Mrs. Dawkins (The Artful Dodger) [TBS]

Part 10

I smiled as I sat on my chair, and I hummed to myself. My hands coated in pain, my dress protected by my white smock that too was smattered and splattered with paint stains. As I painted, guiding and gliding my brush across the cavus building the various colours with my watercolour paint. Miss Hardcastle stood behind me looming over me in the drawing room, one of the few places I was allowed to paint. 

The room was small with cream walls and art lining every inch,  easel's, pads and other such materials littered the room with a grand window to the garden, I often spent time here as whenever I could I convinced Miss Hardcastle to allow me time here, and if I wasn't here I'd be in my room doing much the same, I drew on the cavus the figure and shapes and had begun to add the watercolours to fill out his sweet intricacies, as soon as one dried I'd move on to the next even adding highlights and shadows to make him seem like an illustration as he belonged in a storybook. All while my other hand plaid with my string of pearls around my neck as I had worn them every day since Jack had returned them to me.  

"You should make the blue lighter," She recommended, 

"That's how dark I'd like the blue" I told her, as I did my best to stay within the lines I had already sketched or if I was to leave the lines do it in an artful watercolour way, 

"Yes, Miss," she nodded, 

I continued with my painting making sure to add more grey to my white, 

"The white should be clean,"

"No, He needs a dirty shirt," I answered as I went on with my painting, 

"Yes, Miss."

"don't add a green tie it will muddy the blue waistcoat."

"He likes his green tie," I argued as politely as I could,

"Yes, Miss." 

I smiled as I finished with my paint and grabbed my pencil adding sketch lines and detail mostly to his face making sure to sketch his strong jaw, his youthful cheekbones and his deep chocolate eyes, my focus on his face so intense I was biting my lip as I sketched over my paint even stopping my humming to better focus.

She coughed, "Do you and the easel need a moment alone Miss?" 

"No," I sighed moving back a little and calming myself down, 

"Does he have a name? You're muse?"

"Humm?"

"Does he have a name, Miss?"

"Ohhh uhh..." I blushed, "No, he doesn't have a name."

"Anyone Inspire you then?"

"No, no just ... from my head." I lied, 

I mean, I was drawing Jack. 

But I'm not telling her that, she'd tell my father and I'd never be allowed out of the house again." 

"You sure? You've been very... Specific? No one Inspire you, perhaps in town?" 

"No, I uhhh I just imagined him." I lied, "Perhaps from one of my books." 

"so nothing I need to inform our father?"

"No, nothing at all." I answered, "Just an artist's Imagination." I lied, 

"You'll have to change when you're done." She said, "You have paint all over your dress."

"Yes, Miss." I nodded,

"And you'll have to remove your ribbon, you have paint on that too-"

"No!" I yelled it echoing across the room, "I- I will wash it myself." 

She seemed taken back but she nodded, "Yes, Miss."