The *cottage was medium-sized and tended quite well by the gardeners that came by once every other day.  This had been their workday but they always finished early in the morning.  The porch was covered in the front to prevent too much sun to get into that area if someone were to want to sit out there.  Though there were oval openings centered in each panel to allow the sitting people/visiting people to see the yard and the path from the road to the walk up to the house. 

The porch went along the master bedroom before going to the main door that opened to the center hallway next to the master bedroom.  There was a window from the porch into the master bedroom, though there were thick curtains preventing anyone from seeing what might be happening in that room.  The porch ended against the wall and the parlor/his studio was on the other side of that wall.  There was a window there so one could look from the porch into the parlor/studio. Here there were no curtains, in fact, none in that room nor the dining room attached to it, as that whole area had been made into a large studio for Douglas's use with much light during much of the day.



* link to the floorplan and an image of the outside of the house in the signature

Darius slipped out of the carriage and stumbled away to remove himself as far from the vehicle as possible. He was happy to lean against a tree and tried to straight his clothes and hair. After calming from the trip, he walked towards the house. It was beautifully manicured and he noticed the curtains covering the windows. Maybe this artist liked his house dark? Darius could relate, he lived in a dark house but his room never had its windows covered.

As he got onto the porch, he glanced around but saw no signs of the artist or anyone really. For a moment, dread seeped in and he wondered if he had gone out and never truly intended to see Darius. He pushed back the doubts and fears, knowing there was only one way to find out. He knocked on the door.

"Ah.. hello?"

Mr. Fraiser had been told to expect the guest and had been trying to make the studio not quite look as much a mess as it tended to.  Hearing the knock he had been in the back of the house carrying some dishes that the Earl had used earlier in the day to the kitchen.  The cook had been told to take the afternoon off as Douglas had planned to be away from the house.  They needed another maid, but Douglas has been putting it off.  Mr. Roberts, the butler, was doing the bodyguard job for Miss Dane.  That left Mr. Fraiser there to take care of things at that particular time.

Mr. Fraiser hurried to the front door and opened it.  He too had a very strong Scottish accent though with a bit more proper tone and body language as he was trained properly as a valet.  " 'ello, Sir."  He indicated the hallway just inside the front door waiting to hear the man's name so he could announce his arrival to the Earl.

Darius looked somewhat startled at seeing the valet. Perhaps he thought the artist was roughing it with as few people as possible. Which was silly, even if he'd wanted to be totally 'alone' he'd have had at least a maid and someone to receive his visitors and other things.

He cleared his throat and tried to stand tall and more formal for a moment. "Ah.. hello. I'm Darius Carrington. He should be...expecting me?"

Mr. Fraiser nodded formally.  "Yes, Sir."  He indicated the hallway where there was a bench.  "Please come in and I will announce you."  He waited for Darius to enter before closing the door behind him.  He indicated the bench should the gentleman wish to sit down, and he went to the parlor (studio) to let the Earl know.  The Earl was not in there so Fraiser crossed back the hall to the bedroom that was across from the parlor and knocked.

"Fraiser, just come on in.  I am looking for that tie I asked yu tae lay oot.  I 'ave put it somewhere nae and cannae find the bloody thing."

Fraiser gave the guest an apologetic glance and went into the bedroom closing the door behind him.  He returned after a few moments of soft talking in the other room and indicated that Darius goes ahead and go to the parlor.  "He is expecting you, sir, go ahead in.  He will join yu in a few moments.  Please make yourself comfortable.  He has also said if yu would like to look around, you are to feel free to."

Inside there were about 10 aisles with canvases at various stages of work with the work and a stool where his back would be to the windows allowing the sunlight to go in as he worked.  There were two tables in the center of that area with paints and powders for mixing different pigments along with oil and cleansing materials.  Though even with the valet trying to pick up and take various plates, cups, and glasses to the kitchen, it was not very clean. 

The paintings being worked there were a mixture of children playing or working along with their families.  Men working hard at the nets, two of the ruins not far away, one of a field with an unusually shaped tree, and two of people that he had been hired to pay to do portraits.   At the other end of the room were more paintings laying against the walls and were finished.  There was a series of people down in the more common area.  People hanging up laundry, gardening, visiting across a fence, some men sitting in front of a local store visiting, and one of an older man carving what looked to be a horse as he sat on his porch.

