Tea with the Broom Maker || Gladys & Violetta
Since seeing Miss Boothby at the theatre, really since their very first meeting, the older woman had intrigued her. The way the broom maker seemed to fit right into polite society yet had obviously been at home in her shop was interesting. Probably the most intriguing thing about the broom maker was that she had not only designed her broom but was now making said broom by hand on her own. A broom so superior that Cygnus had talked about it for longer then any other desired broom before it. It was a bit much for Violetta to put her head around. The woman’s cleverness combined with her apparent freedom made the young girl jealous actually. She wasn’t jealous, however, of Miss Boothby’s obvious loneliness. How could the woman be anything but lonely. It was with this thought that a plan formed in Violetta’s mind. With her manners the broom maker could easily be mistaken for a proper lady. Not a rich one nor one of Mrs. Sirius Black’s level. But few outside of those who graduated from Beauxbatons could match her and even then the young girl wasn’t sure since she hadn’t ever seen any other graduates and only a handful of students to her knowledge. But Miss Boothby could at least be seen as a respectable middle-class lady.
To test this theory Violetta was determined to have the woman for tea. She’d wanted to invite her whilst they were at their country estate but the opportunity didn’t present itself. An unexpected visit to the city brought with it the sought after opportunity. One of her aunt’s friends was in the hospital and so they were visiting her. The pair had decided to stay in the city and look in on a few other friends who were still there. They would return to the estate after a few days time, coincidently at the same time her father would be returning to the city. As per usual her aunt was doing her best to keep the girl out of her father’s sight. After gaining permission from her aunt, who seemed intrigued by the idea of tea with a broom maker, Violetta sent out a note to Miss Boothby.
I do hope this note finds you well. My aunt, Miss Greengrass, and I find ourselves once again in the city this summer. After hearing me talk of you my aunt desires greatly to meet you. As such we both would like to have you for afternoon tea tomorrow, if you are free.
Even before the owl returned with Miss Boothby’s reply arrangements were being made. There had been no doubt she would accept rather then decline the offer. At least none in Violetta’s mind. Her aunt, as usual, kept any differing she might have had to herself. Despite not having too many opportunities to do so, the blonde was already quite the little hostess and soon had the menu and table setting all chosen. The next day was an unusually nice day with a breeze that made sitting out in their garden seem like a much better option then inside the stuffy house. Once she’d made the decision to have tea outside she perked up even more. What seemed perfect yesterday simply would not do today. Most of the morning was spent changing everything she’d decided on the day before, it really was a good thing they had magic to help.
Their city residence was tall and foreboding, it was almost as if you could see it frowning at you. Inside the house had a distinct cold and menacing feel about it. No matter how much sun there was outside, the inside of the house was always dark. All the portraits looked disapprovingly at you from their frames, the Bulstrodes had apparently never been fond of smiling. There were no human servants, those tell tales, only house elves. In contrast the garden was bright and airy. One couldn’t look upon the colourful flowers without smiling, unless you were a Bulstrode of course. Every variety and colour that could be found of violets filled the garden along with a few that could only be found here and at their country estate. They’d been trained up trestles and archways as well as other structures around the nice sized garden. The table had been set under a shelter that was completely covered in them from the lattice worked walls to the beamed ceiling. The garden had been started by her aunt when Violetta was just a baby and now the two of them took care of it as their escape from the house. Though the house was always looming over them in the background. Like the garden in which it sat the table was cheery and inviting. A vast quantity of food had been laid out on it, seemingly picked more for their looks then their taste as all of it was bright and colourful. On top of one variety of the several small tea cakes that were on offer were tiny little marzipan brooms in honour of their guest.
As for herself she’d chosen a pretty pale blue summer dress, it was one of her more simple ones. In it she looked more like a child then a child playing dress up in her mother’s clothes, the blonde had always looked younger then her years. Had Violetta realised this she would never have worn in. In her eyes, though, it was only a lovely dress. Normally she wouldn’t wear such a simple robe with someone coming but she felt it might put Miss Boothby more at ease. Smoothing the skirt, a nervous habit of hers, she waited with her aunt for the arrival of the broom maker.
