.

Richard returned the next week, having attended the deliberations in the Lords. In the first evening, Ellen showed Richard The Painting, and he was at a loss for words at first. Ellen watched him whilst different emotions passed over his features. His first words, however, set her at ease.

“Dear God, Ellen, you are so beautiful! Melissa really can bring out your looks. But where can we hang this?”

“You like it?” Ellen asked, a relieved smile on her face. “You are not angry that I consented to pose for her?”

“Yes, it is wonderful, if a risque. Perhaps we can put it in the private study in our City house?”

“You want to ogle me in private?” Ellen grinned.

“I want that view all for myself,” Richard admitted with an equal grin. “Do I have to reimburse Melissa?”

“I already did, Richard. I thought of it as a gift for you.”

Richard laughed. “Who would have thought that you would become a patroness of the arts? I am sorry, but out here in the country, I still see you as my beautiful shepherdess.”

Ellen smiled back at her husband. “I like that.” Then an idea struck her. “My cloak and hat should still be at your parents’ house. What if I have Melissa paint me as shepherdess? Would you like that?”

It was obvious at once that Richard was all for it, for his eyes were lighting up.

“I would love that. Let us commission the painting properly this time. Melissa needs to earn her living, if only for her self-esteem, and she should learn about contracts.”

That evening, at dinner, they spoke to Melissa about the idea. Melissa asked them about the background, wanting to know more about the way they had met. Ellen and Richard told her about Ellen’s arrival in the February rain, about the old shepherdess herding her sheep on the river banks, about Richard’s visits and the confrontation with the vagrant. Colleen and Melissa listened to the story with their mouths open. In the end, Melissa, with that absent look on her face the others knew already, spoke up.

“I see at least three possible tableaux. The strongest one would be of you trudging through the mud, surrounded by the sheep, under an overcast sky, symbolising the hardships. Then I see you on the river bank, in the sunshine, those sheep grazing and your dog circling them, a peaceful scene, symbolising the easy life. And then, pardon me, a scene where you look up to a horseman, your dog watchful at your side. ‘Meeting the Squire’, I would call this last scene.”

Richard and Ellen looked at each other before Richard cleared his throat.

“Let’s do all three,” he said. “What do you need?”

“I’d like to start with the languid sunshine scene, the weather is just right for it. I suppose there are sheep around here?”

Ellen looked at Richard, who nodded.

“We have tenants who have flocks of sheep.”

The next morning, Richard rode over to High Matcham and came back with Ellen’s old clothes, and her cloak and hat. Harriet Carter had them washed and stored away, assuming that Ellen might reclaim them one day. The entire group of adults set out for the river bank, close to the place where old Mildred had grazed her sheep. The young lad who tended the sheep was waiting there already, and Dicky was out of the coach in a flash, circling the sheep and annoying them greatly with his antics.

Sir Anthony and Harriet Carter were waiting there as well, and Nadine Blacket had come, too, bringing baskets of food for a delightful picnic under the early July sun. Little Anthony slept in a crib under a chestnut tree, along with Mabel’s little daughter, whilst the nurse kept a close watch over her charges, lest some gadfly, bee, or wasp might disturb them.

Under the eyes of the group, Melissa built up her easel and the wide canvas. Over the afternoon, she began with the backdrop of the river, with the willow trees lining it. The grassy banks with the sheep came next, but then the evening set in, and the young lad drove the small herd back towards High Matcham.

The next day was fine again, and the same group of people assembled on the river bank. Ellen had donned her old dress and cloak, much to the amusement of most present, and spent the early morning trying to teach Dicky a few essentials he had obviously forgotten. Then Melissa bade her sit on a moss-covered fallen tree. It took almost an hour before poor Ellen sat in the precise pose Melissa had envisioned, and the young painter began her work in earnest. Whilst the painting took shape, the other family members and guests enjoyed the beautiful day. Later they enjoyed the food Nadine Blacket had brought along, and Melissa scolded Ellen for chewing on a pastry whilst she tried to paint her face. Ellen retorted laughingly and time passed quickly over the ensuing banter.

Richard, for his part, simply lay in the grass and watched the reincarnation of Ellen Trilby, as he knew her back then. He marvelled at his good fortune, too, that this lovely creature, his wonderful wife, had come into his life. His gaze fell on the crib where he knew his son to be asleep, and his emotions welled up. It did not matter whether he deserved Ellen. They were together now, and the sleeping infant confirmed that. Finally, he decided that he was just lucky, and the thought gave him back his balance.

