Eloise felt she had a decent amount of experience with blizzards. Linford's family was largely located north of the city, up in the mountains and forests where the temperatures frequently dipped in winter and blizzards blew easily. They had been trapped with his parents for nearly a month one winter when Philip was small, and subsequently it was among the worst months of her young adult life. Her mother-in-law was a nitpicking old bat, who saw nothing but Eloise's failures in guiding Philip's education. Never mind the fact that Philip wasn't even in long pants yet nor the fact that his governess was trapped back in the city — all that had mattered was that Philip hadn't yet mastered her native language.
Indeed, Eloise knew much about blizzards, which was how she knew when it was time to hunker down at home with only those she could tolerate for more than a hour at a time.
The house was eerily quiet.
Deciding the best way to break the silence was to practice her long dusty skills on the pianoforte, Eloise primly sat on the bench with the ivory keys displayed before her. One note bled into the other, her fingers only rarely tapping the wrong key, as she eased into her favorite forgotten hobby. The music drowned out the silence and frustrating memories until, rather suddenly, Mr. Jacobs, her young and in-training footman, stood on the peripherals of her vision.
Her reprimands were abruptly concluded when he fearfully mentioned the reason for his intrusion, "Mr. Scrimgeour is urgently requesting your presence."
Eloise was instantly in motion, stopping only an arm's reach away from her love. Weeks had passed since their last conversation and, much to her immense horror, he looked wretched. "Julius? Here, come with me." She instructed, taking his exhausted appearance as a need for privacy, she quickly led them into the sunny parlor and shot Jacobs a look that screamed disturb us and die. Then — and only then — she faced him again and asked in a soft tone full of concern, "what's happened? I thought the floo wasn't operational — did you come from home?"
Indeed, Eloise knew much about blizzards, which was how she knew when it was time to hunker down at home with only those she could tolerate for more than a hour at a time.
The house was eerily quiet.
Deciding the best way to break the silence was to practice her long dusty skills on the pianoforte, Eloise primly sat on the bench with the ivory keys displayed before her. One note bled into the other, her fingers only rarely tapping the wrong key, as she eased into her favorite forgotten hobby. The music drowned out the silence and frustrating memories until, rather suddenly, Mr. Jacobs, her young and in-training footman, stood on the peripherals of her vision.
Her reprimands were abruptly concluded when he fearfully mentioned the reason for his intrusion, "Mr. Scrimgeour is urgently requesting your presence."
Eloise was instantly in motion, stopping only an arm's reach away from her love. Weeks had passed since their last conversation and, much to her immense horror, he looked wretched. "Julius? Here, come with me." She instructed, taking his exhausted appearance as a need for privacy, she quickly led them into the sunny parlor and shot Jacobs a look that screamed disturb us and die. Then — and only then — she faced him again and asked in a soft tone full of concern, "what's happened? I thought the floo wasn't operational — did you come from home?"