The sun came out the very next morning. It was surprisingly cheering to see it, despite the unpleasantness of last night.
Eleanora had been sure that the murderer was Earl Grey. All signs seemed to point to it, but for some reason, that diamond man—who she hadn't even given a thought to—had done it. She wasn't sure why; she didn't particularly understand the motive; if she was perfectly honest, it all seemed too convenient. As if they were hiding something.
Then again, she didn't really know who "they" were. The Earl of Phantomhive? Unlikely. What did he have to hide? He had thrown a normal party, not even messing about with the criminal underworld. The butler? But he was dead. Jeremy? But he was a pastor—and he was leaving this very morning. The whole thing was highly suspect, but Eleanora suddenly realized that she didn't want to think about it anymore. What a party. The whole thing had just been one long nightmare from start to finish.
And she was still husband-less. That was one problem solved—she would never be tormented by him again—but that also opened the doorway to tens of thousands of other problems. Where would she find another husband? Would she have to wear black for ten years? Did she still have a job? Would she ever find another job? Who the hell was that woman in the photo album? And would she come for Eleanora's blood, saying that she had caused Michaelis' death?
She was so, so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep. She said goodbye to Pastor Jeremy and thanked him sincerely for all of his help. Who knew? Maybe without him, everyone in that manor would have slowly died off, one by one.
"Goodbye, Miss Black," Jeremy said, kissing her hand like a true gentleman. "Please do look after yourself."
She had thought that he would offer her assistance whenever she would need it, but maybe he thought that she didn't need it—or want it—or refuse it if it was offered. It actually would have been nice to have the help of a real gentleman whenever she would need it, but maybe she was already asking too much. She had known him, and that was enough. It was cheering to know that there were still real gentlemen like that in the world.
"That's the man I should have married," she thought as she watched him leave. "Maybe I should have offered him my maid services, and then, in a year or so…But never mind that now."
She would probably never see him again anyway. And they had gotten along so well…But it was no use crying over spilled milk. Everyone was exhausted; the Earl had kindly given them the day off so that they could properly recuperate over the events of the past days. Eleanora dragged herself upstairs, to where the women slept, and collapsed onto her bed. Her last thoughts were of Pastor Jeremy:
"That's odd," she thought as her eyes closed, "I'm sure that we were never actually formally introduced, but for some reason, he knew that my last name was Black. Must be his detective skills or something."
And then she was asleep.