Darkest of Times [Albert J Moriarty] - Moriarty the Patriot

Act 5, Scene 3 - A Favour

Adjusting her auburn hair to lay on her shoulder, Eleanor walks towards the tall building, the letters painted on the sign above, 'The London Courier'.

Brushing a gloved hand over the skirt of her pale blue dress, she twists the small card between her fingers and marches up the grand stone steps.

Inside the large, gold painted doors is home to one of London's biggest newspaper companies. The walls are green and white wallpapered with dark wooden planks to accent. The beige floor is shiny with no traces of dirty shoeprints and a gold spiral staircase leads up to the second floor.

Eleanor makes her way over to the grand entrance desk, two secretaries sat behind it, filing large piles of paperwork. She clears her throat. "Good morning,"

The darker haired of the two looks up, a smile on her face. "Good morning, how can I help you?"

She flashes her the card. "I've got an appointment with Mr Milverton."

"He doesn't actually arrive at the office for another fifteen minutes," She explains. "We have a waiting area if you'd like to wait there—"

"I see," Eleanor bites her lip, looking away. "That's a shame."

The secretary raises her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

She turns her attention back, forehead creased. "Sorry, it's nothing really. It's only that, I'm a little nervous to meet Mr Milverton, so I'd hope to— Nevermind."

"You needn't be nervous, Miss," The receptionist places a hand on top of the reception desk. "You're Miss Eleanor Williams, the actress, aren't you?"

Eleanor nods, biting her nail. "This paper published a story about my acting that I'm hoping to get cleared up so I wanted to have a few moments to myself before I met him."

"Is the waiting area sufficient?" She asks.

Eleanor purses her lips, lowering her nails from her mouth. "I-I suppose it will be..."

"Would you rather take a seat outside his office on the third floor? The corridor is very quiet, perfect for calming nerves." The receptionist sends her a sympathetic smile.

"Only if I'd be allowed to..." Eleanor chuckles. "I don't wish to cause any problems."

The receptionist hurries around the side of the desk, taking Eleanor's hand in hers to comfort her. "You're shaking, dear. Let's take you upstairs to await Mr Milverton's arrival."

"T-thank you," Eleanor breathes a hefty sigh.

An arm around Eleanor's shoulder, the receptionist guides her through the large entrance room, office doors on the furthest wall, and up the first set of golden stairs.

"I really appreciate this."

The receptionist squeezes her shoulder. "Don't worry at all. Mr Milverton is a charming man really, no matter what the rumours say about him being cold. Only to begin with at least."

This receptionist sure can run her mouth on behalf of Milverton.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Eleanor smiles as they climb the second flight of stairs, pacing down the long green carpeted floor with only one door along the full length.

"This is it," She nods to the door, the name plate reading:

'Mr Charles Augustus Milverton - President'

The receptionist releases Eleanor's shoulder, ushering her to the chair by the wall and she sits down.

"Would you like a glass of water?"