Miles away, the city was dark. The air around the Benson mansion was cold and silent.
In the large, paved courtyard of the estate, Mr. Murry stood near the open front doors. The old housekeeper held a warm, glowing yellow lantern in his hand. He was staring out toward the iron gates, waiting patiently for the General to return home for dinner.
Behind him, soft, quick footsteps echoed on the stone floor of the grand foyer.
Camilla walked out of the mansion and stopped right behind the old man. She was wearing a very comfortable evening gown. Her red curly hair was left falling softly over her shoulders.
She stood there for a second, twisting her fingers together in front of her waist. She felt a very strange restless energy buzzing inside her chest.
"Uncle Murry," Camilla spoke out loud. Her voice was smooth, but there was a tight, underlying edge of anxiety to it.
She tried her possible best to sound calm, bored, and composed.
"Is he back yet?" Camilla asked.
