Manly pulled himself together with her forceful words, swaggering to attention like a man in a drunken stupor who had just been slapped to wakefulness attention, and his bottle taken off him. He reasoned he would need a bottle soon, at any rate. “Who is dead now . . . ?” she asked him.

He gulped. She knew nothing.

Domenic must have been civilly pursuing her to reveal the news. My, but the servant had been negligent and let her go, had let her speed off into the house to find out—what was for Domenic—the easy way. Claire had also appeared, and she too hung back. They knew the promise of her bite. Blasted cowards!

It was no surprise then that Manly took a frightened step back himself. If they were cowards, so too was he. It was not his position to give up the news and suffer the potential wrath of the lady, oh no. But he also knew he had said too much, and she was looking at him with that icy stare. He had to say something.

“Lord Harvold . . .” he began. “He . . .”

Manly finally bit it down and garbled a sentence out.

“Lord Harvold is dead and committed suicide.”

Donovan had vaguely heard something . . . was it wild banging on the door? He and Bianca had submitted to their coupling and some magnificent, tempestuous lovemaking. They were literally too far gone to stop. Together, they had crested the empyrean heights of passion and borne the fruits of their respective labour.

As she sunk down on top of him and he held her , the noise had continued outside; an awful din. They could hear the voices as plain as day. Listening, Donovan whispered to Bianca. “It’s Manly. And Cerise. She’s back.”

She had not even heard the noises outside the door of Donovan’s privy chamber, her mind too focused on the beautiful, naked man beneath her. Bianca straddled Donovan, her black locks of hair tumbling down her front. Briefly, for a moment, Bianca turned her head to look toward the door, the noises volume suddenly noticed by the tan skinned beauty. “What should we do?” whispered Bianca, turning her head back to face her lover, “The door is locked still.” she noted, leaning her body forward to press against Donovan’s. Softness of her breasts crushed against his chest, her face only a few inches from his own, “Should we stop or ignore them?” pieces of hair which fell astray came down, tickling at Donovan’s bare shoulders and neck.

“I don’t know,” he cautioned, waggling a finger. “Let’s listen.”

Donovan strained over the bed that his ear could better listen. There was a stony silence outside the door now. The calm before the storm, he wondered?

Cerise looked at Manly as his skin drained of all color slightly amused. When the words spewed from his lips that the body of Harvold had indeed been found with suicide as a front, her slender fingers covered her eyes and she squinted as if she was fighting off a headache. Without releasing words muttered almost inaudible through her mouth “Well, it is about time that bastard returned home.”

Her hand dropped down by her side and clinged lightly to the skirt of her dress. Blue eyes made their way to Manly’s face as her lips pursed together while she thought. Donovan and Tidus are there with the body, she should be there too. It would be proper and if things needed to be signed with authority she would like to see what those things would be. Not that she didn’t trust Donovan, its just that she didn’t trust Donovan.

“Dominic?! Fetch me my coat and get the carriage ready, Manly is going to take me to Donovan and Tidus, and help me put my dear late husband to rest.” She looked at Manly as if willing him to challenge her.

Cerise seemed to take the news rather well. By her usual standards, anyway. As colour returned to his cheeks, Manly supposed the old philanderer had lost no small measure of respect in her eyes, and maybe she would be glad he was dead. The ramifications would eventually hit home, and the ambitious woman would doubtless seek to become the figurehead in control of the house.

But there was a problem for the nobleman now. Cerise wanted to see the body. And Donovan wasn't with Tidus. Manly would later have to make up an excuse that he had been wrong in his thinking.

As it was, the nobleman knew that once Cerise made her mind up, her way was set in stone—but he had to ask to be sure: “Are you sure the abattoir is where you want to go?”

It is not normally a place for a lady. "Tidus and Donovan can sure handle affairs while you relax and let this revelation settle?"

Dom faltered at the landing when Manly asked this question. His body position out of sight for the time being, Claire however knew better. She in trying to meet Dom and reassure him grabbed Cerise travel garbs from the closet and went quickly to present them to Dom. Unsure at which point Cerise was actually going to snap and start whipping people with her tongue, she sure didn’t want poor Dom to get the brunt of it.

Cerise raised her eyebrows and paused. Her cheeks reddened slightly and her teeth clenched as she watched Manly with purpose. Her voice only raised slightly as she spat out the sentence at him. “I want to see the body of my husband! I want to see Tidus and Donovan, and YOU are going to take me to them. I want to see it for myself, see that everything is in proper order and not just some fluke of a man they think is my husband. I will want to talk with the people that found him directly, it is high time we got down to the bottom of this mess.” Her voice dropped to an icy cool at the end, and a slight smile reached one corner of her mouth, however it did not travel up to her eyes. “Don’t you think Mr. Frederic?”

Clair pushed the coat and hat into Dom’s hands and motioned him towards Cerise. “Come back to me sir, when they are gone. I have to know the brunt of what I am to expect from the lady.” Her eyes never reached his, her head always bowed and she dipped slightly before he turned and rushed away.

