<div class="floatright">(http://dressestutor.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/03/blue-victorian-prom-dresses.jpg.jpg)</div><br/>The hansom pulled in at the perfectly acceptable fashionably late hour.  The driver stepped from the carriage to open the door for her.  She stepped out in perfect grace, her hair already done up with soft curls that lay neatly upon her back and shoulders.  Only the very faint flush upon her skin betrayed the perfect mask of indifference, showing her true amazement at the chance to see a real mummy.  The books had never done justice, the tales and pictures failing to give her what just a moment inside this gathering would provide for her.<br/><br/>The door opened at the hands of the butler and she curtsied politely, a fan in her hand which gently bat at the air with a simple, repetitive rhythm.  "Everyone's upstairs, ma'am," he told her as he took her coat, revealing her pendant and slender shoulders.  "I should warn you, though: there's been an incident."  She perked an eyebrow to listen, but mostly undisturbed.  She would not let this night be ruined for her.  "Scotland Yard is here, but do not let yourself be troubled."  She frowned ever so gently but didn't really consider it.  Her thoughts were focused too heavily on other matters.<br/><br/>Soon she was at the threshold of the drawing room, her visage the practiced veneer of flickering eyes and a thinly cut, ruby smile.  She entered with the practiced swish of her peacock blue dress, already expecting everyone to recognize her simply by reputation, if not purely by her very demeanor of an aristocrat.  "Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Zondalis has arrived," the butler announced before slipping away down the hallway.