Snapdragons

Odd Letters

When Theophania Endicott woke up early on the first day of August, July and its warm wrath finally passed, she rubbed her eyes with the remembrance of last night's plans. She rose from her bed with the intention of starting a productive day, legs sliding securely over silk sheets. She got dressed and searched for her companion with the purpose of writing a kind letter to a possible friend.

Alice was already eating breakfast, nimbly pecking at biscuits and tea. She looked exceptionally pretty, Theophania noticed, in the morning light, twirling her hair in circular motions, slowly taking bites of food. Every morning went like this for Theophania, just about the same. And she liked it that way. The morning light would always seep through the same glass, would always tint the same spot of floor. Whether it was yellow sunlight or pale, cloudy glow, every day was recognizably similar in its own way.

"Good morning, Alice."

"Good morning, Theo. I was just contemplating how we'll go about writing our letter."

"Ah, good."

Theophania took a seat beside Alice and poured some tea into a porcelain cup, well aware that she was likely going to forget of the tea's existence and let it get cold.

When breakfast was finished, Theophania fetched some paper and a pen.

"Are you ready?"

Theophania handed the pen and paper over to Alice, pushing away mostly empty plates and cups. She figured Alice was the one with a better idea of what to say and was used to relying on her for written work anyway.

Alice started scratching down a perfect letter from the perspective of Theophania.

Mr. Fairfax,

It is from countless magnificent reports and newspaper articles that my dear friend and I have heard of your skill. Your talent is admired by many and that has very much intrigued me.

Lately there have been numerous missing persons around London and I cannot help but imagine that they are all connected in some way. Sometimes I have gotten involved in cases of my interest. I felt it was time we met, Mr. Fairfax. There are many things I'd love to discuss.

If you would be so inclined, we could meet at my residence…

…

On August eleventh the sun shone brightly through a blanket of gray clouds. It seemed it had been months since the weather was decent, day after day of rain or heat had killed Alistair's optimism with slow trepidation. Alistair typically did not mind the rain. In fact, he loved the way it splashed its chilling nonsense over everything, prompting him to step into the rage. But the July rain had been warm, humid, and everlasting. It was a sticky summer and wouldn't be missed come autumn.

Alistair breathed the afternoon air that drifted through opened windows. It smelled sweeter than the usually stuffy home…yet still reeked of a city he couldn't escape. Papers lay in pile after pile over Alistair's desk, waiting to be signed or glanced over or tossed away. Neverending and uninteresting. It wasn't until the door creaked open and Calvin stepped into the room that Alistair was saved from his mindless trance.

"You received quite a bit of mail today, Mr. Fairfax."

Calvin stepped further into the depths of ink and books without acknowledgment from Alistair, which was how it often was. They had established a level of comfort that wasn't too professional, a relationship in which one was needed to keep the other in line and placid.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, you have three letters relating to business…and two invitations."

The envelopes were handed to Mr. Fairfax, who quickly sorted them by importance and ended up sifting out the letters relating to work, placing them aside is a semi-neat stack. The first of invitations looked kind and casual and was from someone named Theophania Endicott. He opened the letter and read it through. It did not seem too strange so he set it someplace where he would remember to look at it again. But the second invitation looked…odd.