Author's Note: I'd like to sincerely thank everyone who has read—or is reading—this story and to apologize for the short chapters and slow updates; I'm trying to juggle three stories at once. One chapter will be updated every day or every other day, and again I apologize for the short chapters, which usually end in cliffhangers. Thank you for reading! Really, really thank you!
She finished pouring the tea and mechanically walked back down to the kitchen, hearing the high, nervous prattling of Mrs. Standfield vainly trying to impress her aristocratic guests—and seeming to fail; the Earl looked absolutely bored and the Baroness looked as if she was trying to enjoy herself…which gave her an expression of pain.
She arrived downstairs and was just about to turn into the kitchen when she heard something being violently slammed against a wall. She ducked behind the wall and peeked out. The butler—that damned butler—had the other butler by the neck and had pinned him to the wall.
"Focus!" he hissed, shaking the other butler a bit. "Focus! Now are you sure which one it is?"
The other butler—Grell—laughed weakly and fiddled with his glasses.
"W-Well, I don't know; it was so dark in the alley and it all happened so quick…"
Then the butler growled. An actual, real, honest-to-mother!-god growl. He growled and tightened his grip around the man's neck.
"W-Wait! Wait Bassy! I remember!" the other butler gasped. "She had blue eyes! Yes, I remember distinctly: she most definitely had blue eyes!"
"Blue eyes?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Positive!"
"Good," the butler sighed and released the other. "Do you have makeup? Powder or something?"
"Hm? Yes. Why?" The other butler rifled through his pockets and brought out a compact, looking confused. The one in black took the compact, opened it, and began covering up his black eye, which Eleanora could see in the compact's mirror. She couldn't resist a grin; that had to have been one of her best punches.
She worried for nothing! There were plenty of middle-class maids in the world with blue eyes; why, there were at least two in this very house! Let's see, Bella had brown eyes and Rosalie had green eyes and—
She felt cold. She was the only maid with blue eyes.
"Shit!"
She ducked into the kitchen while the demented butlers were occupied: the black one with his eye, the weedy one watching in adoring fascination. She was pretty sure she saw him drooling.
"But Bassy," she heard him say, "can't you fix it immediately, using your powers or something?"
"No, it's too soon," she heard the other one sigh. "I have to wait and fix it slowly. Here you go; thank you. Now where did that girl go?"
"Oh—I think she's in the kitchen; that old hag wanted some sandwiches."
Eleanora winced and quickly fixed up some food. She wanted to be away from it all and be with as many people as possible—no one would dare to murder someone if there were a lot of people around, even if those people were some crummy middle-classers.
She finished with the food and prepared to run upstairs, she turned the corner and almost ran directly into the Earl's butler.
"Let me help you," he said, smiling. Eleanora blinked up at him. He was truly a master; one could hardly tell that he had a black eye; if she didn't know any better, she would have said that there was never one to begin with. He reached for the tray filled with food and she pulled it back.
"Thank you, I can do it myself," she said sulkily and stomped past him, trying hard not to scream, especially as she heard him following her upstairs to the drawing room, where Mrs. Standfield was still trying too hard to impress the guests, telling all of her horrible middle-class jokes and forcing laughter at them.
"Refreshments, ma'am," Eleanora murmured and set the tray down on the table.
"Hm? Oh, thank you Mary Ann. Go stand over there," Mrs. Standfield absentmindedly waved her over to a corner, which she darted into gratefully. She was here, among people, and though two of those people were enemies, the odds were in her favor that she wouldn't die just yet.
She felt cold again. The Earl's butler was whispering something into his master's ear. The Earl looked surprised, looked up, and their eyes met. Eleanora looked down and tried to turn invisible. She knew without looking that the butler was smirking.
"Is...Is something wrong?" Mrs. Standfield said nervously, fiddling with her fingers.
"Oh, no, not at all," the Earl of Phantomhive said, waving the butler aside. "I confess, Mrs. Standfield, that I had an ulterior motive for coming here." He leaned in seriously. Mrs. Standfield giggled. Eleanora tried not to faint.
"Your household is renowned for having the very best of servants," the Earl continued. "Of course, one can only attribute the lady of the house for their success. I sent my butler downstairs to see if this was, indeed, the case, and he brought back only stellar reviews."
"Well!" Mrs. Standfield said, laughing a half-hysteric laugh. "You know what they say about servants!"
"And what do they say about servants?"
"Well, that…they pick things up…from their…employers?" Mrs. Standfield said hesitantly and quickly changed the subject. "By the way, Lord Phantomhive, have you seen my daughter, Angelique?" The daughter accordingly nodded and smiled. "She's so young and talented and beautiful and yet unmarried; are you aware of any unwed members of the nobility?"
Eleanora rolled her eyes and accidently made eye contact with the butler. He smiled at her, his perfect, predatory smile again and did a small bow.
There was no doubt about it this time: he was specifically bowing to her.