"Doris," Suzy said, her voice laced with excitement, "could you get me something to write on?"
Doris, who had been observing the tense exchange between Suzy and Madame Helena, raised an eyebrow but quickly scurried to a nearby table and returned with a quill and parchment. "Here you go, milady," she said, handing them over.
Suzy wasted no time, she sketched a design on the blank page. The dress she envisioned was a beautiful blend of modern and classic. It had a flowing skirt that cascaded down to the floor, but with a daring high slit for a touch of leg. The bodice hugged her figure comfortably, but the neckline was a simple scoop, a welcome departure from the high-collared gowns that dominated the shop.
Once finished, Suzy held up the drawing for Madame Helena's inspection. "What do you think?" she asked, a hopeful smile gracing her lips.
A hush fell over the room. Even Madame Helena, who had previously scoffed at the idea of "modern," couldn't help but be intrigued by Suzy's confident display.
"This is..." Madame Helena began, her voice hesitant, "unconventional, to say the least."
Suzy, her heart pounding with anticipation, met Madame Helena's gaze. "I know," she admitted, "but I was hoping you could, perhaps, create something inspired by this design? Something that combines the elegance of your gowns with a touch of… something new?"
Madame Helena studied the sketch for a long moment, her brow furrowed in concentration. Then, a slow smile spread across her face. "Intriguing," she finally declared. "The challenge is certainly… stimulating. Very well, milady. I believe I can work with this."
Relief washed over Suzy. She hadn't known how Madame Helena would react, but a spark of creativity seemed to have ignited in the modiste's eyes.
"Thank you, Madame Helena," Suzy said, a genuine smile gracing her lips. "I truly appreciate your willingness to try something new."
Doris, who had been holding her breath throughout the exchange, finally let out a relieved sigh. She knew Suzy wouldn't be happy with anything less than something that reflected her own unique style.
After a quick discussion about fabrics, Suzy settled on a payment that left Madame Helena speechless (in a good way). With a promise to return in a week's time for a fitting, Suzy and Doris exited the shop, both women feeling a sense of accomplishment.
As they climbed back into the carriage, Suzy leaned back against the plush seat, a contented sigh escaping her lips. "Well," she said, turning to Doris with a grin, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Doris chuckled, shaking her head. "Never a dull moment with you, milady," she replied. "But I have to admit, I'm rather curious to see what this unconventional gown will look like."
Suzy's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "So am I, Doris," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "So am I."
—————————-
The sunlight cast long shadows across the cluttered desk in Ryan's study. A stack of parchment lay spread before him, each page filled with meticulous notes and cryptic symbols. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration growing with every passing moment.
Across the desk, littered with maps, scrolls, and cryptic notes, sat Alistair Thorne, a wiry man with a perpetually furrowed brow and a keen eye for detail who is the head scout and detective of Ryan's team. He watched Ryan with a stoic expression, his silence an opposition to the Duke's simmering anger.
"Another dead noble, Lord Collin," Ryan growled, his voice laced with bitterness. "Found hanging from the old oak tree near Blackwood Manor. Suicide, they say." He spat the word out like a curse.
Thorne leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his chest. "The signs all point to it, Your Grace," he said calmly. "The note, the lack of struggle... it's a classic case."
"Classic?" Ryan scoffed. "Three nobles found hanging in quick succession? All men who owed a considerable sum to a certain Viscount Conrad?" He slammed his fist on the desk, the force rattling the inkwells and sending a shiver down Thorne's spine.
"A coincidence, perhaps?" Thorne offered cautiously. "There have been suicides for less, Your Grace."
"Coincidence?" Ryan repeated, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Or something more... sinister?"
Thorne cleared his throat. "We have no concrete evidence to suggest foul play, Your Grace. But I understand your concern. Viscount Conrad's... financial dealings with the deceased are indeed... curious."
Ryan let out a humorless chuckle. "Curious? The man is a leech, sucking the lifeblood out of anyone unfortunate enough to be in his debt. And now, conveniently, three of his debtors are dead."
