Revelation

Celeste answered to the accusation, “This has got to be some silly joke,” her voice full of certainty, “you better have a good proof, professor; I will not take such a claim lightly.”

Slowly and silently, Theodore moved his finger from pointing at Celeste to pointing at the roof, where the dagger hung.

“You haven’t moved from where you stand for a while, Lady, have you?”

She nodded sceptically.

“Mine is not the only finger of accusation pointing at you, lady,” he smiled, amused by the idea, “the dagger you threw to kill Lady Linmere can’t lie about the person who threw it.”

“That’s it,” she responded, yes, annoyed, but not at all scared or worried, which was enough to raise Earl Whittemore’s suspicion, “follow me, Penelope, we’re leaving.”

Her walk was interrupted by the reload of a revolver, and the hands holding it were none other than Eleanor’s.

“No, you are not! Or at least one of you two isn’t,” she said, pointing the weapon at her opponent.

The shivering Penelope pleaded, “Lady Thornwood, please!”

Noticing her unease, Theodore pressed: “Do you have something to tell us, Lady?”

She refrained from answering, so he decided to take a revolver of his own and point it at her sister.

“Lady Penelope Windemere, you either speak, or your sister gets punished for her murders.”

“No… please don’t…”

“I won’t if you start speaking,” He answered

Celeste looked at her sister, losing her temper, “Penelope…?”

“I’m sorry I…”

All those who stood there had their blood freeze at the sound of a gunshot, all but two: Eleanor Thornwood, the shooter, and Celeste Windemere, whose blood poured from the hole in her chest, dyeing the flood in red, for a third time. Penelope kneeled and held her sister tightly while murmuring, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh, I am so sorry, it shouldn’t have been this way…”

“Lady Thornwood,” demanded Whittemore in a strict tone, “care explaining what just happened?”

In response, she smirked and spoke, “How about you tell us what you found out first, detective.”

Theodore stayed still, and for a moment, it was only Penelope’s cry that filled the room.

“I… d-don’t… understand…” she realised those were her last words, so she had to leave them, “Penelope…”

“She said she was going to spare your life… I did exactly as she said… I… I’m sorry.”

Celeste didn’t need to hear more, she didn’t care, she thought of the her last words as the pain slowly took her consciousness away, she considered saying how much she loved her sister, saying how proud she was of her, saying something to help her grieve… all were good options, amongst the few things she could have said at that moment, she chose the worst; “I shouldn’t have given you a sword after all.”

And then it was completely silent.

He spoke: “Baron Percival Greystone, the old man, was poisoned the moment all of us left the ballroom. The poison is a rare substance from America… Viscount Felix Hatherleigh poetically walked into his death by cutting his throat with a fine, invisible string. And Lady Agatha Linmere was crushed under a chandelier.”

There was a pause, in wait for him to state anything but the obvious.

“The string was tightened in a way that it can hold against the weight and momentum of the bolting Viscount, which is certainly difficult to do when the string in question is so thin that the eye couldn’t pick it up. Difficult indeed, but not for a violinist.”

“The dagger,” he continued, “clearly spoke of the murderer’s location. If you follow the angle at which it hit the chain and the roof, you will inevitably find the source…”

Iris then questioned, “Why accuse the older sister first if you knew who the murderer was?”

“I didn’t know by any means, all the evidence pointed at Penelope, but logically, I had no way to make a certain claim. I needed a confession, so I pressed on Celeste; if Penelope panicked and confessed, I would get my answer. Even if she didn’t, I could just stick to my claim.”

The Earl’s eyes and Eleanor’s smile both widened at the realisation.

It was all too obvious, the murderer was confessing with every action. Even an inexperienced killer wouldn’t make it so easy, unless they wanted to be caught.

“What do you suggest then? Is she not the murderer?” asked Godfrey.

“That’s where the first murder counts, the poison required colonial connections, one that Lady Windemere did not have…”

He paused.

“She was forced to do so by someone; someone who wanted to give me a mystery to solve, who orchestrated today’s death like a symphony, and left the sheets for me to read… the only two people who knew I spoke to and examined Lady Windemere were Nora and the Earl, who followed us…”

He didn’t say more than that; he didn’t need to.

“Was it that easy? Maybe I was going too easy on you, Theo.” Answered Eleanor.

As he explained his deduction, Theodore reminded Penelope, who had just stopped crying, of what she’d done. Which made her agony deeper, and her cry louder.

There was a gunshot a second time, and Penelope, too, was silenced like a stringless violin.

“Can’t you see I’m speaking?” Eleanor continued then as though she was never interrupted, and as though she did not just take a life like it was nothing, “This place is a mess… let’s head somewhere more civilised, please.”