Her outburst was soft but searing. Manly detested her. He was friend or associate to almost everyone in the house, except this woman; she another Harvold moment of madness. Frederic was also rather passive and easy going, but now she stirred in him his own fire.

She was a bully. And he decided in that moment that he didn’t want to go with her. The abattoir was not a place for the squeamish. It was certainly not his place, and what did she think he was—a bloody servant? If she had been more polite asking him, he would have gone.

“I don’t think so,” he disagreed. The eyebrows of Domenic rose up in horror. “I think you should leave this matter to Tidus and Donovan. They are accomplished and will get to the bottom of affairs. It’s also not my place to attend these duties,” he forced himself to remain calm, but beckoned Domenic forward. The Head Servant composed himself and grudgingly shuffled forward.

“Domenic, if Cerise is to continue, please summon her carriage.”

At the moment, in light of Harvold’s death, it seemed that Cerise was now head of the house, and Manly was flagrantly disobeying her. Moreover, he was issuing orders over her head. The consequences would be high. He knew she wouldn’t take it staying still, so Manly turned and walked away, ignoring her further.

Donovan couldn’t resist eavesdropping. He slipped gently out of Bianca’s embrace, kissing her lovingly on the cheek, and tiptoed to the door. Standing naked, his ear pressed to the wood.

Concentrating, he heard every word out in the corridor, including Cerise’s outburst and Manly’s rather dismissive but elevated reply. The advisor turned to Bianca in the bed and wildly gestured a ‘boom!’ movement with his hands.

There was indeed going to be fireworks.

The warmth of Donovan's body slowly dwindled away as he released
himself from the bindings of her arms. Her eyes followed him as
he walked quietly toward the door, the noise outside making she
and Donovan quite curious on what was happening on the other side.
Bianca lifted her body up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed,
the tips of her toes brushing against the cold floor. From the distance
she was at, the volume of the voices weren't too clean, Bianca slowly
moving toward Donovan. Locks of her wild, dark hair swayed with her
movement, the tanned beauty trying not to giggle as Donovan
did his hand movements. To her, he just looked silly!
A hand covered the smile that emerged, her girlish giggling being
muffled.

The heat from her anger raised from her neck to the tips of her cheeks as her eyebrows raised and stared at the back of Manly.

She whispered in a cruel seething voice “Dom, get me my carriage.” Towards Manly she narrowed her eyes and said loud enough for the whole house to hear – “Since this self pompass ass will not take the lady to see her own late husband’s body and make sure everything is as it should be before she should mourn,” she paused making the point clear, “I shall go unescorted, and Mr. Fredrick.” She directed herself at him now. “Pack your bags, sir. You are no longer welcome in MY house!”

Tidus watched the grubby man wondering how it was that a person got saddled with an occupation such as this. Perhaps his father had done this or perhaps there was nothing else he was to do. It was a detestable job but someone had to do it. He nodded to the man in thanks and offered him as much of a smile as he could muster before looking to the Inspector. "Is it acceptable for me to inspect the body alone sir? My methods of discerning the true identity of the body are probably unheard of around these parts." he spoke carefully as he started for the stairs to the upper floors.

(sorry it's been a while since I've been around. Just got the computer back from police evidence. LONG unplesant story. But the point is I'm back now!)

Manly departed nonchalantly. Cerise thrived on argument and confrontation. She would detest that he walked so confidently away, uncaring. The nobleman likened it to denying a woman who so completely wanted him. It was cruel but intensely satisfying.

Cerise would take control of House Dilysnia, but in his estimation she would over-dominate. She wasn’t quite trusted on all fronts, and she would have to learn to control herself lest a portion of the household walk out on her.

In spite of that, Manly knew Cerise was resourceful. She could be devious, and possessed surprising patience. She had to put up with Harvold after all, and those whispered rumours. There was within him a grudging respect for the woman. Manly had never bedded her, but he’d certainly thought about it.

Anyway, it was going to become unpleasant for members of the house—better to get out now, really.

But them Manly had rarely stayed in his own bed chamber . . .

The Inspector paused at the words of Tidus, and turned toward him with his eyes narrowed.

"Why do you ask? Do you practice the dark arts of witchcraft or necromancy?"

Farishel continued on, "Years ago in my early adulthood I travelled a domain named Mordevla. You may know it—it is a land of elves and witches. I would never have believed what was possible had I not seen what was possible."

"The constabulary here in Variens do not take kindly to such undertakings . . . "

There was a challenge there.

"I must accompany you."

* * * * *

Some time after the incident between Manly and Cerise, Domenic had prepared the carriage. He found Cerise and reported to her that "all was in readiness".

Domenic had also prepared a driver, thus he bade her good luck and swept calmly away to attend other matters. God knows what was swirling around in his mind, but he always kept his thoughts to himself.