Chapter 200 Suspicious Young Mistress, Suspect Butler

Music Recommendation: He’ll be on You- Nathan Barr

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In the Moriarty mansion, Marceline stepped into Allie’s room, and her eyes searched for something. She walked to the table and then pulled the drawers, looking for it. When a maid entered to clean the youngest vampiress’s room, she quickly bowed.

“F-forgive me, milady. I didn’t know you were here.”

Marceline lazily shifted her eyes to look at the lowly maid and questioned, “Do you know where Allie’s knitting things are?”

She had just remembered Allie knitting something yesterday, and on seeing her, she had hid it behind her. It seemed like her sister wanted to give her a scarf, thought the vampiress. She preferred the scarf from her favourite store than getting patchy work from the younger one.

But Marceline was generous enough to overlook it because of her kind heart.

The maid moved her lips, but no words came as she was scared of the vampiress. When Marceline looked irritated, the maid quickly replied, “It must be right here in the room.”

“It isn’t here,” Marceline stated. She turned around to check the other drawers in the room.

“If not here, it must be in the piano room, Lady Marceline,” the maid answered with the continued bow.

Marceline didn’t utter another word and exited Allie’s room, making her way towards the piano room. When the vampiress had reached halfway, the maid who had come to clean Miss Allie’s room caught something shiny in the gallery. While walking there, she noticed the needles on the unwinded wool ball.

“I am going to be scolded today,” muttered the maid, wondering if she should let it stay in the gallery or pick it up and give it to Lady Marceline.

Away from the room, Marceline reached the corridor near the piano room, and caught sight of the butler, who was cleaning the wooden case of the painting on the wall.

On noticing the uneven-tempered vampiress walking towards where he stood, Alfie worried where Master Vincent went. His master had told he would be back soon and in the meantime, to guard the corridor. But with the danger that approached him, he doubted he would be able to hold the forts. Even if Vincent was the one to have the key to the piano room.

Alfie stopped pretending to clean the painting and bowed at Marceline, “Do you need any help, milady?”

“No,” came the refusal from the arrogant vampiress.

If it were someone else, Alfie would have pretended to faint and fall to the ground. But knowing Marceline, she would stomp on him like a carpet before continuing to walk.

Seeing Marceline start to walk, so did Alfie, matching her footsteps. The vampiress, who noticed the butler walking right next to her, stopped and glared at him.

“What do you think you are doing?” Marceline’s eyes were filled with disgust. Did this mere butler just try to walk in the same line as her?

“I…” Alfie drawled, trying to come up with something witty, “Milady, what would you like to have for supper?”

“Your blood from your severed head,” Marceline replied in a low, threatening voice. But then Alfie was a lowly vampire and not a human.

“Anything else apart from it?” The butler asked in a polite voice. “We have steak roasted below the charcoal and lamb chops that have been simmered over fire for an hour.”

Marceline’s eyes narrowed as if she sensed something was off with the butler. She took a step closer to him, and he softly gulped. She asked,

“You have been acting suspicious since I caught you at the gate. Is there something you want to tell me that you are hiding? Now would be a good time.”

Alfie looked surprised and replied, “I don’t know what you are talking about, milady. I have been doing my job like any other day.” He felt the vampiress’s gaze weigh heavily on him, ready to bury him under this floor.

Marceline started to walk, heading towards the piano room to check Allie’s knitting skills. Alfie started to panic. He blurted,

“A letter came for you. I think it was from Woodlock… milady.”

Marceline turned even more annoyed and said, “It seems like you don’t like your head on your shoulders, Alfie. Is that why you are making me stop, instead of asking everything together?” She then questioned, “Where is the letter?”

“Earlier it was in the hallways,” Alfie replied with doubt, if there was any letter in there for anyone, less a letter from Woodlock. It seemed like Master Vincent was going to sacrifice him today in his sister’s hands.

“Fine. Take me to the letter as you failed to give it in my hand,” the vampiress decided, raising one of her eyebrows.

“I am not done cleaning the wood of the painting–“

“Now,” Marceline demanded.

Right now, Marceline was the one with the highest threat, thought Alfie, and he obliged, “Yes, milady.”

They walked down to where the hall was, and to Alfie’s luck, one lone letter sat on the little table stand. Excited in relief, he said, “There it is!” Seeing Marceline stare at him to go and pick it up, he went to the table stand. He gingerly took it and walked back to the vampiress, who stretched her hand forward. He placed the letter in her hand.

Only if the letter was from Woodlock and for Lady Marceline, Alfie hoped. But even coincidence had a limit; as expected, the vampiress scowled at him after reading the sender of the envelope.

“This isn’t from Woodlock, you dimwit,” Marceline, who had been hopeful that it was from the Duke, her mood turned sour. “It is from Whitaker. For a butler you don’t even know to read.”

Thankfully, the maid looking for Marceline appeared in the hall and informed, “Milady, this was in Miss Allie’s gallery.”

Marceline stared at the scarf, and lost interest in it. She dismissed the maid with a wave of her hand and then turned to the butler. She said, “I will have both the mentioned food tonight. I hope it tastes good for your own good.” The lady walked away from there.

Alfie let out a sigh of relief. He quickly returned to the corridor, where the piano room was, as if to continue his work. Thankfully, Vincent returned after twenty minutes, and the butler relaxed.

Vincent turned the key in the door, unlocking the room. The butler, who had followed him, peeked into the room and noticed the dead lady on the ground.

“Keep the carriage ready to use later,” Vincent ordered, and Alfie nodded. “Get something to eat and drink. Preferably vegetables and no meat.”

“Yes, Master Vincent,” Alfie bowed and left from there.

[Music Recommendation: Clifftop Prelude- Stuart Earl]

Vincent’s eyes fell on Eve, who had fallen asleep at the table. Stepping inside the room, he closed the door and turned the lock.

His footsteps were quiet against the floor as he made his way to where Eve sat, with the side of her head resting on the table.

His eyes curiously looked at the young woman, whose lashes now rested against her skin. She breathed through her pale pink lips. Pieces of her hair had come to hover in front of her face as if obstructing his view.

In Vincent’s eyes, the woman didn’t look like a murderer. Instead, she looked like a wounded animal that was frightened.

Unable to see her clearly, Vincent raised his hand and gently pushed the pieces of her golden blonde hair away from her face. She held an unguarded expression on her face as she continued to rest, unaware of the pureblooded vampire who stared at her with curiosity in his fierce eyes.

His hand didn’t drop, and the back of his fingers hovered above her cheek. The room’s light was soft and fell on her, tempting him to caress. But noticing her eyebrows furrow, he took his hand away from her, and Eve woke up with a soft gasp.

Vincent watched Eve pull her head away from the table, and her eyes met his. She murmured,

“I am sorry, I fell asleep.”

Why was it that even though she murdered someone, the look in her eyes didn’t change, and the blue eyes continued to hold warmth in them, Vincent asked himself. He responded,

“Sleeping is better than throwing up. Feeling any better, Ms. Killer-of-the-day?”

Eve was going to reply, but her eyes fell on the spots of red on his white shirt. He killed someone a few minutes ago… because his shirt was spotless earlier.

Her eyes moved back to meet Vincent’s gaze, a question in her eyes that he didn’t answer, and he only stared back at her with interest.