The coming storm

Back to Eleanor’s mansion, Theodore is alone in the room when the body of the Baron lays motionlessly, everyone else is gathering in the main hall, strangely, the awkwardness is controlling the atmosphere, yet it’s completely owned by Eleanor, no matter how much things are messed up, it all seems to be under her control.

“I’m done! I didn’t come to this silly gathering to sleep with a murderer under the same roof” screams Archibald Channing while walking towards the door.

Eleanor bursts into laughter then says ironically “come on Prince Charming, all that flexing with the ladies, and one dead body is all it takes for you to start crying?”

“What did you say you wh-“

Eleanor interrupts with her serious frightening look “what I am saying, is that no one is getting out of this mansion”

A long silence dominated for a while, a silence that’s technically impossible with all these people here, their breathing would normally break this silence, but it didn’t, maybe they were breathing very quietly, maybe they weren’t breathing at all, however it was a deep scary silence ready to be interrupted by a scarier voice.

Eleanor continues “Accept my apologies Sir Channing, I’d missed the fact that you’re a 'noble class idiot', there’s a murderer in this mansion, and no one is leaving until we figure out who killed the Baron”

“Well, as much as I hate getting involved in the police’s work, but Lady Eleanor, you’re mot here now as the leader of a special police force, which makes you a suspect too”

She smiles carelessly “I’m aware, and I expect everyone to cooperate so that we can all get out of this alive”

Theodore finally leaves the Baron’s room and takes his bloody gloves, and quietly sits down, his entrance created a new silence, with all the eyes except Eleanor’s on him, “how ironic, i always get everyone’s eyes, except the only ones i want” he thinks while putting his hat on his face, face and not head, he hid his face with the hat and sat there.

Eleanor with her indifferent expression stands up, walks towards where he’s sitting, she doesn’t seem in a hurry, she walks slowly, indifferently, maybe slightly amused, who knows, the best of the best can’t read this woman.

She stands behind his seat, and takes his hat off, then puts both her hands on his shoulders. She leans towards him, getting her mouth right next to his ears, he’d swear her lips touched his ears once or twice as she speaks.

She whispered to him, and he spoke loudly, not really loud, he spoke regularly, but it was loud if he’s speaking to someone that’s almost touching his face, he maybe was addressing to everyone else.

“His throat was cut with a knife, the knife wasn’t sharp enough so i imagine a slow painful death”

Eleanor whispers something and he talks again “i didn’t find much, the murderer cleaned all the proofs, and they did it really fast, this can’t mean anything but the fact that this isn’t their first murder”

Eleanor looks at all of the guests, unable to hide her amusement “are you saying that one of my very precious guests, is a serial killer?”

He looks away, not that his eyes were here anyway, they’re always wandering somewhere, looking at the light sources and the windows, looking for anything for no reason, “what i said, is that at least one of your precious guests is serial killer”

“This is only getting better” she says while brushing his dark wavy hair.

“These are dangerous accusations professor… wait what was it?” Says Penelope “unless you have a strong proof, I command you to take it back”

Then, Eleanor interrupted with her unique voice, the voice that’s immune to any Disobedience “You don’t have the right to command him”, both Theodore and Eleanor don’t seem to grow up mentally no matter how long it takes, and the childish Eleanor hates nothing more than someone playing with her own toys.

“Let’s focus on what we can do for now, i suggest getting everyone’s alibi and figure out slowly who the killer is” again, Sir Fairchild takes the lead and redirect the attention to the most important thing to do.

Rosalind regained her composure a little, Archibald is humiliated by what Eleanor said to him earlier, however Lord Ashcroft is terrifyingly calm, too calm for a man who lost his friend, a man that shows little about himself is expected to be the kind that Eleanor hates, she likes knowing everything about others, however, the kind of human enigma, is her favourite type.

This night, in Thornwood’s mansion, people are restless, lights are on, this is going to be a very long night.