By the time Angelica Barnsburrow's was indignantly rising, Bella was gently leaning against the wall that partitioned off the living room. Her curious, amused eyes had never seen Barty like this. It was still him, with his peculiar manner that so easily set others on edge and a sort of... earnest quality that was so often hard to place. Bella had always fancied the sorts of things that made others uncomfortable, ceaselessly entertained by how readily and enthusiastically people allowed themselves to become discomfited. Sometimes it was as though they were completely unable to digest something that hadn't been soften and made bland beyond distinction. For tasks such as these Barty's particular approach took on new levels of amusement.
A soft sound at the foot of the stairs sharply drew her attention. Seemingly held in place by the cries of their mother were both the children. The sister, older by at least a year or two, holding tight to her little brother's hand. A little storybook set, the girl in her tacky ruffled dress and hair askew as a vague sense of concern had her pulling her vacant-eyed brother closer.
Children, tiny minds accustomed to being instructed to and fro, yielded so easily to Imperius curse that it barely took any thought at all. Perhaps it was because they so poorly understood what was happening that they only required thin cords of her attention to keep them generally inactive. Slow but compliant steps brought the two to Bella's side. They would need to watch, of course.
She separated their hands, taking one in each of her own to draw them into the living room. It was unnecessary, but it was the image she wanted. In the interest of keeping them out of the way Bellatrix deposited them to sit against the wall. Messy though they were, it was almost a pity they had to be born to such foolish parents. That, however, was hardly her fault.
Turning back to Barty, her eyes roamed over the cowering woman before she mentioned, "I don't see any reason to keep her alive."