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Lara smoothed down her dark green dress, enjoying the swish of the fabric around her feet. It had been a while since she’d had an opportunity to dress up, and she was going to enjoy it while it lasted. She glanced over the heads of other guests. The hall was slowly filling up as the night drew closer. Socializing, as much as she wasn’t in the mood – she hardly ever was – offered an opportunity to pas the time before the big event started, and so Lara didn’t refuse the invitation for a drink when one of the gentlemen approached her.
After all, she had to appreciate his boldness. These were collectors of curiosities, especially those with a long and rich past. History enthusiasts – wealthy hobbyists, really.
They all knew who Lara was.
It didn’t hurt that the man – Lord Anthony Babbs – was pleasant enough to look at and that he had manners expected, but not always found in men of his station. They got to chatting, Babbs inquiring about her opinion on the pieces that were to be displayed later. She had memorized the whole catalogue, several piquing her interest, and she wasn’t shy to share.
“An exquisite taste,” Babbs laughed after her recount of the top ten, so to speak. “I am quite interested in those Egyptian scrolls myself. And what do you say of the Burmese statuette?”
Lara didn’t show any reaction, but inwardly she sighed. She was avoiding mentioning that one, as that was the only item in the inventory that she really wanted. Needed. It was a key, after all, not that anyone here had any idea as far as she was aware. Better keep it that way too.
“It’s pretty,” Lara smiled with a gentle wave of her hand. “But I have similar at home, better preserved ones too. Pretty, but not very unique.” True enough, only those weren’t moulded to unlock a gate to an ancient temple she had discovered a month ago.
“The larger our collection gets, the better we must choose the worthiness of every piece,” Babbs nodded, making Lara want to roll her eyes. “Of course,” he laughed again, “I do have plenty of room myself, but who has the time to overlook a collection so big it fills up a mansion. My guests were already weary – mind you, they didn’t voice it, none of my guests would ever be so impolite – after giving them a commented tour of mere two rooms of my curiosities. Why, one gentleman even broke a Roman vase on accident, as he leaned on its pedestal while yawning!” He recounted the incident, chagrined yet still amused.
Lara kept a pleasant facade. “Not everyone appreciates history.” Neither did he, if he left his guests in such easy reach of precious artefacts. Lara was sorely tempted to pay him an unannounced visit. In the middle of the night. Just to look around and save what deserved to be saved.
Either way, this conversation was passing into the zone of being no longer interesting.
“Luckily for us, none of such people are around here tonight,” Babbs winked. “And speaking of luck, this will be quite a thrilling night, will it not? Auctions – now those can get boring. But a raffle? How exciting!”
“Yes, very,” Lara’s smile grew strained. Auctions left her funds more affected than her gun and ammunition purchases and so she rarely visited them, unless no better way presented itself. But at least she knew what she was getting into. A raffle, now that just sounded irritating. Lara expected many of the winners to make private deals with more interested parties right after anyways – and that would just complicate things, make it so much harder to find the final holder of the statuette.
“Thank you for the company, Lord Babbs, but I will take my leave for now,” Lara set her glass on the table.
“Oh, of course, of course! But please, it’s Anthony.”
Lara paused only for a second to contemplate it – no longer would be polite. He was careless and conceited, but had at least passable knowledge of the artefacts he held to placate some of Lara’s distaste. “Lara, then,” she inclined her head.
His smile grew brighter. Like that, he was charming enough. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Let us see what beautiful additions to our collections this evening will bring us.”
“Yes, let us wait with a bated breath,” Lara rose from her chair.
“Indeed! Good luck, Lara,” Babbs nodded.
She could feel the sting go through her body. Lara’s smile turned sharp. “Good luck to you, Anthony.”
With that they parted ways, Lara walking slowly through the throngs. She had planned to track down the final owner of the statuette, whoever it might turn out to be. O r, in the best case, collect the prize herself if she happened to be so lucky.
But...
Lucky.
Anthony had wished her luck.
Defiance was burning in her belly now . She didn’t depend on luck . And she wasn’t going to waste her time on waiting whether luck would provide what she wanted.
How lucky then, that she was always prepared for any eventuality.
There would be no luck in play this evening. She made her own luck.
Lord Babbs had spent quite a lovely evening in the company of other collectors. They had amazing stories about their antiques and of the quaint, exotic personalities they acquired the items from. Truly, no-one understood his passion better that these like-minded ladies and gentlemen. By the time the main even started, the excitement was palpable in the air.
Attendants had rolled several tables onto the podium, the prizes hidden yet from the expectant guests’ eyes. Finally, the glass cases revealed their precious contents as thick canvases slid off them noiselessly.
It was a sight indeed! Jewellery, scrolls, a few statues and ceremonial masks, wickedly glinting weapons and other curiosities just waiting to join the collections of their soon to be new owners.
The winners would be drawn in just a few minutes, and the uncertainty of the results truly brought out the thrill no auction even could. Lord Babbs spared a thought for Lara, wondering how her luck would stack against his. If he could say so himself, he had been a pretty lucky fellow all his life, so much so that he pitied those Lady Luck had turned her back on. Of course , not just luck, his fortune would be impossible without hard work. And so even now, it was his station, the place in society he had secured by tireless effort, that allowed him to be part of this congenial event at all.
His luck wouldn’t abandon him now.
Agitated voices rose from far ahead, around the podium. Hurried steps. Lord Babbs raised an eyebrow and waited until the news of the commotion reached him. It was concerning, but no reason for alarm, unless people started panicking. Clearly there was nothing dangerous happening, such as a fire. This, he suspected, had to do with the event, one of the organizers might have made an embarrassing blunder.
The tones turned sharper, then were hushed by others.
“It seems,” Lord Higsby spoke beside him, arriving from further ahead, “that one of the items has disappeared. There are signs of a forced entry into the glass case.”
“Oh?” Lord Babbs nodded in thanks for the information. “How riveting. Do we have a burglar on the loose?”
“Quite possibly,” Lord Higsby chuckled. “Or maybe one of the guests was just too impatient to wait.”
“With such excitement, could any of us be surprised?” Lord Babbs joined in on the joke. “Did they tell which item was taken?”
“Ah, yes,” Lord Higsby smiled, happy to share his findings. “Just some golden statue. Burmese, I believe. Not any of the most coveted pieces, luckily.”