Eight O'Clock
Louisa could feel Mrs. Phellipe watching her.
She had entered this new space of hers, some minutes ago, and had kept at picking her eyes about the room, her triple chin gesturing along with the swift movement of her head. That had been two seconds ago.
Usually, she shouldn't say anything or maybe Louisa had expected that she wouldn't. It was due to Mrs. Phellipe's peculiar silence that Louisa guessed she was being watched.
"Did you not hear the bell go out for supper?" the woman said in a domineering voice. "Mr. Blenntmort may have encouraged too much of your excesses. But I have bad news for you, madam Eloise is not as understanding as he can be."
"Again with this?" Louisa, standing in front of the mirror, allowed her once busy hands to drop to her sides. "I have no reason to care about that woman. She is—"
"She has invited you down for dinner." Mrs. Phellipe was just polite. "You must attend."
