Chronicles of Mystery

A disturbing encounter

Lucy found her even prettier than the papers said. She felt amazed in front of this woman whose parties had lulled her daydreams.

Yet, as with the hall of the mansion, at second glance she noticed details that had escaped her. The Countess seemed to have retained the youth and vigor of her twenty years, when she must have been twice that. She looked almost frail in her outfit that was a little too big for her, thin as she was. She was like a little mouse with a lost look, unaware of what she was doing there. Her face was emaciated, her cheekbones protruding. She looked terribly exhausted, as if she had been drained of all her emotions. She looked at the newcomers with a blank stare. She seemed almost like a ghost, she was so pale. Her hand was clinging firmly to the banister of the stairs, as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor. Her veins stood out against her skin, blue against white. Blue antlers that ran through her body. She was shaking slightly. She seemed so fragile, a gust of wind could have carried her away.

She slowly continued down each step of the stairs. With each step taken, it felt like the next would be the last. The Countess looked like a little doll about to break.

When at last she arrived in front of the visitors, she stopped for a moment, as if exhausted by the long descent of the steps.

 "Who... who are you?" She asked.

Her voice was hoarse and tired, as if she hadn't spoken in a long time. Up close, you could notice that her eyes were swollen and red, as if she had been crying. Those eyes were one of the only things that seemed alive in her. The rest of her body seemed dead, artificial... Only her eyes still conveyed emotions. The rest of her face kept a neutral expression, without any feeling.

Lucy felt herself trembling before this woman, who had been a kind of inaccessible model for her. She had been one of the people who had inspired her, as well as another... Another who was no longer of this world.

She was terribly moved.

 "I am Lucy Moon and this is Alistair de Saule. We're the detectives, do you... remember?"

Her voice became stammering towards the end, timid and embarrassed. Her cheeks were pink with excitment.

Alistair, if he couldn't help but be happy in front of his partner's joy, felt his suspicions being confirmed. He was afraid of the outcome of this story.

  "The... detectives? What... detectives?"

Lucy was beginning to feel confused. Her first meeting with the Countess was not quite going as she had hoped. But that was probably only due to fatigue. The Countess must have been sleep deprived, which had made her forget that she had called in detectives. Yes, that was it. Everything was going to be fine. As she had always wished, as she had always dreamed. There would be no problem, none. Everything was under control. The Countess must simply be tested by this serious matter for which she had contacted them.

The Countess turned a questioning gaze towards her servant.

 "Maud? What is... ?"

The servant came forward and spoke.

 "Let me introduce you to my mistress, the noble and dignified Countess Elizabeth of Averley, wife of Earl George of Averley. Ma'am, these are the detectives you wanted to see, remember?"

The Countess looked perplexed. Her gaze met Maude's and a silent question was exchanged between them two. Maude nodded slowly. The Countess turned her attention to her guests.

 "Yes... yes... Detectives. I remember, forgive me, my head is elsewhere these days."

Her lips stretched slowly into a smile that seemed forced, almost painful. She let out a little laugh that was more like a yelp, while her face kept its morbid fixity.

 "Ma'am, they're here for... business."

The Countess' gaze darkened as her expression remained the same.

 "Yes. I suppose you need to know why I brought you here, don't you? It's... because my husband was murdered three weeks ago."

The countess' fake smile wavered a little before recovering, still as fixed. There was something peculiar about the countess's face, with her smiling mouth and her eyes filled with pain.

Lucy bit her lip. She had no idea what to say in such a situation. Should she apologize, offer her condolences? She who had never known or even seen the Count and who was meeting his wife for the first time. Should she instead comfort the Countess by telling her firmly that she would find out who the culprit was with an air of assurance? This indeed seemed to her to be the attitude of a great detective. Great detectives were sure of themselves, they knew what they were doing, they were never wrong and everyone respected them. When a detective started to analyze something, all the elements presented themselves directly to his mind.

Lucy would have liked to be able to function like this. Unfortunately, she was not yet a big enough detective to be able to find the answer to all her questions right away.

Quickly, Lucy made her choice. She sat up and lifted her head high, in what she hoped was a dignified and majestic air.

 "Don't worry ma'am! We will do everything to help you and find out who killed your husband. Then we will bring them to justice so that they get the punishment they deserve ! "Lucy said with all the determination she was capable of.

The Countess looked at her with a mysterious air of silence, without answering her, contenting herself with contemplating her.

  "It's starting to get late. It's nearly one o'clock in the afternoon. I assume you've been traveling all morning. You must be exhausted? I'll have you taken to your rooms so you can rest, and then I'll have you called for dinner."

Lucy and Alistair looked at each other, not knowing what to answer. She was obviously trying to get rid of them for a while.

Alistair ended up nodding his head.

 "Yes, of course, guide us, Maude."

The maid led them across the hall and through a side door. They entered a small living room with blue wallpaper with white flowers while waiting for their rooms to be ready. The place was as run down as the rest of the house. The small chandelier on the ceiling was hanging miserably, about to fall. Pedestal tables were glued to the walls, and supported cracked vases. In the center of the room, there was a coffee table with curved legs in the Louis XV style and a transparent glass surface. On top was a tray with a tea set. Difficult to know how long the tray was there.

The floor was covered with a dark blue carpet encrusted with dust and which creaked underfoot. Two sofas were installed facing each other, on either side of the coffee table. They had four legs of the same shape as those of the coffee table. The fabric that covered them was blue with white stripes and was peeling off in places while a few tears allowed the foam that filled the sofa to protrude. Their frame was gilded and several small cushions were placed on it. No one had sat on the sofas for a long time.

There was only one small window in the room. It was closed and concealed by white curtains. The light that managed to filter through illuminated the dust particles that floated in the room.

The place was shrouded in silence. A strange atmosphere reigned. As if the room had been cut off from time for years, locked in a bubble, apart. She had kept the imprint of memories of the past, but these seemed more distant, erased. The living room was a faded, weathered photograph.

One felt a strange sensation when entering this place. It felt like breaking something.

The maid closed the door behind her and said:

  "Wait for me here, I'll be back. I will prepare your rooms."

At these words, she left them alone in the room, face to face, in an awkward silence.