What a way to spend the day after Christmas, being driven from Cambridge to Derbyshire in snowy conditions. She was cold. Even with the layers of her mother’s furs, she felt the bite of the English winter. She was running late - the letter had instructed to be there in time for dinner, and already it was 9pm. The thought of dinner perked her up just a little, but she supposed that there would be nothing but the scraps left. She gripped the envelope in her hand, it was crumpled and a little crispy around the corners from having gotten damp from a few sploshes of tea here and there. 

All she could hope for at this point would be a roaring fire to sit beside and get warmed up. She had been an assistant to Professor O’Connell for some time now, but this was the first time she had been asked to courier something. On Boxing Day no less. At least she assumed it was a pick-up. It couldn’t [i]just[/i] be a pick up, she had been instructed to pack some practical clothing too. Whatever it was, Professor O’Connell had not thought it important enough for him to attend. She hadn’t [i]actually[/i] read the letter. Maybe she should, maybe she still had time! What if this was all a big prank? Would her Professor really do that? It seemed rather elaborate...

Finally, she felt the car turn off and noticed the familiar feeling of driving on gravel, and she heard it too, that recognisable gritty drag. She pressed her face to the window and got her first glimpse of the Baron’s manor, she had made it. 9:05pm, only an hour or so late.  She could make out the figure of someone in the doorway as she climbed out of the car, she fumbled around in her purse looking for something, the letter still in her hand, pressed against the velvet of her purse, as she continued to rummage through, a brisk breeze caught her by surprise, and so the letter floated away on it without her realising. The driver in the front seat coughed to get the girl’s attention, motioning to the door which she had left open, at his request, she bent backwards swiftly and closed the door with her bottom, hands still deep in the lining of her bag. He shook his head, chuckled, and got out of the car himself to grab Florence’s suitcase from the boot of the car, walking it up to the door of the Manor.

“Fiddlesticks, where did I put those things…” she muttered to herself as she started to walk towards the entrance, the cold air starting to get to her. She felt a presence before her, and then heard a voice; “well, Professor O’Connell, you’re not quite what I was expecting..” there was a light humour in the tone, that cause Florence to laugh and pull her head towards him, and out of her bag. “I’m his assistant sir, he sent me down here to attend for him” the Butler noticed that the young woman was missing something, as he had watched her quizzically searching her things for the last minute or so. “Well in that case then, may I help you to locate something, Ma’am?”

“I can’t find my glasses, and I can’t really see all too well without them, I swear they were in my bag…” she said in a puzzled tone and in a way similar to the driver, the Butler cleared his throat for her attention, he made a motion to her chest. She placed her hands where he was pointing, finding her glasses on their chain. “Oh, how silly of me of course!” she put the glasses on and was finally able to make out the details of the Manor, and of the Butler. She could hear talking from somewhere, just faintly.

“I’m sorry that I’m late, and I hope you’ll accept me here in place of the Professor, I mean, I hope that the Baron will find it acceptable.”

[center]________[/center]

The Butler led her inside, immediately she felt the warmth and it flowed through her like relief. The voices got louder until they arrived at a closed door, the Butler gave a short knock and led her in, well, she could see that quite the party was happening in what appeared to be a banquet hall of some kind. She gasped as she took it all in, before realising that the entire room had grown foggy. [i]Oh no[/i] she thought to herself, once again, a tad embarrassed by herself. 

Her glasses had steamed up.

The Butler spoke, and had she been able to see, she would have noticed that he was grinning in the direction of the Baron and his guests; “This young woman has been sent by Professor O’Connell my Lord-”

“F-F-Florence Montgomery, I’m Florence Montgomery!” she said softly to the Butler so that only he could hear, her glasses off as she rubbed the lenses free of fog with a handkerchief.

“My Lord, this young woman is Florence Montgomery, the assistant of Professor O’Connell. She has been sent in his place.” The Butler was still grinning, and he excused himself, closing the door behind him. When Florence moved to step forwards again into the room, glasses back on, she found that her skirt had been closed in the door, and so her step forwards only jolted her back. 

[i]It can’t get any worse, can it?[/i] she thought to herself, feeling her cheeks flush red, and sadly not from the warmth - but from the complete discomposure of it all.