Paul's long strides only quickened as he raced down the garden path.
Lady Fitch, fraught with fear, gathered her dress and shot after her son. Lord Fitch shot Madeline a reproachful look and rose up from his chair. Leaning on his cane, the white bearded patriarch hurried after his wife paced dignified steps.
Madeline remained there- alone, in the quiet, sipping her tea in silent slurps, silently waiting for the next stage of the drama.
Finally, it came.
Outside, from the eastern wing of the estate, just a few yards out- came the powerful horrifying scream of an appalled mother. It shredded the air, rippled through every ear within a mile radius;
"Paullll!! NOOOOO!!!" the mother wailed uncontrollably.
Unable to resist the temptation, the blonde visitor carefully laid down her cup on the table, and waltzed out through the main entrance- towards the direction of the commotion. She wasn't in the very least disappointed.
