The evening was warm for December, a light breeze stirring the branches of the trees in the garden. The sky was slowly darkening. An orange pinprick of light could just be seen on the back veranda, and if you looked closely, you could make out the tall figure of a man standing in the shadows, smoking a cigarette.
The back door swung open, bright yellow light streaming into the garden. The man straightened abruptly, peering round for the origin of the light. He hesitated, as though unsure he wanted to be seen. Then another person's head was silhouetted in the doorway and a loud whisper cut through the dusky air.
"That you, Crawford?"
"Yes - what took so long, man?"
The figure stepped into the light, snatching his hat from his head. He was instantly remarkable by his shock of orange hair, which he rumpled with one hand while extending the other to the man who had opened the door. Bright eyes reflected the light, flashing out merrily from a youthful, freckled face, and all at once he appeared no older than twenty.
"Better late than not at all," laughed his friend, clasping his hand. "Come on in - that's right - I've only got a moment to spare. Mother wants the family to make a formal entrance, and I can't find my dinner-jacket. What is it? You look queer."
The redhead started, turning away from the door. "Do I? I'm fine, really. Er - how long will the formal entrance take?"
"Just a minute. She wants us coming down the staircase, and I'm not even ready. Where are your parents? I thought they were coming tonight."
They had turned, walking briskly down a narrow hallway, and in this light the person who had opened the door could be seen. He was nearly as tall as his friend but darker in appearance, a slim young fellow with unconventionally long dark hair, cut raggedly at his jawline. He was certainly younger than the man he'd addressed as Crawford, but had an air of confidence about him.
"My parents - er - were unable to come tonight." Crawford said vaguely. "It's all right - I'd rather have my own fun anyway, if you know what I'm saying." He shot his friend a half-hearted grin.
"Really? Well, Callie said you were here this morning already," replied the dark-haired gentleman mischievously. "She's always going on about your adventures. Archie this, Archie that - have a nice outing, did you?"
"Oh... yes. Where were you, then - entertaining Miss Macmillan?"
"Studying, my friend. I ought to be at school, you know that, but Father gets us these exemptions occasionally. I haven't seen Sara for a few days, she'll come tonight."
They had come out into a large room, arranged like a study. Bookshelves lined one wall, but the armchairs were centred around a low table with a half-finished game of checkers on it. Crawford hung back at the doorway, but the other boy swept in as though he owned the place.
"There's my jacket!" he exclaimed, snatching it off the back of a low sofa. "I must have been half mad, to take it off and forget it here. Anyhow, Sara's a pretty girl, but Mother's the one in love with her - her title anyway. Their family are second cousins to some duke, and her father probably seven hundredth in line for the throne of England or some such nonsense. I don't keep track. Are you coming in? You can put your hat and coat in the front hall, there will probably be people arriving now."
He turned back to face the red-haired young man, who jumped to attention. "What's the matter? You look pale as death. Have you heard a word I've been saying?"
"Yes, of course... I'll put my coat in the front hall. I'm sorry - a little distracted." Crawford darted nervous glances between the doors as they passed through the study and into another hall.
Seeming to suddenly understand, the younger fellow lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Is it the boys? Did something happen at the meeting?"
If possible, the redhead grew even paler, his freckles standing out in stark contrast against his skin. "How... how did you know? You could put it that way, I suppose, but—"
"It's all right, man. Look, you don't have to tell me. If you're missing out on a night's work by coming, don't worry about it. Just enjoy the party." He slapped his friend on the shoulder, turning into the front entranceway.
Some of the colour had returned to Crawford's face. "You're right, of course. Just forget it."
"Good. Just leave your things there, the maid will hang them up - yes, thank you, Lizabeth. Is my jacket on right? I did the buttons in a dreadful hurry—"
"Don't ask me," his friend said shortly. "I can hardly dress myself. But look here, Lee—" and suddenly his manner became earnest. "They're moving tonight. I shouldn't even be telling you this, but I'd keep on the alert, if I were you. There's something you don't know about—"
"Master Lee!"
A soft female voice was heard just at their shoulders, and they both glanced down in surprise. A blonde girl in a servant's dress had apparently just hurried up, dipping her head in subservience. Her cheeks were flushed slightly with exertion. "Beg pardon, Master Lee, but Mistress Winchester is looking everywhere for you. She wants you to come immediately, for the formal entrance. If it's possible, sir..."
The dark-haired young man clapped a hand to his forehead. "Right! I was distracted again, wasn't I. Thanks, of course, ah..." He frowned quizzically at the girl. "What's your name?"
She looked up, eyes wide. "Oh - sorry - it's Emma, sir. Did you... need anything else?"
"One moment, that's all. I'll be there instantly." Lee dismissed her, turning back to face his friend, but Crawford was staring after the maid as she slipped through the doors to the ballroom. "What?"
"Are you on first-name basis with all the servant girls, man? First the old lady in the front hall—"
"Some. I don't know. I try to be polite. Is it important?" He looked vaguely disconcerted at the shift in topic. "Was there something else you had to tell me?"
"Just the pretty ones, then?" The redhead smirked, deftly avoiding the question. "Who was that?"
"I think she's my sister's. A new acquisition - probably Irish. Why?" Lee became defensive. "Look, Archie, if you weren't going to say anything important, I've got to go. Mother's not one to be kept waiting."
"Go on. I'll find you afterwards." Crawford nodded jerkily. "Just... keep your head up, mate."
Lee swept his dark hair out of his face as he entered the ballroom. Weaving his way through the already-gathered crowd of guests, he absently straightened the cuffs of his dinner-jacket and wished the formal gathering to be over with.
People swirled around him, men in dark suits and ladies in subdued and tasteful colours. A shocking hue of scarlet slashed through a gap between two gentlemen, and the young master slipped between them, coming face-to-face with his sister.
Charlotte frowned as he stepped up, wrinkling her nose. "What took so long? Doesn't Archie know how to use the front entrance? Come on, Mother's waiting."
She abruptly turned and began to make her way to the back of the room, hardly giving her brother time to keep up. He didn't bother to ask how she knew he'd let Crawford in, able to smell as well as she the cigarette smoke on his clothing. Personally, Lee rarely smoked, but it was a common habit among fashionable gentlemen.
Their mother had fewer words for the two of them than they may have expected, as she was still issuing last-minute orders to a small army of servants in the back corridor. They were hastened upstairs before they knew it, and instantly their father was behind them, laying a hand on his daughter's shoulder and guiding them down the grand staircase. At the bottom, a servant stood ready to announce their arrival.
"Gentlemen, ladies, please welcome Lord Henry Winchester, and his wife the lovely Lady Louise... their children... Charlotte Alexandra... and Charles Henry... of Winchester Hall.
"Thank you."
*****
Meet our friend Callie's family;) I think we're really progressing here! Don't worry, there'll be some real action very soon. And if you were waiting for Sherlock and only Sherlock, the second chapter is coming up. Stay tuned!
~ KaciaM❤️