A violent storm raged outside of the Middleford Manor. The blinding flashes of lighting and crashing rolls of thunder kept Elizabeth from her slumber. Of course, this was only a pitiful excuse for the actual reason for her insomnia.

She turned away from the window, burying her face in the blonde curls that splayed over her pillow. It was a night like this, so many years ago...

No, she must think of other things, Elizabeth scolded herself. She must move on. At least, that's what her mother had told her. She grew ever so restless, and sleep avoided her like a plague. With an unladylike grunt, she slipped out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown and candle, heading into the hall.


Jacob Manson was a short, slim man whose attractiveness, or lack thereof, was never in question. He had a long pointed nose with beady, black eyes and held himself with an air of a child who had experienced one too many whippings. With wondering eyes and shaky hands, he wandered the Middleford Manor acting as a night watchman and occasional footman to the family members or guests who would wake in the night asking for something or other.

He was an expendable servant, nonetheless. Jacob had not served the household long; he never served any family long. His habit of "borrowing" from families was always quickly discovered, but he was fast enough to escape before he could be formally arrested, promising himself he would quit at the next house. The habit never really stopped, despite his hardest efforts.

Jacob had just talked himself out of snatching up a pair of exquisitely designed rapiers hung on the wall in the parlor when he heard the front doorbell ring. He hurried to the door, hoping to get there before the visitor could ring again and wake the household. He pulled open the door with a great force, slipping from his grip. He was lucky enough to catch it before it slammed into the wall.

Lightening struck the same moment Jacob caught the door and his first glimpse of the visitor. Together, the pair was illuminated in the entryway, casting peculiar shapes along the walls and floor. The visitor was a tall man wearing a soaking wet black overcoat and matching cap, which obscured the footman's view of the man's face. Jacob never had been very good at socializing with others, much less when he was expected to act as a servant. He stared at the man for a moment, before the man spoke.

"I'm terribly sorry for arriving so late at night. I trust that the house was not awoken?" The man's voice was smooth and steady, giving no indication that the icy rain affected him.

"N-no sir. I'm Jacob Manson." He gave a short bow. "Might I ask who you are?"

The visitor ignored his request. "May I enter? It's absolutely dreadful out here."
Jacob snapped to attention, remembering the hospitality that the Marchioness insisted upon. "Yes, of course, sir." He moved to allow the man entrance. "Shall I take your coat and hat?"

"Yes. Please."

After hanging the man's things to dry, Jacob was able to observe him better. His dark black hair was dripping at the long tips, and his brown eyes glinted red in the dim lighting. He was tall and lean, and Jacob could see by the fit of his suit coat that he was also very fit. Worst of all – Jacob bristled – he had a thin but handsome face. The servant swelled with envy.

"Sir, what is your business here? And at such a late hour." An edge could easily be detected in his voice.

"Ah, I apologize. How rude of me. I did not mean to arrive so late at night. I have certain business to discuss with one of the Middlefords." He sounded reserved. "No, no you don't have to wake them now. I can speak with them in the morning." He said this to Jacob's slight gesture to offer of retrieving the family.

With a low nod, Jacob offered, "I could direct you to an available room, then. Please tell me, sir, what shall I call you?"

A distinctly feminine voice answered in his stead, "Sebastian Michaelis."

Both men's heads snapped toward the top of the hall stairs. Standing there, with a candle in one hand and the front of her housecoat clutched together in her other, was Lady Elizabeth Middleford. Her long blonde curls draped her shoulders, framing her pale stricken face with tousled golden swirls that looked nearly white in the low lighting. Her housecoat, made of beautiful crimson velvet, was pulled just tight enough to show a small - but satisfying - glimpse of her slight but womanly curves. Her two deep green eyes were wide in shock as they stared down at the soaking wet man in the entryway.

"It's you. It's really you?" She drew a short breath as he took a step closer. Elizabeth walked down the remainder of the stairs, hesitating at the bottom.

"Lady Elizabeth, I... You know this man?" Jacob said, taken aback. Though neither of the men would say it aloud, Elizabeth's appearance was not the most appropriate for their company. She paid no mind as she took a cautious step forward.

"Yes," She said quietly. "I know him. Knew him I mean." She eyed him disbelievingly, and then raised her voice at Sebastian. "You abandoned Ciel. You were supposed to protect him, but you allowed him to get killed! You failed him!" She choked on the last sentence, attempting to compose herself before she could begin crying.

"My lady." Jacob made to comfort her, but was interrupted by Sebastian.

