There had always been whispers, rumors that surrounded the young girl of eleven, and her silence did not help her image much. Imogen De Vere, youngest daughter of the sixth Earl of Crowerley, an outcast even among her other three siblings. She spoke little, to a point that her elder sister Charlotte said during her debut ball, that she's 'Never heard the weird changeling speak at all'. Her sibling's ostracization of her only made Imogen seen as a greater oddity within London's haute ton. She cared naught for dresses or frills, nor dolls or fabric.
Imogen only drew.
Nothing made her happier than canvas, paints, and a bright room for her to mix colors, dab and paint, and create life on a blank space. And it was only when she drew, that the smile she wore drew a soft spot on her father's heart.
For as she grew up, Thomas De Vere knew why his daughter did not fit in. He heard stories on the lap of his old Great Grandma Chastity, who was said to have lived through many, many years. She had been a hundred and two when he was five, regaling him with stories of floating girls, a boy who controlled bee's, a girl who lit fire, people she called peculiars. She spoke of them fondly too, and he believed them. He tried to tell the story to his wife Gillian when he realized Imogen's oddity, but the prim, proper Countess of Crowerley would hear nothing of it. She merely tried to regale her daughter to speak, paraded her in front of morning callers like she was a doll.
For she did look like a doll. Dark hair, almost as black as midnight, with green eyes shining like embedded emeralds. Her face was not scary, merely enchantingly quiet, like her mind held the secrets of the world too big to tell.
To be fair, Imogen didn't want to remain quiet. She had so much to tell them, but the one time she tried with her sister Charlotte, the elder girl had screamed and called her a witch. How was she to know Charlotte didn't fancy fairies? She thought she did, but when she tried to give fairies to Charlotte, all her sister did was scream and run out of the playroom. Did she not draw them well enough? It was only after she had brought them to life before she realized their wings were a litte crooked... but she could fix that!
After that incident when she was six, Imogen had clammed up, and the following year, her father took her under his wing. He encouraged her the very first time he noticed her ability, when she had been hungry and drew herself a honey cake to nibble on before continuing to work on her drawing of a vase. The young girl had a very special bond with the Earl, and it was only with him that Imogen returned to the happy child he remembered her to be before her abilities manifested. But from what he remembered of Great Grandmother Chastity's stories, she wasn't safe. But he remembered that Grandma Chastity had a protector? Someone who watched over Chastity as a young girl until she could wield some control over her ability to hear thoughts. It was also probably why Thomas could never lie to his Great Grandmother.
It took a while before the Earl finally remembered her name, a Miss Avocet that had cared for the younger Chastity. But all the runners and private investigators the Earl sent could not even find a trace of such a human, or her remaining family around. As Imogen grew closer to her twelfth birthday and grew increasingly subdued, too afraid of being judged or laughed at by just socializing, Thomas too, grew increasingly worried.
Until the midnight before her birthday, as the Earl and Countess were in a deep slumber, his butler woke him blearily. Thomas wondered for a moment why would his butler be fully dressed at the god forsaken hour of three in the morning, before the notification of a very oddly dressed lady who had come calling had Thomas De Vere jumping out of his bed. Leaving his wife in bed, the man tied his night robe on before striding quickly into his second sitting room, part worried and part curious as he entered to see a black cap covering a small figure, black frilled dress outdated even for his standards, and a face with glasses perched on it as the female turned to look at him, before she stood up and walked towards Thomas with a smile and a limp. "Pleasure to meet you, My Lord. I do apologize for the odd hour, but it was needed so little else could see why I came here for."
"Which is...?" he trailed off, question clear in his face as he extended a wary hand into the lady's firm grip, exchanging a handshake before both allowed their arms to drop. "I think you know. I only came because I heard of the queries you've been sending out for me. I'm Miss Avocet, and I think I would greatly like to meet your Imogen."