Chapter 318 - Crowley Hall (1/2)
Crowley Hall is rather dark and gloomy, a bit of a reminiscent of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Still, Crowley Hall is quite cool in the summer even if it is drafty as hell in the middle of winter. However, during the warm months, the Crowley's Soiree's are quite popular to attend given the coolness of the hall without the need or aid of cooling charms.
Bethanie arrived in a candlelit hall and stepped out from the hearth carefully making sure her skirt remains untouched of any soot. Esmond and Spurgeon wait for her all alone as their parents had long ago swept down the hall to make their presence known and greet the hosts.
With a nod of his head, Spurgeon leads the way with Bethanie trailing after Esmond. Their parents were at present conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Crowley. Mr. Crowley is a large balding man with rather thick eyebrows, while his dark-haired wife has an unpleasant face and looks like a fat sausage squeezed into a dress.
From behind the Crowley hosts, their daughter, Quyen Crowley is scowling in boredom. Her face darkens at seeing Bethanie Fawley approach them. Quyen had never liked Bethanie ever since the punchbowl incident back when they were seven years old. And even now, Quyen was still convinced that the horrid girl had done it all on purpose not she could prove it.
Lysithea Fawley half tilts to her side showcase her long, silky neck. ”There you are children,” Lysithea drawled. ”Whatever took you so long?”
The three Fawley children ignore their mother as the two boys bow and Bethanie curtsies to their hosts. ”Thank you for inviting us this evening,” the Fawley children said in unison.
Mrs. Crowley lips twitch with disdain as she rather disliked children. She'd not wanted any of her own, but to her surprise she found herself pregnant some odd fourteen years go. Thankfully, her husband had hardly ever visited her bed since then and no other pesky child had been born to them.
And as for her lowly daughter, well, the minute she'd been born she'd been handed over to the house elves to be taken care of. With the exception of feeding the newborn as needed, Mrs. Crowley had not given her child any maternal nor motherly care. However, in Mrs. Crowley's opinion she had done plenty by birthing the noisy child and ensuring the proper education of the chit.
Seeing his wife's irritated expression, Mr. Crowley's dull voice says, ”Yes, well, it is our pleasure.”
Turning toward his wife, Mr. Crowley says, ”I do believe it is time, we mingle with our guests.”
However, before Mrs. Crowley can reply to the comment, the sound of flames shooting in the hearth causes them all to turn around. Quickly stepping down the hallway is a very petite woman with strawberry blond bobbed hair in a gorgeous cream-colored silk gown. Accompanying her is a medium-sized man with light-colored hair and a finely, trimmed mustache. And following closely behind them is their second born, their only daughter, Tiffany Topsy.
Tiffany's eyes light up at spotting one of her best friends in the distance. She isn't able to completely hide her delight as her lips twitch with mirth. Flouncing happily behind her parents, she hurries after them towards the hosts of the soiree.
The Topsy couple happily greets the Fawley's and the soiree's hosts, the Crowley couple. The adults politely greet each other as Tiffany impishly reaches over from behind her parents back and playfully tugs on Esmond's cheek earning her a rather peeved glance from the boy. Before she can attempt the same on Spurgeon, the older boy firmly places his sister between the two of them.
Quyen's eyes darken in annoyance and in envy at the ease of Tiffany's interaction. She didn't have anyone that she could truly call a close friend merely allies at best. She'd really had tried this past year during her third year, but that pathetic attempt had failed miserably. And she was much too proud to apologize despite feeling so lonely. Because pride was all that she truly had left.