(TW - mention of suicide and depression)
Connor and Aileen met each other by the stables only twenty minutes later, Aileen now wearing the purple clothes and a simple hat she owned to obscure her features slightly. Connor stood by two saddled horses in a white shirt with a brown tweed suit and matching tweed flat cap.
"Miss Aileen, you look positively middle-class."
Connor said with a mischievous smile and small bow, Aileen curtsied in response with a matching smile,
"As do you, Mr Connor."
"These are the 'lower class' horses in the stables, Bonnie and Claude, they are Clydesdales and gifts from a farming Lord for my birth."
Aileen smiled at the big horses and approached Bonnie, who nickered and nudged Aileen's outstretched hand kindly. Both were tall and strong but seemed sweeter than sugar and soon enough, Connor and Aileen sat on them as they began walking down the avenue of the Manor and out of the gates, the guards assuming that the riders were visiting locals.
The lack of attention from guards and townspeople made Connor and Aileen feel giddy; every time they walked past someone and didn't receive a bow or curtsy or quick-paced "It is an honour to meet you" they side-eyed each other with sly grins.
When they arrived at the gallery Connor paid an entrance fee - another thing they never had to do before - and then looped an arm through Aileen's as they began to walk through the vast rooms.
"How did you discover this mysterious artist?"
Aileen asked as they neared the hall where the exhibition was being held. Connor smiled secretively before vaguely replying,
"I helped get the art into this exhibition."
They entered the hall and Aileen gasped as she was suddenly surrounded by about thirty paintings, each more powerful than the next.
Aileen slowly turned in a circle to look at all the paintings on the four walls, Connor watching from the doorway with a pleased smile.
Every painting was a woman in a male's position, whether it be leading an army, sitting as a judge in the courtroom or steering a ship whilst being in Captain's uniform. The colours were solemn and dark and the people were powerfully realistic, exactly how men are painted in these situations.
Aileen's eyes locked to one in particular. A woman sitting in her study, shelves upon shelves of books around her as she feverishly writes in a book, her clothes are in disarray and upon closer inspection they are a blouse and trousers rather than a gown. On the frame of the painting, on a small plaque, it said,
The Philosopher - Anne Sabba
She felt Connor beside her and whispered,
"You helped her display her art?"
"Yes. She came from a family much like yours. She believed women were as capable as men - an unusual belief in this world, I am realising. She came to my mother and was desperate for help."
Aileen frowned,
"Was?"
Connor took a step away from Aileen and she turned with furrowed brows,
"Her family forced her to marry. The ordeal was awful - she was crying as she walked down the aisle, not from joy but complete pain. She didn't fight her family about the marriage but was miserable. After a week of marriage she took her new husband's gun and..."
Aileen felt her heart drop but that was the feeling, her chest felt hollow and cold but then it burned. Burned with anger and passion.
"And that is exactly what is wrong with the traditional ways, with the way of men. How can that happen? How can people let that happen?"
YOU ARE READING
To Love and To Be Loved
Historical FictionEmily Barnes came from an old family with old money and old beliefs - a lifestyle she despised and was ready to get away from. Lord Connor was the youngest of three children and far from ever sitting in his Estate as Marquis, so he allowed himself t...
