The Tender Muse's Portrait

[ArcticAvenue]

“Ahhh, the Great Fuentes,” his lordship said. “The Future Master arrives!”

Nicholas stood to greet his new employer, bowing respectfully to him. “Lord Blackwood, it is an honor to be here.” He stood a good head over the nobel, but Nicholas was able to show the proper decorum. “But with all due respect sire, I undoubtedly insult the true masters by their association.”

“Posh,” scoffed the Lord as he slid his fingers into his front pockets. It only seem to emphasize he eats too well. “You have spoken with my man then? All is well?”

Yates, the money keeper who actually brought Nicholas to this manor, spoke up. “Mr. de la Fuentes does have an issue with expenses that we would need to resolve.”

“Yes,” Nicholas said as the Lord frowned at the development, “your man suggests the body of work could become significant and alas I likely not have paints to last such a gallery. I would need some allowance to cover such an expense otherwise we will reach an impasse.”

The lord lowered his head until a second chin arrived. He delayed his response, staring hard at Nicholas much in a way the scrupulous landlord in London would. So quickly had the conversation gone to warm and friendly welcome to that of harsh negotiation that Nicholas immediately questioned his sanity to accepting this offer. It was just bloody paints. The lord responded in slow calculated words, “You don’t speak like a Spaniard.”

“That is because I am English,” he responded with a respectful nod. “My father was Spanish, though we lived in Brighton.” Nicholas pulled his wool vest down to straighten it over his shirt. He hadn’t intended to meet the Lord in the clothes he wore for the day’s ride to this manor, but most of his clothing wore loose on his own choosing. His dark chestnut hair fell mostly unmanaged down to his collar, framing his dark skinned complexion. Even his brown eyes, Nicholas appeared to be Spanish. Even if one was to not know his last name to be de la Fuentes, Nicholas could easily be mistaken as non-English anywhere in the Britan.

“Whatever he asks for,” the Lord responded, “add to his debt.”

Yates nodded, and stepped back “Yes, your lordship.”

Nicholas didn’t even get a chance to debate, but the mention of the real draw to this place was enough for him to recognize where he stood. With a long drawn out sigh he relented, “otherwise, all is well, though I am quite tired and would like to find my room.”

“Nonsense,” the Lord demanded a smile quickly coming to his face as if no negotiation took place before. “You must meet your primary subject.” Turning to the money keeper, “Yates, two glasses of wine for us and fetch Allora.”

The man quickly obliged with the drinks and left them.

The Lord didn’t speak until Yates was gone. “I enjoy your work, Fuentes, you capture the your subjects well. Though you are through with whores and dancing girls, I still expect you to continue your work.”

“They were not whores they were ..”

“Silence,” the Lord demanded, slamming his hand down on the table. He was red faced. He was stern. Enough that Nicholas almost felt like he should sink into the chair. The lord remained quiet, staring angrily. The quiet between the two became unrelenting.

Finally, Nicholas tried to break the quiet. "Your letter mentioned that you wished portraits of your daughter, your Lordship?"

He let the question linger, before he took a long breath. The color on his face soften and the smile returned. "She will marry soon, and I wish her innocence captured so I can remember her as she is."

Nicholas nodded. From his sack he pulled a sketch book and flipped it open pulling forth some charcoal. He started scribbing notes. "Yes, your lordship. Surely in her sitting room."

"No," he replied sharply. Then calming again he continued. "I wish you to show her innocence. Those memories I wish to remember. In the garden on the lawn. In her bedclothes as she slept as a babe above her bed sheets. As she washed herself at the spring."

Nicholas raised an eyebrow at the request, "at the spring, sire?"

"Your'e right," The Lord agreed, "best to start with her in the garden. But your paintings will be presented to me daily for agreement."

"Lordship, it is not like that. I make sketches with the subject before the canvas."

"Then so be it," he interrupted, "you will bring your sketches. Tomorrow she will lay in the garden innocently presented with her legs askew and arms over her head. I will be sure to have her sundress ready."

He spoke so quickly that the suggestion of the poses didn't become clear until Nicholas made the notes on this posture and the picture of it formed in his mind. His wire sketch was no different than one postures a prositute. He thought to object, or to understand, but was interrupted by the sound of the door behind him opening.

The lord’s face lightened and stood, “Ahh, here she is. Here is my Muse!”