"I'm terribly sorry, Lady Elizabeth, for your loss. I," he hesitated," share in your grief. As a butler, I should have followed my master." Lie.

'Butler? Ah!' Jacob thought.

"Are you the former Phantomhive butler? The one who could fail no task?" Jacob asked in awe. "Well, until his master died." He added as a second thought. Sebastian ignored him, simply staring at Elizabeth. She looked up, meeting his gaze.

"Where were you?" She asked, her voice barely audible. The candle in her trembling hand flickered brightly, illuminating her face just long enough for Sebastian to see the pleading look in her eye. He did not answer.

"Four years. You didn't even say goodbye. To him, or anyone."

He remained silent for a moment, studying her, before saying, aloud for Jacob to hear, "It's late. You should be asleep, my lady. We can discuss things in the morning. Jacob, please show the lady to her room. Then, you can direct me to mine." His tone allowed no room for argument.

Elizabeth remained still, looking at Sebastian as if she wanted to cry. However, she shed no tears. Jacob moved toward her, lightly touching her on the arm. It broke her from her stupor, and she followed him without resistance.

Sebastian stared after them, the look still on his face. When they were out of sight, he relaxed, rolling his eyes, "Ridiculous."


"What do you mean, Sebastian Michaelis is here?"

"He arrived late last night, Ma'am. Mr. Jacob gave him a room. He said that he had some business with one of you."

"So, the coward shows his face? Make sure Elizabeth doesn't see him until I've had a word with her."

"Why not, Ma'am?"

"Against my advice she is still hung up on Ciel. Sebastian will only stir up bad memories and bitter emotions. I wish to discuss Michaelis' presence before she hackles him."

"Yes, my lady."

"Jeanine?"

"Yes, Lady Francis?"

"Make sure you stay away from him, too. I'm sure he likes the fawning attention of maids; I don't want you to be made a fool of."

"Thank you, my lady." With a bow, the maid turned and left the room, having finished readying Lady Francis for the day.

Francis had heard the news of Sebastian's unexpected arrival that morning when one of the younger maids came to wake her. It was not the best news for her to hear so early. Worry, loathing, and annoyance had all taken turns occupying her mind as she headed toward the dining room for breakfast.

Once inside, she took her place at the table, not bothering to wait for her family or her visitor. She was just being served when two people entered. Two men, each one drastically different from the other, took their places silently at the table.

Sebastian took his place across from Francis, his eyes flashing in knowing amusement at her annoyance. Her son Edward sat next to her, his cropped blond hair and vibrant green eyes bringing a great contrast to Sebastian's darker features.

A butler came to serve Edward and Sebastian their tea and breakfast. His hands were steady, but he acted uneasy due to the silence. He finished serving Edward and went to pour Sebastian's tea, but was stopped.

"No thank you, please. I'm quite all right. I'm sure the Marchioness does not want you serving me any of her exquisite tea." He chided. The butler nodded hesitantly and left.

Francis shot him a look. "There's no need to be rude, butler." She drew out his former title.

He smirked in response. "It's a pleasure to see you again as well, my lady."

Another uncomfortable silence took over the room. Edward took his chance to say something. "Mother, do you know where Lizzie is? She's terribly late."

"I'd imagine she was kept up late last night." Sebastian chimed in. "The storm was dreadful, believe me."

As Francis was about to make a retort, Jeanine rushed into the dinning room. She hurried over to Francis, trying to act as if everyone was not watching her, and handed her lady a neatly folded note. Francis thanked her, and she rushed out of the room, but not without sneaking a glimpse of their dark guest first.

"Speak of the devil." She murmured to the note.

"What does it say, Mother?" Edward asked nonchalantly.

Looking up at them with a light in her eyes, she said, "Elizabeth will not be joining us for breakfast. She will be dining in her quarters."

"You seem awfully happy about that, Marchioness." Sebastian said.

She took a sip of her tea before answering, "She has been under the weather lately, that's all. I didn't want her to feel pressured to entertain a guest so early in the day, and, as you stated, last night's storm was dreadful."

"I'm honored that you acknowledge my considerations." Sebastian bowed his head.

Edward slammed his cup down. "One can only assume that you will state your business at some point today, Mr. Michaelis. Or are you simply going to use our hospitality for a goodnight's rest?" He asked, perplexed.

"Well, I'd hoped to discuss matters in a more suitable environment." Sebastian retorted with a quirk of his brow. "But since you're in such a hurry," He reached into his inner jacket pocket, and withdrew what appeared to be a letter. "I'm here because of this. The Last Will and Testament of one Earl Ciel Phantomhive."