That Butler, Disturbed
I own nothing but my OC.
≤speech in Indian language≥
'thoughts'
"speech"
{setting/stage directions?}
SOUND EFFECTS
An entire sentence like this, without quotes, is narration for dreams or stuff like written letters.
=†=†=†=†= scene shift/time shift
—^—^—^— change of perspective/area of action within one specific time frame/location
Previously:
"What if there exists a fourteenth person who can make the impossible possible?" Lau asked.
"Rubbish!! That could never be!" Woodley said dismissively.
"Never, you say? In this world, it's the absolutes like 'never' that can never be," Lau said mysteriously. "If someone who negates that absolute is lurking in this castle… and is waiting for the ideal moment in which to target our lives… He may already be closer than we think."
=†=†=†=†=†=
BANG! BANG!
Someone beat on the kitchen door so hard that the whole thing shook and it made Bard and Chêne jump.
"!?" all of the servants gasped and looked at the door as it shook again.
BANG! BANG!
Who on earth could it be!?
=†=†=†=†=†=
"That fourteenth guest who ought not to exist—" Lau said, opening his eyes.
=†=†=†=†=†=
BANG!
{Downstairs, Kitchen...}
BANG! BANG!
The door vibrated with every knock.
BANG! BANG!
The servants stared at the door, wondering who it could possibly be on the other side. Tanaka held a finger to his lips and quietly approached the door. Chêne grabbed a frying pan.
BANG! BANG!
Tanaka nodded to let the others know he was ready. They nodded back. Tanaka opened the door. Chêne's eyes widened.
=†=†=†=†=†=
"The fourteenth guest who ought not to exist…" Woodley said. "Hmph! There's no way such a fantastical person can..."
SLAM!
"Young Master!!" Bard called, holding a bag in one hand, as he and Finni burst into the room, followed by Mei-Rin and Chêne.
"We've caught someone dodgy!" Finni shouted.
"!!?" Ciel said, startled.
"Hey! Get in here, you!" Bard told their captive. The man stepped forward into the room. He was drenched head to toe, bound with ropes, and appeared to be a relatively aged man with slicked back black hair and eyes that Chêne would know anywhere. She stared at the man in shock along with everyone else in the room.
"… Eh…!?" the guests said.
"Wai—so there really was someone else!?" Grey yelled incredulously. "Where on earth was he hiding—?"
"… You are…" Ciel said, eyes wide with surprised recognition.
"So that means… he is the killer!?" Woodley shouted.
"Heh…!" Lau said, exhaling smoke from his pipe. He stood up. "I never for a moment thought that the fourteenth guest would himself come calling. I too am just a teensy bit taken aback!" He strode over and clapped the stranger on his shoulder. "So, who are you?" Lau asked him, totally clueless. A vein mark throbbed on Ciel's head.
"You're back to that again!?" the young earl said, annoyed.
"Are you asking for my name?" the stranger asked, looking at Ciel. A bead of sweat slid down the side of the boy's face.
"Long time no see… eh, Jeremy?" Ciel said.
"Lord Earl, do you know this old man?" Lau asked.
"Old man?" Jeremy said dubiously, raising an eyebrow.
"This is Vicar Jeremy Rathbone," Ciel replied. "He is a popular advisor at the local church and something of a celebrity."
"Please just call me plain old Jeremy," Jeremy told them with a smile.
"You are… a vicar?" Arthur said.
"How can you expect me to believe a suspicious fellow like him!?" Woodley shouted. "Only the fourteenth person, who has no alibi to speak of, could've committed the murders… Any way you slice it, it's got to be him!!"
"That logic of yours is truly nonsensical… Mister Woodley," Jeremy retorted. Woodley flinched.
"How do you know my name…!?" he asked. Jeremy smirked.
"Oh, it's quite obvious from the rings adorning your fingers," the vicar replied. "Large diamonds of that size are mined in South Africa. And the unique round brilliant-cut of those diamonds is possible only with the latest polisher recently developed by the Woodley Company. I have also heard that Daniel Anderson, a London jeweler, was aggressively promoting them to society ladies as the rarest of gems, still not widely available on the market, you see. Thus, if among the guests at Earl Phantomhive's dinner party, there is one individual wearing such rings, he is most likely to be the president of the Woodley Company… You, Mister Woodley. Was I wrong?"
"Urk..." Woodley didn't know what to say to that. He was right, of course.
"That aside, how in the world did you… rather, since when? And why are you here?" Arthur asked.
"Dear me. Questions, questions," said Jeremy with a sigh. He looked at Bard. "You there. Open my bag, if you would." The bag reminded Chêne of a stereotypical old fashioned doctor's bag. She watched as Bard set the bag down and opened it.
CLICK.
Again, her eyes widened in shock. Inside the bag was an unconscious snowy owl.
"Whoa!? That is Mister Sebastian's owl!!" Mei-rin exclaimed.
"Why is it in the bag?" Chêne asked. With no air holes that was pretty dangerous for the owl… which really did look like Hedwig.
"I-Is it dead, is it?" Mei-Rin asked nervously, also feeling bad for the owl.
"No, it was acting up, so I tranquilized it for a brief spell. It will wake up momentarily," Jeremy explained.
"E-Even if it was acting up, that's much too cruel!!" Finni cried.
"Do please take a look at the letter around its leg," Jeremy instructed them. Ciel kneeled down and opened the small cylinder tube to retrieve the letter inside.
"..." Ciel stared at it.
"Young Master! Whatever did Mister Sebastian write!?" Mei-Rin asked. Chêne tried to move closer to take a peek. Ciel squeezed the paper in his fist and crumpled it in his hand.
