Laurel DeClaireville woke early the next morning. She was used to waking early, but on this morning she woke earlier than usual. She had spent a restless trying to find some reprieve from the trials of the two previous days, but to no avail. There was a sense of foreboding in the air that was almost palatable. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there were things that had happened that she just couldn't seem to lay to rest. The clue were out there but her brain refused to make the decisive connection that would allow her to solve some great and sinister mystery. She ran through the events of the last two days in her mind as she dressed and washed for work. Her talk with Planchette the day before help, but for some reason it was not coming together. She had a feeling that the answer to this problem might bring forth disaster. Once she had finished getting ready she bid her mother farewell and made the long trek to Calais and M. Planchette's Shoppe.
She got there earlier than usual, since she had left earlier that usual and did not dally on her path. The walk there was tainted by an ominous air, what if Lady Emilie's attackers were still about? Laurel was by no means weak nor unprepared should a crisis arise, but the thought of that horrid picture that Cristof had painted sent a chill through her. When she entered the Shoppe, there was no one to be seen. It was very likely that Henri had not arrived yet, so Laurel proceeded up the stairs, calling out, "Hola! Are you up there, my dear Planchette? It's your Laurel."
Planchette opened the door for her, looking a bit rumpled, "Laurel, my dearest, you're here powerfully early aren't you? Wasn't expecting you for some time! For you that anxious to meddle in the Blakeney affairs? Well then, we'll just have to get Andre on it. But give me a minute to put myself together, my dear!"
Laurel smiled as she went back downstairs. "Ah, Planchette! You little rascal you." She waited to hear him call and busied herself will cleaning the Shoppe.
A few minutes later Planchette came down stairs, his face redder than usual. "We should send Andre with the gift as soon as possible, my dear Laurel. Who knows what trouble your errant knight could get into."
"I agree whole heartedly," Laurel replied helping Planchette to straighten his cravat. With a sweet smile she went upstairs to prepare their project and send dear little Andre out with it. Andre skipped down the steps, arms laden with parcels and a grin on his charming youthful face. He bowed to Planchette and asked, "Is this the lot?"
"It is," Planchette said. "Now you'd best hurry, else our young milor may do something else that is rash." He winked at Andre.
