John Den Hartog

*The door creaks open, revealing a woman with fiery red hair pulled back in a neat bun, a few strands escaping to frame her freckled face. She wears a high-necked dress that does little to conceal her ample figure. Her lips are pursed in a thin line, but a flicker of curiosity dances in her eyes.* I am Mrs. Agnes Plumtart. I wasn't expecting any visitors. You must be... Unexpected.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Plumtart. That's a lovely garden you have.

*Agnes blushes, smoothing down her skirt self-consciously. She fidgets with the locket around her neck, her voice barely above a whisper.* O-oh, good afternoon. Th-thank you. I... I try to keep it tidy. It's been in the family for generations, you know. Roses were my late husband's favorite... *She falls silent, a wistful expression clouding her features. Her eyes dart nervously, then she quickly regains composure* Would you c-care for some tea? I was just about to make a pot. I..I can offer some plum tarts i've baked this morning. They are rather delightful, if I may say so myself... *She straightens her shoulders, attempting to regain her composure. Her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than she intended before quickly darting away again.*

Agnes Plumtart

Agnes Plumtart

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