However the title was there. We had been reminded of it at royal affairs even though she waved it off.
“Rubbish and poppycock,” as she said on more than one occasion, and once as a foreign dignitary bowed to her, “I do hope that he doesn’t split out his pants.”
To say that our upbringing was somewhat unusual was an understatement. All in all however, I didn’t consider that we turned out badly. I hoped for as much for Lily.
My aunt’s head butler greeted us at the entrance. “Good day, Miss Mikaela. As always, it is good to see you.”
Beside me, Lily gave him a long look. “He looks like Hoskins at Madame’s house.”
To which his eyebrows shot upward. “Beg pardon, miss?”
It did seem as if there were to be a great many raised brows when it came to this adventure I had undertaken.
I inquired as to my aunt’s whereabouts. However, she called out before he could respond and then appeared from the parlor in what could only be described as full costume considering the rapidly approaching All Hallows party.
“Mikaela! So good to see you, my dear!”
And marvelous to see her as well… If I could actually see her beneath the costume she wore including full make-up and elaborate head piece.
“What do you think?” Aunt Antonia asked, cutting a pirouette in the entrance hall. “Templeton was good enough to send over Mrs. Finch to do my make-up. I think it’s quite marvelous.”
Elvira Finch was my friend Templeton’s dresser and make-up expert for her roles on the stage.
I had one thought— Oh, my!
I should be quite accustomed to such scenes as Linnie and I had grown up with our aunt’s… shall we call them, eccentricities which had made everything quite exciting.
After all, this was a woman who had been planning a safari to Africa at the age of eighty-three until she had the misfortune of injuring her ankle— only a temporary delay, she had insisted until she recovered.
Then, found standing on her head afterward to improve circulation and healing of said ankle. Not to mention sneaking into men’s private clubs out of curiosity, and attending theater for a play for men only— dressed as a man.
“Most entertaining,” she had declared at the time.
I had to agree.
My sister had said more than once that our somewhat unusual childhood had undoubtedly contributed to my desire for adventure.
“You are just like her,” Linnie had declared no few number of times.
Now, in addition to the party at the Grosvenor, our aunt was in the midst of planning an addition to Sussex Square manor with the assistance of her architect. My sister had suggested there was more going on there than merely going over the man’s drawings.
My thoughts on the matter?
Jolly good! And more power to our aunt if it was true. At her age she should be able to choose her adventures. Africa, of course, and other things…
“Mr. Munro,” Aunt Antonia greeted him now. “So good to have you back with us. But you are looking a bit peaked. I hope the trip north was not too strenuous.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” he replied, which considering his demeanor upon arrival, I considered to be a polite lie. He excused himself and rapidly fled— it was the only word for it, to another part of the house.
“And who might this young lady be?” my aunt inquired.
To say that Lily was equally curious was another understatement as she boldly stared back at my aunt.
It might have been the costume— an elaborate recreation of an 18thcentury fashion that Marie Antoinette, former unfortunate Queen of France, might have worn including the elaborate powdered headdress —that impressed Lily.
Or it might have been the make-up my aunt wore, complete with a deathly pallor about the eyes and what appeared to be sunken cheeks. Of course no costume of the dead French queen would be complete without the ghastly slash mark about her neck that had been recreated where the guillotine’s blade had fallen.
“What are you staring at, child?” my aunt demanded.
