Lady Clarramore, Her Sister and a Fancy Dress Ball

Date: 11/12/2011 at 20:00
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: Lady Clarramore, Her Sister and a Fancy Dress Ball

In Dioni, a scant few months after Clarramore Manor secured
manufacturing and distribution of a new perfume, a cart was seen loading
materials and workers into the manor's upper level, much to the
consternation of Lady Hyacinth. The first to inquire into these
goings-on was Eritheyl Skyplume, Execumatrix Magnificus, though soon
many others, mostly from Serenwilde and Hallifax, came to make
inquiries. They learned that the new perfume's income served another
purpose: funding the conversion of the attic of the Manor into an
apartment for Hyacinth's sister, Lydia Windwhisper. The Clarramores were
cagey about the reason for this, though gossip between the servants
hinted at a scandal.

The construction was due to be completed two months later, but in the
early days of Avechary, just as the completion date was nigh, a terrible
crash led to swearing on the part of the grumpy foreman. She soon
secured authorizations for overtime from Lord Herbert, and sought people
to deliver them to the gardeners. The call was taken up by the Archmage
Phoebus Skyplume, and by Orventa T. Onz'Verheu, Professor of the Matrix
Research Institute. They made quick work of it, and soon the Clarramores
were toasting the opening of the new apartment.

After making more inquiries about the scandal, Phoebus sought Lydia to
persuade her to come to the manor. It seemed that, having met a
working-class human late of Delport while hiding from a storm, Lydia had
become enamoured of the unsuitable man, threatening to bring ruin to the
Clarramore and Windwhisper families. It was with considerable regret
that Phoebus persuaded Lydia to put family and duty before love.

Lady Hyacinth insisted more must be done, and soon set Phoebus and
Orventa to arranging a fancy dress ball. In the end, Orventa was honored
at the ball for her efforts, and Lydia, looking somewhat glum, dutifully
danced with a variety of suitors, thus putting to rest the gossip of
servants. But while the scandal is silenced, Lydia sits forlornly in her
garrett, daydreaming about what might have happened had she chosen
differently. And in a hut in the mountains, a fur trader's heart is
broken. Might love yet triumph, or is Lydia destined forever to paint
gloomy skyscapes in her lonely garrett, while receiving proposals of
marriage from single men possessing good fortunes and in want of a wife?

Penned by My hand on the 23rd of Avechary, in the year 310 CE.