Venefica
The parlor was entered by Mr. and Mrs. Crescon. They sat comfortably at either end of a faded-blue floral parlor couch. Mr. Crescon faced the chair in which their guest would soon sit.
Footsteps were heard from the hallway, heading to the parlor. The Crescons sat upright and watched the doors of the parlor. One door opened and the servant entered with no one behind him. He walked immediately over to Mr. Crescon.
"Mr. Veneficus has a daughter with him. She was – "
"Why did you not tell us before?" Mr. Crescon sternly interrupted.
The servant continued again, "She was walking in the front garden out of my sight, and Mr. Veneficus did not mention her being with him."
"It matters not, Peter," said Mrs. Crescon before her husband could speak. "Send them both in."
The door was shut. Mr. Crescon grumbled about his wife's insistence to use the staffs first names. Footsteps again, a mumble of "they will see you now", many footsteps echoing in the hall, and finally the parlor doors were both opened. Three entered, two holding hands, one bent sideways in order to hold hands. Mrs. Crescon was slightly surprised by the size of the girl. She had expected a girl of the age six or older, but this looked a girl barely old enough to talk.
"Mr. Robert Veneficus and Miss Ver Veneficus," said the servant before leaving and closing the doors again.
With a gesture, Mr. Crescon showed the Veneficus' where they should sit. Mr. Veneficus walked over to the chair with his daughter trailing behind. He sat and placed his daughter in his lap.
Mr. Crescon spoke first and asked the question on the couple's minds. "You say you are related to us, Mr. Veneficus, but my wife and I are wondering how and why you believe so."
"I myself would not have believed having such – such noble roots, but as I was clearing out my parents' attic I found..." He paused, placed his daughter on the ground, and began to pull out a piece of metal from his pants pocket. After placing it on a table between the couch and chair.
"Please, examine the piece. As you can see, it has a portrait hammered into it along with a name below it. The person is my 10 greats grandfather's grandmother – which took me some time to look up and calculate – Aurelia Crescon."
During the time Mr. Veneficus spoke, Mr. Crescon picked up the piece off the table and looked at it. His wife slid closer for a better look at the metal. It was a glistening square that held metallic purples, golds, reds, and sometimes greens. An illuminated glass prism was trapped just below the metal's surface, displaying all the colors onto it; or appeared in such a matter except that the metal was flat and could not have contained any internally lit prism of any sort. The woman's face hammered into the metal was extremely detailed, and either the artist was a master of deceit or the figure was an exotic beauty to begin with.
"Very well, Mr. Veneficus, I recognize the metal and can guess as from where it came. Now I would like to verify that my assumptions are correct. Elizabeth, will you join me, my dear." Mr. Crescon stood and walked to the doors.
"Tea will be here shortly," she bluntly stated. Then she followed her husband out.
The parlor doors closed again. Their quick steps could still be heard when the small door leading to the interior household was opened and a maid entered with a tray of tea. She placed it on the table where the metal was moments ago.
All this time, Mr. Veneficus' daughter had been sitting on the floor, pulling at the rug. It seemed the Crescons had forgotten about her; they were so busy they did not even have a chance to ask why her name was Ver. Sitting back, Ver watched as her father sipped some tea. He placed the cup back down, picked up a sugar cube, and handed it to his daughter. While she was sucking on the sugar, she looked at the smaller door which was slightly ajar. The little girl stood up, still watching the door.
"Ver," her father said, as he picked up his tea again, "I know what you are thinking and I do not agree with it at all. Exploring this house will only get you and me into great trouble."
Listening through the slightly ajar door was a little boy. He knew he should not be here, but the Crescons rarely ever had visitors, and when they did, they normally turned them away.
"Will!" a voice behind the boy whispered. The maid was staring at him intensely from down the corridor. The boy scrambled to get up using the opened door and tumbled right out into the parlor.