Rich Aunt's House? Heads will roll.

"This isn't happening," Lacy muttered. Her parents were out of town for a few days, and they had had the most glorious idea: they were sending her to her Aunt Eleanor's for a few days; which translated to 'Having tea, walking around in heels all day, and wearing dresses that are unbearably itchy and close up around your throat'.

It wasn't all bad-- Eleanor lived in Britain, it was just...ugh. Lacy hated fancy.

She dropped her suitcase on the ground-- on the cobblestones, to be more exact, with a small thump and weighed her chances of escape: not high. But one thing was for certain: heads would roll.

"Lacy!"

Lacy heard her name and groaned. Let the torture begin. A small black automobile pulled up next to her, the motor purring. Her aunt smiled at her-- despite all the fancy junk, she was pretty young-- in her early thirties. "Get in, dear," Eleanor smiled, "walking is very overrated."

Lacy tried to smile painfully as she hauled her suitcase inside and climbed into the cramped little car.