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.