12 June 1893; Rome, Italy
Somewhere a few miles back, Irene’s comprehension of Italian had dwindled away like fine dust. She was perfectly alright to disembark from the ship, however navigating to the station and then finding transportation was another thing entirely. She thankfully had the help of the porter to help her with her suitcases, and just when she was about to go through the magical arch into the Muggle world, she caught wind of her name being called. Knowing it was highly unlikely she would ever know someone here in Italy, Irene turned willingly and found a rather stiff looking gentleman with a shockingly white mustache and a severe brow. “I’m she.” Irene replied tentatively as the poor porter almost collided with her sudden stop.
“I am Mr. Wilson, Mrs. Cecilia Shaw’s attorney.” It took Irene a moment to recover from her surprise. The letter had been quite kind in its tone and in no way did she expect such a letter to be penned by such a severe looking man.
“A pleasure,” she eventually managed, gripping her suitcase tightly in one hand and the basket in the other. “I apologize if I’m overdue.”
“Not at all, Miss Crawley.” He truly didn’t seem perturbed in the slightest, but Irene couldn’t shake the feeling of being under his gaze. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we have a bit of a journey ahead of us.”
Us. “Us - you - oh!” A flush rushed up Irene’s spine and she lurched into motion as she caught on. He would be her escort to her cousin, she realized as she hurriedly put her suitcase on the ground for the porter to load. Perhaps they would get the paperwork finished sooner than she thought. Once she climbed in, Irene set Bear’s basket down and sat as still as she could across from Mr. Wilson. With a rap on the roof, they lurched forwards and were soon winding through the streets of Rome.
Having last been to Rome more than a decade ago, it was almost more of a surprise than being at the docks in London. But where London’s weather was sharp and full of smog, Rome was clear, blue and filled with the scent of the nearby sea. Bear must have sensed it too, for one side of the basket immediately popped open and the large cat emerged to take in his surroundings. “Oh…erm…” Irene had neglected to write anything about bringing an animal with her, and it certainly showed in the semi-shocked face of Mr. Wilson. “I…do hope you’re not allergic?” She ventured, her tone already apologetic.
But before Mr. Wilson could answer, Bear met the man’s gaze, blinked his yellow eyes, and the cat’s mustache immediately turned the exact shade of white that Mr. Wilson’s bore. Irene's jaw dropped, and she let out a strangled sounding noise before clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle the oncoming giggle. How in the world did one apologize for their cat?
Mr. Wilson looked from Irene to Bear and back again before giving a resigned sigh. “You and Mrs. Shaw might get on more than I had originally assumed.”
Whether that was permission for her to continue to laugh unabashedly or not, Irene couldn’t keep it in much longer and tried to control her shaking shoulders as she coughed once again into her hand. Her familiar’s behavior was so unexpected, she would have felt like apologizing again. Her thoughts, however had already come to an immediate stillness. She’d already been writing the letter in her head to tell him of this first amusing sight, until she it all came crashing down again. Elias had made his choice, and Irene hers. And though she couldn’t stop her thoughts from telling him this story, she had be content in letting them go no further than the passing fields out the window.
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