I do not own Father Brown Mysteries for it belongs to BBC and G.K. Chesterton.

Revisiting "The Face of Death"episode.

Harbinger: Part One

One year prior...

The day had started off without a hitch; everyone on their best behavior, barring a few exceptions, but that was to be expected when alcohol was involved. Most could handle a drink or two, but there were some that suffered in the tolerance department, and as a result sporadic sightings of scrimmages could be witnessed on the grounds. Luckily, Lady Felicia and Mrs. McCarthy could count themselves among the blessed-not much room to cause a scene when your team captain is a priest. Though Sid was probably the most brazen out of the group, even he saw fit to abstain from losing his mind in the presence of the Father, which resulted in him having zero drinks...well, that and the fact that Lady Felicia had confiscated his first beverage with the reasoning that her driver needed to stay sober at all times. Go figure.

At half past noon, all groups had been set free to roam the gardens in hopes of finding the cleverly hidden peacock feathers; feathers that would one by one unlock the secrect location of Lady Magaret and her sweet reward. Father Brown, however, forewent the necessary pointers and instead opted to use the family dog as a means to win the whole thing. Honestly, no one blamed him in the end and after having a quick word with Lady Margaret, all scooped up what they could carry of the delicious bounty that had been left for them before making their way back towards the house. All in all, it had been a fulfilling day, but some players had been basking in the everglow of jovial contentment for far too long-and by some, we mean a particular set of two.

(At the house)

"These fancy little chocolates are...," gulp, "not as fancy as the picture on the box makes them out to be. Hardly fit to grace my table," grumbled one Mrs. Bridgette McCarthy, whilst successfully popping another handful into her mouth.

"Is that why you keep shoving them into that orafice in your face then? Because they are so atrocious to look at in real life?" came a reply from across the room, which only served to cease the chewing of the woman in question.

Rewarding her companion with a glare, Bridgette continued on with her review, "For your information my dear, I am not equating taste with presentation."

"Of course not," Felicia stated, "It's just how could you eat such things that are so vile to the eye!" throwing her hands up in mock disgust.

"Always with the dramatics I see," Mrs. McCarthy drawled out in between bites.

"Well, you would know..."

"I beg your pardon?!" McCarthy asked sharply, while leaning forward slightly, "Stop mumbling over there. It's not lady-like!"

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"I did not!"

"Ladies?"

Both parties immediately did a cease and desist long enough to acknowledge a bewildered Lady Margaret standing within the drawing room entry way; her face slowly contorting into a questioning gaze.

Mortified at the situation, Mrs. McCarthy decided to break the ice first. "My apologies Lady Margaret, I hope we didn't disturb you with our lively conversation," eyeing Felicia rather quickly, "How can we be of assistance to you?"

"Well, I...," she responded warily, "I just thought...," she shifted uncomfortably, swaying indecisively before throwing out, "Oh never mind." She began to make a hasty exit, but suddenly turned on her heels, eyes brighter than before, "I took the liberty and spoke with Father Brown earlier this afternoon about dining with us tonight. An extension of the invitation can be applied to the two of you as well, should you so desire."

Finding her request to have a stunning effect on her two guests, Lady Margaret allowed a smile to grace her painted lips. "I am assuming that your vocal abilities will return shortly, but in the meantime can I count you two in for tonight's celebration? A simple nod will suffice."

Mentally slapping herself back into reality, Felicia motioned to Bridgette enthusiastically, "Oh, of course. We'd love to attend!"

"Ah, wonderful," Lady Magaret clapped her hands together with finality, "It's all set then. Dinner starts at eight o'clock sharp."

Both watched as their hostess exited the room; the excitement of this sudden developement too much to bear.

"I can't believe we actually made the list...I mean, she never invites , but ten people to her celebratory dinners...and the fact that we'er commoners.."

"Whoa, what a minute!" Felicia halted her friend's exaltations. "One, I am always invited to fancy dinners. And two, I am not a commoner. And three..."

"Oh shut it! Just because you put on your fancy dresses, twist your hair up tighter than most, and strut around in high heels that would make a giraffe jealous..." McCarthy yelled, arms crossed.

"What do you know about heels anyway?!", Felicia spat back, "You're practically ancie..!"

"Don't you dare say it!"

Finding Bridgette's finger pointed directly in her face served as more than fair warning that the situation was about to take an ugly turn if she didn't close her mouth.

"Fine. I'm done," Felicia surrendered with her hands up in the air.

Allowing an infamous eye roll, Mrs. McCarthy sighed.

"You love it," Felicia winked, "The fight keeps you young."

Realizing her slip of the tongue, Felicia's eyes widened as a red Mrs McCarthy stalked towards her, "Are you trying to start something again because if you are, I've got all night!"

