Athena Holmes was a quiet but intelligent girl. She kept to herself and found no care for the world. She can be described as a perfect mix of the other three Holmeses. Calm, cold and collected like Mycroft Holmes. Blunt, clever and sociopathic like...
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2012
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A T H E N A' S P O V
The next evening, I arrived at the Pembroke estate. If I said the view wasn't impressive I would be lying. Tall wrought-iron gates adorned with intricate scrollwork opened onto a sweeping driveway lined with ancient oak trees, their branches arching gracefully overhead. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot as I approached the estate.
The mansion looked like it came out of a Georgian painting, putting the pictures I saw of it last night to shame. The creamy stone walls gleamed softly in the evening light, framed by ivy-clad walls and meticulously manicured gardens. Delicate rose bushes and vibrant hydrangeas added splashes of color to the verdant landscape, while neatly trimmed hedges formed intricate patterns along the edges of the estate.
Tall windows with ornate frames reflected the last rays of sunlight, casting a warm glow from within the mansion.
The front steps, adorned with plush velvet ropes, felt almost welcoming to me as I took a deep breath. I've come early, before the dinner starts, on purpose. Mycroft has prepared for the butler to give me a tour of the mansion, though I already looked at the blueprints the night before. Just an excuse for me to snoop around before everybody arrives.
I stare at the large door in front of me. Here goes nothing. I close my eyes and enter my Mind Palace, the file of Charlotte Sterling opening up. I skim over all the details as her persona slowly took over my mind. To everyone else, and myself, I was no longer Athena Holmes.
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As I entered the Pembroke Estate, I was greeted by the butler, Alfred Blackwood. His tall figure cast a long shadow across the grand foyer, his face expressionless but professional. His dark suit was pressed to perfection, and he carried himself with an air of authority that suggested he was more than just a servant in the household.
"Miss Sterling, welcome to the Pembroke Estate. Lady Eleanor asked me to give you a tour before the evening's festivities begin. If you'll follow me."
I nodded, my eyes scanning the grand surroundings. I took in the high ceilings, the glittering chandelier overhead, and the marble floor that reflected the light with an almost surreal glow. Every inch of the estate screamed wealth and power, though there was something slightly foreboding about it.
Blackwood led me through the expansive corridors, his footsteps echoing against the stone floors as we passed rooms filled with old, oil-painted portraits and ornate furnishings.
Blackwood began to speak without looking back at me. "This house was built in the late 1800s by Lady Eleanor's great-grandfather, Lord Pembroke. Since then, it has been passed down through the generations, each adding their own touches and treasures to the estate."
