Lady Vivian

This is not my story, but I believe it is one worth sharing. It begins with the purchase of my first home, an intriguingly designed Victorian house located on the outskirts of London. Upon my arrival a delightful archaic smell of Oakwood enchanted me. The rooms were designed with large windows filling the space with comforting warmth, and the walls were fashionably decorated with hints of Art Nouveau. I ventured off into my new home and was captivated in disbelief of its grand magnificence. Within a short period, I had stumbled upon the dim attic.

The only source of light was from a small circular stained glass window displaying a White Lily. Filled with excitement, I noticed the previous owner had left a few things behind. I slid off the porcelain cloth drapes to discover multiple artworks of a common theme; a Woman! She was absolutely astonishing. Her enthralling green sapphire eyes seem to sparkle, complementing her milky skin that appeared to be as soft as Egyptian cotton sheets. Yet, her most captivating feature was her golden threaded hair, which reminded me of the tides on a full moon. I decided to include these new found pieces into my home. As I carefully proceeded to relocate them, I found a little black book on the floor. I grabbed the notebook and realized a sheet of paper peeking through. It was a cheque! The date and payee were left blank but the amount for hundred and thirty-four thousand pounds was written with a signature. In total confusion I began to read the mysterious little black book.

Dear Reader,

It seems you have found my personal black book. I am unsure of the person you may be, kind or greedy, curious or rational but regardless of your characteristics I am entrusting the fate of this book in the hands of someone who may give me a moment of their time.

The truth is, the Cheque in this book is very much still valid. I went through extreme measures for it to be so. It is your money now! I am very aware that you may easily take this money for yourself without reading another word, leaving this book and the artwork as nothing but a lost memory in time. But let it be fate, this book is in the hands of someone worthy.

Before I explain myself any further, I anticipate that you have been mesmerized by my art and my beloved subject. Divine, isn’t she? I only wish to capture the beauty I saw in Lady Vivian and replicated it; she has and will always be my muse, the source of my creativity and inspiration to my immeasurable devotion to art.

My dear reader, I ask you to walk in my steps and visit the Dulwhich Gallery and as you roam the corridors of my past, I encourage you to find a piece called Rinaldo and Armida by Nicolas Poussin and when you have done so, continue to read my passage.

This wonderous art piece is a heartfelt epic poem capturing a precious moment.

A sorceress by the name Armida was sought out to kill her enemy, with a dagger in her hand she was ready to slay, but soon found herself in love. She gently caresses Rinaldo’s golden curls, this was love at first sight. A lesson to us all, that love truly triumphs all. This same moment I first laid eyes upon Lady Vivian, my heart felt at peace with her beauty. At that split second I realize how fragile we are, that the gods must truly envy us mortals, because nothing is lovelier than knowing you will never be here again. I ceased my moment and took a courageous step. I asked her to be my muse and her face began to fluster. She was confused and hesitant, and I acted quickly by pulling out my cheque book and told her I would gladly pay for her time and she agreed. Thus, began our story, meeting in the corridors of my home.

I studied her face and everything about her, similar to a student following the steps of their mentor. I fell in love with her smile, her laughter, and the way her eyes would sparkle with content after every portrait was finished. As each day would pass, I found myself asking more questions about her personal life. Although I felt invasive she answered at ease. I soon discovered Lady Vivian came from a well off upper middle-class family, which made me question why she would agree to take a position as my model but nevertheless I was grateful.

I felt audacious in one of our meetings and asked Lady Vivian what she desired from this life and her answer resonated in me “to be Free, like yourself! You inspire me”. Free or Independent, I wondered. Unlike Lady Vivian I was lonesome, my parents passing left me with their inheritance which allowed me to be unshackled by society standards. I was independent but no were near free...

At that moment I understood Lady Vivian was unlike the other women. She did not want to be an obedient daughter dependent on her family. She craved a change but believed it was out of her reach. She was aware that she glowed like Stardust in the night sky, made of Savage Storms, and more bravery than any Knight.

