A silly start.

A Story by omnes

Something I started some years ago, and totally forgot about. My hd recently crashed, and this was one of the files that was able to be saved. It was intended to be a bit silly. Never finished it.

Mrs. Winterbottom, a very old, but respected, aristocrat, stood on the terrace of her large and beautiful home, on a very large and lovely green estate. It was windy out, but otherwise a very beautiful and sunny fall day, and all was peaceful, save for her dark purple silk scarf, frantically flapping about in the wind.

Her serene and thoughtless contemplation was interrupted by one of the servants, who appeared on the terrace to announce that her guest, Mr. Whispertooth, had arrived. She asked the young boy to let him in, and to tell him she would be waiting for him here. He nodded and disappeared. A few minutes later, Mr. Whispertooth’s booming voice could be heard preceding his arrival onto the terrace. “Vivian, how very nice to see you!” He said, joining the old women, and babbling about the weather or something in his jolly manner. She turned away from her view of the sunny landscape with a courteous smile, greeting him in return, and then her face returned to its initial seriousness.

“Henry,” She said, as if she had some bad news to bring, “I have some bad news to bring. I learned last night, through my various connections, that your daughter, young Katherine, the wench (she added that part under her breath), has run off with some insidious man from Spain. I believe they have gone off to Paris to be married.” Henry’s mouth went agape in surprise, and his eyes showed worry. “But, it cannot be!” He blurted thoughtlessly. He then looked down suddenly as his face changed, the skin of his forehead wrinkling in contemplation, and he asked, “Did you happen to find out whether he has any money?” Henry was a blundering fatherly-type, who could not be counted on to notice what his daughter was up to at any moment, and if he asked, he would always immediately accept the first thing she told him, no matter how obvious a lie it was.
“Never mind that for now,” Vivian replied, “I have something more serious I need to discuss with you, concerning the very important royal evening ball which is to take place tomorrow night.” She turned back to her landscape view, taking a step forward to rest her thin and wrinkled hands on the smooth stone ledge of the terrace, and her purple scarf fluttered itself over to Henry’s old face, whipping him softly in the eyes and nose. Noticing this, he shook his head to escape the garment’s restless attack, and stepped forward also, if only to get out of the way of the little purple demon. Only then could he react to Mrs. Winterbottom’s sudden change of subject. What could be more important than the news I have just received about my own daughter? He thought.

“You know I am a women of consistency, Henry, and I take pride in that.” She paused to turn around and face him, if only to emphasize the seriousness of this predicament, “and all my life I have always worn a brand new dress to every outing I attend, major or minor. I wear it once, and then never again.” She emphasized this by pointing to the blue sky with her impossibly long and thin finger, making a firm fist with the rest of her hand. After another short pause, she turned back to her view once again. “This ball will be of the utmost importance, Henry, everyone shall be in attendance, and I cannot have my reputation ruined now. However, I am afraid I am having a little problem in finding a new dress to wear.”
Henry was quite unsure what to make of this. But, being the blundering goof of a man that he was, he disregarded his questions about his daughter and instead set out to humor Mrs. Winterbottom, and perhaps satisfy his slight curiosity in the rigidity of her odd habits.