 

[Vailyn]

Lady Allora Lillian Blackwood

Allora sang a wordless melody as she gathered wild herbs for Sister Mary. Outside of reading at the scriptorium, she cherished the outings into the woods. It was the only time she had alone. At the Abbey, she's swept up in the rhythm of life within and become immersed in her classes, chores, prayers and assisting the sisters. The rambling walks in the forest gave her a chance to let her mind wander and dream without interruption.

A searching look for the sun's place in the sky showed her that she's been gone too long. She bent down to pluck several full blooms, dug up a handful of roots and placed the goods into her foraging apron. If she wanted to be on time for evening prayers, she would have to make a run for it. Allora hitched up the skirt of her grey habit and ran swiftly through the woods to the Abbey. She stopped running when she reached the outer gates, wiped the sweat from her run on her apron and pulled out the wimple. She tried to tame her wild golden brown hair by finger combing it back. Gave up with an exasperated sigh and put on her wimple. A healthy flush glowed on her cheeks and Allora's brilliant blue-green eyes danced with simple joy.

The Abbey bells clamored ponderously and summoned everyone to evening prayers. Allora gave up her attempts for ladylike decorum and ran to join the sisters for prayer in the church.

***

"You asked to see me, Mother Superior?"

"Yes, dear child. Come in. I have important news to share with you." The Mother's kind brown eyes smiled warmly from her finely lined face. Allora bowed before her and settled into the seat facing the desk. "I've received a letter from your father. News of your betrothed has reached Lord Blackwood. He will be returning from the war anon and your father commands your return to prepare for the wedding. You'll be leaving us within a sennight. You shall be missed, child."

Allora clasped her hands tightly together. She knew that this would happen someday but she was hoping that it would never come to pass. The Abbey was her world and the people her family. She doesn't remember her father at all. The only memory she has is the one of her mother. She vaguely remembered a warm embrace and a soft voice saying, "You are my heart, Allora. A precious gift from God."

"Must I go, Mother Superior? Can I not stay here? It's all I know and love." she softly pleaded.

The Mother Superior went to her and gathered Allora in her arms. "You can't hide behind the walls of the Abbey forever, my child. Know that we all love you and wish you every happiness. You are not meant to take the veil. Your way lies in another path. Be strong and have faith. It will all work out in the end."

***

A month has past since Allora returned home and she's been very busy pretending to be a living pin cushion as a new wardrobe was designed and planned without her voice. She found out that the household servants did not need any assistance with work about the castle. That it wasn't safe for a young lady to explore beyond the exterior walls without a guard and maid. While it was fine for her to walk in the gardens, she has been firmly told that it wasn't her place to do heavy work outdoors. Didn't the young lady know that she should protect her skin from the sun? She shouldn't go outside without properly covering herself or she'll end up with more than a smattering of freckles scattered over her nose and cheekbones.

Allora quietly insisted that she be able to work in the herb garden. She refused to give up the healing skills she has learned. After all, the lady of the house has a duty to see to the care of those within her service. Surrounded by strangers, unsure of her place and too much free time on her hands, Allora found solace in library. Her imagination soared as she discovered whole new worlds within the books. There's one new past time that has become a secret passion. She became enamored with taking long, hot baths. Allora has never felt such wanton decadence as bathing in a large tub of hot water before. It was almost sinful!

Humming wistfully, Allora grabbed the gardening gloves, apron and flower basket. She wanted to try make a new ointment she heard about from the kennel master. Yates found her heading towards the kitchen.

"Lady Allora, Lord Blackwood would like you to join him and his guest. Allow me to escort you to the study."

Curiosity kindled, she followed Yates to the study and saw her father conversing with a dark haired stranger. The tall, swarthy man was dressed in loosely rumpled clothes and an expression of puzzlement drew his brows together. Her entrance interrupted their conversation and the stranger's keen brown eyes focused on Allora. Surprise and confusion swiftly crossed his face before it became guarded.

"My dear child, meet the great artist, Nicholas de la Fuentes! He's a promising painter and I've hired him to capture your likeness. You'll start sitting for him tomorrow. Show him the gardens and be at ease with him. He's doing important work for me and I want you to obey him for he follows my wishes." said Lord Blackwood before dismissing them.

Allora's apple green dress belled as she curtsied gracefully to greet the artist. Curiosity grew as she listened to her father's blunt instructions. She doesn't know her father at all except that he expects his orders to be followed without question. His mercurial moods changed without notice. The extreme affection he showered on her made her feel ill at ease. The few bouts of anger made her withdraw into herself and dissuaded her from letting down her guard. Quiet acceptance has worked in her favor.

