F is for Fiona

Hello, now where are my glasses? Well, I suppose I don’t really need them to see you, but they make you take me more seriously, don’t they? Ah, here they are! Right in the pocket of the lab coat where I put them! Imagine that!

Where was I? Oh, yes! How nice of you all to stop by for ‘F is for Fiona’! Here’s a little more about me from ‘A Portrait Is Worth a Thousand Words’. I’ll let our ‘Leigh do the talking, my young cousin, Westerleigh Hartford, who has come to live with me in this drafty old manor. Mind you, not that I mind. There’s plenty of space, but it’s filled the chill of her Ladyship’s presence. That’s to say our esteemed ancestress, Elizabeth Hartford. She may be dead, but she still makes her presence known and demands on her descendants. Poor ‘Leigh will come to realize this if she stays here for any length of time, but this entry is supposed to about me! I’ll let ‘Leigh get back to describing the moment she first met me in person, yes, I will.

“You shouldn’t complain.” I turned to stare at the woman mumbling to herself, while she walked down the staircase. I’d been so engrossed in staring at Elizabeth I hadn’t heard her approach. Her hair was the same fiery red as my ancestress’s, but that was where the resemblance ended. Elizabeth’s loose strands of hair came together like a river of fiery lava, coursing with an indomitable will in a single direction. This woman’s hair stuck up in every direction, coppery locks colliding with each other in tangles, only to stick up in defiant clumps. “No one else would put up with you or your nonsense! You’d better hope the new girl is as patient as I am…” She stopped talking, right before she nearly ran into me. I was blocking her way down the stairs.

“Hello,” she said, blinking at me from behind thick glasses. Her eyes were the same sharp green as Elizabeth’s. This had to be Fiona Hartford, my cousin. “New girl, eh? Question is, are you ‘the new girl’?”

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