Microscopes and Canvases - Chapter 46

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 46
What did you say?
Beatrice sat motionless for a long moment, the color drained from her face, before she gathered herself and looked back down at the letter in her trembling hands.
What is this supposed to mean?
Though I suppose for someone of his wealth, crossing from Brionia to Berkyon is effortless, the man appears to possess not a shred of talent, no matter how hard one searches.
The blood seemed to drain from her body all at once, and the room tilted dizzyingly around her.
The excitement she’d harbored before opening the envelope shattered into a thousand pieces in the space of just a few sentences.
Honestly, your painting looked like the vomit my apprentice left in the atelier after last night’s drinking. I’d suggest you stick to what you know—flowers and fruit in the high society salons of Brionia, where you belong.
“…bastard.”
She couldn’t cry. Patrick would be arriving soon, and then he’d see all of this—the letter, her face—everything.
But Beatrice had no defense against such a primal assault. Her vision blurred and hot tears spilled down her cheeks.
My Master Class is not a parlor lesson for aristocratic ladies to dabble in. I have no patience for dim-witted women. All they do is prattle uselessly in salons.
“What is he saying? How could he—”
The sorrow she’d been holding back so carefully broke free like a dam, and she finally gave way to tears.
Almost at the same moment, she heard familiar footsteps echoing down the corridor—the distinctive sound of a tall man walking with an easy stride.
“Beatrice, did you have a pleasant weekend?”
The door clicked shut and his bright voice filled the room. She should answer, but there was no composure left, no ability to wipe her tears and manage a composed expression.
“Beatrice?”
Patrick’s voice jumped slightly higher, as if he’d sensed something amiss. He crossed the room quickly and turned her around to face him, away from the window.
“You—why—”
His eyes widened at the sight of Beatrice trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
Patrick, visibly alarmed, gripped both her shoulders and tilted her face toward his.
“What happened?”
“Hic—”
The dam broke. Her composure crumbled completely. Unable to explain herself coherently, she sobbed as Patrick noticed the letter clutched in her white-knuckled grip and gently pried it from her hands.
“What is this?”
Supporting her with one arm, he began to scan the crumpled paper with his eyes.
He exhaled sharply.
Moments later, a rare curse escaped his lips.
“What kind of drivel is this, you worthless dog—”
Fury blazing through him, Patrick threw Etienne’s letter to the floor and pulled Beatrice into his arms firmly.
“Cry as much as you need to. That’s all right.”
As he gently stroked her back, her sobs only grew louder. He guided her to the soft sofa at one end of the laboratory, retrieved the thick blanket draped over it, and spread it across her lap.
“I’ll bring tea. Just wait.”
Patrick returned swiftly with steaming tea and biscuits. When Beatrice shook her head, refusing to eat, he pressed the biscuit gently between her lips.
“Bite it. Pretend it’s him.”
Once her ragged breathing had calmed somewhat, Patrick sat down beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders.
He waited until her breathing steadied before carefully speaking.
“Beatrice, don’t lose heart over this. A piece of garbage like him has no right to define the value of your work—”
“It’s not disappointment.”
Beatrice cut him off sharply, her face contorting. She rubbed her swollen eyes roughly with her palms and spoke through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.
“I’m crying because I’m furious. If that bastard were standing in front of me right now, I’d beat him senseless—”
“Ah—”
“That rotten dog happens to be in Berkyon, and I can’t reach him—!”
So that’s what it was?
Unable to contain her anger, Beatrice exhaled in sharp, indignant bursts. Her hands, resting neatly on her lap, had curled into tight fists.
With those small hands, she’d barely land a blow worth noticing.
Patrick silently retrieved the blanket that had slipped down. A lady so incensed that she wept because she couldn’t pummel a master across the sea. Despite everything, he found it rather endearing and felt a faint smile touch his lips.
“You know what, Beatrice? Etienne Morel is a fool. Because when I look at your painting, I experience something truly extraordinary. That day in the wetland—”
Patrick paused.
The wetland, suffused with the golden light of the setting sun. The vivid Impressionist painting she’d rendered of that landscape came vividly to mind again.
“Brief as that moment was, no matter what paintings I see for the rest of my life, I don’t think I’ll ever receive so powerful an impression. To me, at least, you are a great master.”
A long silence settled over the laboratory. Patrick held her gaze and spoke slowly.
“That’s why I’m grateful you didn’t go to Berkyon. Because I want to stay here longer—with someone who understands the value of this work.”
“Patrick.”
A tear rolled down Beatrice’s cheek. She had no idea what to say. Only her throat tightened, and an overwhelming desire to lean on him swelled within her.
“I’m… truly grateful. Sincerely grateful.”
Beatrice managed a response, her nose red, and smiled through her tears. Even as she smiled, the tears continued to fall, her voice trembling with moisture.
“The truth is… I like being here too. Much more than Berkyon. Much more than anywhere else with you right now—”
“Yes.”
Patrick smiled gently.
“We have our work to do, after all. And perhaps, once this research is finished… it might be nice to work on something else together. Whatever it turns out to be.”
Something else after this…
Beatrice found herself laughing through tears. He was already thinking beyond their year-long contract, already imagining what came next.
“Do you know how much comfort your words give me right now?”
“I couldn’t say. I’m not sure myself.”
He lifted his shoulders with a deliberately casual shrug, but his voice was far too warm, far too tender for it to be mere playfulness.
“Well then, shall we spend the rest of the day out?”
Patrick brushed her shoulder once and rose to his feet, but then seemed to remember something and turned back to her.
“Oh, that’s right, Beatrice. I received word earlier that the experimental glass equipment we commissioned is finished. If you’d like… we’d have to go out to the Glass Workshop in the suburbs. Would you come along? Since we’ll be using the equipment together, it’s a good opportunity.”
He spoke with deliberate emphasis on this being merely a continuation of their work, but then added the real reason.
“I heard there’s quite a large art supply store nearby. I thought you might want to pick up a few things.”
She knew well enough that the glass equipment could have been delivered by messenger. So this invitation was Patrick’s effort—his deliberate attempt to make her smile. The consideration of a thoughtful colleague.
“Yes. I’d like that…!”
Her laughter still carried the hiccup of recent tears, but her chest swelled with a happiness as deep as the tears she’d shed.
His obvious kindness made her feel a little shy, grateful beyond measure, and infinitely glad.
“You’re like a child today.”
Patrick teased her as though she were a sniffling brat, gazing down at her with eyes far gentler than when he’d cursed after reading Etienne Morel’s letter.
“Your eyes are so swollen. Anyone who sees you will think I made you cry.”
Each time the tall man bent his frame and leaned in to study her face, Beatrice’s heart seemed to shrivel to the size of a bean.
“Come here. I’ll help you with your coat.”
Beatrice yielded to him silently. His hands were tender as he draped her outer coat across her shoulders, but when his fingers brushed the nape of her neck as he straightened the collar, they carried a heat so intense it nearly burned.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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