Mother was starting to think herself above her station now. She wanted paintings of all her children to decorate the house as if it was some grand ancestral manor. He had written back to her that he would have his photograph taken and ask them to enlarge it, but mother had written back the very next day that this would not suffice, and if money was the problem, Silas had offered to pay for it. 

No way he was going to let his older brother think he was a beggar and that he would take charity from him. The fact that his brother had offered alone was enough to make him grind his teeth. Tristan had written back that he would have a portrait made and would send it to her in due time. So here he was. 

He had found the address through a notice in the Whitby gazette. Apparently the painter was well-known for he had held a lecture of some sort in the library, Tristan had heard. It might be too expensive, but it was worth checking out. Sitting for a portrait sounded boring and time-consuming, and he'd rather pay a little more and have someone do a good job, than disappoint his mother and be forced to go through the whole process again. He knocked three times, hoping the studio was open.

Douglas had set up a studio in the cottage he rented in the front parlor due to all the windows giving so much light and it was big enough to set up various projects.  He had finally gone ahead and brought in his secretary, a maid, and a cook to take care of the house and his needs so he could focus on painting.  He had spent longer than he had expected there in Whitby, but there were so many places that he just felt he must paint.  He was taking contracts for portraits as well.  Though he wasn't spending all his time doing those.

The cottage is large, and furnished when it was rented.  The parlor though of course was emptied of everything but a few chairs, and lots of canvases in various states of work with stools nearby, a table near the windows with his supplies not organized in a way to look very neat, but he knew where everything was.  The rest of the house was furnished with common items but not fancy.  The cottage was owned by someone about the middle-class station and the place looked like it.

The butler opened the door.  "How may I help you, sir?"

"Ah, good afternoon, sir." Tristan said when the butler opened. "I was looking for the artist, Mr. Douglas Gordon. I was interested in having a portrait done. Is he in?" Tristan was wearing his best outfit, just in case the artist would have time to do a first sketch. Though his trousers and morning coat were plain black, his waistcoat was sand-colored with a golden embroidered flowery pattern and his tie was deep emerald green. Mother would kill him if he messed up the portrait by being poorly dressed.

Tristan liked dressing up in fine clothing, but to have them washed properly was troublesome and his purse was relatively small, given the fact he had just moved and set up his own practice and he didn't have that many patients yet. He could think of nicer occasions at which to wear his finest than sitting for a portrait. He hoped the painter would be pleasant company at least. Artist tended to be his kind of people, so there was some hope that the experience wouldn't be entirely dull.

The butler gave a polite nod.  "His lordship is in, please come inside.  May I have your name?  I will announce you and see if he is seeing clients."  He indicated a chair just inside the door.  After closing the door behind Tristan, he headed down the hall to the parlor.

The hallway was pleasant but not fancy in the least.  Middle class throughout the whole place, but very clean and neat.  The hallway had a light blue theme with several chairs with side tables and along the walls a few scenery paintings.  They were done by Douglas.  He had replaced the prints that had been there as a thank you to the landlord.  All were of the areas around Witby.  One was of the beach, another of the ruins not far away, and another of the town itself.

The butler came back in.  "Please follow me."  He indicated the doorway to the parlor.   Douglas was wiping his hands on a cloth as he had been painting on one of his projects when the butler had come in.  He had on a white shirt with the sleeves pushed up.  He put them back down and reached out for his jacket and put it on as he turned to face the man coming in.

His lordship? Tristan hadn't been aware of the fact that the artist held such a status. He instantly felt uneasy, but it was too late to turn back. "Dr. Tristan Wells. Here's my card." And he handed his card to the butler. He stepped in as the butler indicated, and took off his bowler hat, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he took the opportunity to look around the hallway while the butler was gone and get an impression of what kind of man the artist was. For a 'lord' the house was remarkably modest - pleasant and comfortable, certainly, and far better decorated than Tristan's rather empty home, but nothing grand. Perhaps he was just passing through and had no intention to settle.

Tristan's attention was drawn by the paintings on the walls. He wondered whether they were made by the occupant. He squinted his eyes slightly as he observed the small details. These were simple scenes of around town, nothing spectacular or extraordinary, and yet it seemed to Tristan that they captured the scenes so brilliantly that they expressed their essence better than the actual locations themselves.

