The Painter's Muse

Clara's Point Of View

As the dance presentation concluded, a hushed murmur swept through the room, announcing the presence of a notable personality.

"She is so beautiful," a voice whispered, catching my attention and successfully diverting my gaze to a mystery lady who had entered the room.

"Do you by any chance know her name?" I asked Laura, my curiosity piqued by the enigmatic presence of the woman.

"Her name is Eileen Ellsworth, and she is the wife of Frederick Ellsworth, your husband's arch-political rival,” Laura began... "She's a humanitarian, and she strongly supports her husband's ambition to be Governor of Virginia."

I raised a brow at her after processing the information. "Laura, why do I feel like you just subtly shaded me for not showing concern about Nicholas' ambition?"

“I’m sorry my lady, I meant no form of disrespect," Laura immediately apologized.

"It's alright. Not like I care anyway. I've never cared, just so you know," I remarked.

"I also hear that Sir Fredrick plans to abolish slavery in Virginia if he becomes governor," Laura added.

“Oh, good for him,” I replied nonchalantly.

.

.

.

As the night was fast approaching, and the reception coming to an end, people began exchanging pleasantries and bidding their goodbyes. I stood there, waiting for Nicholas, who was still engrossed in conversation with his friends. However, my attention was stolen once again by the presence of Eileen Ellsworth. She's so beautiful; I'm going to cry!

"Monsieur Brice, let me formally introduce you to my beautiful wife..." Nicholas declared, leading a gentleman toward where I and Laura stood.

"Oh, Nicholas, no," I muttered under my breath, discomfort already creeping in. I despised meeting his friends, and he never seemed to grasp the depth of my aversion.

"She is so beautiful, in person, Mr. Nicholas... Lady Clara, c'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer enfin," Brice said with a smile as he reached to kiss her hand.

"What did he say?" I asked in a whisper to Laura, completely puzzled.

"Uhm, pardon my manners, my Lady. I perceive you do not understand," Brice replied, obviously realizing my genuine confusion.

"I didn't study French when I was little, and Nicholas still didn't give me French lessons, so yes, I don't understand," I quipped.

Nicholas coughed, attempting to diffuse the awkward moment. There was a brief silence and exchanged fake smiles as I would call them before Mr. Brice continued, "My daughter and wife adore you and look forward to having a portrait of them by you. Maybe you could come to Paris someday and meet them."

"Or they can come here to America to get their painting," I retorted, my usual nonchalance taking the better part of me.

"My lady, be nice," Laura whispered.

Before I could express more of my disinterest, Nicholas stepped in and smoothly redirected Mr. Brice's attention.

"I despise meeting his friends, and he never understands."

"Which man wouldn't want to show off to the world a beautiful woman like you, my lady? Even I would." Laura countered.

"Laura, it's annoying and tiring as I am never interested.

"I often wonder, my lady, how do you get so tired of doing anything in just a short time? Even the minimalistic duty of greeting people. But you easily spend 12 hours painting."

"It's simple, Laura. I don't like people; I love painting! Besides, the eyes of those men he calls friends scream lust! Pure lust! And they would devour me in a heartbeat."

"Who wouldn't?" Laura responded sarcastically, earning a scowl from me.

Fredrick Ellsworth and his wife approached Richard, initiating a conversation that crackled with a subtle tension.

"Well, well, if it isn't Fredrick Ellsworth," Richard sneered, "What brings you to this illustrious gathering?"

"I could ask you the same, Nicholas," Fredrick responded with a tight smile. "Politics, I assume?"

"Always, my dear Fredrick. Always."

Richard observed the exchange with a smirk, reveling in the undercurrents of rivalry.

As they exchanged pleasantries laden with sarcasm, My eyes caught hers. With a gracious smile, she excused herself and walked over, her maid trailing her footsteps.

"Lady Clara of Virginia, one of the few persons I hoped to see at the equestrian show today. Good thing I still got the honor to stand before your graceful presence."

'No, I am the one given the honor to stand before your graceful presence,' I said in my head. I was completely captivated by this woman. Once, I thought Lady Odette Loyd was the most beautiful woman I ever laid my eyes on until I saw her.

Lady Odette Loyd, with her regal presence, possesses lips that curve with an air of sophistication, a shade deeper than the blush of a summer rose. Her eyes, reminiscent of a tranquil lake, hold a composed depth that captivates with a steady gaze. Ebony cascades of hair fall gracefully, reflecting the soft moonlight—a sight that once seemed unparalleled in its beauty.

Now, Fredrick Ellsworth's wife stands before me, her lips echoing the warmth of autumn, a gentle red inviting intrigue. Her eyes, like flickering candle flames, dance with vivacity and unspoken stories. Cascading curls frame her face, an auburn weave capturing the sunshine in its blazing embrace—a compelling contrast to what I had believed incomparable.

Lady Odette Loyd's smile, like the sunrise, is a subtle, gentle curve gracing her lips with warmth. It carries the air of nobility, inviting admiration and respect, creating an aura of regality that envelops her.

In contrast, Fredrick Ellsworth's wife's smile is playful, vibrant, and spirited, a burst of sunlight after a brief rainfall. It carries a certain infectious joy, spreading to those around her, creating an atmosphere of conviviality—a difference from the calm elegance I had grown accustomed to.

