House of Gold

[Annette Fontaine]

”We’ll make pretend that you and me

Lived ever after happily.”

[Rasmus Wickliffe]

Smoke trailed in the air behind the warlock as he worked on distancing himself from the party his sister had insisted on coming to. Though it felt as if the deeper he went into the gardens the taller they made him feel, and the firmer his frustration made the puffs on his pipe.

The sound of giggling from across the short hedges had him coughing on a too quick breath of pipe smoke, and he changed direction again quickly. He and his brothers had chaperoned his sister through that stage, no matter how brief it had been, and the thought of coming across whatever was occurring in the gardens - he watched another smoky breath disappear behind him - was enough to send him to the lesser evil of the Black's festivities.

But his escape was hindered at the turn of a corner, his usually adept step to avoid the dress in front of him was foiled when the wearer lurched rearwards. He caught first with a wince the structure she wore then what he could only assume was a foot crushed the tip of his shoe.

"Miss?" He murmured, holding his pipe safely away from the surprisingly destructive witch as he surveyed the ground in front of him. Certainly her diminutive height did nothing to block his view. "Ah, a very unusual placement for a statue, is it not?"

  

[Annette Fontaine]

She inhaled sharply as the statue hit the floor, but fortunately there was no damage to either herself, the statue, or- as she now noticed- the rather tall gentleman she had trodden on the toe of. Anne stepped forward and, more carefully this time, turned around. “Indeed- Madam Flint does seem an adherent to less is bore, though it’s rather in-keeping with the whole evening I suppose.” Concealing gold statues in a maze where they could hardly be seen? It was like gilding the inside of a broom cupboard!

“I do apologise, sir.” She added, bobbing a quick curtsy.