AN: Before you'll start reading this story I'll have to warn you about a couple of things;

First, I'm a native swedish speaker so my english is not the best. I'll try my hardest but there might be a few grammatical errors.

Second, At least one of the main characters in this story will die, if you have a problem with this I suggest you stop reading now.

I think that was all, right I probably have to mention that this is my first story, so it's probably pretty awful. Anyway, reviews are always welcome,

Enjoy!

The murder at Downton Abbey

Prologue: Letters, revenge and orange juice

The Earl of Grantham

requests the pleasure of Your company to celebrate the engagement of

his daughter Lady Mary Crawley to Mr. Matthew Crawley

The invitation was plain, simple actually, were it laid on the table in front of him, together with a letter from Lady Grantham. The letter said that she wanted him to come to the ball, just to show that despite their past they could still be friends.

What a joke!

He frowned and threw the letter and the invitation on the floor, an immediately the butler was there to pick it up. Breakfast alone had some advantages such as the fact that you could throw anything on the floor and nobody was there to notice your unacceptable manners.

He took a sip of the crystal glass filled with orange juice and smiled grimly.

Of course Lady Grantham didn't want them to be friends, she only wanted him there because he'd started to become something in society and it would be a scandal if he wasn't there. The old blood still flowed deep through the veins of nobility, and with that, came the manners, the shallowness and the pride. Once he'd wanted to be one of them, he'd used all that was in his power to accomplish that, and god knows he'd been close, so very, very close. But then something had happened, and after that he saw everything with new eyes. He saw, for the first time in his life, how despicable they were, how silly and shallow and simply old fashioned their world was, and how the image he'd made of a perfect aristocratic life shattered in front him. They'd driven him out, but he felt no regret, only relief, anger and a desire for vengeance.

The letter was a stupid joke but the invitation might be useful, of course it wasn't Lady Grantham's intentions but it gave him an opportunity.

Ever since the day he'd last seen them, he'd been planning his grand vengeance. Almost two months had passed and his plan was almost finalized; oh, how lovely it would be to finally do what he'd wanted for so long, no not wanted to, needed to. Because now he felt the urge within his body to do it again, to feel the power of having someone else's life within his hands, and to feel like a god playing with the lives of his mortals. Doing what he wanted to do.

The murderer swallowed the last of his orange juice, smiled and left the table.

TBC...