[MaC] ] And so it begins ... Arabella & Pamela

[Knave of Amber]

> > "Come in..." Arabella's voice, crisp and clear as always, rang out
> > without being raised in the slightest. As the door opened she looked up
> > from the bedtable, where she kept the few jewels she had brought with
> > her. "Rubies, do you think, dear?"
> 
>        "Did you bring *those*, Mum? Goodness, if they're -- oh, you *didn't*
> bring the heirloom ones. Good on you; Edmund would fall down in fits if
> those were lost or stolen. Yes, those will do quite nicely, I should think."
> 
> > Flash got up from his comfortable pose near his mistress and went over
> > to sniff at Pamela's hem. Something in the greyhound's attitude caused
> > Arabella to smile at her daughter and say, "He approves. And really,
> > dear, you look quite lovely." She meant it. Pamela was not a glittering
> > beauty, but she had a natural dignity and warmth, as well as good bones,
> > and Arabella thought her the equal of any young lady in London.
> 
>        "Thank you, Mum, and so do you. Ready to go, then?"
> 
>        Pamela kept up a stream of inoffensive chatter as they left Flash in
> the kitchen, locked the flat (Alice had been given the night off), and
> waited for the lift. "I wonder if Mrs. Evans will bring me her sock, so
> I can set the heel for her. Strange thing to bring to a cocktail party,
> but I suppose stranger things have happened around Mrs. Evans..."

[...]

His uniform was pressed and the creases were as sharp as the edge of a
knife. Perhaps he was starting to grey at the temples, but the lines
about his eyes were from sun and laughter, not age. Michael adjusted
his eyepatch in the small mirror in the hall. He had taken to not
wearing it around the apartment, but for the other tenants' sake he
donned it as if it were part of his uniform.

 He made sure his key was in his pocket and made for the door only to
stop at the last moment and return to the kitchen. There on the
counter was the small box with the horrible bow and the large box with
the glorious ribbon. Sure, he could fly planes and take them apart and
reassemble them blindfolded, even if it was a smaller blindfold than
before, but he couldn't tie a bow to save his live. Not one on a
package, at least. The larger one had been done by one of the
secretaries at the base. The small box slipped into a pocket and the
larger went under his arm.

A quick check to ensure that he had turned the radio off in the spare
room and he was back in the hall, this time checking his hair before
stepping out. He hoped that *she* would be there. In fact she had told
him as much, but he still wasn't sure. He opened the door and all
concern was hidden as a smile took its place as he noticed the women
across the hall at the lift.

"Good evening, ladies. Happy Christmas," Michael greeted as he joined
them in waiting for the lift. He looked up and said, "Seems some of
the others are on their way already."