Fighting monsters and demons in association with BBC Cult.
She made her way through the house and down the grand staircase at its heart, into the foyer. Farris kept pace with her as though he were her personal guardian, and she knew that in a way he was. Without William in the house it would have been entirely inappropriate for her to meet behind closed doors with a male visitor, stranger or not.
The doors to the drawing room had been left open and as her skirts whispered across the floor her mysterious visitor glanced up from his perch upon the settee and caught sight of her. He was an old man with only wisps of white hair and skin rough and weathered, and his eyes narrowed with determination when she strode into the room. Tea had been brought to him, but now he set the cup back upon the tray and stood quickly.
"Miss Swift, thank you so much for agreeing to speak with me," he said.
Farris took up a place just inside the drawing room and she could not shake the sudden image that came into her mind, that she was a Sister of Charity come to visit a prisoner on the day of his execution. Certainly the desperation and sorrow in her visitor's expression did nothing to dissuade her of the illusion.