Side by side, walked Earl Whittemore and Countess Thornwood, followed by Theodore and Iris, they reached a room where they sat around a table, and waited for the host to reveal everything she’s been hiding.

“Let’s start from the very beginning, shall we?”

Whittemore lit a pipe.

“It started with an invitation, a fancy letter sealed with the royal insignia, as though that made it any less ominous. I spoke to her majesty over tea. Never in my life had I felt the need to watch my choice of words until then… Luckily, her mood didn’t seem to worsen, then she asked, ‘Not many agree on where the rot lies. Tell me, where would you begin pruning?’”

Eleanor paused and smiled like she never did, feeling almost… nostalgic.

“I had no clue how to respond to that. No, I knew there were either no right answers or all answers were right. So I took my ring off my finger, the one that belonged to my father, and put it on the table, then I took a sip of tea and watched as she matched me in approval.”

There was another pause as she tried to figure out where to begin next.

“Baron Greystone, ah, the old aristocrat didn’t have the best reputation amongst the commonwealth, you wouldn’t believe how many brothels had his name in their blacklists… Viscount Hatherleigh tied and starved a child because the latter was found inside the walls of his manor… Agatha Linmere paid thousands to shut down a scandal about her family exploiting their workers, sending miners weeks away from their families, and compensating them in no way for the accidents.”

Iris did her best to let out a single question: “How about the sisters?”

“At only the age of thirteen, Penelope Windemere, along with her older sister, stabbed their parents to death.”

Eleanor chose silence at that moment, to which Godfrey answered, “What did Godfrey Whittemore do then?”

Her smug lips widened as she reloaded the revolver, and set it near her, then threw a second to the other side of the table where he sat, confronting her.

“He watched, and chose silence,” she then pointed her gun at him, “and now he either gets punished for his sin and he is of the likes of those who died, or he punishes for my sin, and he is of my likes.”

Whittemore examined the weapon before pointing it back at its sender, “What kind of game is this?”

“If you think I’m right, you must punish me the same way I punished the others.” She waited for him to answer, but when he did not, she decided to make it easier for him.

“Let us change the rules then,” she turned to Theodore, “Theo here can make the choice on your behalf.”

The earl sighed as Theodore stood up, walked towards him, and took the pointed revolver from its cylinder. He then did as though he was trying to empty it, but he was merely showcasing that the revolver was not loaded to begin with.

Theodore spoke, “She does not play games she might lose, and she would not give anyone her back to stab.”

The Earl laughed as he leaned back on the chair. He closed his eyes and decided to leave a last few words: “Listen, kid, so long you stay with her, you will break yourself… But you cannot leave her,” he eyed Eleanor. “Once she starts, no one except you will put an end to her actions.”

“Earl Gordfrey Whittemore,” said Eleanor finally, “thank you for coming in.”

“Thank you for having me.”

There was a third gunshot.

“Ah, that was a long night,” she spoke indifferently, “I’ll be taking a bath.”

She stood up, walked away, and left the maid and the professor staring at the table… or not, perhaps it was that nothingness again, whatever it was, they gazed at it.

“What now?” wondered Iris.

“She won’t stop here,” he responded, “you may still be able to leave now, don’t get yourself too involved with her.”

He was undisputedly right, and so she couldn’t respond; she feared going back home, but she knew she had no business following the footsteps of Eleanor as she dives into a lake of blood, and as she climbs a hill of corpses.

I am not like the rest of you. I do not have the skills or brains to survive this, I’m scared…
That’s right. I’m just a normal woman from the commonwealth, I am neither born to pursue greatness myself, nor am I to stand in The Shadows of The Elite.

Iris looked up to see his face; he was in pain. He knew he needed her, a friend, yet for her safety, he had to push her away.

Don’t look at me like that… I’m not so selfless.

He headed out of the room, likely nowhere precise, but was stopped by Iris, “Theodore…”

“Yes?”

“I will see you tomorrow, and the day after, and after that…”

“Even if it kills you?”

Iris forced a huge smile, sounding more confident than she was; “Don’t worry, it won’t, nothing can.”

He left the room, meeting the butler at the entrance, who was holding a towel.

“The young Lady expects you,” he said as he handed Theodore the towel, immediately turning the edges of his ears red as a cardinal in snow.

Theodore knocked on the door thrice and opened it to feel the hot steam in his face like a furnace.

Her arm extended from the curtain, demanding the towel. He handed it over.

“Well done, Theo. I was almost scared you didn’t know how to catch bad guys anymore.”

“What if I didn’t? Would you just get rid of me like you did to the others?”

“Don’t be silly!” she said as she stepped out of the bath, with the towel around her bare skin, “I knew your mind was sharp as a blade that never rusts.”

She Did Not Deny It

Arc 1 end.