(Dinner)

"I would like to propose a toast to the success of today as we have been able to celebrate a wonderful occasion here together..."

Both Felicia and Mrs. McCarthy raised their glasses and were about to partake of said wine in their hands when Felicia received a kick from underneath the table.

"She's not done yet!" he whispered feverently. Mrs. McCarthy spit the few ounces of drink back into the goblet, much to the horrified face of Felicia Montague.

"...And to the fine company in which we have found ourselves surrounded..."

"Oh my..did you..did you just spit that back into your cup?!" whispered Felicia.

"What did you expect me to do..." came the hushed reply from McCarthy.

Sighing heavily, she covered her face in her hands, while continuously listening to the drawling sounds of Lady Margaret.

"And finally to..."

"Oh, thank you Lord," mumbled the socialite.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Father Brown proceeded to scold the socialite across from him, "That was rude."

Sitting up suddenly, she faced him head on, "No it wasn't. You know how carried away she can get. Especially when she's had a little too much to drink," she finished just in time to clink glasses with the neighboring seats.

"Well, you two can squabble all night if you like, but I'm going to enjoy some delicious food," McCarthy stated, while gulping down the last of her wine. Felicia could only stare in silence.

"You finished that rather quickly," Felicia observed. McCarthy rewarded her with a squinty side-eye. Taking it a step further, she added, "You're stealing my job; I'm supposed to be the tipsy one around here."

"Oh, come off it!", Bridgette spat at the red head next to her, "And besides, you say it like it's something to be proud of."

"Can you two pretend to get along, at least for tonight?" Father Brown pleaded from his chair.

Greatly irritated, Felicia smiled innocently. "THIS," gesturing between herself and Mrs. McCarthy, "is us getting along."

He felt his face twist into a mask of aggitation. It wasn't the statement itself that had him up in arms; it was how she said it. This wasn't the first time that she had bitten back at him over something that he had either said or did recently and it only seemed to be getting worse. Today, she had been extra cruel, especially after an earlier conversation:

"Maybe we should actually look for those feathers instead of lounging around with drinks in our hands. Don't you think Father?" Mrs. McCarthy made it a point to throw a meaningful glance towards her younger friend, which earned her an infamous eye roll.

"Just wait a moment," he replied mildly before adding , "Patience is still a virtue my dear."

"Indeed it is," came a wistful reply from over by the stone steps.

Looking up sharply, he caught sight of her dark brown eyes searching his form. It had been twenty years since their first encounter and though she had aged, her eyes still held within them the very same spark that he had had the privilege of witnessing so long ago.

"Yes," was all he could say to her.

That simple one-word reply was all it took before he found himself waging war against piericing stares and curt replies. She had managed to turn this day into one on of the worst he had ever experienced in his life.

Watching him from across the table, she knew that she'd lost him to the land of memories-a habit as of late.

"Penny for your thoughts..."

Stunned, he remembered that those were the very first words that she had ever spoken to him, though now she presented them as mere shadows of their former selves; hollow and bitter.

"Ah, no," he answered dryly, attempting to distract himself with the food on his plate.

The remainder of dinner was spent tending to the ever-growing rift that that had now apparently wedged itself between the priest and his younger companion. Felicia kept to herself, only allowing conversation with Mrs. McCarthy to keep her occupied. On the other hand, Father Brown took it upon himself to engage instead with Lady Margaret's lovely daughter, Lucia. Though her time on this Earth so far measured to no more than a minor 20 years, she was still able to navigate her way through discussions with a certain grace. He had his suspicions though; like if they had not been in the company of others, she would have dropped her innocence like a burning hot coal in favor of a more outspoken demeanor. Here, seated to his right, she was found to portray the exact opposite, most likely to appease the family; such are the life and trials of a burgeoning young woman, he thought.

"...Well, that's all I truly do now. Just fashion school and housework, though my father would rather I learn just about the housework," Lucia finished.

Yawning slightly, Father Brown cupped his mouth, "My apologies, it's not the company, but rather the time. I am usually in bed by now."

Lucia snickered, "Why, it's only half-past nine. Will you not allow me to show you my latest creations? Oh, and before you say no, it has been two weeks since my last confession," he was met with big expressive brown eyes, "Please?"

Feeling defeated, he agreed. "Oh, alright. What harm can it do," he smiled warmly before excusing himself all too eagerly to go follow her.

This left Mrs. McCarthy to choke on her dessert, which in turn caused her to down a third glass of wine. The coughing fit that ensued earned her some rather curious glances from the rest of the guests. Felicia, on the other hand, had stopped mid-drink; her face frozen into a scowl.

"Tell me, he's joking?" the older woman asked after recovering.

"Nope. I'm afraid he's not."

To be continued...

To CQ: I completely changed my mind on where I was going with this, but it will all work out in the end. :)