Crowley Hall

Crowley Hall is rather dark and gloomy, a bit reminiscent of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. Still, Crowley Hall is quite cool in the summer even if it is drafty as hell in the middle of winter. However, during the warm months, the Crowley family summer Soirees are quite popular to attend given the coolness of the hall without the need for or the aid of cooling charms.

Bethanie arrived in a candlelit hall and stepped out from the hearth carefully making sure her skirt remains untouched from soot. Esmond and Spurgeon wait for her all alone as their parents had long ago swept down the hall to make their presence known and greet the hosts.

With a nod of his head, Spurgeon leads the way with Bethanie trailing after Esmond. Their parents were at present conversing with Mr. and Mrs. Crowley. Mr. Crowley is a large balding man with rather thick eyebrows, while his dark-haired wife has an unpleasant face and looks like a fat sausage squeezed into a dress.

From behind the Crowley hosts, their daughter, Quyen Crowley is scowling in boredom. Her face darkens at seeing Bethanie Fawley approach. Quyen had never liked Bethanie ever since the punchbowl incident back when they were seven years old. And even now, Quyen was still convinced that the horrid girl had done it all on purpose, not that she could prove it.

Lysithea Fawley half tilts to her side showcasing her long, silky neck. "There you are children," Lysithea drawled. "Whatever took you so long?"

The three Fawley children ignore their mother as the two boys bow and Bethanie curtsies to their hosts. "Thank you for inviting us this evening," the Fawley children said in unison.

Mrs. Crowley's lips twitch with disdain as she rather disliked children. She'd not wanted any of her own, but to her surprise, she found herself pregnant some odd fourteen years ago. Thankfully, her husband had hardly ever visited her bed since then and no other pesky child had been born unto them.

And as for her lowly daughter, well, the minute she'd been born she'd been handed over to the house elves to be taken care of. With the exception of feeding the newborn as needed, Mrs. Crowley had not given her child any maternal or motherly care. However, in Mrs. Crowley's opinion, she had done plenty by birthing the noisy child and ensuring the proper education of the troublesome chit.

Seeing his wife's irritated expression, Mr. Crowley's dull voice says, "Yes, well, it is our pleasure."

Turning toward his wife, Mr. Crowley says, "I do believe it is time, we mingle with our guests."

However, before Mrs. Crowley can answer the sound of flames in the hearth causes them all to turn around. Quickly stepping down the hallway is a very petite woman with strawberry blond bobbed hair in a gorgeous cream-colored silk gown. Accompanying her is a medium-sized man with light-colored hair and a finely, trimmed mustache. And following closely behind them is their secondborn, their only daughter, Tiffany Topsy.

Tiffany's eyes light up at spotting one of her best friends in the distance. She isn't able to completely hide her delight as her lips twitch with mirth. Flouncing happily behind her parents, she hurries after them towards the hosts of the soiree.

The Topsy couple courteously greet the Fawley family and the soiree's hosts, the Crowley couple. The adults politely greet each other as Tiffany impishly reaches over from behind her parent's back and playfully tugs on Esmond's cheek earning her a rather peeved glance from the boy. Before she can attempt the same on Spurgeon, the older boy firmly places his sister between the two of them.

Quyen's eyes darken in annoyance and in envy at the ease of Tiffany's interaction. She didn't have anyone that she could truly call a close friend merely allies at best. She really had tried this past year during her third year, but that pathetic attempt had failed miserably. And she was much too proud to apologize despite feeling so lonely. Because pride was all that she truly had left.

With pleasantries now over with Mrs. Crowley's eyes, the petite, lovely daughter of the Topsy's. "I must give my belated congratulations on the successful marriage contract between your daughter and Vespucci's. I can easily see why the Vespucci's wanted her," Mrs. Crowley muttered.

Mrs. Topsy beams with pride and joy at the compliment. "I know," Mrs. Topsy gleefully answered. "My Tiffany is quite the beauty, but not as lovely as Bethanie here. Still, the Vespucci's wanted a daughter of the sacred twenty-eight families, and I was a Selwyn, before I married, my dearest husband."

Lysithea's lips twitch in annoyance at Mrs. Topsy's words. It was a constant source of irritation that she was not a member of the sacred twenty-eight families, but that her husband and children were. Not that she and her husband would have ever accepted the Vespucci's suit as they were Italian's, but still, she hated to be passed by someone who she considered beneath herself.

Lysithea smoothly interrupts, "Well, I am so glad that is the case, my dear. However, I must ask with the ongoing interest in the Prince family, what else is new?"

Mrs. Topsy doesn't even pause as she smoothly answers, "Well, in that regard, Tiffany and the Prince children are rather good friends. Why even Bethanie is on fairly good terms with the Prince children, or at least that is what Tiffany has told me."

Lysithea's eyes flash with annoyance as she snaps her fan open before her face to hide the irritated smile on her face. "Pardon me, I am a tad flushed."

Bogdan ignores his wife and instead asks, "Is that true? I was under the impression that everyone is on friendly terms with the Prince children."

Mrs. Topsy chuckles and makes a dismissive motion with her hand. "Nonsense. Why my Tiffany including your daughter, and Flint's daughter are all in the same dorm. And from what Tiffany has told me, the four girls get along rather well."

Lysithea's fan hand is drawn closer to her face to hide her expression. Mrs. Topsy lips twitch slightly in a smirk. She knew exactly what Mrs. Fawley had been trying to do all along. Just because she was a jovial-natured woman did not mean she was a fool. She'd been born Selwyn, after all.

Mr. Topsy at seeing his wife's cat-like expression upon having spotted something of interest, swiftly says, "Excuse us, Crowley, but we are expected within."

Mr. Topsy firmly tugs his wife's hand along as Mrs. Topsy flashes Lysithea a final bright smile, before darting into the ballroom. Tiffany with no shame whatsoever drags Bethanie and Esmond right after as she follows her parents. Not that Bethanie nor Esmond protested much as Spurgeon quickly made his escape by keeping close to them.

Seeing the Topsy's join the crowd, Mr. Crowley says, "Then let us join them as well, wife." Mrs. Crowley takes her cue and takes her husband's arm as the two of them enter the ballroom followed by their daughter, and then by the Fawley couple.