As I observed her details, I was struck with awe and attraction for her. I am not a poet, but I can learn poetry only to have a million ways to say my admiration for this woman, whose presence has woven an array of beauty, opposing and enhancing the elegance I once felt was unrivaled. The curiosity about the feminine figure underneath her dress is but a fleeting thought amid the kaleidoscope of emotions she stirs within me.

"I appreciate your admiration; you are so beautiful too. Your husband must be so lucky to wake up to this beautiful face every day," I replied.

"I'm flattered, I must say, a beautiful valley can look at a small field and call it beautiful," she responded, a shy smile gracing her lips. The analogy was unexpected and oddly endearing. She spoke in a way that made me notice the unexpected appeal in her demeanor—.

"What is your name?" I inquired, attempting to mask the fluttering in my chest.

"Excuse my manners, my lady. I'm Eileen Ellsworth, Fredrick Ellsworth's philanthropist wife. I can't stop raving about you and your art to my husband; you're such a talented and gorgeous woman, my lady. I'm not sure whether this is appropriate, but I'm very captivated by your personality and work. Truth to say, I'm obsessed."

A warmth surged through me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt flushed; I'm sure my cheeks were bloodshot by now. The last time I had such a sensation was four years ago when Jane confessed how amazing I tasted.

"I am flattered beyond words and expression," I said, feeling the warmth of my cheeks betraying my composed exterior.

“Your cheeks are bright red," Eileen teased.

“I feel like kissing you…”

In an unexpected yielding to my intrusive impulse, I found myself leaning in for a kiss, captivated by the enchantment Eileen has casted upon me. However, she immediately swerved, turning what could have been a kiss on the lips into a gentle peck on her cheek. Laura coughed, breaking the brief, unintended intimacy.

"Ahem!!"

"I'm... I'm s-sorry, I just..." I lay my head low in embarrassment.

Eileen interrupted with a smile followed by a giggle. "It's okay."

"Lady Clara," Fredrick greeted me as he approached us, smoothly kissing my hand. "I see you two are getting along."

"Yes," I responded, my gaze still holding the lingering warmth from the almost-kiss.

"Well, I've come to steal her away from you, my lady," Fredrick said, referring to Eileen, his wife. "It's okay. I mean, who am I to stand in your way? She's your wife. Maybe some other time if we see..."

"I hope soon," Eileen added with a smile.

"Good night, my lady Clara," Fredrick bid farewell.

"Good night, Sir Fredrick," I smirked at Eileen, who reciprocated with a playful smile.

"How you feel like kissing her... What a normal, heterosexual way to compliment your fellow woman," Laura teased.

"What?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"My lady, you are seriously asking what?"

"She was feeling it too; you could tell from the way she smiled and giggled," I said in defense.

"Or what if she was playing along?" Laura countered as she arched her eyebrow.

After my evening bath, I lay on the bed, and thoughts and images of Eileen Ellsworth flowed relentlessly through my mind. Vivid imaginations danced, thinking, what if she had kissed me in that public space or if we were in a more private setting? Her smile, genuine or feigned, lingered in my thoughts. No way Laura was right about her feigning that smile; it felt sincere like she fancied the notion.

Nicholas' touch jolted me, causing an almost deserved yell. He had a natural ability to turn me off, but I kept back my frustration with every ounce of patience and respect I could muster.

"I want some..."

"What do you want now?"

"Let's dance in the constellation of our love tonight, where the stars themselves envy the brilliance we create together. Our bodies, the poetry, and the sheets, the parchment, let us craft verses with the rhythm of our shared heartbeat."

"Nicholas, please."

"I was hard as a rock watching those women dance. It took the last bit of self-control not to come to where you sat so we could leave for a more isolated area."

"Thank heavens you didn't come."

"Or what? You'll disrespect me?"

"Change of topic... Let's talk about Fredrick Ellsworth."

"What about him?"

"You didn't tell me you know him."

"No need to get acquainted with him."

"Why?"

"We're not friends. He's an arch-rival; that is the much you need to know. Besides, why did you ask?"

"I like his wife."

"Clara!!"

"Not the way you think?"

It's exactly the way he thinks and even more.

"I just like her for her personality, nothing more."

"I find it hard to believe! I guess she's all in your head now that you won't want to perform your wifely rites."

"No..."

Yes, she is! I said in my head.

"Nicholas, I'm just tired, that's all," I said, sparing him a glance.

"That means we'll do it tomorrow morning?"

"You have an important meeting tomorrow morning; you can't afford to miss it."

“I can spare thirty minutes,” he said.

"Fuck! Jesus Christ!" I mimed inaudibly.

"Goodnight, my love. Have your rest."

I inaudibly ridiculously mimed his words, wondering how I ended up in this surreal world of cringe-worthy romance and unwanted advances.

As the clock struck 2 am, sleep remained elusive, and my thoughts were entangled with Eileen. Clara discreetly extricated myself from Nicholas' embrace in the bed, careful not to disturb his slumber. The room was veiled in shadows, a clandestine haven for my restless mind.

Silently, I moved towards the chaise lounge, my nimble fingers seeking a bolster. The soft moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a subtle glow upon my intent.

With a subtle grace, I positioned the bolster, muffling any sound that dared to escape my lips. As I surrendered to the clandestine moments of pleasure, my actions, a symphony of stifled moans, each carefully suppressed to avoid awakening the oblivious Nicholas.

The night held its secrets, and in that dimly lit room, I found solace in the shadows, a realm where my desires could unfold without the constraints of daylight scrutiny.