"Yes, Father. Sir, if you would follow me?" As she lead the way, Allora placed her gloves and apron into the basket. She peeked at the artist through her thick lashes. She tried to watch him without turning her head as he walked beside her. For some reason, she felt comfortable in his presence. "The gardens cover several acres of land. There are several paths, a hedge maze, herb garden and orchard. I enjoy walking along the flower paths and reading in the orchard. What would you like to see?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

She turned to lead him away so quickly that Nicholas rushed to put together his satchel. The sketchbook remained under his arm, charcoal thrown into the bottom of the bag, and with a quick uncourteous bow to the Lord he was on his way. From the time the coach arrived, he felt flung from person to person. Each with no intention, it seems, to slow and let the moment soak in and appreciate it. Nicholas was surprised by this, as he assumed all of the aristocracy did little but sit and appreciate. He understood it from the money keeper and from the Lord, but now the daughter as well was quick.

The halls were as well lit as the sitting room they left, brightened with the large windows now in use in all the new manors that only the upper class can afford. She wished to know where to start the sessions, but a Lord’s opinion of what is artistically a ‘lawn’ surely would not do. He wished now he was more aware of the grounds as the carriage approached the manor house, because the only glimpses now of what to respond were from these windows.

“With all due respect, your ladyship, consider this a stroll for inspiration,” he requested trying his best to look outward in their journey. “I wish not to start until the morn, and what your father gave me for a setting was vague, only how to bring out your beauty.”

Nicholas admitted to himself that this was fruitless to try to answer his concerns of a setting from the walls of this manor house, so instead he looked to the lady. She walked ahead of him, giving him the opportunity to show decorum by staring at her, but at the same time he could only see what was limited to the back.

Her form was, quite simply, unexpected. The apple green dress flowed over her curves and accented a thin waist and firm shoulders. Of course the bloom of the skirt hid all what he could see, but he was immediately taken that she was much more damier than her father. The golden locks of hair curled and cascaded towards her shoulders, hinting of red like the northern gals he had met in London. What he expected was the ‘child’ Yates had described. What he expected was the result of a fattened Lord. But as she moved quickly through the cool manor, he could feel his heart begin to move quicker that this duty would not be the strain to his craft he expected.

“I must say, your Ladyship,” he said doing his best to keep up, “when meeting your father I assumed I would be spending my time with a gilded daughter. Nothing more than a fatted calf awaiting marriage.” He said it feeling at first his regret for his honesty finding the wrong time to come forth, closing his eyes and clenching his fists he continued. “That is, I didn’t expect one that would be … well, I shall say that I can see why your father believe you to be perfect for a portrait.”

Just as he finished, they crossed the threshold to manor, and he was welcomed to a lush view of the gardens abounding the countryside. Needless to say, this duty was beginning to become less of a chore.

 

[Vailyn]

As the artist rambled, a grin threatened to curve Allora's rosebud lips when he called her a gilded daughter. An image of herself covered in shining gold gilt popped into her mind. Her image was frowning at the ridiculous state. Her inner vision swapped to her dressed in a magnificent cow costume and bridal veil. She tried to stop it. She even held it in until they walked outside. She tried to vanish the silly image but failed as a chortle escaped past the hand covering her mouth.

Allora turned to face Nicholas to explain but lost the battle when she saw the apologetic and perplexed man watching her with bemused eyes. Her merry laughter spilled free and surrounded them in bright cheer. She laughed for a while and waved her hand in apology.

"Oh oh! Hahah! I'm sorry! I haven't laughed like that in an age! I should explain my actions. I--" She blushed. "I have a rather vivid imagination. It gets me in trouble at times. When," she chuckled. "When you described me as a gilded daughter. I had the oddest image of myself covered in gold gilt. Then you called me a fatted calf and I found myself dressed in an cow costume and bridal veil! Twas so humorous and I could not help but laugh at it all."

Wide blue-green eyes twinkled gaily and she shared a dimpled smile with Nicholas. "Thank you, sir. I did not realize that one could miss laughter." Her heart warmed towards the stranger when he smiled back in response. Suddenly feeling shy, she looked away and bowed her head. Clearing her throat, a slight smile lingered as she captured Nicholas' gaze. "Father asked me to show you the gardens. There's a pond near the orchard. I'll take you there first."

