She stared at the portrait blankly. It was exceptional work, to be sure, but it showed a beautiful woman that she did not recognise.
“Fine work, ” she said. “But who is this?”
The painter smiled awkwardly, and swept a bow so deep that his beard almost brushed his boots.
“My lady,” he said, “That is your portrait, as commissioned by your dear father.”
She blinked a couple of times, then burst out into laughter.
“A fine joke,” she said eventually, leaning on the back of a nearby chair to catch her breath. “But in truth I am keen to see what you have made of my own face.”
The painter looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Milady… ’twas no joke. That is your portrait.”
Her laughter stopped and her eyes narrowed. “That is the worst kind of jest. This lady has not my sallow complexion, not my wide bones nor my nose, nor my forehead- I am quite familiar with my reflection, sir,and this bears no relation to it.”
The painter clasped his hands together and bit on his lip before answering. “My lady,” he said slowly, “My task is to… illustrate the fine and beautiful nature of your soul; to create an image of you as you should be seen-”
She bristled and clenched her hands in a most unladylike manner. “I should be seen as I am,” she snapped. “This portrait is to be sent to the man my father would have me marry. What will he say when, instead of the fine and delicate being you have painted, he sees me at the altar – a marriage begun in such inevitable disappointment cannot bear anything but the bitterest fruit.”
He tried again. “No man could be disappointed, my lady, you are a fine match-”
“Aye, but I am under no illusions as to my beauty or lack thereof. I am not this maid! I will have no false portrait sent to my husband to be. He will take me as I am or not at all. You will begin again.”
The painter looked around for help, but none was coming.
“Very well, my lady,” he said, resigning himself to his fate and gesturing towards his studio. “We must begin again.”
© Kari Fay
(Author’s Note: Three Word Wednesday time again, and this week the words are False, Illustrate and Sallow.)
The Best Place By The Fire 
good for hr she wants to be true to herself.Great story as always
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Surely there would be a tiny part of the portrait that she could see herself and thus be beguiled into liking and approving of it? Most women thus flattered would flutter their eyelashes and say “Does that really look like me?” She is too honest for her own good. Mind you the painter is a bit slow, He should have said that he was trying to portray the beauty of the real person inside her.
ps. Your blog photo is stunning, is that the real you?
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I don’t know if it’s “too honest for her own good” – I was thinking of the possibly apocryphal story that Anne of Cleves was painted in an overly flattering light, and the disappointment led Henry VIII to not consummate and then annul the marriage. P.S. the photo is really me, but not with my real hair 🙂
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good for her and all but honestly I feel bad for the painter, I mean what he did was sweet and what any man should do say your beauty is from the inside (and that its how all people should see you and all that stuff) and she basically told him to shove it.
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Yes, it could have been the Anne of Cleves story. Well written, by the way.
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Love it! Although it would be rare to find a woman who would not enjoy seeing herself more beautiful under the strokes of a gifted artist.
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I agree with her. Honesty is best. I like this story a lot!
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