Eleanora woke up bright and early at the usual time and wondered where she was.
"Oh," she remembered weakly, "I'm at Phantomhive."
She groaned and got up, already imagining all the horrible things that could happen today. She could be tortured for information. She could be killed by the butler. She could accidently make the wrong meal that the Earl would request.
She prepared herself and went downstairs. The house was eerily silent.
The butler was in the kitchen, fixing some clothes. He looked up, surprised, upon hearing her.
"Oh, you're already awake? I wasn't expecting you for another hour."
"What—really? The servants for such a grand estate don't wake up early?"
"They do—just not this early. Well, no matter. You're up now. Would you like something to eat?" He stood up, as if ready to make her something.
"Oh no, I'm fine," she said quickly. Food was perfect for poisonings, especially if someone else had made it. "I'm ready to work."
"Really? Now? If you're sure." He tossed aside the clothes and began walking away, Eleanora following him. He rapped his knuckles against a closet in passing.
"Here is where we keep the cleaning supplies," he said and went upstairs. He opened a pair of double doors to a huge room. "And this is the ballroom. Since you're up so early, you can get started on cleaning it. The maid will come and help you once she's finished with her other duties."
"'The maid?' Is there just one?"
"Just the one, not including Grell. He can help you too."
"How many servants does the Earl employ?"
"Five, including me: the maid, the gardener, the cook, the steward, and I, the butler. There are also two servants who visit with their masters and also assist: Grell and another butler."
"Charming," Eleanora said. "Mrs. Standfield would employ more people if she had the money, and here is an Earl, with the money, with no desire for employees! The whole place is full of freaks; I have to be more careful." Eleanora tried not to groan; she was already acting as careful as she could.
The butler began to leave and called behind his shoulder,
"Breakfast, as I said, is as seven. I expect punctuality."
"Yes sir," she said, looking around at the ballroom. "Well, no sense in staring. I might as well start working."
"Has the girl confessed to anything yet?" Ciel asked Sebastian when he came upstairs to wake him up.
"No sir; she's been working all day."
"Diligently?"
"I assume so; I haven't checked up on her yet."
"I see," Ciel murmured and fell silent for a time. "Sebastian?"
"Yes?"
"Send the girl up to me after she has eaten. I want to talk to her about the case."
He bowed.
"Certainly, sir. If that is all, sir, I shall meet you later."
"Yes…"
Sebastian bowed again and left the room, thinking about the best way to get the maid to talk if she refused to cooperate. Hopefully she would; she seemed smart enough, but then again, one could never tell with humans, particularly human women.
He passed the ballroom and heard a voice straight from the depths of hell.
He paused, listening. Such a voice! Who was it? Mey-Rin? He wasn't so sure that she could sing, let alone sing so beautifully. Grell? Nonsense, Grell couldn't sound so lovely if his life depended on it. Perhaps someone was playing a record? That was possible.
He peeked into the ballroom.
The maid—what was her name again?—was washing the floor on her hands and knees, singing to herself. He didn't know why she was on her hands and knees; they had a perfectly good mop; but it didn't matter; whatever got the job done.
He entered the ballroom and leaned against the wall, listening. No, but it truly was beautiful. She could have sung at the opera. But what was her name again? Mary Ann? No, it was Eleanora.
He didn't realize it at the time, but this was absolutely new to him. It normally took him a month or three to remember a name by himself—and that was if he tolerated the person enough. Normally in his mind he would refer to them as "the moron's butler" (Agni), "the maid" (Mey-Rin), "the pervert" (Grell) and so on and leave it at that, but he had remembered Eleanora's name on his own after about two weeks of meeting her. He didn't know it yet, but this was significant progress. After all, he had been with the Earl of Phantomhive for two years and still referred to him as "that brat."
Eleanora turned around and noticed him. She immediately stopped singing and sprung up to her feet, dusting off her dress and curtseying.
"Good morning, sir," she said. "Is uh—is everything alright?"
"Fine…"
Eleanora twirled a lock of her hair.
"Dammit, why is he here? Did I mess up already? *gasp* Maybe I'm cleaning it wrong? Did I screw it up? Shit, I just got here and I'm already ruining things!"
"Sir?"
"Ah—yes?"
"Is…Is something wrong? Did I—Did I make a mistake?"
"Hm? Oh no. Carry on. You're doing very well."
Eleanora hesitantly nodded and got back down on her knees and continued washing the floor. Sebastian waited. She didn't seem to want to sing anymore for some reason. What a pity. He turned to leave; she held back a sigh of relief.
"By the way," he said, "the Earl wants to see you in his study after you have eaten breakfast. He'll expect you at seven-thirty."
"What? Really?" "Perfect." "Of…course. I'll go directly after breakfast."
Sebastian nodded and left. Eleanora went back to cleaning, swearing under her breath.