the mountfitchets

90 1 0
                                    


"Lucy dear, pass the jam?" Felix Mountfitchet asked his wife at breakfast. She looked up from the newspaper she was reading and slid it across the table to him before going back to the paper.

She sighed. "Felix, the girls have done it again." Lucy showed him the article. He screwed his monocle tighter. 

"What are we ever going to do with them?"  He stood up and called, "Bridget! Could you please postpone everything we have for the weekend? We have some rather urgent business to attend to."

Bridget walked in, a dishcloth in her hands. "What is it today, Mr M?"

"My troublesome niece, again."

Lucy cut in, "and Hazel. But I do suppose she is dragged into these things at this point."

He walked over to the coat rack, putting his hat and rainjacket on. "Well, she is my niece, after all. Always loved excitement. Of course," his face set into a firmer expression, "they need to learn that it's dangerous, and to be left to the adults."

"You must give them some credit, dear. After all, it's not everyone's niece who solves three murders in a year."

He grunted at that. "True, but must she go rushing into things like this? She's going to get hurt someday."

She opened the door and stepped outside. "Let's go, dear."

He followed her, closing the door. "Goodbye, Bridget!" He called, before following his wife, out into the busy streets.



Murder most unladylike oneshots/ideasWhere stories live. Discover now