Clara Beaumont burst through the front door of the manor, her arms laden with packages wrapped in expensive paper. The afternoon sun caught the golden highlights in her perfectly styled hair as she swept into the foyer with the entitled air of someone accustomed to commanding attention.
"Alistair!" I called out impatiently, shifting my packages to one arm while tugging off my gloves with my teeth. "Where is everyone? I require assistance immediately!"
The elderly butler appeared from the direction of the kitchens, his face carefully composed into the neutral expression he always wore when addressing me.
"Miss Clara," he said with a slight bow. "Allow me to help you with those packages."
I thrust the parcels into his arms without a word of thanks. "Be careful with those! The blue one contains a new porcelain figurine that cost more than your monthly wages."
Alistair's expression didn't change as he balanced the packages. "Very good, miss. I shall place them in your room."
