Smirke 01 - An Unlikely Hero Read Online Free PDF Page A

gentlemen. On seeing John, three of the men were suddenly
uninterested in buying paper and disappeared quickly out the door,
an irritated woman loudly resisting her unexplained removal. One of
the other two men saw James enter and held out his hand in
greeting, “Ah, Smirke how did you find the Waterloo lecture? I’m
sorry I missed it, the wife took it into her head that I should
accompany her to some boring musical.” The long black poke bonnet
inspecting various pencils turned far enough for the wearer to see
the conversation.

    “You missed a
treat Collins. There were soldiers in blood soaked uniforms telling
their stories, sketches of the battle and even Napoleon’s eagle. I
got to touch it. I was so engaged I forgot my brother was arriving.
Have you met my little brother? John?” The poke bonnet turned
eagerly to inspect the sullen pretty man leaning heavily on his
umbrella. “I’d like you to meet my old school chum Robbie Collins.”
John held out his hand, but couldn’t pretend to care. “He’s not
well. He should be in bed. Some evil blackguard ran him through the
chest a month ago while he was still recovering from a gunshot
wound in his shoulder. Can you believe England spawns creatures
capable of such villainy?” James didn’t attach his friend’s
sceptical expression with the improbability of his brother’s
multiple wounds being undeserved. “It’s a miracle he’s alive.”

    Ignoring his
brother and the slender looking woman in a dull black poke bonnet,
John approached the tempting curvaceous woman at the counter,
“Excuse me?” A pretty round face glanced up and shrunk away from
his half hearted leer. “Is your name Joan?” The lady silently shook
her head, picked up her brown wrapped package and hurried from the
store. Sighing in disappointment, John turned towards the smiling
shop keeper. “I need a sketchbook.” He didn’t notice the black poke
bonnet abandon the quills and pencils and wander across to his
side.

    “Will this one
do Sir? Lawrence, the greatest portraitist of our age, uses one
just like it. It’s the softest calf skin protecting a fine heavy
paper that will take ink, pencil or light watercolour washes…”

    “I don’t care
who uses it. I’m not going to sit in the park and pretend I’m
Gainsborough. I just want a blasted sketchbook. How much is
it?”

    “That will be
three pounds Sir. Did you need any pencils to go with that?”

    The brim of
the black poke bonnet lightly came to rest against the back of
Smirke’s neck, “I wouldn’t buy that sketchbook if I were you.”

    John half
pivoted on his umbrella and glared at a long black brim an inch
under his nose, completely shielding the occupant’s identity. She
was a faceless interfering woman whose figure was hidden under a
hip length grey wool shawl and heavy black satin. He wasn’t
remotely tempted. “And if I were you Madam, I’d take my nose
and…mind your own business.”

    “I still
wouldn’t buy it, it’s far too precious. Nothing you sketch ever
feels good enough for such a cover. I was given a similar one as a
gift several years ago and had to tear all the paper out. I’d get
that one on the end if I were you.” A small black glove rested
briefly on his coat sleeve sending shivers up his arm before
pointing towards a cheap black papier-mâché covered sketch
book.

    “Don’t mind
her Sir. She’s an irritating female who erroneously thinks she can
draw and paint as well as a man. There’s never been a female artist
that’s ever painted a decent picture and there never will. I’m sure
you’ll fill any number of fine leather sketchbooks with beautiful
sketches Sir.”

    John Smirke
flushed in anger. “My mother is a damn site more talented than
Lawrence, which is why she’s paid more per picture. I’ll take the
cheap one.”

    The shop
keeper gave the young woman a dark look and plonked the cheaper
product on the counter. “Will you choose a pencil Sir or defer to
Madam’s