A House Of Special Purpose

Chapter One - Cheshire, England, 1920

Anna Irvine was going to kill someone tonight. She had the gun. She had the proof that made him worthy of a death such as she would deliver to him.

The lights of the Stonewill Manor House were all on. Elizabeth would be in the library as she always was at this time of night. Except tonight, she would have a visitor. Neither expected Anna and that was the simple beauty of it all. No one knew she was coming. In a simple brown waistcoat and a herringbone-patterned suit jacket and in the pure darkness of the winter night, Anna could pass as a gentleman. The brown pinstripe shirt had been a last minute addition on the part of her lady's maid, but it had been a welcome change to the plainer alternative. Even in a heavy wool overcoat, Anna couldn't help but shiver and draw it tighter around herself as she marched swiftly up the drive, gravel crunching under her feet. On the way, she had already smoked a cigarette, but feeling the pressure, she reached into an inside pocket from which she produced a slim silver cigarette case. Taking a cigarette out, she shut the case with a satisfying click and replaced it in the pocket, retrieving a small box of cook's matches from the same pocket. The small flame licked at her hand as she held the match up to the cigarette in her mouth. Taking a drag, she blew out the smoke into the wintery air.

What a night to kill! She thought with a faint smirk.

This was not her family's style, but she could not send someone to exact her revenge this time. She could not trust anyone but herself with such a task. Once she had done this, and only once she had done this would her family take her seriously enough to make her the heir. Not that she stood to inherit much now her father was locked up. The dynasty was falling quickly, tonight was the way to change that. Taking a final drag and flicking her cigarette into the gravel, Anna surveyed the environment around her. A silver Lincoln L-series was parked right in front of the main entrance to the house - this was Elizabeth's personal car but what caught her eyes was a similar model parked beside the servants entrance. Elizabeth either didn't intend for her visitor to remain or wished for his presence to be discreet. It wouldn't be the first time she wanted a visitor to be discreet - that was a life Anna knew too well at this house but what she didn't understand was why he would be parked there if she knew he was coming. Unless...she wasn't aware he was coming tonight...

Having reached the door, Anna withdrew the pistol from the holster wrapped around her shoulder. Pulling back the slide and hearing the gratifying click that meant she could shoot, Anna tried the door. To her surprise, it was locked. Elizabeth had never locked the door before, why had she started now? Anna had two options; ring the doorbell and risk the entire house being aware of her presence or sneaking into the house via the servants entrance. Deciding not to risk it, Anna crept around the side of the house carefully avoiding the rooms that may have people in them. The door to the servant's entrance swung open as soon as she put pressure on the handle meaning the visitor had come the same way. Clutching the gun in her shaking hand, Anna forced herself to steady her breathing. What kind of impact would she make if she was acting like a snivelling child? It wasn't the killing that she was nervous about, allbiet she was about to kill the only person that was more powerful than her family, it was what Elizbeth would think of her once she was covered in a man's blood. Would she be redeemed? Would she look at her like she was a monster? Would this one action unravel the years of trust, compassion and something vaguely resembling love? When they had first met, Anna had been clear about what her family did, but did Lady Elizabeth Shaw believed her, probably not. But here it was, after ten years, they would finally put to rest what should never have begun in the first place. And it would be with blood and tears. Anna was prepared to kill Elizabeth if it came to it. None of her family knew she was here. They would wake tomorrow to their greatest rival dead at their feet with her holding the gun. Anna could already see the shock on their faces. It was going to be perfect. Patrick would be the first to congratulate her, cracking open a bottle of their father's scotch. Alexander would clap her on the back and reminisce on when he watched her kill her first man at age sixteen. Christoper would barely look up from his book, simply flashing her a small smile and telling her to take a bath. Uncle Richard would look at her scathingly and tsk before going to tick Percy Sinclair's name from the book. Later, when night had fallen they would light a monsterous bonfire in the grounds and drink all night until the sun came up and they all had to go back to their grisly lives. That's when Uncle Richard would call her into a meeting where he would tell her that, yes, that had been enough to cement her place as the dynasty's heir. Childlike glee filled Anna as she finally worked up the courage to step out into the central hall.