The day began normally and then quickly grew incredibly rushed.
Mrs. Standfield—Eleanora's employer—burst into the kitchen suddenly and demanded that a prime lunch be made, fit for the Queen.
"Why?" one of the footmen asked. "What's going on?"
"The Earl is coming!" Mrs. Standfield gasped. "The Earl of Phantomhive!"
"What?!" chorused four voices. "The Earl of Phantomhive?!"
"You know who that is?" one of the maids said excitedly to Eleanora, who had gone oddly quiet. "That's one of the noblemen rumoured to be the 'Queen's Guard Dog,' ruler of London's criminal underworld!"
"You don't say?" Eleanora said faintly, looking a little ill.
"Well, don't just stand there, Mary Ann, get up and do something!" Mrs. Standfield said to her and ran off to shout orders to her family.
Eleanora nodded weakly and mechanically started making lunch—the best lunch that she knew how to make.
She knew that the Earl of Phantomhive was one of the prime candidates of being the Queen's Guard Dog—a fact that she had never cared about until now. Why here? Why now? Why on earth would a respectable earl—an upper-class—venture down to visit a middle-class home suddenly and for no apparent reason? Could it have something to do with last night? With what she had seen?
No, that was impossible. It was ridiculous to even consider it. The Earl wouldn't bother with a simple maid like her—why, he probably didn't even know that she had been out last night! He knew nothing; he could find nothing; she was in the clear; she had nothing to worry about from the first.
But the Earl, the Earl. Why was he coming?!
Mrs. Standfield had said that the Earl would arrive at around noon, and he was certainly a punctual man. The doorbell rang at 11:59. One of the footmen was sent to open the door while everyone else lined up in the drawing room—Mr. and Mrs. Standfield and their daughter Angelique in front, Eleanora and the rest of the servants behind them.
They couldn't hear anything; the hallway was too far away, but in minute the footman returned, looking very confused and nervous.
"T-The Earl of Phantomhive," he announced, "and company."
Everyone shared a look. "And company?"
And then the Earl entered—with company.
If Eleanora hadn't been so nervous she would have laughed. This was the Earl? Some tiny little kid with an eyepatch? She had eaten things bigger than this kid. Perhaps there was a mistake? But no—he had to have been the Earl. He was the only richly-dressed male in the group.
There was an elegant noblewoman with him. She wore a red dress which perfectly matched her red hair and eyes. She had a very nice smile—the smile of someone you could trust.
There were two men standing behind the aristocrats. One of them was a very tall, very handsome man dressed entirely in black. He was smiling, but his smile looked a bit predatory—as if he just wanted to eat them all. The other man was smaller, weedier, more pathetic, with long brown hair tied back with a bit of red ribbon and nervous green eyes behind glasses.
"E-Earl Phantomhive," Mrs. Standfield said in a high, nervous voice. "W-Welcome to our humble home. We are honoured by your presence. I am Mrs. Standfield; this is my husband, Mr. Standfield; our daughter, Angelique."
The Earl and the noblelady bowed.
"Very pleased to meet you," the Earl said. "I am Ciel, Lord Phantomhive; this is my aunt, Baroness Durless-Barnett; my butler, Sebastian; and the Baroness' butler, Grell."
"But please do call me Madam Red," the Baroness said warmly, shaking everyone's hand. "Everyone does."
"Er…Wonderful," Mrs. Standfield said awkwardly. "Th-These are my servants," she gestured to the line behind her. Apparently she didn't think of introducing them. She gave them names, as usual choosing simpler, humbler names over their real ones. "The footmen, Jack (Edward) and James (Jacob). The maids: Rebecca Ann (Bella), Lizzie Ann (Rosalie), and Mary Ann (Eleanora)."
They all curtsied or bowed. When Eleanora straightened up, her eyes met with the Earl's butler. His smile widened and he did another small bow.
The idea was completely ridiculous, but for a few seconds, Eleanora thought that he was bowing specifically to her.
"Well," Mrs. Standfield said, attempting to be cheerful, "Shall we get the servants to bring us tea? Please do sit down," she said, gesturing to the chairs. The Earl and his aunt accordingly sat down. They looked exactly at home, as if they were born to sit in those horrendous middle-class chairs.
Mrs. Standfield giggled and cast an imploring, desperate look at the servants.
"Well? Aren't you going to go down and fetch us some tea?"
They all bowed or curtseyed and began leaving the room.
"Sebastian, Grell, go with them and lend a helping hand," the Earl ordered his servants.
"NO!" Eleanora thought while the other servants shared a look clearly indicating "YES!"
"Well, Earl, this is…very generous of you, um…" Mrs. Standfield said helplessly. Her idea of her having power was slipping away with every second.
The aristocrats' servants bowed and followed the other servants out the door and down to the kitchen. Eleanora tried to ignore them, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that the butler in black was watching her very intently.