Clientele
A/N: With school over, I decided to be in a horror/dark romance/18th century mood and where patronage was common and acceptable. Also, this wasn't about ballet until I started watching videos. :')
Shadow looked up at the mansion as the carriage provided for him left. The clouds overhead rumbled with building thunder and rain that would most likely last through his entire stay here. Lady Sandy Cheeks requested him, heard about him from a friend and Shadow was quickly this woman's patron. Even if he had never heard of the Cheeks residence.
He knocked on the door, looking at the servant for a moment before saying, "I'm the painter the lady of the house called."
The woman nodded, waving him inside and up the spiral staircase without a word. She knocked, turning towards Shadow after moving past him. "Her brother will be with you momentarily." She said, heading back downstairs.
Shadow swallowed as the door creaked open, the room inside dim with lit candles and drawn curtains. Randy looked at him, wide smile contrasting with the gloomy room. "Sandy," Randy started, turning towards the bed. "the painter's here."
"It's a pleasure to be of service, Mistress—."
"Sandy is fine," she interrupted, a slender hand sliding out from the dark green canopy. "I hope you traveled here safely."
"Yes," Shadow answered, quickly crossing the room to kiss her hand. "I can get started today if you prefer."
Sandy took her hand back, a quiet rustle stirring from where she lay. "Tomorrow is fine. Someone will show you to your room, it's connected to this one. Dinner will be served soon." She said, voice taking on an edge.
"Yes, Mi—Sandy. Thank you for this opportunity." Shadow said as Randy led him out of the room. It was only until Shadow was back in the hallway that he realized an old cane rested beside Sandy's bed.
"I'm sorry my sister was so curt she's still dealing with…her incident," Randy said, unlocking the room Shadow was staying in for the remainder of his stay. "Make yourself at home," with that Randy left, leaving Shadow to unpack and set up his easel and supplies.
He wasn't sure how a portrait of this woman would work if she was hidden behind a canopy. Whatever she had suffered must have been serious.
Tomorrow. He would have time to ask tomorrow.