Bea looked at the script her name was written in and creased her brows even more. She had assumed maybe it was from Roger or one of her school friends or colleagues perhpas. But it wasn't. She thought maybe that she'd seen this handwriting before in her childhood,but she couldn't place it further than that. 

She turned back into the house after the boy had gone, seemingly listening to her house mother, but she was too intranced with the mystery to pay her much mind. She opened the letter, her eyes scanning it quickly even though they were squnited some because she'd left her reading glasses on the table. But it was her father’s familiar hand, so she didn't struggle too much with reading it.

It took her a moment after Ms. Mortimer had spoken again for her to realize what it was that she'd said to her. "Oh, it's just..." she started, chuckling awkwardly, "just research from one of my colleagues. Couldn't wait." She was used to using this line with Ms. Mortimer. Especially if whatever it was might have come from the less fairer sex. But it was often the truth. They just didn't normally send things round this pressingly this early in the morning. 

"I should head up to my room to have a look at it. Thank you for breakfast, Ms. Mortimer." And without waiting for a reply she hurried past the older woman to collect her glasses and headed up stairs to reread the letter take a look at the half of the map she now had and get a good look at the picture she'd only glanced at for a moment. 

Bea locked her bedroom door behind her, turned on the lamp at her desk and sat in the chair as she stared at the picture. She'd seen maybe one photo of her mother in all her life. But there was no doubt looking at this that the woman was her mother. She remembered her well enough for that. And there she was in her mother's lap with her older sister standing next to them, the pair of them in matching dresses and curls. Her sister looked ever so much like their mother, we're Beatrix had inherited much more of their father's looks. Which was why she'd been the one to stay with him and not the other way around.

She felt tears coming to her eyes before she even looked at anything else. She thought she was past the worst of this grief. The grief of losing all her family. But here she was close to sobbing about it again. Missing her mother and sister had always been a distant ache, something she'd just always had since she'd been so little when they'd left. Even when they'd gotten word that they were presumed dead. She'd cried, but it was as painful as it should have been had they been closer. But her father was still fresh. He'd only been gone a year and now here her wounds were being reopened again. 

Maybe she wouldn't go to class today. Once her tears were spent, she looked over the map he'd inclosed as well, studying ever curve and line of it. Where had he sent the other half? How was she to get anywhere if she only had half the information and no way to find out who had the rest of it? Gathering up her thighs she headed out to the university library, she had research to do before lunch. Hopefully she remembered to actually leave in time for lunch.