Blackbird
The entry into the manor house sported a floor of the finest marble, polished to a mirror-shine by the hard labor of numerous servants. It was one of many features about the home that bespoke wealth, power, and prestige. Within its halls, an army of staff worked to see that it retained its grandeur and made its noble family proud.
Today, the house stood silent. With the exception of the upstairs maids who moved efficiently through the numerous bedchambers cleaning and dusting, and those in the isolated kitchen, no one wandered the corridors save the long time butler, Chambers.
The heels of his shoes clicked on the marble in precise rhythm, his steps measured as he carried a silver plate, piled high with invitations, to the library. The ornately carved doors were closed, but he could hear a voice, low and seemingly frightened, behind the wood.
Chambers frowned in disapproval. He recognized the deepening tones of the earl's youngest child, a by-blow of his by a favored mistress. The butler sniffed in disdain. It was unseemly that the boy be in this house, even if only for the summer months. But His Grace had been adamant that young Colin would stay with him before returning to Oxford. Lady Montcleve had accepted his edict in bitter silence, only revealing her anger by pretending the child did not exist. It made every summer a trial for all involved, including the earl's legitimate son and heir, Michael.
The voice died away to silence, and Chambers tapped softly on the door. "Your Grace, your correspondences have arrived." He waited a long moment, hearing no return command to enter the room. That alone gave him pause as Lord Montcleve always answered him, even if it was to tell him to return later.
The butler waited, caught in a moment of indecision. It would be the height of impropriety and near insubordination for him to enter the library without permission, but something warned him that all was not right behind those doors. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for a defense should he be called to task by the master of the house.
What met his eyes as he entered the library made him gasp, and the plate slipped from his grasp, falling to the carpet amidst a flutter of pristine white cards inviting various members of the house to balls and teas.
The earl sat slumped in his chair, bent forward so that his head rested on his desk. His cravat was stained scarlet with blood, and there was a thin river of red running down the edge of the desk, dripping in a macabre pattern on the Aubusson rug.
Chambers gaped at the scene before him, struck speechless, as his gaze moved to the young man standing next to the earl. The earl's bastard son stared at the butler with stricken blue eyes, his face nearly as white as that of his dead father.
The butler backed away to the door as Colin raised a hand, holding it out, palm up, to reveal a bloodied knife and smears of red across his fingers. "Chambers, I found him this..."
The servant shook his head, his horror quickly transforming to rage. "Murderer," he spat. "You killed the earl."
Colin shook his head, his voice desperate and frightened. "No! I came in. He was already like this. I would never harm him. You must believe me, Chambers. It wasn't me!"
His pleas fell on deaf ears as the butler jerked the door open and ran into the hall, where he skidded on the slippery floors. His voice rang loud in the vast space of the house's first floor as he called for help. "The earl! His bastard has killed him. Call for a constable!"
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