He paced the room like a caged animal, his frustration palpable. "There has to be something we're missing, Thorne," he said, his voice low and urgent. "A connection, a clue... anything!"
Thorne watched him, a flicker of empathy crossing his face. The weight of the investigation, the mounting pressure to find answers, was clearly taking its toll on the Duke.
"We'll keep digging, Your Grace," he promised, his voice steady. "We'll leave no stone unturned. But these investigations take time."
Ryan stopped pacing, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. "Time," he muttered, the word heavy with despair. "A luxury we may not have. These deaths... they cast a long shadow over the kingdom. People are starting to talk. Fear is spreading."
He turned back to Thorne, his eyes burning with a steely resolve. "Find something, Thorne. Anything. Give the people an answer, and give me some peace." You
Thorne nodded grimly. "We will, Your Grace. We will."
The door of the study creaked shut behind Thorne, leaving Ryan alone with his mounting frustration. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, the weight of the investigation pressing down on him like a physical burden.
"Another dead end," he muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the vast room. The image of the deceased noble, swinging lifelessly from the tree, flashed in his mind, a grim reminder of the case's urgency.
The King was breathing down his neck, demanding answers. The whispers amongst the people were growing louder, fueled by fear and suspicion. And Conrad, the man Ryan couldn't shake the feeling of suspicion towards, remained a constant shadow in the periphery.
Ryan slammed his fist on the desk, the sound sending a jolt through him. There had to be something he was missing, some crucial detail that would crack the case wide open. He paced the room, his boots thudding against the thick carpet, his mind racing through the facts.
"Seven nobles," he murmured, his voice tight with frustration. "Dead, all with ties to Conrad." He paused, a thought striking him like a bolt of lightning. "Ties to Conrad… and the order of their deaths!"
He rushed to his desk, grabbing a quill and parchment. With a feverish intensity, he began to write, his mind connecting the dots with a clarity that had been missing before.
"Lord Ashton," he muttered, scribbling the name down. "The first victim. His name starts with A." He glanced at the next line, where the name of the second victim was written. "Baron Abercrombie, Baron Bradley, Duke Beaumont, that's B …, Earl Crowley, Lord Caldwell, now Lord Colin…C. Alphabetical order!"
A cold sweat prickled Ryan's skin as the realization dawned on him. The killer was targeting them in a specific order. But why alphabetical? What message was the killer trying to send?
He looked back at the list, his gaze falling on the next name: Count Cooper. "C," he whispered, his voice filled with dread. "The killer isn't done yet. Cooper is next."
"Davis!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the vast study.
A moment later, the door creaked open, and Davis hurried in. "You called, Your Grace?"
Ryan, his brow furrowed in concentration, gestured for Davis to come closer. "Yes, Davis," he said, his voice low and urgent. "This is a delicate matter. I need you to arrange for a contingent of guards to be discreetly stationed near Count Cooper's residence."
Davis's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Count Cooper, Your Grace? But why?"
Ryan leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the crackling fire. "The killer is targeting nobles alphabetically," he explained, his voice grim. "Count Cooper is next, but we can't tip our hand and alert the murderer."
"So, you want to protect Count Cooper before..." Davis's voice trailed off, his face paling at the unspoken implication.
Ryan nodded curtly. "Precisely. We need to ensure his safety without letting the killer know we're onto them."
"Of course, Your Grace," Davis replied, his voice firm despite the unsettling revelation. "I'll make the necessary arrangements immediately. The guards will be deployed within the hour, disguised as ordinary townsfolk."
A flicker of gratitude softened Ryan's hardened expression. "Good," he said, a hint of relief in his voice. "Now, there's another task. I need you to delve into the financial dealings of all the nobles who've… met with misfortune lately."
Davis's eyes widened in understanding. "Conrad, Your Grace?"
"Of course, Conrad," Ryan confirmed, his voice laced with suspicion. "See if you can find any irregularities, any hidden connections between the deceased and Conrad's finances. Anything that might solidify our suspicions."
Davis straightened his shoulders, a determined glint in his eyes. "Consider it done, Your Grace."