I invited Lady Vivian for a change of scenery and brought her to Greenwhich Park. My dear reader, I welcome you to walk down the path where the Cherry Blossoms bloom and to sit under the tree that is carved with the initials KV.

That day as we soaked the warm rays of the sun, the gentle breeze of the winds and pedals danced in the air. I confessed my feelings and although I feared rejection and loss, she inspired me to be true to myself. Lady Vivian did not utter a word instead she smiled, got up and engraved our initials. I would be lying if I said we didn’t have an unspoken connection, but life is not a fairy tale. The closest thing to magic in this world is Love. All was well and delightful. The time we shared together was memorable until the day I heard Lady Vivian knocking anxiously at my door late at night with devastating news.

She was to be wed! Rage and wrath engulfed her, she spoke about fleeing away; wanting a new life. I pulled out my cheque book, I wanted to provide Lady Vivian with the opportunity to be independent, I wanted to make her wish come true. Salty tears ran down her face as I told her “I could not sit back and watch your sufferings, we have become entangled for me to allow her to feel imprisoned”.

She pressed my hands and rejected my offer before I could even begin to write her name. I did not understand and questioned why she couldn’t accept the offer. But she gave me no answer. I foolishly assumed she had given up, accepting her fate and it broke my heart into grains of sand.

I held her in my arms, my precious warrior had fallen but I could not give up. I gave her an extra key to my home as an escape. She visited quite often, some days we would chat over tea and others I would continuously paint her. On one horrendous night Lady Vivian left behind her ivory handkerchief embroidered with a small white lily. It wasn’t until I picked it up, I noticed the spotted blood. A roaring alarm rang in my head, she was sick.

She was in fact slowly dying and I failed to see the warnings. She strived for freedom not from her family, but from the limitation of mortality.

Upon the morning, Lady Vivian visited only to find a storm of sorrow. Brushes laid scattered on the floor, paint was splattered violently against the walls, and blanket canvases were ripped as I rested on the ground, lifeless. She ran to me, laying her hand upon my face gently caressing my hair. I clenched onto her handkerchief and tears rippled down my face, my words were soundless, the pain was so debilitating. Lady Vivian continued to comfort me until I was able to only mutter four words. “Is there any cure?”.

No words were spoken, she laid next to me on the workshop oak floor holding my hand that gripped her handkerchief until we fell sound asleep. I was awakened by the light that peeked through the stained glass window and to my realization I was devastated to find nothing but a letter with my key placed on it.

Lady Vivien’s Letter:

My beloved Katherine, you have given me a wondrous gift. A glance of what love truly is, it is not possessive, nor jealous, it is not a desire but rather genuine and pure. It is unconditionally healing and yet the absence of it is truly catastrophic. I could not endure the pain I have caused by not telling you sooner. I could not allow my sickness to change the way you perceived me, with such bright eyes and precious smiles. I wanted these moments to last forever. I am forever grateful for your generosity and endearment. When death comes knocking on my door, I will smile because I am not alone. I will have your love and no regrets in the time I have spent with you. My darling Katherine, keep me in your memories as the woman you first met at Dulwhich, keep me in your heart and understand this is nothing but destiny.

Fate can be so cruel, the only person I have ever loved is now gone and I have nothing but a letter as a reminder of what I once had. Death is not to be feared but a reminder of what should be cherished, Memento Mori. I made a choice to reconnect with Lady Vivian in the next lifetime. Her time was limited and so was mine. Thus, my dear reader this cheque is for you. May you never feel shackled by society, family, or insubstantial time. Live free and happy, cherish every moment before it becomes forgotten. If only my story were able to echo through time, we may live on.

I made the decision to honour Katherines last wish. Her story is one that has taught me of how time moves too quickly. As for the cheque? I thought it was only right to donate her artwork and money to the Dulwhich Gallery under Lady Vivian and Kathrine. I hope your pure love reverberates in our hearts, may your spirits dance upon the stars lighting our way through the dark.