The Terrible Business with the Loch Ness monster

2. The Mission

The servantgirl lead her to a room in the end of a corridor, that turned out to be a library. All the walls and most of the floor were covered with tall bookcases, stuffed with books. Some had writing on their backs that Heather could understand, but most of them weren't, a few wasn't even written the Latin alphabet. But it was a beautiful room. Warmer than the rest of the building, to keep away the damp from the books, and it had a wooden floor instead of stone, that Heather thought was a nice change. It just felt more alive, and not quite so alien and to be honest, Scottish, as the rest of the Head quarter. It could have been any library in England, for all Heather knew.

Gathered in front of a fireplace, flanked by two tall windows, was an area clean of books, to give room for two couches, three armchairs and a little table, sitting on a Persian rug. Sitting in the furniture was the Guardians. Heather didn't have much experience with their kind, she had only seen them on odd occasions, and most of her knowledge came from rumours and books that were more of less reliable. There were few things she knew about them for sure, but all her sources seemed to agree to that even if they were respected warriors and a proud people, they were known to be a bit odd in comparing to the rest of the world. And what she saw as the servantgirl lead her up to them only supported the last statement.

"miss, allow me to present the Edinburgh Guardians, Mr Edward Valentine and his wife, Mrs Miranda Valentine, the heads of the Institute, with their two children, Mr Alexander Valentine and Miss Victoria Valentine, also, allow me to present Mr Angus Trueblood. And for the rest of you, let me introduce..." the girl stopped in the middle of her words, and blushed. "I'm so terribly sorry, miss, but I have forgotten to take your name!" she turned to Heather and looked terribly embarrassed.

"Heather Blackheart" she said, distracted. She would have shared in her embarrassment, but she was to shocked to really register the blunder. When she approached the group, she had been sure that there was four men and one woman sitting in front of her, but as the servantgirl said their names and pointed them out, Heather had to realise just how wrong she had been.

When the servant named Miss Victoria Valentine, one of the red-haired boys had turned his head and brushed the fringe out of his eyes, and reviled the fact that he wasn't a boy at all. Miss Valentine had her thick curly hair cut like a longhaired boy, reaching just past her chin and fell freely around her face, something that was strictly forbidden for any honourable lady above the age of ten, unless of course they were women of bad morals. But her hair wasn't the most hideous thing about her. Just like a Scottish boy, she was wearing a white shirt, a black waistcoat and a kilt, that didn't reached further than to her knees.

Heather had no idea what to do at the sight of Miss Valentine's legs, fully visible as she sat with one leg crossing the other in the armchair. That was just not a way for a woman to be dressed, a lady's skirts should fall all the way to the floor, and only in emergencies were the feet to be seen. It would have been scandalous enough to be dressed like that in a room full of only women, but to do so in a room dominated by men, it was an outrageous shame.

"miss Blackheart, lovely to see that you're feeling better." Mrs Valentine remarked. "why don't you take a seat and tell us what you were in such a hurry to tell us last night."

Heather heard her words, but her mind seemed unable to process it as she stared at Miss Valentine. And Miss Valentine seemed very well aware of Heather's staring, but didn't seem bothered by it at all. If anything, she seemed amused by Heathers distress, and she caught her eyes with the most mischievous look Heather had ever seen on a person, let alone a girl at sixteen or so. Her eyes were green as emeralds, and sharp enough to make it feel like her gaze was cutting right through Heather.

"oh, get over it and sit down!" Miss Valentine said and waved her hand towards the empty couch. Her voice was like a lash of a whip, speaking with a Scottish accent that stood in great contrast to her mother's spotless English, and it broke Heather's enchantment in a blink. She lowered her eyes, and was careful not to let her gaze drift back to Miss Valentine as Heather sat down, and fixed her gaze on a candelabra on the small coffeetable in between the furniture. She could hear Miss Valentine give up a little laugh.