A companionable silence accompanied the two as they walked through beautifully manicured lawns and traveled down a well worn dirt path. At the pond, Allora pointed out a large boulder resting on the edge of the water and shared that it was her favorite spot to use on sunny days. Feeling the weight of Nicholas' attention, uncertainty pricked her and an unfamiliar bout of bashfulness overcame her.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

It’s not like the artist to be kept silent from a simple conversation from a woman, but two things pulled him into a state of quiet. At first, it was her. When she turned to him and confessed her revelry in his comments her expressions were utterly dazzling. From the smile lighted by the smattering of freckles to the way those bright eyes grew, he was stunned that something that seemed so demure indoors could brighten so quickly. He yearned to study that expression in more detail, but they moved too quickly, and there will be time for study.

When he learned his craft, Nicholas took great passion in trying to capture the emotions of a moment in his works. This was far more difficult that it could sound. Charcoal drawings did little to show the subtlety of human expression. There was no way to show the color on a cheek, the slight difference in a eyebrow height, the size of one’s pupal. Conversely, an oil painting took precise technique and hours of perfecting the stroke; much longer than any passing moment one could capture. His diligence in studying such expressions and trying his best to bring it out in his work, though, was the hallmark of the paintings that seemed to get the most attention so far in his career. While he was happy no gilded cow awaited him in this garden, he was excited that one of such joy led him on this tour..

The other item that kept him quiet was the awe of the gardens itself. It seemed immense. Manicured hedges, wide spreads of blooming flowers and herbs, grasses, streams, rocks, trees. Arriving at the pond through the orchard, he was taken aback by the simplicity of the place. The water was clean, with just a few small lilies near bloom floating in its center. The rock was large enough for one to lay on, but smooth and comfortable surely.

Peering around this location, he began to pull out the sketchbook to check his notes. Flipping to a new page, he began rough sketches of the location. “This is a dream,” he stated his eyes darting around sketching blindly. “I see why you must like this. We surely will start here the morrow with the first portrait. I will mention this to your father this eve and he will select an outfit.”

When the memory of the father’s expectations of her pose grabbed him, Nicholas stopped sketching and took a harder look at the location. His face paled and he stopped sketching. He collected himself and said courteously, “Tell me, are we excluded here? That is, would any see or wander through?”

 

[Vailyn]

When the artist pulled out a drawing book and started to sketch as he looked around the area, Allora stopped trying to watch him from the corner of her eye and faced him. His dark eyes darted quickly from one spot to another and he barely glanced at the paper as his hands moved decisively across the page. He seemed totally different from the diffident and uncomfortable man in the study or the talkative one that reminded her to laugh. This man seemed vitally alive, keenly focused and yet dreaming at the same time. There was a far off look in his eyes that seemed to be looking at a world that she couldn't see for herself.

Nicholas' question pulled her out of her thoughts and she blushed when she realized that he's been watching her gazing at him for a while. "I-I-" She stammered, coughed and tried again. "I suppose the spot is secluded? I'm not sure. I'm usually the only one here when I come but it's a well known spot. Anyone living in the castle can come here. Does it matter?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He caught the color on her cheeks, and felt a smile grow on his own. The father said to capture her innocence, and it seemed to find a way out here in their conversation. Demure in the manor, explosive with laughter at the garden entrance, and now timid in this garden. His face flushed with the idea that this woman not much older than a child is capable of emoting so easily.

He had a job to do, however, and her question of the relevance of seclusion challenged him. Had she not known? “Forgive me for asking, but,” he said watching her for a reaction, “what did your father tell you of these portraits. I ask only as I want to ensure I know your intentions as well as his.”

 

[Vailyn]

Allora's shoulders raised in an artless shrug. A hand drifted up to snag a strand of wavy hair that tried to fly into her mouth and tuck it back behind her ear. Fingers fiddling along the basket handle, she answered, "My Father is a mystery to me. I was sent away to be taught and trained at St. Maria Abbey when I was a young child. I have only returned a few weeks ago. I only know that my Father is a man who demands obedience." She sighed. "Just a few days ago, he told me that an artist will be coming to paint a portrait or two of me. He said that I am beautiful and that my beauty should be kept alive."

She bit her lower lip anxiously. "Is... is there something wrong? I-I know I am no beauty but it seemed like a small thing to do for Father."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Words of hers sparked different thoughts. Coming too quick for him to think. Trained in an Abbey, out of touch with her father, would surely mean she truly is innocent. How would the father then know of the way to pose her. Still, he was not the one that should be asking such.

He tried to turn away from her, placing the sketchbook rolled in front of him. “I will be asking much of you for poises and be expecting you to stay that way for quite some time,” he said almost feeling like the teachers he never listened to. “Since I am working for your father, I would expect similar obedience.” He grimaced, regretting his words already. She was Lady Blackwood, was she not? He was expecting her obedience to him?

