The Woman In The Golden Dress. Nicola Cornick
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standing over the prone body of a dead hare. I remembered Eustace telling me that it was a favourite of his father’s.
Constance was still looking at me curiously but she had remembered her manners now. ‘There is food in the drawing room, ma’am,’ she said, ‘if you would care to come through. The water is heating and your chamber is almost ready. Mrs Lunt apologises for the delay and will present herself to you directly.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. I followed her out into the grand bedchamber, glancing back over my shoulder at the little dressing room. It had fallen into darkness.
I.A.C.B.… If this really were me then by the time the portrait was published I would have a different surname. I would be remarried. Eustace would be dead.
The thought gave me enormous pleasure. It warmed me, nurturing the flame of revenge that burned deep inside. I felt new life and energy course through my veins again, just as I had when I had held the golden gown. I decided that whilst I planned Eustace’s demise I would start to draw again.
‘I shall set up my easel in that room tomorrow,’ I said to Constance. ‘The light is perfect for my art. Please talk to Mrs Lunt to make sure it is clean and ready for me in the morning. There is much I need to do.’
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