The Portrait Read Free Page A

was she?
    "Is there some special event we will attend?" The Season was barely underway, and I
had been forbidden to appear in public until Mother's ball two weeks hence, I could not imagine
Mother allowing me to be seen, but perhaps...
    I was unsure whether to anticipate or dread.
    "No, it's that Sutherland creature. He insists you must wear red or orange" Tapping her
chin with one forefinger, she frowned at the pink gown Mattie still held. "I have a scarlet shawl.
You may use it, but see that you do not soil it."
    I shuddered at the thought of her scarlet shawl with the pink gown, but said nothing. My
small experience with Mr. Sutherland told me that he would not accept a substitute. My
next--and probably last--sitting would last only as long as it took him to get a good look at me.
    Despite the pink gown, I could scarce contain my impatience for Wednesday to dawn.
Until Mr. Sutherland's advent, the days of my life were all the same. Dancing lessons on
Mondays and Thursday mornings, elocution lessons on Wednesday afternoons, and training in
housewifery on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Occasionally I would be commanded to accompany
Mother in a visit to a modiste or a milliner, always dressed in drab clothing and a deep poke
bonnet. Mother had the notion that I should emerge like a butterfly from a chrysalis at my
come-out ball, and did her best to make sure that no one of any social importance saw me.
    The following morning, Mattie assisted me to dress in the pink gown. It was actually a
lovely garment--for someone else. The slip was satin as pale a pink as the throat of a delicate
shell, while the overdress was fine lace just a blush darker. Tiny cap sleeves and a miniscule
bodice were joined to the skirt with a deep pink velvet ribband that tied in a flat bow just under
my breasts, with trailing streamers almost to the scalloped hem. My slippers matched the
ribband, as did long gloves extending well above my elbows. Perhaps they were intended to
reduce the impression of near-nudity the bodice elicited. In my opinion, they failed
dismally.
    The scarlet shawl clashed horribly with the pink, but it did cover the vast expanse of
flesh above the bodice, as long as I held on to it.
    Followed by Mattie, I climbed the stairs to the room serving as Mr. Sutherland's studio.
My midriff was host to a whole flock of small, fluttering creatures, for I knew that he would
shout at me. I told myself that I would shout right back, letting him know that the pink gown was
not of my choosing.
    I lied. I was far too much the coward.
    His back was to the door as I entered. Mattie went immediately to the chair provided.
The high stool I had used before was no longer in the middle of the room. As I stood hesitating
just inside the doorway, he turned.
    His expression did not change when he saw me, but his body grew very still. After a
moment he stepped toward me. I felt as a lamb must when stalked by a wolf.
    He halted just inches away, so close that I could feel the warmth of his body. My eyes
were at the level of his chin.
    "I believe I specified a red or orange gown?" His voice was silky, yet held a certain
threat.
    "I--" The sound came out a whisper. I swallowed. "I have no red or orange gown.
Mother said this would serve."
    Before I could say more, his hand caught the dangling corner of the shawl and ripped it
from me. "Pink!" he roared. "Pink! With your skin! My god, girl, it makes you look half dead.
No, worse. You appear completely dead and unburied for a week. Take it off!"
    So stunned was I that I said, "Here?" as my hands went to the ribbon bow under my
breasts.
    The corners of his mouth turned up. "No, darling, not here," he said, in an entirely
different tone. His brows drew together as he looked me up and down. "So she dresses you in
pink, hmmm? Why am I not surprised? And pale blue as well? White?" At my nod, he went on,
"I thought so. All one has to do is look at her parlor and know the woman has no sense of color
at all.
    "I ought to paint