Episode 1.11 “Secrets in the Garden”
Mr. Reginald Ash fixes his tie in the Hall mirror above the fireplace. He glances towards the closed Library doors and proceeds towards the Kitchen when his eyes stop on a painting on the wall. He recalls the first time this painting was brought to his attention.
FLASHBACK – 10 YEARS AGO
Mr. Ash enters the Hall through the Kitchen to see Dr. Hugh Black parading around five interestingly dressed individuals.
“Ah,” Dr. Black says upon seeing Mr. Ash, “This is my new butler, Reginald Ash. He was formerly a butler at the Royal Opera, but I gave him an offer he could refuse.”
A bald man with an eye patch chuckles, “You always do.”
“Take a look at this exquist painting.” A young, twenty-year old Russian beauty exclaims, running her hand along the painting as Dr. Black runs his hands along her back and shoulders.
“Mr. Ash,” Dr. Black clears his throat, “This is my muse, Marina Popov.”
“Pleasure.” Miss Popov nods to the butler.
“This fine gentleman here is Martin Urfe.” Dr. Black points to the man in the eyepatch
“It is a pleasure.” The man says in a thick French accent
“This courageous woman here is Dr. Julia Kell.” Dr. Black says pointing of the mature, heavy-set woman in the kelly-green dress-suit
“You were at the royal opera?” Dr. Kell speaks in a German accent
“Yes, for nearly seventeen seasons.” Mr. Ash says
“I always loved the opera.” Dr. Kell smiles to Mr. Ash
Dr. Black motions to the tall, sharply dressed bald man wearing the navy blue designer suit.
“Ian Masque.” The man introduces himself
Mr. Ash nods his head politely. He then notices a man in the back of the group, a man with dark features who hasn’t spoken a word since the group has been milling about the Hall.
“I’m sorry I did not catch your name.” Mr. Ash politely approaches the man
The man stares into his eyes for several moments before opening his mouth, “Sabata.”
“Don’t torture the poor man, Sab.” Dr. Kell nudges Sataba
“You are from Spain?” Mr. Ash guesses, “I recognize your accent.”
Sabata stares again for an uncomfortably long amount of time before nodding his head.
“Mr. Ash,” Martin Urfe speaks up, “I was so sorry to hear about your late wife.”
“Oh,” Mr. Ash is caught off guard, “I…” he is lost for words, “I wasn’t aware Dr. Black had shared my recent loss.”
“Dr. Kell is a psychiatrist.” Dr. Black explains, “If you would like, I am sure we could arrange for the two of you to speak sometime if you would like to receive some consoling.”
“Suicide always hurts the people left behind.” Dr. Kell sighs, “I lost my own mother to suicide.”
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Ash says, in a bewildered, empty frame of mind.
“Anyway,” Dr. Black clears his throat, “The six of us will be retiring to my Study for a little business meeting. We would ask that you do not interrupt us for any reason.”
“Of course.” Mr. Ash nods
END OF FLASHBACK
Mr. Ash touches the frame of the picture with fear in his eyes and a shaking hand.
In her bedroom at Blackwell Grange, Vivienne Scarlet combs her hair at her vanity. The room is decorated in a deep crimson with white trimmings. As she brings the brush down through her wavy, platinum blonde hair she catches, out of the corner of her eye, two people in the Garden. She places the brush down upon the vanity and takes a look. She narrows her vision onto the two figures. Her pursed lips turn to a frown.
In the Garden, Mr. Clay and Mrs. Peacock walk towards the center.
“I just thought it was common courtesy to let you know that I will be courting your stepdaughter.” Mr. Clay clears his throat awkwardly
“How hard did that monster clonk you on the head?” Mrs. Peacock crosses her arms in annoyance
“I’m sorry?” Mr. Clay fails to follow
“Vivienne is not in love you with,” Mrs. Peacock sits down on a stone bench and motions for him to sit next to her. He reluctantly does.
“What do you mean?” asks Mr. Clay, “She seemed quite appreciative and meaningful when we professed our love to each other.”
“You are a sweet boy,” Mrs. Peacock says, “And Vivienne is a sweet girl, but wouldn’t you rather be a strong man with a strong woman.”
“Mrs. Peacock,” Mr. Clay stands up
“Come on, Chandler,” Mrs. Peacock says, “What we had was special. This thing you see with Vivienne is just blinding you.”
“I love her.” Mr. Clay says
“I know Vivienne,” Mrs. Peacock says, “She won’t be loyal to you. You will be a pleasurable diversion to distract her from the veracity of life.”
“Your poisonous tongue will not drive me to mistrust and weakness as you did to Miss Dove.” Mr. Clay says leaving Mrs. Peacock alone on the bench. Mrs. Peacock watches as Mr. Clay leaves the Garden, passing by Rusty, who is pushing a wheel barrel on the walking path.
“Good morning, Mrs. Peacock.” Rusty says, pulling a pair of garden shears from the wheel barrel.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Peacock returns, standing up and strolling near Rusty
“Inspector Brown and Sergeant Gray asked for the Library to themselves for the morning.” Rusty says
“Yes,” Mrs. Peacock says, “Mr. Ash told me this morning.”
