Belinda stomped back to her room, making such a clatter upon the stairs that an alarmed footman darted out into the downstairs hallway just to see what was amiss. Seeing the black look upon his employer’s youngest daughter’s face was enough to make the young man swallow convulsively and dart back out of sight. Miss Belinda was well known below stairs for her wild starts, and though the staff agreed that the young lady was neither spoiled nor purposefully antagonistic, she had some difficulty containing her passion when riled -- and more than one of their number had been caught in the crossfire. On one memorable occasion, which may have been the source of the present footman’s obvious distress, a parlor maid had been winged by a porcelain kitten Miss Belinda had thrown at her mother. The girl’s aim was abominable, they all agreed, and though it was not the best of manners to chuck decorative items at parents -- even amongst families of the peerage, whose odd turns were widely known and commiserated upon -- the staff understood Miss Belinda’s frustration. Though Lady Palmer seemed a very pleasant sort of mistress on the outside, every member of the staff who suffered through direct personal instruction from the lady had been driven nearly to the brink of throwing ornaments themselves, so much of Miss Belinda’s behavior was -- to some extent, at least -- excused by the staff. That being said, self-preservation was a well-developed instinct amongst all long-term staff of Palmer House, and though the footman likely slipped away to save himself, he also alerted his compatriots that some new unhappiness had arrived.
Ridiculous excerpt from the new project. Alright alright.