His silent musings over these little works of art were interrupted when the butler returned, and Tristan remembered where he was. The first thing that caught his attention when he stepped into the room were strong, exposed forearms, though they were quickly covered up when the artist made himself decent for company. Clearly he had not been expecting anyone, and Tristan had interrupted him in a project. Tristan felt awkward and his voice came out less confident than usually. "Good afternoon, my lord," he said. "I am Dr. Wells. I was looking for an artist to do a portrait." The artist was very tall, strong and handsome. With a title, looks, and apparent fame, he was doubtlessly the center of attention on the marriage market, unless he already had a lucky lady. He seemed old enough. But he was an artist after all, so perhaps he was a bachelor. Tristan's eyes moved to the paintings quickly and he conjectured that the paintings in the hall were indeed by the same hand.

Douglas had wiped his hands before putting on his jacket and went over to reach a hand to shake the doctor's hand in greeting.  His hand had a few stains from the paint but it was clean.  The hands having a roughness to them from his work with sculpture and he was not one to stay away from work back in Scotland.  He was one that helped those that lived on his land.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor.  I am Douglas Gordon.  Please have a seat, and tell me what kind of portrait you are wanting and who will be the subject?"  He indicated a small wooden table with two dinner-type chairs on either side of it not far from the door.  The various canvases were stood around the windows for the light.

Douglas gave the doctor a look as he spoke.  The man was a younger man than most doctors.  He wondered how long he had been practicing.  A good strong face, Douglas thought and he stood up straight.  Things that caught Douglas's attention, of course.

Tristan was vaguely aware of how his own hand was warm and a little sweaty. He let go as soon as he could. He sat down when the artist invited him to. "Thank you." Despite the man's elevated status, the first impression was good. He seemed polite and friendly. No trace of snobbishness.

"I must confess I have very little knowledge of the different kinds of portraits, my lord, so you might have to help me," Tristan sheepishly admitted. "I would be the subject. My mother has requested a portrait to decorate the family home. I believe she intends to furnish it like one of the grander homes, so a more classical style would suit her." It felt a little uncomfortable to admit to an earl that his family was trying to emulate what his own home probably looked like. But then, did not all members of society try to climb the ladder of respectability by looking at their betters?

Listening with his expression showing that he was really listening not just pretending as some in his class would.  He gave a friendly smile and nodded.  "Actually, yu gave me the information I was needing.  The person it is for and where the portrait wood be positioned for viewing."  His Scottish accent was very strong.

He looked around the studio and then at the man.  "Wood yu want an inside setting or are yu more of a man that feels more comfortable ootside?  It is for your mather, but tae be most relaxed yurself, and a better image of ou, I find it tae be better tae be a setting yu are comfortable in.  I can dae it in a formal style either way."  He explained.  "For example if yu like sitting in a garden or with trees, we can dae that.  Or if yu would like being standing next tae a horse or dog, that can be done as well.  If inside, furnishing can be any kind columns and marble, a nice chair, or even an office kind of setting.  Yu are a doctor, sae we could set yu up standing or sitting in a desk or on the edge of a desk."  He suggested watching Tristan's expression as he mentioned the various idea.

Tristan had been aware of the fact that the man was Scottish from the moment he opened his mouth, but he had had a number of fellow students from the Highlands when he studied in Edinburgh, and so he could follow quite well.

He thought for a moment. He didn't like the idea of having to sit still for a portrait outside in a park, where everyone could see. Having his portrait taken felt pretentious, and it would feel rather embarrassing in a public place. Inside seemed more formal anyway.

"Perhaps in my study... My home is not far, just up in Flowergate." The study would be better than the drawing room, for the latter was still rather empty, lacking a feminine touch, as some would call it. He was a practical man and didn't like clutter, was what he would call it. His mother might criticize it though. The study was better, and all the books would make it look more serious too. "You'd have to see if the lighting is good enough there. Alternatively, we could use the office."

Douglas nodded.  "Actually, I could get a sketch of your study a few days with several sketches to see what view you like of the room, and I can do the actual painting of you here, and put the study background around you."  He explained. 

"That is the focus, after all.  You.  That will take longer.  Of course."  He added.  He then continued.  "I charge 2 pounds a day.  I figure it could take about five days.  I charge 2 pounds a day, will that be okay?"  He asked.  He thought the fact that he was a doctor.  He had met a family that had been poorly and he considered the man.  Would he mind going to a family in a very bad area?

"I am not familiar with Flowergate.  Where in town is that, Doctor?"  He asked curiously.