A few lines from my wip.
ENGLAND, JULY 1940
Calypso Bailey stood by the window of her bedroom in Kelmscott Manor and looked across the parkland. Nothing had changed since she’d been away. The two Scots pines still stood each side of the iron-gate that led to the drive and the lawn was dotted with ancient oaks. It was quiet except for the hum of bees in the honeysuckle beside the window.
She glanced at her watch. Fleur, one of her Ashley cousins, was waiting in the rose-garden with the letters. Fleur had grown up in Roussillon, a French village on the Southern edge of the Plateau de Vaucluse. She’d come to live at Kelmscott in June, and Calypso, who’d never met her before then, had a niggling feeling Fleur was not a person She could become friends with.
At eighteen, Fleur was two years younger than Calypso and as beautiful as some rare bloom. She was also clever and witty. There was something unmistakeable modern about her, from her bright red lipstick to the trousers she wore. But her husky voice, with its slight French accent was timeless; it had a strange charm that Calypso suspected Fleur used knowingly.
As Calypso continued to gaze at the familiar view, her mind travelled to the evening before when Fleur had told her about the letters. They had been alone in the oak-panelled sitting room.
“Where did you find them?”