The weather was absolutely dreadful, the pouring rain giving way to violent sleet and hail and then back to rain. It was almost as if the world had been turned upside down, and the oceans fell into the heavens before returning to earth in a blinding fury. This sort of weather reminded Harley of when she was growing up in New England. It also reminded her of how much she had hated it, and left. How she did long to return to the warm shores of France, how beautiful it was in the summer and spring. Even London, though it in itself was an over-polluted cesspool drowning in it's own grey skies and damp demeanor, was beginning to look more and more preferable to this. How had people managed to inhabit this island for so long? Not only was it unpleasant, it was damn near impossible to get around! Her carriage driver had taken her through winding detours, past bogs and swamps, hills that were too tall to bee hills, and mountains far too small to be considered mountains. On top of everything, the roads were so horribly paved that she was bumped and most surely bruised just from being inside the vehicle. At the very least, they were inside the town of Brearside before the weather took a turn for the worse, if that was even possible.

Grabbing her umbrella and suitcase, Harley adjusted her skirt and bustle so that the hem was four inches above her ankles. Thank goodness she had the sense to pack her boots, though she doubted whether or not they would survive the trip to the Findlay Manor. She stepped outside and was immediately buffeted by a blasting zephyr of stinging rain, which burned like ice. She pulled her hat down and opened her umbrella, nodding to her cab driver as she hurried down the street, if it could even resemble one any more, it was more and more resembling a flood, mud and horse dung stagnating the swirling waters, obscuring one's perceptions to the depths of the puddles.
She only walked on the high ground, why were there no sidewalks in this dinky little village? Lugging her heavy bag, battling to keep her umbrella over her head, and not fall into the festering pools of god-knows-what, these were challenges that it seemed even Hercules would cringe at. Still, through the forceful gale and the typhoon levels of rain, she managed to arrive at the Manor's property, safe and sound as a drowning kitten, which she felt she was more and more resembling.

She hurried to the front door, balancing the umbrella on her shoulder as she readjusted her hat and skirts, before lifting the heavy knocker, bringing it down loudly. She hopped from foot to foot, rubbing her gloved hands together. Lord above, how was it possible for it to be so cold and yet still rain? Did the tumultuous cloud above whip and beat the rain drops so fiercely that they could not freeze? Or was this the normal wether here? It was hard to believe this humble village was a mere twenty miles north of Carlisle, and yet the climate so much more vicious and unforgiving.

However, whatever fates had taken such joy in hindering her journey apparently had taken mercy, as the door soon opened, bringing a thinly veiled look of relief to her face. She put on the best smile she could give in these uncomfortable conditions, for the sake of being polite.
"Mister Findlay? Oh, you don't know how wonderful it is to finally meet you. May I come in? I apologize for being late, my carriage was slowed by the weather. Oh, forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Harley Williams, your correspondent from the Carlisle police department?"