“Always work to be done.” Rusty says snapping the garden shears at several sprigs of leaves.
“You should be mourning.” Mrs. Peacock says
“Ah,” Rusty shakes his head with a smile, “The servants are trying to prove trustworthy and dedicated.”
“At what cost?” Mrs. Peacock says, “You are running yourself dry. I saw you downstairs in the Lounge until nearly quarter past three last night.”
“Hopefully the heir to Blackwell Grange will see that and we will keep our jobs.” Rusty shrugs
“I’m sure your position is secured.” Mrs. Peacock says
“It’s sweet of you to say.” Rusty smiles
“Speaking of the heir,” Mrs. Peacock says sniffing a lily, “That brings up an odd question…”
“Indeed,” Rusty says, “Yvette, Mrs. White, Mr. Ash, and I went over it last night. It could be any number of people that Dr. Black left as the heir.”
“Who is the best choice?” asks Mrs. Peacock with an innocent chuckle
“Yvette thinks Sir Benedict is most lively to reclaim the Grange,” Rusty says, “Mr. Ash believes young Mr. Boddy might be the heir.”
“Miss Dove?” asks Mrs. Peacock
“Mrs. White has her money on Miss Dove and that boy finding themselves in the lap of luxury.” Rusty says
“And you?” asks Mrs. Peacock
“Professor Plum or Madame Rose.” Rusty says, “I feel Dr. Black would put his siblings above his father, lover, or nephew.”
“Madame Rose’s insanity would prove troublesome.” Mrs. Peacock says, “Professor Plum and Dr. Black had too much tension.”
“Who do you think?” asks Rusty, tossing the clippings and shears into the wheel barrel.
“I’m going to have to side with Yvette.” Mrs. Peacock says, “Despite faking his own death, Sir Benedict seems very in charge.”
At the Lake, behind Blackwell Grange, Colonel Mustard aims the shotgun in the air as the clay disk flies through the air. The sound of the shotgun’s blast echoes across the estate.
“Isn’t this in poor taste?” Mr. Boddy stomps his foot angrily
“Hugh loved to shoot.” Colonel Mustard says as Mr. Ash reloads a clay disk into the trap.
“Regardless,” Mr. Boddy comes between Colonel Mustard and Mr. Ash, “It is in poor taste to shoot weaponry so soon after what happened last night.”
“Maybe if Brunette hears enough shooting he’ll realize that we are not the type of people that take kindly to killers.” Colonel Mustard says raising the shotgun to the sky
“Yet killers wander amongst you.” Mr. Boddy says
“Watch your tongue boy,” Colonel Mustard says slamming the shotgun down into the grass and taking Mr. Boddy by the lapels of his coat, “I have had it with your arrogant sass.”
“You have had enough,” Mr. Boddy scoffs, pushing the colonel off of him, “Yet you have no power of making a difference. This is my family’s estate and I will not tolerate such a barbaric game during the wake of my dear uncle’s passing.”
“Reggie,” Colonel Mustard points to Mr. Ash, “Silence this damn boy.”
“Master Boddy,” Mr. Ash says, “Perhaps you leave the Colonel to his grieving. I’m sure Miss Peach would love someone to speak with.”
“Cousin Melba and I haven’t much to say to each other.” Mr. Boddy says
“Either way,” Mr. Ash says, “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable away from the gunshots if you are inside Blackwell Grange.”
“Do they even know what room my poor uncle was killed in?” Mr. Boddy says, “They are being so elusive.”
“I’m not sure it would be in Inspector Brown’s best interest to reveal those facts yet.” Mr. Ash says
“Did you see the body, Colonel?” Mr. Boddy asks
Colonel Mustard clenches his fists as he picks up the shotgun, “You are crossing the line.”
“The police don’t even know how he died.” Mr. Boddy continues, blatantly ignoring the frame of mind Colonel Mustard is in.
“That’s quite enough!” Mr. Ash says
“One day,” Mr. Boddy says, “I’ll be heir and you will regret talking to me that way.”
In the Ballroom, Mr. Green idly strolls through the room smoking a cigar. He plucks the string of a dusty harp as Mrs. White enters the room.
“Mr. Green,” Mrs. White exclaims upon seeing him, “I just wanted to let you know I am making your favorite dish tonight.”
“Oh that is very thoughtful Mrs. White.” Mr. Green says patting the maid on the shoulder
“I know how much you like my pastas.” Mrs. White smiles, “Will you be staying in town for long?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought.” Mr. Green shrugs, “I assume I would stay here till the funeral.”
“Of course,” Mrs. White nods, “Oh dear, I suppose everyone will be here that long.”
“Have any of the arrangements been planned out?” asks Mr. Green, “In the event of Hugh’s death?”
“I suppose that would all be something Mr. Meadow-Brook would know.” Mrs. White says
“Who?” asks Mr. Green
“Mr. Meadow-Brook is Dr. Black’s lawyer.” Mrs. White says, “I suppose he will be handling the will as well. Everyone wants to know the same answer: who inherits Blackwell Grange.”
