The Invitation

The Beaumonts

"...superb complexion..."

"Are we sure she's one of us?"

"There's no denying those Beaumont cheekbones."

"...strong blood..."

"... generations without a female..."

Alice stood still, her hands locked firmly at her side as she tried to keep up with the multiple conversations going on around her. She didn't understand why the chubby bald man in the corner asked if she was really a Beaumont. She couldn't possibly fake a DNA match through a company, and even if she did, why would she choose them?

"Enough," a commanding voice boomed from the back of the room.

Everyone fell silent and turned to face the owner of the voice. Alice stood on her toes to try to get a look, but it was not needed. The bodies before her parted like a Beaumont Sea as a middle aged man stepped forward.

His grey hair was cut short in a failed attempt to hide his receding hairline. Small framed glasses sat perched on the bridge of his hawksbill nose. He wore a black suit minus the tie, his top button was undone no doubt to try to cool him off. His face, while pale in its essence, was pink and glistening in sweat.

Only upon seeing his discomfort did Alice notice how unreasonably warm it was in the sitting room.

Next to the older man, holding onto his arm was a much younger — though obviously older than Maxwell — man in a blue suit. His dark hair lay slicked over to one side, his beady eyes watching the older man with concentration, his lips drawn so tight they seemed non existent.

"Alice, this is Uncle Gregor," Maxwell explained seconds before the pair stopped in front of them.

"Nice to meet you," Alice chimed, holding her hand out.

"A hand shake?" The other man scoffed before turning his scowl upon Maxwell, "have you taught her nothing?"

"Mind your manners Bertrand," Gregor warned, slipping his arm from the younger man's grasp. "This is a Lady Beaumont."

"Pardon Uncle, I had unwisely assumed my brother had given the lady at least one etiquette lesson on the way here."

"Why would I?" Maxwell said while casting his brother a shit eating grin, "why, when you are so much better at shoving snobbery down the throats of the unsuspecting."

Bertrand opened his mouth but Gregor cut his eyes at him, "don't."

Bertrand's mouth snapped shut and he folded his hands behind his back and stalked off.

"It's quite the pleasure to meet you, my dear." Gregor grabbed Alice's hand with a joyful smile. "You'll have to excuse these two, they are always bickering."

"Just doing as brothers do,"she laughed nervously, "I assume."

"Your assumption is correct."

Alice scanned the room again, most had broken away into their own conversations leaving the two with fewer prying eyes.

"Am I really the only girl?"

He nodded, "sadly, yes. It's been almost a hundred years since a female Beaumont was born. All these women you see here are wives. Wives and sons, no daughters. Ever, not even stillborn."

Alice frowned, "I'm sorry for that."

"Don't be, it's not your fault." He let out a pained sigh, "here, let us go and sit."

Alice followed Uncle Gregor back to the table he had been sitting at with Bertrand. Once they were seated he pointed around the room telling her the name and occupation of every Beaumont in the vicinity.