Florence stepped into the hall just as Cathryn breezed past, giving her an unusually un-Cathryn hostile glare. Florence shrugged and laughed silently to herself. Cathryn soundlessly continued down the hall. Turning around, Florence saw Clair's door propped open just down the hall. An urge so strong tugged at her heart to go and speak with him, but she bit her lip and decided against it. She was going to be late for dinner already.
Slightly disappointed, she willed herself to leave the boy in the room, and head down to the dining hall. Each time she entered the room, she took notice of something new, it was impossible not to. The room was grand, large tall ceiling, and wooden paneling ran along the walls. Thick velvet curtains were drawn back to reveal the diamond paned windows set into the furthest wall. Briefly, Florence recounted the the spring cotillion they would hold each year. She mainly remembered dancing with her cousin, the two of them, practically inseparable. He'd whisk her across the floor, the two of them seamlessly in step with each other. They giggled all the while, earning glances from the elderly, remembering their time as children.
The thoughts of the spring cotillion flew from her mind as her father beckoned her to her placement at the table. Cathryn was already seated, a much more pleasant look occupying her face now. Florence eased her muscles and planted herself in her seat. Harriet's eyes swept from side to side, her eyebrows drawing together. She widened her eyes at her husband, who had already begun to reach to serve himself.
"It appears Mr. Thompson must've gotten lost." She announced, slightly amused.
Just then, Clair burst through the double doors, all eyes turned to face him. He stood, panting, hair disheveled. He barely straightened himself up before speaking, seemingly dying to announce whatever was so important.
"I'm so sorry, it's just that- someone is here to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Fawn." He rushed out.
Then began walking towards the table in fast clipped strides, hands at his side. Augustus Fawn stood up quickly, looking worriedly at his wife.
"Oh alright then, I'll just be a moment dear." He announced, hurrying out of the hall.
Clair remained silent, his face paled. Florence eyed him carefully, her mother seemed to notice his unusual expression as well.
"Mr. Thompson, are you feeling alright?" She questioned, her voice as sweet as honey.
"Yes, I'm sorry ma'am." He responded, keeping his eyes fixed on his empty plate.
Florence was still suspicious. Aurora and Jacob stayed nervously quiet, Aurora busying herself by stroking the hair of her doll. Cathryn pursed her lips and examined Clair. Suddenly, the creak of the large rosewood doors drew each person out of their reverie. Florence's father stood, a wobbly smile on his lips.
"It's for you Ms. Lovell." He announced.