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5. Astrid and the Nutcracker Doll

Ladybird nearly fell as she stepped out of the carriage and ran up the street. She had forgotten her hat pin and now held her hat on her head to keep it from flying away. He skirt billowed in the breeze as she held her wrapped canvases under her arm.

As she ran she quickly read the addresses of the buildings. When she found the address she came to a quick halt out of breath and looked up at the home beyond the gates proudly adorned with a well manicured lawn that called back memories of the mansions in Narrow Lake.

She gave the gate a push and stepped inside. She quickly adjusted her clothes and fluffed her pompadour before walking tall up the walkway. When she reached the back door she knocked and as expected a maid answered.

"Good morning, I'm Ladybird Winters; I'm here about Mrs. Baudin's portrait." She gave a smile but the middle aged colored woman looked her over and regarded her with a grunt before letting her in.

"Wipe your feet I just mopped this floor," she said curtly.

Ladybird wiped her shoes on a mat that the maid looked sore to see collect bits of dirt then followed the maid into the foyer. As she stepped forward she took a look around at the breathtaking foyer. "If I wasn't wiser, I'd be certain I'd meet a queen."

The maid scrunched up her nose and Ladybird wondered if she might have smelt bad. "You wait here and don't go touching anything, you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ladybird said feeling the twist of the knife that had already been stuck in her. As the maid walked away to get the home owners Ladybird turned around to admire the furnishing. Each curve of wood, each polished tile and every pillar seemed to be filled with character. "Beatrice would have loved this."

"May I help you?"

Ladybird turned at the sound of the demanding voice. Her mouth opened as the mustached man glared at her with close set blue eyes but no words came out. "Are you dumb or can you speak?"

"I...I..." Ladybird remembered the paintings under her arm. "I'm here about Mrs. Baudin's portrait," she finally managed. "I was hired to paint it from a photograph she sent me, I have it here." She fumbled in her bag and presented it to the man as he came towards her.

"You were the one I hired to paint my wife's portrait?" His eyes ran over her and he regarded her with an equal amount of disgust that the maid had.

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, sir," Ladybird said.

"Well you should be," the man said. "I previously engaged right now and don't need this nonsense."

"I'm sorry," Ladybird said again. "I was under the impression you knew I was coming."

The man faltered but caught himself. "Well clearly the mistake is on your part."

The sound of shoes on the tile echoed up the hall and Ladybird almost gasped when a familiar face appeared. "Mr. St. Cloud, what are the odds?"

Jessop looked between the two of them. "Is there a problem, Mr. Baudin?"

"Only a misunderstanding," Mr. Baudin said. "This gal here says I hired her to paint my wife's portrait." He held up the photograph. "I'm not sure how she came by this but there must have been some mistake."

Jessop glanced at Ladybird.

Ladybird spoke up. "I have the portrait with me—"