 

[Vailyn]

Allora frowned as she heard a change in his voice. Where he had spoken with delicate hesitancy moments before, his voice became firm and almost harsh as he stated that she must obey him as she would her father. "Is there something wrong? I have not sat for a portrait before but I am no stranger to sitting still for long spells." Memories of her life at the Abbey dispelled some of the tension in her and drew a yearning smile. "I grew up in an Abbey. It took me a long time to learn how to sit still and converse with the Lord. There were years when the Sisters feared I would never gain the art of silence."

She laid a hand on Nicholas' arm and felt it tighten beneath her touch. She looked up to watch his eyes and she asked again, "Is something the matter? I shall do my best to do as you ask."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Well, it was good news she didn’t demand his dismissal for being so expectant of her, and it calmed him to hear her concern. The touch on his arm though changed his thoughts greatly, not like a demanding teacher or a humble servant, but like a woman touches a man. Only when he turned to her, and her soft blue-green eyes looked upon his like a concerned child …

In that moment, she wasn’t just fetching, or kindly, or alluring. She was absolutely stunning. He felt his breath pulled from him as her light freckling stood out from her soft skin.

A voice in his head called to him. Realize your place, she is a Lady. He pressed a smile and shook his head slowly. “Nothing, Miss,” he said apologetically, “painting can be demanding on the model. But my words were more driven by tiring bones. The travel here has made me more terse than I ought to be in your presence. My Lady, please accept my apologies.”

 

[Vailyn]

"Wait here. I shall be back." She darted into the orchard trees to harvest some berries and apples. She hummed cheerfully on her way back to the pond and settled down in a rustling bunch of green near the water. Allora called out to Nicholas, "Come refresh yourself! There are berries and apples to snack upon."

She took an apple and polished it on her apron. "There! Nice and clean. Have a bite. They're a bit tart but delicious."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He raised an eyebrow when she ran off, but returning with fruit brought a smile to his face. “I … thank you, Miss,” he said. “I didn’t even realize that I was hungry but …”

Finding a nice spot in the grass near her, he easily sat down crossing his legs. The movement and the position made him uncomfortable. The pants he wore tightened in this position, requiring the long journey’s clothing to pull tight. When he reached for the apple he tried to disguise a shift with the other hand. “Was it difficult?” he asked trying to keep the conversation going, “That is, the Abbey? Was it difficult? To Live there?”

 

[Vailyn]

Allora took off her white wimple and shook her head in response. Her golden brown hair bounced in riotous disarray. "I love the Abbey and everyone that lives there. It's the only life I have ever known. I learned something new every day and I did not have time to be bored. There was always something to do or needed to be done. I have never had so much free time on my hands as I do here. It's..." She laughed ruefully.

"Dare I say it?" Allora sent a laughter filled look at the artist. She's never been alone with a man for so long before. Yet, she could not deny the ease his company brought to her. "I have--" She tipped her head back, her long hair tangling among the flowered grass. She shouted, "I have NEVER been as bored in my life!" Her laughter bubbled forth.

"And you, sir? What is it like to be an artist? Is it your dream?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He found himself infected by her laughter, so that his joined in with her as well. He listened between bites of the apple, relishing the tartness of a clean fruit. She had an enchanting way of her, from the lightness in her brown hair that radiated in the sun, to the way her giggling rang thru the little Eden.

“An artist’s dream, I am not sure there is one, your Ladyship,” he replied, a smile still wide on his lips. “The craft has much to be loved, but to be a dream is to paint that which gives you inspiration. Most my paintings are of street people, and that seems to not be as profitable a venture as one would hope. However, to make the rent I spend my days in the park sketching children and nannies for pennies.”

With the warm sun of the garden adding to his comfort he took the lead from her need to remove her wimple to shrug off the vest he wore over his shirt. “Dare to say, your father was the first to ever call me ‘The Great Fuentes”, and the only to seem willing to want to collect anything of mine.” With a slight smirk, he tilted his head and looked at her, “I am grateful that the subject will be one that should give me inspiration.”

 

[Vailyn]

There was no misunderstanding of his last comment and a happy blush spread over her lightly freckled nose and cheeks. She tried to hide her response by keeping her hands busy with eating berries and asking him questions. "It must be fulfilling to find dreams and bring them to life. To be inspired with countless new dreams."

