The Painter's Apprentice Read Free Page A

enough.’
    ‘Johannes is as hard a taskmaster to himself as he is to others,’ said Beth, smiling fondly at him.
    ‘May I see?’ Noah moved towards the canvas but the artist folded his sturdy arms and blocked the way.
    ‘No one sees my work until it is finished!’ He glanced at Beth with a half-smile. ‘Except for Beth, if she has worked hard.’
    Noah glanced around the studio, taking in a still life set up on a side table with a lute, a glass decanter and a Delft fruit
     bowl of apples all carefully arranged on a richly patterned Persian carpet. He noticed a smaller, uncovered canvas rested
     on another easel and stepped up to take a closer look.
    Beth watched his face intently while he studied the watercolour painting. It depicted a deep mauve hellebore, the petals delicately
     veined in purple with lime green stamens to the centre. A drop of dew shimmered on the stem as if stirred by the draught from
     the window.
    ‘This is beautiful!’ he said, reaching out to stroke the velvety petals before drawing his hand back. ‘It’s so lifelike it
     makes me want to touch it.’
    Beth let out a small sigh. ‘It’s mine.’
    ‘Johannes painted it for you?’
    Johannes gave a shout of laughter. ‘My pupil still has much to learn but this little daub doesn’t disgrace her too badly.’
     He pulled Beth to his broad chest and hugged her. ‘Perhaps I’ll make a painter of you yet, my little chicken!’
    ‘This is your work?’ Noah asked Beth, his eyebrows raised.
    Beth nodded and felt her cheeks warm. ‘I’ve been Johannes’s pupil for nearly four years now.’
    ‘It’s a pity she isn’t a boy or I’d have taken her on as an apprentice,’ said Johannes, dropping a kiss on to the top of her
     head as he released her. ‘As it is, she’ll probably waste my efforts by marrying and having a houseful of babies.’
    ‘I expect you’re right,’ said Noah. He smiled kindly at Beth. ‘Still, many women with artistic tendencies do enjoy dabbling
     with their paints again when the children are grown.’ He turned away from Beth’s hellebore to study one of Johannes’ landscapes.
    Rage boiled up in Beth’s breast. ‘I do not
dabble
with my paints. And I’ll not waste the skills that I have by taking a husband and spending the rest of my life waiting upon
     his whims,’ she retorted.
    Noah glanced back at her. ‘Really? I’ll wager you’ll change your mind within a year or two.’
    ‘I will not!’
    Johannes put his great hand on her shoulder but she shook it off.
    ‘Don’t glare at me!’ said Noah, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. ‘I see your red hair makes you quite as fiery-tempered as
     my sisters. I had no intention of upsetting you but, you must agree, it is the way of the world for a woman to marry and have
     children?’
    ‘Because that is the way it has always been doesn’t necessarily make it right!’
    ‘Beth, Beth! Calm yourself,’ said Johannes. ‘It doesn’t matter what other people think. You will continue to make the best
     work you can and let nothing prevent you. Your paintings will speak for themselves.’
    ‘Please, let us not argue since it is plain to see that you do have a considerable gift,’ said Noah.
    Appeased by his response, Beth shrugged. ‘Do you need me to prepare any more paints for you, Johannes?’
    ‘Go and enjoy yourself and I’ll see you later.’ Johannes picked up his paintbrush again.
    ‘Shall we go, Noah? We have disturbed Johannes enough,’ she said.
    The artist lifted a hand to them and turned back to his canvas.
    ‘Your Johannes has a great deal of talent,’ said Noah once they had left, ‘and, plainly, he cares a great deal for you. How
     lucky that you have such an excellent teacher.’
    ‘Isn’t it? One of my earliest memories is of seeing the sunshine playing on the coloured water in the glass bottles on the
     apothecary windowsill and standing on a stool trying to catch the magic of the reflections on a piece of paper. As a small