Weeks Later…
The morning sun shone brightly over the quiet, wealthy streets of Mayfair. Inside Hamilton House, the day had started with a peaceful, easy rhythm. The servants moved about their duties without making a sound.
Then, a firm, polite knock came on the front door.
Mr. Simmons stopped his walk across the grand foyer. He quickly checked his dark coat to make sure it was neat and tidy. He walked with a straight back and opened the large door.
Standing on the stone step was an elegant woman. She wore a dark traveling cloak that carried the dust of a very long journey. She looked to be almost the exact same age as Aunt Margery. Her face held a few gentle lines of age, but her eyes were bright, warm, and highly observant. She looked closely at the grand entrance of the house.
The woman spoke, her voice carrying a thick, musical French accent. "Good day, my good sir. Is this the Hamilton house?"
Mr. Simmons did not show any surprise. He bowed respectfully at the waist.