Ellen seemed to pick up on his emotions and looked at him knowingly. She had an idea what was going through his mind. Similar thoughts had been on her mind over the morning. She also looked over to where Harriet Carter sat, her back against her husband’s chest, a woman at peace. Ellen knew how much she had suffered over the last years, some of it through her own, Ellen’s, mistakes. She also knew that Harriet’s happiness had been earned the hard way, and she marvelled at the character of the woman and her own good luck to have her as mother-in-law. She also thought about her own mother, not the sick bundle of bones that she had been close to the end, but the beautiful, vivacious woman she had been before she wasted away. What would the Irish woman have thought about her daughter becoming the wife of an English peer? Probably, she would not have cared about that, Ellen decided. She would have asked, though, whether she loved her husband. Ellen looked over again, and she met Richard’s eyes. They conveyed happiness now, and love. Yes, if her mother asked, Ellen’s answer would be an unconditional ‘yes’.

Meanwhile, Colleen was listening to Sir Anthony. She knew that he was a veteran of the Battle of Trafalgar, had indeed commanded the flagship of Sir Cuthbert Collingwood during the battle, and she had begged him to recollect that day for her. Writing the manuscript about Antonio’s adventures, she had gathered enough knowledge of seamanship that she could easily follow his recollections. She was astonished, though, to learn that he had not been knighted in recognition of his service in that famous sea battle, but that his knighthood had been bestowed on him earlier for a desperate ship-to-ship action in which his frigate, the Clyde, had captured a French ship-of-the-line. Then he told her of his earlier exploits in Haiti, his fights against pirates in the Great South Sea, she learned about his early life with his father, his childhood in Kingston. Colleen now understood the friendship to Lucy Wilkes, née Gutteridge, and to Doña Maria.

Then Lady Carter told the story how they had first met and detested each other and how she came to fall for the young Anthony Carter. Colleen’s head whirled, thinking of how rich a life they had led, how perilous and how rewarding it had been, and she understood the almost visible bond between them. She sighed inwardly, asking herself if she would ever have a bond as deep to another person. She made notes, too, a habit she had acquired and would not quit, to aid her memory. She knew that she could never write the story of the Carters’ life. They were too prominent, the details too intimate, and besides, she felt too close to them. But she kept the notes.

It was in the middle of these idyllic weeks that a messenger arrived for Richard. He read the letter and his brows knitted whilst he reread it. He looked over at Ellen who was sitting at the table, putting the finishing touches to some needle work.

“They want me to go to Holland for negotiations,” he said reluctantly. “There is an issue about the trade between Dutch East India and Ceylon that needs to be resolved. I thought the treaty of ‘24 had put an end to these problems. They want me to head our delegation. I am to travel next week. I should be gone for the better part of a month, I fancy.”

Ellen swallowed. This was unexpected. She had to concede, though, that Richard had clearly put her before his work in the last months, and she forced herself to smile.

“That is a great distinction, Richard. Don’t worry about us. Perhaps, I should spend that time in London with your grandmother until you return. That way, I get to see Lucy, too.”

“Do you really think that you can cope, darling?”

In return, Ellen stood and walked over to him. She took his hands and pulled him up to hug him.

“I have the best husband of the world. Now, I shall borrow him to King George for a month.”

Richard return her hug with feeling.

“I am truly blessed with you, Ellen. It is a pity you cannot come with me. Amsterdam is supposed to be a beautiful and rich city that I would love for you to see.”

“Perhaps another time, darling. With you being busy, it would only be half the fun. Never worry, I shall be fine.”

Thus, two days later, they left Woodbridge Manor and returned to their London house. Old Lady Lambert was overjoyed to have her great-grandson back, and Ellen settled back into her London life. A week later, Richard left with the delegation, travelling with a Navy sloop from Dover to Amsterdam.

Meanwhile, Ellen renewed her contact with her London acquaintances. First her pregnancy and then the preparations of Eleanor’s wedding had prevented her from showing herself in the salons, and she was eagerly welcomed back. Of course, many of her female acquaintances found an excuse to visit her at home and see little Anthony, who was growing rapidly.

A week after Richard’s departure, at tea in Lady Wheeler’s parlour, she met a woman her own age, by the name of Patricia Gainsworth, the wife of some Major Gainsworth. Somewhere in the back of her brain, Ellen knew the name, but she could not place it. It was the woman herself who clarified this.

“I believe you knew my Cousin Marjorie? She spoke about you a few times, not too flatteringly, I regret to say. But then, Marjorie would always talk disparagingly about others. I must say that I find you very charming in person.”

Outwardly friendly, Ellen’s senses went on alert and she felt the hairs in her neck rise.

“That is very kind of you, Missus Gainsworth. Yes, your cousin seemed to have an issue with me, although I never did anything knowingly to hurt her.”

“That does not mean that we have to continue in this vein, does it?” Missus Gainsworth offered, and Ellen gave her a friendly smile.

“Of course not! I am much rather friends with people. Perhaps we shall see each other again?”

“Certainly, Lady Lambert, certainly.”

With that, Patricia Gainsworth moved on. Ellen was not sure was to make of the friendly advance, and she made it a point to cast unobtrusive glances at the woman. It seemed like Missus Gainsworth was interested in her, too, for she caught her repeatedly as she looked at Ellen. Ellen felt uneasy and she made a mental note to be cautious.