Chapter One: The Letter
Upon opening I ascertain that the letter aside from Masbeths is from Lord Geoffrey d'Narley II, of Upper House, about a day from the Fellon.
He informs me of a tragedy taken place upon his household, and of the dark cloud of sinister doubt and untrustworthiness he suspects among his domestics. It appears one of his maids has been murdered, and, upon good word he has asked me to reside in Upper House to deduce the murderer. He assures me he will pay well. Even in the case of non-payment at all I would still accept, I have heard of many fine balls held at Upper House and I shall feel happy to be staying there for a while.
Immediately I send a reply in the affirmative to Lord d'Narley. He says in his letter that if I should be obliged to reply he should send a coach for me in two days, should this be a suitable span of time for myself. As it is nearing evening already, I return the letter to the envelope and commence to pack a case for my trip.
Upon seating myself in the library I reread the Lord's letter, taking in all knowledge he aspires to give me, so upon arriving at the House I can begin my work immediately. It seems to me, that the Lord has little experience with immoral behavior amongst his servants and the murder of this maid in particular has come as an incredible shock. I also discover today that he has a wife, Lady d'Narley who has taken this news badly and has been in shock for the past day or so. And so the house is almost in turmoil, until some sort of order and completion can be brought upon it. That is what I hope to do.
The morning of my passage to Upper House arrives swiftly, yet the coach is somewhat later than the hour I would have anticipated it. But still, a house in mourning can be excused from exact velocity. I pace the small landing of my abode, from where I can plainly see any coach approaching, the Lord's letter firm in my hand. As it does not appear any coach is arriving I sit in the drawing room for a while.
A considerable few hours later, I do heed a coach rumbling up outside the house and I open the door when the driver knocks. He's a stout man with moustache, who takes my belongings and loads them into the trunk of the coach. He then politely opens the door for me and I step inside. It is a carriage representing a family of great wealth, the drapes by the window are of expensive fabric and the seats offer great luxury.
The only problem with the coach is, somebody is already sitting in it. Somebody I did not expect.
Claire.