Connor MacFusty was a grand man, perhaps a silly one that caused Abigail plenty of distress early on in their marriage, but nevertheless a good intentioned one. Besides, one mustn’t dwell on the less than superb memories when there was a more than equal number of pleasant memories. Not to mention it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, a moral that was often disregarded in her household when she was a wee lass by petty servants in regards to her mother. Sickening behaviour, really.
Every month or so, Abigail Frances MacFusty made a special effort to venture from Wellingtonshire to leave a few fetching flowers by her late husband’s grave – a ritual her manor staff in fact marked on the kitchen calendar. A carriage is organised to take an obscure route that twists around the slums as opposed to through it for the sake of Mrs MacFusty’s safety. Of course, Abigail couldn’t care less, but understands her butler merely does it assuming it’s her preference as an upper class woman, and of course the carriage driver agrees for more coin. However, all that Abigail cared for was arriving at Asphodel Cemetery before luncheon.
Abigail MacFusty had asked her maid to wait outside the gates, unless “you have someone you miss too, my dear”. Usually she asked a family member to accompany her, but lately she’d had quite enough of that sorry bunch. A bastard child? Connor would be rolling in his grave – or perhaps not, knowing him he’d have a jolly good chuckle about it and clap his grandson on the back. Abigail shook her head to herself as she stood over his grave. He was a silly man indeed if he found something damaging to the MacFusty name humorous . The elderly woman had already placed a spruce of posies (nothing too extravagant) upon his grave and was considering leaving for her luncheon early, when she saw a strange little figure in the distance that sparked her usually satisfied curiosity.
Then she observed it was a goblin. And then she observed it was holding a spade. And then she observed it had begun digging into a grave.
Flared up with righteous, Scottish spirited anger, she swiftly trudged her way up the slight incline, her walking cane sinking into the dirt with force as she progressed towards the criminal scum. It was truly disgusting that a sub-human would feel themselves entitled to a humans buried heirlooms and possessions. Repulsive! If she was in her youth she’d give this dirty piece of detestability a good old hard thwack on the back of the neck! In fact, she rather was in the position to do so now. Oh my. Nobody was looking, no-one would see this very un-lady like act on her part – and therefore nobody would question. Oh, she felt so rebellious she could almost let out an immature giggle!
She approached the goblin from behind, determinedly raising her cane to aim for his bare neck. How dare he commit such a vile, immoral crime in the same soil her husbands buried in!