There were some props in one area so Douglas could sketch people for portraits in that farther area with lamps around it.  Though currently it was shoved to the side and had some chairs and a table for when someone comes to visit.  Some empty canvases were piled laying against the very back wall, but some if one were to look closer would see that some are mainly red.  Looking even more closely, there would see that it is a bloody battle scene with bodies and injured men all around in it, but the image had then been splashed with red paint with not a brush but handprints.  These he did not mean to have been seen, but he was not always organized.

Darius had instantly sat at the bench requested and waited. He tilted his head as it seemed there was a little delay in finding the artist and almost smiled when he heard the explanation. Douglas was so amazing and so human. The Carrington stood and was more than eager to walk around and look at his stuff.

It was like being in a candy store, the way he eyed all of the pictures and seeing them in various degrees of creation. He stopped at each one to watch it carefully and study the style. He was in awe and didn't want to waste time looking at things alone.

As the man wandered the studio, he noticed something. He thought it was a bunch of blank pieces but noticed some had paint. He crouched down and carefully pulled them out to look them over. His eyes widened at the works as he stared intently. A familiarity crept up and sunk into the back of his neck. He rubbed at the spot uncomfortably.

Douglas had finally gotten his proper items lined up and was dressed in what he would wear for people he met in a proper manner.  It wasn't his tux or anything, but a tan brown suit with a bright vivid blue vest and matching tie.  His brown shoes were his dress shoes for town walking compared to a sturdy pair of shoes he would wear if going in the common areas, the beach, or out in the fields to paint.  Those made the valet trouble with paint stains and mud and dirt.

He had combed his hair and finally went out of his bedroom and over to the parlor/studio.  Looking around the room for Darius, he went still seeing where the man was looking.   "Those are where I have messed up.  These others are better."  He managed, not angry but could be heard to be uncomfortable.

Darius was surprised by the voice and looked at the other man. He wasn't good at reading people but the discomfort was clear. He looked down to the art and very carefully put it back. "Sorry, I was curious. I find painting such things to be difficult. But the pain is clear in the work. but I wouldn't expect any less from such a talent." He smiled weakly and nodded.

"Will you show me your most favorite pieces? or the ones you're working on you're most proud of so far?" He asked to change the topic. He might be terrible but he'd learned enough that sometimes it came back to him and he could fake social intelligence.

He went over to pour some whiskey.  Tossing a volume of it back, he glanced at Darius and indicated the bottle to see if his guest would like some as well.  "I 'ave more than whisky and scotch."  He gave a wry glance at the bottles on the table at the entry to the parlor near to where Douglas had entered the room.

He was stalling trying to think what to say of the paintings that the other man had discovered.  "Only to be expected from a fellow artist."  He gave a motion of his shoulders.  "Nae much area to 'ide anything 'ere in this cottage.  Back 'ome there are lots of rooms nae longer used that I can stash the shyte that I dinna want anyone tae see."  Again that wry look was on his face, as it was quite that irony that Darius had just seen them indeed.

"Going tae the war when I worked to sketch oot for the officers tae send back tae the home office and for the newspapers, I saw things that stayed with me.  Sometimes they require to be put back oot of the heid but what tae do with them once they come oot, what tae dae with them?"  He asked not really wanting an answer.

He focused then on the man's questions about his current works.  "This one is for my friend the doctor here.  It is finally finished.  I just 'ave tae get it over tae 'is place."  He indicated one that had a gold-toned elegant frame that stood about four foot tall.  The black doctor was sitting at his desk in his office with a window behind him and bookshelves on either side of the widow behind the man's desk where he sat properly.

" 'is 'ands gave me a fix of a time.  I 'ad 'im 'old 'em sae many different ways until I was finally 'appy with 'ow it felt tae look right for me."  He chuckled.  "The mon likely thought I was crazy."

Darius nodded, looking grateful for a strong drink and stepped over to take a glass. "Thanks, this'll work for me just fine." He said and smiled as he drank a little and squinted as he was so very used to wine, but the burn was a pleasant change. His eyes couldn't help but return to the forbidden artwork and he couldn't imagine what it was like to be surrounded by the dead. "Ah, yeah. I've found trying to work through it in art... helps." He said half heartedly. Was his so hard because he'd caused the death? He decided he didn't want to think on it any more than necessary.

He moved to look at the piece and eyed the doctor at the desk, seeming in thought. It was nice, and it reminded him a bit of his own favorite piece but of course was done by a true artist and not an amateur. "I love it, I'm sure he will too.." He finally said after a moment.