"… It appears that he sent this letter to Jeremy anticipating that he himself would eventually be killed," he said, stuffing the letter in his pocket.
"Oh no… Mister Sebastian..." Mei-Rin said.
"..." Chêne seemed to be at a loss for words.
"But that paper alone isn't proof enough that he's not the killer!!" Grimsby said. "I mean, if he managed to come here from outside the manor, he could've committed last night's murders too, right!?"
"Proving my innocence is quite simple," Jeremy said calmly. "Look in my coat pocket." Finni stepped forward to perform the task and pulled out a piece of paper.
"What is it?" Chêne asked him.
"A ticket… I think? From the theatre..." Finni replied.
"And the date on it?" Ciel asked.
"Yesterday… the ticket was purchased at the door for the evening performance on March the twelfth," Finni answered. "The location and programme were… um… the… el… ay… dee… The Lady of the Lake at the Lyceum Theatre!" Jeremy nodded in approval.
"The Lady of the Lake is indeed being performed at London's Lyceum now," Irene confirmed.
"Yes. Last night, I went to the Lyceum theatre in London," Jeremy said. "The performance ended well past ten at night. Even if I'd caught a hansom cab and slipped the driver a sovereign to rush over here, it would have taken over two hours to reach this manor. Moreover, the streets are a veritable quagmire of mud, what with all the rain. So it would have taken nearly twice as long as usual."
"You came by hansom cab in this downpour?" Irene asked.
"I bet the river's overflowin' its banks with the storm, so there's no way a cab coulda made it over the bridge!" Bard said.
"Of course there are any number of other ways to get here. On foot, by swimming… though to be fair, they are none of them ways I would recommend to average folk," Jeremy said. "There are as many means to an end as there are stars in the sky. However, the fact remains that there exists but one truth."
"And since you were in London last night, you could not have been involved with the murders… is this truth of which you speak?" Arthur said.
"Leave it to the masterly novelist to help me save my breath," Jeremy said with a smile, nodding.
"What!?" Arthur asked, surprised.
"It's a simple feat to tell a person's occupation and such from their clothing and habits," Jeremy stated. "First, you have a large callus on the middle finger of your right hand. And the shape differs from those who draw or paint… in other words, it goes to show just how much you write. Next, that blue smudge on your sleeve. This can happen when laundering fabric to which colored ink has adhered. And lastly… you have made a habit of noting on your cuffs with pencil story ideas as they strike you so you do not forget." Jeremy peered a little closer at the cuffs. "Pearl… India… secret room… sign. Only a writer would do something like that, hmm?"
"Amazing… you're like Doctor Bell, who was once my professor," Arthur remarked.
"Observing human beings is my hobby, you see," Jeremy replied. "Well then, now that I've relieved you of any suspicions toward me, would you untie me at once? It seems this manor is bursting with the fragrance of a heady mystery that will relieve my tedium."
—^—^—^—
With that, Jeremy was untied and welcomed as a guest, and the whole tale of everything that had transpired in the manor was relayed to him.
"—That covers everything which took place from the time of the first murder until the butler who summoned you was killed," Arthur concluded.
"I see… I find it all very curious indeed," said Jeremy. "May I examine the corpses first? They will speak to me of the bare facts most eloquently."
"Very well," Arthur said, standing up. "Let us make for the wine cellar below."
"Stop!" Jeremy said abruptly.
"Eh!?" Arthur said, surprised and confused.
"Please carry each body to a separate room," Jeremy requested.
"May I ask why?" Arthur asked.
"Even the various scents of a case may yield clues. If the corpses are laid out together, their individual smells will mingle and be contaminated," Jeremy said. "And in the wine cellar, the scent of wine is especially strong… So would you be kind enough to lend us three rooms, Earl Phantomhive?"
"… All right," Ciel said, standing up. He turned to face the servants, "You lot, take each corpse to a room of its own."
"Yes, Sir," Mei-Rin, Finni and Bard said.
"My lord, would you permit me to change my clothing in the interim?" Jeremy requested.
"Oh… I think the previous earl's clothes would be too small for you. Let me lend you something from the late butler's wardrobe. You don't mind, do you, Chêne?" Ciel said.
"Not at all. We can't leave a guest soaking wet like this," she replied.
"All right. Lead the way, then," Ciel told her.
=†=†=†=†=†=
"What is with that guy!?" Bard said as he and the other two made their way down to the wine cellar, with Finni carrying the cot. "He shows up and thinks he owns the place!"
"He's a vicar, but he acts more like a policeman. An odd duck, he is," Mei-Rin said.
"Yeah… but… I can't help feeling like he'll work this all out for sure," Finni said, thinking about it.
"Hrn?" Bard said.
"Why is that?" asked Mei-Rin.
"I can't really say why, but… I feel like it's okay for us to trust that man," Finni said with eyes clear of doubt.
"Aww, brother. If ya trust people so easy, you're gonna get burned, kid," Bard told him.
"I must agree," Mei-Rin said with a nod. Bard reached out an opened the door.
CREAK.
Inside was just as they had left it. They approached the body dearest to them first. Mei-Rin carefully lifted the sheet covering it to reveal Sebastian's face. He could have been sleeping if he weren't so still.
"Mister Sebastian, sir, we will be moving you now, we will," she told him.
=†=†=†=†=†=
Lightning flashed outside while Chêne waited in the drawing room with Jeremy and Ciel after they had returned from getting the change of dry clothes. Arthur and the other guests were still there as well.
"Young Master," Bard said, poking his head into the room. "We're done relocating the bodies."
"Nn," Ciel said.
"Right, then!" said Jeremy, clapping his hands together. "Shall we take a closer look at the corpses in the order they were murdered?"
