Chapter Text
Arabella Sketter arrived at Godric's Marquisate mansion ten minutes early. She looked nervously at her reflection and checked her teeth in the mirror before repainting her lips in her favorite ruby pink shade. That color suited her well and gave her confidence when working. Especially for something as important as what she was going to do today.
She was going to do the interview that her late grandmother and her father had been trying to get for the last sixty years, in the year forty-seven was when her grandmother tried to get the interview for the first time. Since the scandalous events that led to the burning of Manderly, Malfoy Manor, occurred. Facts about which she had never discovered anything, only that they were scandalous.
She had read the archives, the interviews of her grandmother and her father, she had read all the archives of the local newspapers regarding the news of the marriage,... The Earl Lord Draco Malfoy and his second wife, the Marchioness Lady Harriet Potter, had been a remarkably discreet marriage. Even if their names appeared in the press, they were mere mentions, footnotes and some comments about their outfits.
On the other hand, Lord Draco's life with his first wife, the daughter of Viscount Greengrass... That was documented. They appeared in the press almost every week, if not almost every day.
A knock on her window made her jump and she picked up a pen from the floor of the car and her notebook.
Next to the car was the third son of the Marquise's eldest son. Colin Potter.
-You should go
-I'm sorry, but I have an interview with...
The young man reluctantly removed his hand.
-I know that my grandmother wants to give this interview. But I don't see that she will be able to tell you the oldest dirty laundry in the family. A woman whose family has harassed us for sixty years. As far as I know, your grandmother, Miss Sketter, received a restraining order, as did your father. What I don't understand is why my grandmother agreed to this.
-Because I am not an events journalist. I am not in the business of revealing scandals, Lord Colin. I show the truth, as my biographical books of important current figures and my awards clearly demonstrate. – Arabella had known that she would be attacked by the family. There was too much bad blood between both sides. – Lady Harriet expects me to show the facts as they are, without lies, without making scandals. Just the truth, as it is.
Arabella and Colin stared until a woman in a nurse's uniform approached Arabella to tell her that Lady Harriet was ready for the interview.
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Godrics Manor was a beautiful and opulent place. They took guided tours from time to time. But the area the nurse took her to was more familiar. Where the Potters really lived
-As you see there is a line of red stone that divides the mansion. – Nurse Simons said suddenly. – That delimits the areas that were rebuilt after the mansion was bombed in World War II
-Thanks for the information. – Arabella had seen the line that separated the wallpaper and the parquet floor.
-The Marchioness has never wanted to hide the past, no matter how dark it was. However, what she is going to tell you, the Marchioness has not told anyone. To none of the Marquise's children, the gentlemen or the young ladies. Not even me, and I've been her constant company for a decade.
-She is sick? – Arabella had nothing of that in her reports or notes
-No, I was the late Lord Malfoy's nurse. The Marchioness took a liking to me and since her health was already in decline, she kept me hired. But she is in excellent health for a seventy-nine year old. I tell her that she will bury us all, but the Marchioness states that that would be very sad.
They both arrived at a yellow door with a swirling glass panel that allowed them to see a figure in black inside and Arabella heard the faint sound that allowed them to pass.
Lady Harriet Potter, Marchioness of Godric and Dowager Countess of Manderly was a woman of kind demeanor. If you thought of a grandmother, she would be the person who would come to mind. Her hair was half black and half gray streaks, which contrasted with the wrinkles on her face. She had round glasses over her eyes and a soft smile. She had the thinness of the elderly, but not so much as to appear excessively thin.
The Marchioness was wearing jeans and a black wool jacket. Arabella could see dirt stains on the denim, so she assumed that the Marchioness was still in good enough health to do her favorite activity, which was gardening. To one side she could see a wide-brimmed hat, dirt-stained gloves, and a small shovel.
The whole room smelled of violet candy, firewood and old books. It was like Arabella's grandfather's living room in the retirement community where he had lived for three years. There was a dog bed next to the Marquise's feet, but without the dog. He could see the animal through the window, running after a squirrel like crazy.
The wing chair in which the Marchioness was sitting had an identical armchair next to it, turned a little so that those sitting could see each other comfortably. But Arabella knew it was not for her to sit down. On the cushion of the other wing chair was a photograph of the late Lord Draco Malfoy. On the other hand, she had a comfortable-looking armchair in front of the Marchioness.
On the table were two glasses and an unlabeled bottle of wine. In addition to a folder that was used to preserve old and important documents.
-I thought we could share a glass of wine while we talk. – The woman's voice was shrewd, intelligent. – I'm sorry for my unkempt appearance, but I got nervous thinking about today's meeting and gardening clears my mind.
-You don't have to be nervous. This is just telling a story. Whatever you want to share. I will ask some questions to delve deeper into a topic or have more details. Maybe even to ask for clarification, but little more. – Arabella knew that this was the best option. The elderly counted more if you let them speak on their own. – It's your story, after all
What followed surprised Arabella. The Marchioness was made to laugh in a way that she ignored all manners and social conventions. Just pure laughter that came from between his wrinkled lips
-Oh… Dear girl. It's not my story. – The Marchioness shook her head. – I'm telling it, that's clear. But this is not my story. It is the story of another woman and how her shadow was about to destroy my life and my marriage.
-And whose story is it?
-Dear, this is the story of the mythical, unique, charming and fabulous Astoria Malfoy. My husband's first wife and the cause of all this mess. The gem of high society, the pinnacle of what a noble woman should be and the greatest witch I have faced in my long life. And I only fought against the memory of her! This is the story of Astoria