A bit of berry juice slipped out over her lips and Allora paused her questions for a moment to lick it back inside her berry stained lips. She started to suck the berry juice from her fingers and stopped abruptly. Her blush returned with embarrassing ease. She aimed for a more modest, ladylike behavior and wiped her sticky fingers on her gathering apron.

Trying to draw attention away from herself, Allora babbled, "What kind of people did you paint, sir? Did you enjoy sketching children? Was it difficult to get them to sit for a drawing? What should I know about sitting for a portrait? Is there anything in particular I need to do? I cannot imagine that you would enjoy having to stare at me for days. I fear, I am not that inspiring."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

She was nervous, overly nervous. In a way that made her just that much more enduring. On a whim, he reached for the last of the berry juice on her lip with his index finger. He pressed that finger into her lip to calm her, or quiet her.

“Your ladyship,” he said quietly with a smile, “if you wish to know my life story, best to ask one question at a time.”

Taking the finger from her lips, he picked up the sticky hand. He dipped a corner of his vest into the pond and began to clean it. “I paint people who inspire me, Miss. Many times it is just normal folk. Street people, and women, mostly.

 

[Vailyn]

Allora's dark lashes fluttered, startled by the feel of a man's finger on her lip. The movement hushed the rush of words and she didn't think twice about laving her lower lip with her tongue. She tasted a mix of berry juice and a hint of salt. Blue-green eyes glanced over at the man and became entranced by his smile. The shape of his lips were so different from her own.

She gathered her thoughts and tried to sound more composed than she felt. "Women? Why do you choose to capture the image of women more?"

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He thought for a moment and raised a finger, pulling out his sketchbook and flipping to a new page. “In some ways,” he began while starting to make large swipes on the paper, “it is that your kind is capable of great expression. Great range of emotion. Men are more stoic and reserved.”

Looking directly at her he leaned forward and studied her face, turning his head to catch it at different angles. “Mostly it is the unknown. Every day I can look in the mirror and see what makes me a man, but for a woman to let me draw her … well … it can be a treat.”

Stopping in mid thought, he pointed to the grass, “can you … lay back. If it wouldn’t stain your dress. With your arms above your head.”

 

[Vailyn]

"Wha-uhm, well," Allora glanced down at her clasped hands, smoothed the skirt of her dress restlessly and stilled once she made up her mind. She went to wash her berry stained hands in the water and came back to wipe her hands on her apron in the basket. She worried her lower lip with her teeth as she tried to find a way to lay down on the grass without being entirely improper. She settled on holding the back of the green skirt down as she sat on it, making the material lie beneath her and not show inappropriate bits like her underskirts, chemise or stockings. Then she laid down on the green grasses and tucked one arm beneath her head and let the other fall carelessly crooked above it. She turned her blue-green eyes towards the artist and tried to observe everything. The way his eyes watched her from head to toe. They looked so closely, she imagined that he could see into her secret of secret hearts. Heart thudding a bit faster at the thought, her bosom swelled against the white laced bodice and sweet, unvoiced questions lit in her eyes.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

He let her prepare herself, while he looked about and filled in some of the area around the sketch. Her body moved simply, not at all ladylike how he expected. She seemed to be like the simple folk he knew. Yet there wasn’t a moment when she hasn’t seemed to surprise him.

He talked while sketching trying to keep her calm. “Most of my works that found themselves into galleries are from a few women that I met in a pub on the east end. I try to capture them in their happiest. I like them when something finds them thinking of better days.”

When she laid down, her eyes moved to his. She was apprehensive, just with continuing the hints of that innocence he was to capture. Yet, she was trusting. It warmed him some, and he couldn’t help but to feel warmer. “Many times, you can tell when someone smiles at you, you can tell if it is just because they feel they must - or when it is a smile that is from the heart.

He started with a simple outline of there, then built up the details. This was only a proof for her father, no need for great detail, but as he continued he couldn’t help to search for those details. A small bit of her leg showed out from under the dress, and he stared intently at the shape of her legs towards her feet. They were petit, yet strong. The way the dress itself billowed out around her made for interest, she was thin, and the cloth flowing around her waist. Yet it was the way the bodice rose and fell that seemed to garner the most attention of his sketch.

Working for several minutes he starts to blink rapidly. Soon a yawn comes, and he shakes his head fiercely. When a second comes, he tries to hide it but fails. “Sorry, your Ladyship. The day … has been long.”

