The Earl's butler, just like his master, made himself exactly at home in the kitchen and was immediately pronounced as one of them. Only Eleanora seemed wary of him—wary of his debonair gentlemanliness and godly looks and perfect perfectness. And that was the best way to describe him: perfect. Perfect in his manners, his dress, perfect in everything he did and said and smiled. The servants, particularly the female ones, were enraptured by him almost instantaneously. Only Eleanora ignored him, focusing only on the tea. The other butler—Smell or whatever his name was—had seemed to disappear. It didn't seem unusual: he didn't seem to be a very noticeable man, as if he was born to be a wallflower.
The butler Sebastian charmed his way into the servants' inner circle in a matter of minutes. Soon they were telling him all of their secrets, how Edward secretly stole jam, how Jacob bought naughty magazines on the sly, how Bella wore pink garters, how Rosalie had a boyfriend, how Eleanora could speak French, how Edward…
…And he just listened politely, nodding and smiling and cracking the occasional joke, sending everyone into peals of laughter. Eventually they got so comfortable with him that they decided to ask him some daring questions:
"Are you married?"
"Do you have a girl?"
"Are you still a virgin?"
He had laughed, a perfect light laugh and changed the subject, eyes twinkling—whether with merriment or malice Eleanora didn't know.
"Hey," Bella said, leaning in excitedly, "I heard that your master's the Queen's 'Guard Dog.' Is this true?"
He laughed again.
"Perhaps," he said, winking. "After all, I am merely a humble butler. How can I possibly know what goes on with my master?"
They laughed at that.
"By the way, have you heard of what's happening with all the nobles?" Jacob said suddenly. "They're all dropping dead like flies! You'd best be on your guard, man. If your master's not careful, you might need to find yourself a new boss!"
They laughed at that.
"No, but really: isn't it just terrible?" Rosalie said. "No evidence, no witnesses, absolutely nothing at all! How on earth are the police going to find out who's doing it?"
The butler smiled to himself and circled the rim of his teacup with a perfect gloved finger.
"I heard," he said delicately, "that there is a witness—just one solitary witness."
The servants gasped and whispered and begged him for more details. Eleanora focused herself entirely on the cake in the oven.
"Just one witness," he said again, smirking at their interest. "Just a rumour, mind you; even I'm not entirely sure if it's true—but the witness is said to be a maid."
More gasps and whispers and jests at the maids' expense.
"A maid," he repeated. "A maid working for a middle-class family. She was found in the 'bad' part of London—running away from someone. She supposedly acted very familiar with the territory…as if she had lived there before…"
"Then it must be Eleanora!" Edward hooted. "Hey, Mary Ann, come here! Tell us: have you seen any nobles being murdered lately?"
Everyone laughed, except for Edward. Eleanora had just given him the finger.
The bell from the drawing room rang.
"That's Mrs. Standfield," Jacob grouched, standing up. "I'll go and see what the old bat wants."
"I'll come with you," Bella said, also standing.
Rosalie remembered laundry that was outside and Edward mumbled something about using the necessary—probably to get out of the same room as Eleanora. Within seconds the room was cleared, leaving only Eleanora…and the butler.
He stood up slowly, almost lazily, and glided his way towards her, while she was buttering bread for the tea, trying to look bored and controlled when in reality she was panicking.
"So…" the butler said, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching her out of the corner of his eye, "fancy there being a witness to such a heinous crime."
"Yes, fancy that," Eleanora said, relieved to hear her voice come out as a churlish growl—her usual tone.
"A maid," he mused. "Just a simple maid, working for a middle-class family…someone who is familiar with the bad parts of town…someone who saw what she shouldn't have seen…Interesting."
"Fascinating," Eleanora said sarcastically. "I think that I shall die of excitement."
Her heart was beating so fast, she was sure that he could hear it.
"Miss Mary Ann…"
"Eleanora."
"Oh! I do beg your pardon," he said, smiling as if he didn't really care about her name. "Miss Eleanora. What if I told you that my young master truly is the Queen's Guard Dog?"
Eleanora didn't answer.
"What if I told you that I knew, for a fact, that there truly is a witness?"
Eleanora was having difficulty breathing; she fought to look calm.
"What if I told you," he whispered in her ear, "that I think that you're that exact same witness?"
Eleanora burst out laughing.
"Me? A witness? To some noble moron's death?" she snickered in his surprised face. "Get real. If there really is a witness, wouldn't they go straight to the police? Ask the servants, ask the masters, ask anyone; they'll tell you that I hate the police with a passion. I wouldn't go to them if it would save my life."
Eleanora forced a smile at the irony of it all.
"Perhaps you're right," he sounded disappointed. "Perhaps there really is no witness. But then again…" he suddenly leaned in close, pinning her to the counter, "perhaps you're wrong. Perhaps you're just lying to cover something up…Perhaps you actually do know something? Maybe you've seen something? Know something? Come now, Miss Eleanora…" he leaned in, whispering in her ear, "you can tell me…"
She punched him.
She kissed her hurt knuckles and glared at him, who was now on the floor, looking delightfully shocked.
"Firstly," she said, "I am Miss Black to you, punk. Secondly, I know nothing. And thirdly, if I did know something, what the hell would make you think I would tell it to your fat arrogant ass?"
So saying, she gathered up the tea-things and made her way upstairs, striding past him, still looking stunned. Her usual mask of indifference had appeared on her face, but underneath that bored exterior was pure fright. She had just punched an earl's butler. The Earl was the Queen's Guard Dog. They knew that she knew something. They all knew it. She would be dead by evening.
"Shit."
She should have poured something in the Earl's tea. Something to make him…occupied. They had some fine rat poison in the cupboard...But now she was entering the drawing room. Now it was too late.
She forced on a smile and began pouring the tea.
Sebastian stood up and gently touched his eye. She was pretty strong; he already knew that it was a fine purple.
"Grell," he said and the other butler appeared around the corner, looking nervous.
"B-Bassy, your eye…"
"Never mind it," he said and pulled him into the hallway. "Now tell me: are you sure it's her?"