@silcntpoetics - starter forย jasper nightingale
Miss Isabella Aldwyn received the calling card from the Lord Nightingale the day before. It had been engraved, tastefully done and on sophisticated paper, everything expected not just from a man of his Lordโs status and stature but of the master artist that he was. Their mother had been confused, as had been Harry who was adamant that Bella had never been introduced to the eldest son of the Earl Nightingale so early on in the Season. Of course they had been mistaken and she had undoubtedly been formally introduced to him at one place or anotherย and she had not, in fact, made their acquaintance while swimming at a lake and she had not partaken in a refreshing dip with said eldest son of an Earl.ย
Her mother was not one to refuse such an impressive invitation. Even if she wanted to, it would be too much of a slight to the gentleman if she did. And so that was how Bella found herself in the parlour, let in by a herd of house servants. Compared to the number of house staff in the Barony Cheltenham, both the Nightingale estate itself and the respective manpower needed for it vastly dwarfed the Aldwyns. Nancy in tow, Bella seated herself in the brightly lit room, one that was poised and manicured. Perhaps not what she expected of the spirited gentleman that she had met, albeit this was his family estate. The morning call had been vague on the card itself, no specific reason outlined. Just that bellaโs presence had been requested.ย
As the house staff let them be, Bella waited in silence at first. That is until she could hold it in any longer. She turned very severely to Nancy,ย โWe must discuss with the younger Lord Nightingale so we may have our stories straight on how we had become acquainted. Mama will have my head if she is ever to discover how it is we had met.โ Bellaโs face erupted into a smirk.ย โOh do not look at me like that Nancy. You enjoyed watching Lord Nightingale swim.โ Before her maid could defend herself against the relentless teasing, steps creaked by the door.
Twenty-four hours โ it took twenty-four hours of long lasting tedium for the varnish to dry completely. A minute too soon, and even just grazing still-wet, tacky resin would result in a complete disaster. This had always been Jasper's least favorite part of the trade; the waiting. To finish a piece was pure, unadulterated pleasure. To wait for the varnish to dry, the delayed gratification, to seal the work in it's eternity? Torture.
He regarded this piece was a special sort of awe: the mouth-ajar, gleaming eyes sort of awe. It was, without an inkling of doubt, one of his best: in it's dedication to life, and it's dedication to beauty. The subject was bound to cause controversy; perhaps scandal, if the young lord wasn't careful. But, he was, and always had been. And, after careful consideration, he devised a plan to stop any tricky, gossiping mamas in their tracks.
It came to me in a dream, he would say. And, of course, they would believe him. Despite the subject's rather striking similarities to the young Miss Isabella Aldwyn, they would believe his whimsical fabrications, saving himself, and his muse from scandal.
The first thing Jasper did upon truly, finally finishing the piece, was present it to dearest Teresa. She, youngest and dearest sister, regarded the piece with a similar awe, and inquired about it's origin. Jasper, for the first time this season, practiced his fib. One which Teresa regarded with an arched brow and a wholly unconvinced look, but let him away with his falsity, anyways. Precisely the intended effect.
And, shortly after, a calling card was sent to the Aldwyn estate, requesting the company of Miss Isabella Aldwyn โ secret muse, and dear friend. It felt only right, that she should witness the piece before it's unveiling.
Agatha finds him in his study, fingertips finely coated in a charcoal sheen, on the morning of their meeting. She announced Miss Aldwyn's arrival, before making a snide comment about his needing to clean himself up for the young miss. It is the kind of comment only she โ she, darling and doting Agatha who practically raised him; affectionate in uniquely cold way โ could get away with.
He was careful, to an extent, to preen himself before descending from his studio. Only so that he was presentable during this, this strange sort of reunion. And also so any onlooking gazes would have no reason to accost the man after Miss Aldwyn's departure. It was not that kind of visit, not in the slightest. Isabella Aldwyn was a dear friend in the making, though he knew his family โ particularly his parents โ would infer differently, should they spot the two together. He would not give them reason to believe it to be such, but he would give them no reason to scold the man, either.
She is discovered in the parlour, accompanied by that very same maid who bore witness to their first meeting. Jasper pushes the twin doors open, face already donning a bright, beaming smile full of teeth and joy at the very sight.
"Miss Aldwyn!" He regards her with a certain familiarity, as though the two have known each other far longer than a solitary โ and entirely inappropriate โ jaunt in the lake. "I must admit, I'm rather pleased by your arrival โ the both of you!" He offers Nancy a rather cheeky smile, one of knowing, one of mischief. "I thought, perhaps, it might have been too bold an endeavor, considering our public unfamiliarity with one another . . . Though, considering you are here, I suppose you found some way around that, hm?" There was a story, there must be. One she devised, or was devising. One he desperately needed to catch up on, so that they might be in cahoots; partners in crime.
"You have been well?" A genuine inquiry, made as the artist unrolls the messy folds of his sleeves, leaving the fine linen wrinkled, ruched. "Not partaking in too much mischief, I hope?" Intent is lost to sentiment. The painting, hung from the wall in his studio, could wait. For now, he wished to know how the young Miss Aldwyn had been, since their last rather invigorating encounter.


