 

[Vailyn]

In many ways, she felt a bit like the way she used to feel during her solitary walks in the woods near the Abbey. Though she wasn't alone, her thoughts roamed and wandered in no clear manner. Memories of her past and the more recent events danced in and out of her thoughts as she tried to lay still. Funny how comfortable the artist made her feel. She mused that must be a skill that a painter should have to work with strangers.

His darker complexion made him seem more like a foreigner but his voice sounded like any other born in middle class. A mixed cadence that reminded her of home, the Abbey. Not the large castle and grounds that is called her home. She decided that she liked his voice. The way he spoke without carefully picking his words. Like that of a confidant. He spoke to her like a friend. Strange that she would think of the newest stranger as her first friend at the castle.

A yawn broke free from Nicholas and the smooth easy movements of his hand stuttered to a halt. His explanation focused her thoughts. She had noticed that his eyes seemed a bit tired but she it was forgotten amidst the rest of her observations. Allora propped herself up with the arm she had used as a pillow. "Sir, allow me to show you the way back. You may take your ease and rest. I can have a meal sent to your room."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

Nicholas’ troubled and tired mind was exasperated by the confusion of this room and the hunger in his stomach. The chests he and bags brought with him from London were unpacked. His books, papers, canvases, paints, and other needful things were separated in different places around the room. With what would be a difficult day tomorrow, he wished he didn’t have to spend this time searching for what he needed. He still yet to find his clothes, especially frustrating as he just wanted something different to wear than he had on for the journey and the time in the garden. He searched for his clothing, fighting the growling need to eat.

The meeting with his Lordship, wasn’t what he expected. At first he seemed disturbed the drawings lacked detail in some place but too much in others. He didn’t see his daughter’s face appropriately, he said, but seemed confused when Nicholas just tried to explain that it was a sketch not the way the portrait will be. The Lord agreed to the setting but not her outfit, something he would resolve. He said he wanted her more the focus, not so much the garden. Less greenery, more of the girl. Then he made further demands on the posture before sending him away. Arms lifted higher, legs more spread. When he pictured the pose, it was like she would be splayed out for a lover. This will take some doing, and still keep her innocence.

Yet capturing her innocence, there was more to her than that. In the small time they spent together, she was a panoply of emotions. She showed concern, timidity, warmth, excitement, and the way she exploded with laughter was as unforgettable at the most. The way the light caught her skin, the way she let her face read like a book, and the way she so simply relaxed when he sketched; he could feel his face warm with expectation.

Sliding open a door, he found a wardrobe larger than anything he would ever need. There, his clothing hung fresh and clean. With a long drawn sigh, he pulled for a simple comfortable pair of soft fabric pants and shirt. He removed his dirty clothing, and draped the new ones over his arm as he walked naked into the main part of the room and the wash basin. With a quick splash of water on his face he started feeling refreshed finally.

Behind him he hear the unmistakable sound of wood floor. Turning, there was a maid just under his own age, full red hair tucked under under proper head covering to match her uniform dress. She held in her hands a tray full of food. Yet she stood frozen in place, eyes wide as saucers, and directed to where his manhood hung. She was no child, it was not like she hadn’t seen one before, but this wasn’t the first time his size … well .. left an impression. Slowly, her stare went up to his stunned expression as her face brightened crimson. In a thick Scottish accent, she squeaked, “I just leave this on the table then.” In an instant she was gone, but he started to think this duty may become a bit more interesting.

 

[Vailyn]

Dreamy blue-green eyes gaze inward as memories of the day before flitted through Allora's mind. How friendships can be made in unexpected moments. Life is rather strange indeed. Here, she had nothing familiar to relate to and, though it has been difficult to adjust to life at the castle, she felt that maybe she is starting to do just that.

A quick knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in!"

Jane, the red headed upstairs maid, came into the room with her arms full of clothing. She's one of the more friendly servants who loved to chatter about everything beneath the sun. Her cheerful and dramatic personality always drew a smile from Allora.

Devilish excitement seem to burst from Jane's brown eyes as she swept into the room and piled the clothes on the bed. "Oh my Lady! What I wouldn't do to pose for the painter! He'd be a devilish handful, I bet, my Lady! He's a fine looking specimen of a male that's to be sure!" She crowed as she put away the clothing.

Allora laughed at her antics. "I'm sure if you asked him, he would be happy to sketch you, Jane."

Jane's brown eyes sparkled with interest. "Do you think so, my Lady? I would love to get my hands on that man. Even if it was only for a night! It would be a wild night! But oh what a night!"

"Why for a night? He could draw you during the day as well."

