Wings of the Dove Lady is not really a good name for this character, but that was what I started calling her in my head, so I’ll stick with that. But let’s put it another way. She is rich. She is arrogant. She spends months traveling in Europe, with a retinue of servants and maids following her luggage about. She toys with people. She is cunning, sexually knowing, and manipulative. She is nobody’s fool. She is loved by many men. It is their great misfortune to love her. She has not loved anyone. Ever. She loves power and power alone.
She is up to no good. Watch your back around this woman.
The look in her eyes here kind of says it all.
Don’t be fooled by her laugh. It doesn’t mean what laughs normally mean.
She prefers night to day. For obvious reasons.
Back in London, a woman who was once her lady’s maid, writes fervently in her secret journal, hidden in a box at the back of her closet: “Someday … someday … this icy woman will be revealed for who she really is. Please God, please. Let it be so.”
In the dictionary, beside the word “haughty”, should be a photograph of this woman.
She is quite aware of the effect she has on men, and she uses it.
With all of her schemes and machinations, she has perfected what we would call, in our day and age, the attitude of “plausible deniability”. Nothing can be pinned on her. And she knows it.
She will die unloved and unmourned.