The Master and The Muses. Amanda McIntyre
our impetuous actions. This behavior was new to me, as I suspected it may have been to him. He’d called me Helen in the throes of passion, I realized. How should I address him now? The socially expected protocol of Mr. Rodin hardly seemed necessary now.
He was a quiet man—caring and attentive. A confident man, in my view, having no need for constant reassurance. Still, I could not understand his silence. Had my silly heart chosen to see only what it wanted, rather than what was real? Dear heavens, had my father been right all along?
William finished dressing and walked out to the balcony. I followed, pausing for a moment at the open double doors. He leaned against the railing looking out over the city, far away in his thoughts.
The stench of the Thames settled over the city at this late hour.
“He cannot know,” William said suddenly, his back still turned to me.
Certain that I had not heard him correctly, I moved to his side, curling my arm through the crook of his elbow. He picked up my hand and pressed it to his lips.
“Who do you mean?” I asked. “My papa? My family does not need to know.” I studied his stern profile.
“No, Helen, not your father. You are old enough to make your own choices.” His eyes raked over me briefly before he looked away.
“No, Thomas. It would make him furious if he knew we’d been together. If it had been anyone else but me, it would not matter. I do not know how best I can explain it, Helen. It’s…how it is between us.”
I stared at him, not believing what I had heard. Had he refused my immediate insistence to marry him, or even to make a true commitment only to me, that I would have understood. “Are you saying we must pretend that what happened between us did not? Why, William? Doesn’t he want you to be happy?” My words tumbled from my mouth before I could think.
He kissed my hand again, this time facing me. His expression was firm, determined.
“This is not about my happiness, Helen. It is about his life, his work, his way of doing things,” William stated, showing no emotion in those eyes that I’d just seen overflowing with passion. I saw instead the plea of a man begging me to understand, asking me to forget possibly the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. How could I ignore my feelings when my virtue was at stake?
“We cannot take this any further. I should have had more control.” He shook his head as if scolding himself.
“Then I won’t be his model, William,” I said, grabbing his hand. “That is all there is to it.”
“That would not be fair to you nor to Thomas.”
My mouth gaped open, unable to find a response to his absurd comment. I squeezed shut my eyes, concentrating on putting together the pieces of this jumbled mess. “You cannot deny what has happened. I—I don’t understand.” I reached for his face and he backed away. He turned, shoving his hand through his hair.
“I am nothing like him, Helen. You will see once you’ve met him, once you get to know him. His presence alone commands those around him. He dominates everyone in his world. Not in an abusive way, please do not misunderstand.” He braced his hands against the balcony railing as he stared out over the street. “He is a kind man and a good man.”
“As you are, William.” My arms ached to hold him again. I wanted him to tell me he was as happy as I was.
“You say that now.” He offered a short laugh and tossed me a side look.
“What do you mean? Do you find me that shallow? So easily won by any man’s charm?”
His eyes drifted shut and he offered a weary sigh. “It isn’t you, Helen.” He smiled. “It’s him. I have never known a man so suited to his own skin, so confident in his opinion, so sure of his skill and his future. He is nearly perfect in all he does.”
“You love him, of course.” I touched his arm. Beneath his shirtsleeve, I felt the muscle that I had grasped moments before grow tense, unyielding.
“I would rather die than disappoint him.” He stared straight ahead, his focus and his response unwavering.
“And so if I choose to model for the brotherhood, he would find it disappointing that we care for one another?” The idea that the sweetest freedom I had ever known was being snatched away boggled my mind.
“If he finds out what has happened between us, you will not be asked to model. That is exactly my point. Until he is finished, we cannot allow ourselves the luxury of having any sort of relationship, other than business.” He slapped his hand against the railing.
“You’re serious?” I asked. “Look at me, William. Tell me that you don’t care for me.” I stood firm, challenging him with a hard gaze.
Finally, he faced me, grabbing my shoulders. His eyes bored into mine, hard and cold.
“I owe him everything, Helen. He deserves my support and respect. His mind is brilliant, his gift rare. I would not usurp his goals in trade for mine.”
Dazed by his words, I stepped away and batted at his hands when he tried to hold them. My stomach roiled uneasily.
“Helen, if what you say is true, then these feelings you believe are real will be there when you are done with your work here. Know this above all else—I do not regret what has happened. It is just…ill timed, I’m afraid.”
His eyes implored me to take him at his word. I didn’t know what to believe.
“Until his paintings are finished, he must have your undivided attention. That is just the way it has to be.” He walked inside the door and held his hand out to me, waiting for my response.
Tears choked my throat and, despite his words, I pushed myself into his embrace. He held me close and I pressed my cheek to the warmth of his chest.
“I’m sorry, but if you agree to pose for the brotherhood, you become my brother’s muse and I, your most willing servant in every way, save one.”
The front door banged open and a loud voice called from below. “Will, are you up there? Come here, man, I need your help!”
William eased me away, searching my face before he gave me a brief nod. “It’s time to meet Thomas.” He smiled and walked across the studio.
A person holding a stack of wobbly wood crates appeared on the landing, his arms shaking as he struggled to balance the boxes.
“I’m about to make a god-awful mess, Will. Where the devil are you?” A deep, rich laugh followed, one filled with an energy that was infectious. Despite the ache in my heart, I found the camaraderie between the two brothers much like that between my sisters and me. I suddenly understood William’s standpoint, though I did not like it.
“You buffoon!” William called out loudly in response. “Why on earth do you insist on dragging these crates home?” he scolded, stepping forward to help his brother.
Without William at my side, I was suddenly the shy introvert he’d met that day in the hat shop.
“These are far cheaper than palettes, my brother. Say, while I was picking these up at the tavern, I saw that McGivney’s is having an oyster special tonight. What do you say we go down and toss back a few with some pints? I’ve just sold another of my paintings to John.”
“That’s wonderful, Thomas,” William replied, dropping the crates to the floor. “First, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
I stood transfixed, motionless at the threshold of the balcony’s doors, trying to process all that had happened. A surreal sticky substance trickled down my leg, reminding me of what I had done. William held out his hand to me, motioning me to his side. Unable to arrange my hair properly, I quickly pulled it over my shoulder, twisting it in a loose braid. I did not take William’s hand.
He smiled, dropped his hand