Howard gave a short nod. "The household staff have been gathered in the servants' hall. You may speak with them as you wish. I will remain present, of course, to ensure order is kept"
"Of course," Samuel said, though his eyes lingered a moment on the faint burn marks.
Cecil tapped his cane lightly against the terrace stones, the sound sharp and deliberate, before turning to follow.
They passed back through the estate grounds, the hedges giving way to broad open lawns. Inside, the manor was every inch the seat of wealth: vaulted ceilings with glittering chandeliers, marble floors polished to glass, and rows of oil portraits of Terenvale ancestors glaring down with painted disapproval.
Samuel's gaze wandered as they walked, his expression betraying both unease and fascination. He was clearly unaccustomed to such opulence, though he tried to mask it behind a thoughtful frown.
Bjorn glanced around as if analyzing the price of everything and gave a low whistle. "This hall alone'd fetch half of Grandport," he drawled. "Ain't hard to see why folks call imperial nobles parasites."
Howard's shoulders stiffened, though he said nothing. Cecil's lips curved in the faintest smirk at the remark.
"No offense, Mister Hollows." Bjorn added with a sideways grin.
"None taken," Cecil replied smoothly.
Samuel glanced at Howard. "Do you know which servants would have been working that night?"
"The gardeners, mainly," Howard said crisply. "Most others would have retired."
They descended a broad staircase at the rear, marble giving way to plainer stone. The air cooled, scented faintly of woodsmoke and lye soap. Below stretched the servants' quarters: practical, tidy, stripped of the luxury above.
Howard led them to a door at the end of a corridor which opened to the servants' hall. A wide chamber with long wooden tables and benches in the middle and bunk beds lining the walls. The household staff waited there, some seated, others standing in nervous clusters. Maids in plain dresses, footmen in their livery, kitchen hands with flour still dusting their clothes, despite the size of the room it still felt crowded, they all looked up as the group entered.
What little conversations there were to be had in the room hushed.
Howard stepped forward commanding attention from the servants, his voice leveled but authoritative. "As you were told, these men are here on Lord Terenvale's authority, to continue the investigation into Lady D'Amberlin's death. They will ask questions. You will answer truthfully. That is all."
They glanced at each other as a ripple of unease passed through the room. One young maid clutched her apron tightly, while an older cook crossed his arms defensively. A stable hand leaned against one of the beds, gaze shifting warily between Cecil and Bjorn.
Samuel clasped his hands together, adopting a measured tone. "Hello, my name is Samuel Feathersworth, as Monsieur Howard said we are here to investigate the death of Lady D'Amberlin. I must ask before we begin, those who were on duty last night, please make yourself known."
For a moment, no one moved. The silence stretched long enough for Cecil to feel the weight of it pressing against the walls. Then, slowly, three figures stepped forward: two gardeners with dirt still clinging stubbornly to their fingernails despite their attempts to scrub clean, and a maid with dark hair tied back in a severe bun.
The gardeners exchanged glances, clearly reluctant to speak first. The maid, however, seemed to be trying to make herself look small as she rubbed her shoulder.
Bjorn leaned back slightly, thumbs hooked in his suspenders, studying them with an easy smile.
"Don't all jump at once," Cecil drawled as his eyes flicked between them.
Samuel ignored the quip, stepping closer. "You three were present the night Lady D'Amberlin was found. Did any of you notice anything unusual?"
The younger gardener, barely more than a boy, shifted his weight. "N-no, Father. We were asleep in the quarters. When dawn came, we went out to tend the lilies and… we found her there."
The older gardener, grizzled and weatherworn, gave a curt nod. "That's the truth of it. No noises, no lights, no screams."
Cecil's gaze lingered on the maid. Her jaw worked as though words pressed hard against her teeth. When her eyes met his, she startled, then flicked them toward Howard before forcing herself to speak.
"I—"
"Miss Clarissa wasn't meant to be out last night." Howard's voice snapped like a whip.
She flinched, then continued anyway, voice tight. "Sometimes… I walk at night when I can't sleep. I passed the garden, just before midnight. I saw Lady D'Amberlin, heading toward the arbor. I hid in the bushes, in the fields between the garden and manor."
"And why did you hide?" Samuel asked gently.
""Lady D'Amberlin… disliked me. Because I'm from the Luris Democracy. She'd rather I stay out of her sight."" Clarissa mumbled.
"Not like she liked anyone, even her own," the younger gardener muttered, only to receive a sharp cuff from the older.
"Don't speak ill of the dead, Xavier." the older gardener whisper-shouted at the boy.
Clarissa glanced at Xavier and the older gardener before turning back to Samuel. "She wasn't alone."
Samuel leaned in, calm but intent. "Who was she with?"
Clarissa glanced around rapidly "I—I couldn't see their face. They wore a cloak, hood up. They were arguing but they were… speaking low, like they didn't want anyone to overhear."
Cecil's fingers tapped lightly against the head of his cane, his expression unreadable. "Did you gather anything in the way of a physical description?"
Clarissa's voice dropped to almost nothing. "They weren't very tall. A bit taller than you, Father. Their shoulders were narrow."
Samuel inclined his head slightly. "Madame Clarissa, when you saw them, did Lady D'Amberlin seem distressed? Angry?"
Clarissa's eyes darted toward the floor. "Both. Her voice was sharp. I think she was scolding them. But I couldn't make out the words."
"Did you see how long they remained together?"
She shook her head. "No. I was too afraid of being caught. I went back to the quarters. I… I didn't hear anything after that."
Samuel straightened, folding his hands before him. "Thank you, Madame. You've been most helpful." His tone softened, meant to steady her nerves. "You've done the right thing."
Howard cleared his throat. "If you have further questions, gentlemen, perhaps we should continue them elsewhere. The staff have duties to return to."
Cecil's eyes lingered on Clarissa for a moment longer, then flicked to the steward. "Convenient," he said coolly, though he didn't press further. Instead, he turned slightly toward Samuel. "Shall we begin with the heads of the household?"
Samuel nodded at Cecil, before turning to Howard. "Monsieur Howard, is there any chance we can get an interview with the young master of the household?"
Howard nodded. "Of course, Father."
Samuel gave Clarissa a reassuring nod. "Madame Clarissa, would you mind being our guide to where the young master is?"
Clarissa's eyes widened slightly at Samuel's request. She glanced at Howard, uncertain, who after a tense pause, gave a stiff nod.
She gave a hesitant nod, clutching her apron tighter. "Yes… this way."
Howard turned on his heel to follow. The trio exchanged a glance, then trailed after her.