Jane paused in the middle of folding a garment and peered quizzically at her. Something seem to click in her mind and she nodded her head to herself. "Don't you know anything about the ways of a man and a woman, my Lady?"

"You mean what happens between a man and wife?" Allora felt her creamy cheeks flushing red. "I-I only heard that when a man and woman lie together, that is how a child is formed."

Jane laughed merrily before she responded, "Well, that be right, my lady. A man and woman lying together can create a babe. The bit that helps to make a child can be different from man to man and, believe me, my Lady! That handsome devil of a painter has much to please a woman, let alone to make a child!" She gave out a lusty sigh. "He's a good looking man for a darker skinned foreigner. Mayhaps I shall ask him to draw me a bit."

The maid grinned crookedly when she saw the confused look on Allora's face. She took pity on the innocent maiden and began helping her to dress for her appointment with the artist. First, the maid pulled a sheer pale pink silk chemise with flower patterned lace over Allora's head and it fell only to her knees. Allora was given thin white stockings and very short pale pink bloomers to wear underneath. She was guided to step into a long sleeved violet dress and Jane closed the buttons along her back. The flowing sleeves had a cut in the middle that gathered together at the wrist and showed off long sweeps of her arms. The round neckline framed the pale pink chemise and the back was a rounded square design that showed off Allora's shoulder blades and spine. An cream satin waist cincher was laced in the back and it thrust Allora's bosom up for display. The upper slope and cleavage of her firm mounds easily seen through the pink lace. Violet satin slippers completed the ensemble. Jane brushed Allora's golden brown locks and let it hang unbound.

An odd expression entered Jane's eyes as she looked Allora over from head to toe. "Is something the matter? Should I change? I feel as though I'm not covered enough. I have never worn anything this revealing before." Allora asked, worried.

Jane frowned for a moment and then forced herself to smile at the young maiden. "Oh no, my Lady. You are beautiful as you are. The Lord has chosen the clothes you will wear for your sessions. He insists you wear this one today." She pulled a light ivory shawl out from the wardrobe and wrapped it over Allora's shoulders. "There you be. It'll keep the chill from you, if you feel it."

Allora smiled warmly at Jane. "Thank you, Jane. I could not have put this together on my own. Has food been prepared?"

Jane bit her tongue and held back her real thoughts about the maiden's attire. Sure as it can be, the Lady was beautiful in the dress but it was also scandalously revealing! The materials were very thin and some are totally sheer! Altogether, it barely covered the young girl's form and only worked to draw more attention to it. She did not know what the Lord was thinking when he picked out the clothes but nothing good will come of it in her mind.

"A basket of food is waiting for you in the main hall. There's meat sandwiches, fruit, cheese, wine and tarts. Should be more than enough to tide you both until dinner." said Jane.

Allora hugged Jane and thanked her before heading out to meet the artist, Nicholas at the pond. She sang a sweetly to herself as she walked the path to the pond. She found Nicholas has beaten her to the spot and called out a greeting as she neared. "Good morning, sir! I hope you rested well last evening."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

The morning sun burned off most the dew by the time he entered the garden loaded with half of what he needed, and an eager young hand carrying the rest. Nicholas’s energy was high, in part from one of the softest beds he ever lay in, but more so from the promise this job was had. They were quick to find the pond and he sent the boy off hastefully. In minutes, the easel was up, a table, a small chair to sit upon. Paints were laid out on his palette. He wore his painter’s shirt, a white soft cotton button up stained with multiple brush cleanings and spattering. The grey wool slacks were tighter than he normally would wear for a day on a stool, but the encounter with the maid last night encouraged him to see what kind of attention he could get around this manor today from those who could keep his mind sharp … so to speak.

A sharp mind is what he would need, to say the least. His career hinged on this job going well. The right portraits backed by the right lord would lead to similar work, and then he would just see the commissions building. More so, he couldn’t afford for this job to fail. The Lord seems to have seen to that.

“Good morning, Sir! I hope you rested well last evening.”

Her voice rang playfully through the clearing, and made him rise quickly in joy of hearing it again. Turning to see her, he felt his eyes grow at the impressive creature presented in front of him. Of immediate attention was the breasts, uplifted and well enhanced by the pink, cream, and violet threads. Catching his breath best he could, he gave a courteous bow. “Rested well, my Lady,” he said gracefully, his eyes not wanting to leave her body. “You look absolutely … Well … you look … beautiful, Miss. Beautiful.”

The Lord picked this out for her. This seemed not to capture innocence in the least, at the moment the artist would find reason to complain.