ₚᵣᵢᵥₐₜₑ 𝒹ₑₜₑ𝒸ₜᵢᵥₑ |ᴬⁿᵗʰᵒⁿʸ ᴮʳᶦᵈᵍᵉʳᵗᵒⁿ

• 𝗍ᥱᥒ •

ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴛᴇᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

"Did you hear, Lord Berbrook left the city. Presumably on a business trip but the true reason is obvious, isn't it? That maid and the boy."

"I heard he went away to take responsibility and get married to her. But how could he show his face around here anymore?"

"Marry her? I heard he left town to get rid of the evidence."

"Well, I heard that he went into hiding. Probably wants to wait this scandal out. His mother also left town to some relatives in the North."

"My maid told me that she was a true beast. No wonder he became such garbage, she raised him to be like that. What happened was her fault."

"You believe she raised him herself? As if she ever cared about him. She only looked at him after her husband died and passed his title on to their only son. That's what her housekeeper told mine."

"I still cannot believe it. That whole family is rotten to the core. Total scum."

Enola only listened with one ear to the conversation over the tea time table. The women in the round were all friends of Lady Danbury and invited by her for the drama.

She did not like any of these women, to be honest. She didn't like how pretentious they were. As if their families were perfect.

Actually, the detective was sure that Lady Danbury also didn't like them in particular but only invited them for the tea - the gossip one, not the earl grey.

Lady Danbury leaned towards her and began to whisper. "You are being awfully quiet since this topic has come up."

"That's not a question," Enola stated. She was bored and ready to leave. She also wanted to meet up with an informant concerning the Amelia case - Lord Pergrim's missing maid.

"You wouldn't know anything at all about this topic, would you?"

The detective arched one of her eyebrows. "From where exactly am I supposed to?"

Pursing her lips, the countess leaned back in her seat and involved herself into the conversation again.

ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴅᴀʏs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ

𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑖𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑀𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝐷𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑛𝑒 𝐵𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑜𝑛, 𝑤ℎ𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘.

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟, 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒.