The Steerpike Family Home
Loshis 23, 2719 | Morning
Loshis 23, 2719 | Morning
“Thank you for coming, you are too kind. I know they would have been happy to know you cared.”
Lilliana Steerpike frowned delicately. No, that wouldn’t do. Her voice still sounded false to her own ears. She had to be sincere. Though her gold eyes were glassy with unshed tears, her voice would betray her in the end.
“Thank you for coming,” she murmured, touching the cosmetics at her vanity. The choice must be made carefully. Something soft and neutral, the face of grieving filial piety. “Thank you, for coming. Yes, it was terribly sudden. So young…” Her dress would be similarly restrained. Silk was still appropriate, she thought. But nothing too ostentatious, perhaps even a little plain. The wardrobe she had commissioned in Florne would not do. A dark blue, she thought, to wash her out and make her look pale with grief.
Satisfied with the image in the glass before her, Lilliana Steerpike smiled. The funeral was to be later that evening, a small gathering of close family friends and relatives held in the Steerpike family home in Vienda, to be followed by a larger gathering to celebrate their lives and her return to the country of her birth. She had made the arrangements before she had departed Florne; the sooner such a necessary display was over and done with, the better. Julietta and Edmund had spoken of selling the family home, some years ago--Ana was glad that nothing had come of such discussions. It would have been… inconvenient, to say the least, to have no residence of her own while she was in Anaxas settling the affairs of their estate. And for what she planned to do after the funeral--well, she couldn’t very well go back to Bastia, could she?
Not once she had her sister back.
The Offices of Renfield, Agnew and Coombs
Loshis 27, 2719| Mid-Afternoon
Loshis 27, 2719| Mid-Afternoon
“I am aware that it will be difficult, Mr. Agnew, that is why I am paying you such exorbitant fees.”
Mr. Berthold Agnew, a pinched-looking man in his early 60s, sat across the desk from Lilliana Steerpike. At her statement, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with one boney hand. He looked exhausted, his field sickly. Lilliana had no pity for him; they had been arguing for the better part of an hour in his well-appointed office. The woman was an immovable force, posture rigid and normally-smiling mouth fixed in a thin line. Of course she was aware this would be difficult, she wasn’t a fool. It would be difficult, and arduous, and involve entirely too many forms for her liking. But it had been done before and would be done again. Of this, she had no doubts.
“Miss Steerpike,” Agnew began, stopping at the raise of a perfectly-shaped eyebrow. “Miss Steerpike--I have served as your family’s legal council for many years, and what is more I considered your father a personal friend. No one is more well-aware than I of the difficulty of the decision your parents came to regarding your sister’s… condition. What you are asking for is not merely difficult. For love of your late father, I feel I must be blunt: it is dangerous and foolhardy. Children like your sister are gated for a reason, Miss Steerpike.”
All at once, Mr. Agnew regretted his decision to be so familiar with the elder Miss Steerpike. It was not often that the man had reason to encounter the Steerpike daughter, not since her graduation and subsequent move to Florne to further her studies. He had accordingly seemed to forget the full withering force of her disregard. Lilliana’s field was an unreadable wall, the air heavy and gray with it. The redhead stood, her briefcase clutched in one hand. Though Ana was not a tall woman, she seemed to fill the room as she fixed a heavy stare on Mr. Agnew’s face.
“Mr. Agnew,” she began, her tone dangerously neutral, “are you saying that the associates of Renfield, Agnew and Coombs are not able to assist me in this particular aspect of the settling of my parents’ estate?”
“I am afraid not, Miss Steerpike. As Edmund’s friend, I--”
“Oh, do not trouble yourself, Mr. Agnew. I know all about your friendship with my late father, but I do not believe it warrants worrying over family matters. Thank you for your advice--I’ll be sure to seek further legal counsel elsewhere.”
With one last scouring glance, Lilliana turned sharply on her well-appointed heels and strode out of the room. Only when the door closed behind her did Mr. Agnew let out the breath he had been holding.
“Moony woman--Lady bless her, she’s absolutely lost her mind.” he muttered to himself. He could feel a headache coming on. He needed a drink, quite possibly several in quick succession. Scrubbing his hand across his face, Mr. Agnew took one more glance out of his office window. From his vantage point he could just see the top of Lilliana’s hat as she strode away purposefully through the crowd; he was certain he could hear the sound of her heels neatly striking the cobbled street.
“I tried Edmund, I really did.” Some women, he reflected, simply could not be reasoned with.
