Uninvited In-Laws | Narcissa & William
Narcissa caught herself drumming her nails on the armrest of her chair and quickly drew her hand back, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the uncouth gesture. She laced her fingers together in her lap instead, to avoid an absent resumption of the gesture when her attention inevitably wandered again. Ordinarily a very cultured, poised young lady, waiting brought out Cissy’s worst habits -- at least according to her mother, who was always trying to counsel more patience in her younger daughter.
It wasn’t even that she was an impatient person, per se; she just hated when other people kept her waiting. It was rude and she deserved better, that was all -- even when the person making her wait was her sister.
The parlor of the Mulciber house was a pleasant place to wait, at least...or would have been pleasant, had it belonged to anyone else. But Narcissa was not keen on her sister’s husband, and so any room in his home had a habit of setting her teeth slightly on edge; she detested the whole place on principle as the cage that held her sister prisoner within the chains of unwanted matrimony. The whole house could have been decorated in daffodils -- Cissy’s favorite flowers, of course -- and she still would have found something to complain about. In the case of this pretty parlor, it was the drapes: she thought they were badly folded and much too heavy a material for the delicate windows they framed.
She had her attention fixed through narrow, unhappy eyes on the offending fabric, as though she might be contemplating setting them on fire with nothing but a glare -- which as a secret wix, she could do, at least if she threw in the right sort of incantation too -- and so when the room’s doorknob turned with a click, she she was facing the wrong way to see the door swing open. Turning with a smile, she was already speaking -- playfully chiding her sister, “What were you doing, curling your hair one strand at a time?”-- before her gaze settled on the well-dressed, but decidedly unfeminine and unfamilial, figure walking in.
Her nose wrinkled again, much worse this time. “William,” she said, the word dull with disappointment but little surprise; Narcissa had known that Andromeda would never have left her cooling her heels this long, if she had been home. She ought to have left ten minutes ago -- but she had refused to accept the unwelcome reality, and now she was faced with the resulting consequences. “How delightful to see you,” she continued, making no effort to match her tone to her words. “But surely your maid told you that it was your wife whose company I was seeking? Or would such a message be beyond the poor empty-headed creature’s capabilities?”