“I could honestly care less who gets this dusty old manor.” Mr. Green says
“You know,” Mrs. White smiles to herself, “Dr. Black spoke very fondly of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left you a little something.”
“I think it would be in poor taste to just show up to the will reading.” Mr. Green says
“I’m sure Mr. Meadow-Brook will invite you.” Mrs. White says, “I used to help Dr. Black with his finances before he hired a professional accountant.”
“He hired an accountant?” asks Mr. Green
“Some jew by the name of Slate-Grey.” Mrs. White says, “Anyways, I recall him dividing up a sizable sum around the time he had Mr. Meadow-Brook called in to update his will.”
“He updated his will recently?” Mr. Green muses
“Weekend before last,” Mrs. White says thinking back, “If memory serves me correctly.”
“That is very interesting.” Mr. Green says
“But after finding out it was murder, the last thing we need to worry about is the will.” Mrs. White says
“You didn’t,” Mr. Green clears his throat, “… haven’t had any recent problems with Hugh?”
“I didn’t kill Hugh,” Mrs. White says, “And if I had, you would know. I would have gotten you to kill him.”
“Just like Winslow.” Mr. Green chuckles
“You cannot take credit for my work.” Mrs. White laughs, “I killed my husband. You just disposed of him to save Rusty and I.”
“Your memory isn’t what it once was.” Mr. Green says half under his breath.
In the Lounge, Yvette scampers over to Sir Benedict’s empty tea cup and fills it. Professor Peter Plum sits across from his biological father in silence.
“I know this is an unparalleled experience you are going through, and I won’t begin to try and understand it or analyze your behavior,” Sir Benedict sips his tea, “But would you kindly refrain from staring at me. It’s making me rather nervous.”
“I’m sorry.” Professor Plum looks away, “I’m just in such wild disbelief that you are alive, right as Hugh dies. I feel I’ve traded a brother for a father.”
“There are a lot of things to be grateful for.” Sir Benedict says, “Now we have much more appreciation for each other.”
“Of course,” Professor Plum says, “I want to know everything there is to know about this family and your life.”
“You want to become a true Black?” asks Sir Benedict
“It’s been my dream as long as I have known about my true parentage.” Professor Plum says
“Then there is probably something you should know to help get you started,” Sir Benedict says motioning for Yvette to come over to his side, “This is a dark family. We were rightfully named. Thieves, murderers, deviants, and other bringers of debauchery have dwelled under this roof for decades.”
“I suppose it was not uncommon for you to fake your own death?” Professor Plum says, “Everyone is treating it as if it is a normal occurrence.”
“I believe I am the first to fake my death.” Sir Benedict says, “But we Black’s will do anything to protect what is ours.”
“You saved Hugh’s life by taking the fall.” Professor Plum says, “Regardless to how ignorant Hugh was for getting tangled up with Brunette in the first place.”
“Believe it or not,” Sir Benedict says, “Brunette is not a bad man.”
Yvette glares as Sir Benedict.
“He is a serial killer and distorts the bodies of innocent women!” Professor Plum says, “I only studied psychology casually, but I am pretty sure he is a bad man.”
“He is sick.” Sir Benedict says, “But he wasn’t always that way. He had dreams, ambitions, plans, and he got lost during the journey. It happens.”
“You believe there is some good in him?” asks Professor Plum
“I believe there is good in everyone.” Sir Benedict says
“Even the person that murdered Hugh?” asks Professor Plum
“Especially the person that murdered Hugh.” Sir Benedict says, “I always told my son his actions would bring great consequences. You are my son too, let me reiterate what I mean by that.”
“Of course.” Professor Plum says motioning for his father to continue
“If you piss off the wrong people or hurt the same person over and over, you will end up with a list of enemies long than your list of friends.” Sir Benedict says, “And if you pick the wrong friends you might end up at odds with a murderer or murderess as it would seem to be.”
“You knew he would be murdered?” asks Professor Plum
“I figured he would be pushed overboard during the boating trip.” Sir Benedict says, “But fate has a way of cleaning up.”
“You hold no remorse over Hugh’s death?” Professor Plum stands up, somewhat offended
“Hugh has been dead for a long time.” Sir Benedict says, “He dug his grave when he fell in love with Mrs. Peacock and hired Mr. Green to do his dirty work. He dug his grave even deeper when he didn’t sever his bond with that deranged Colonel.” Sir Benedict motions for Professor Plum to sit down, “He dug that hole the deepest when he refrained from telling you about my livelihood, yet he bothered to tell Yvette, Nurse Silver, and other household staff.”
“I found it bothersome.” Yvette says shrugging
“Peter,” Sir Benedict sets his tea cup on the coffee table and motions for Yvette to pour him another cup. She complies.
“Yes, father?” asks Professor Plum
“Did you murder your brother?” asks Sir Benedict
Yvette uneasily clanks the tea pot against the tea cup.
“No.” Professor Plum says
“I think you did.” Sir Benedict says, “I think a lot of people think you did too.”
Sir Benedict takes the tea cup from the table as Yvette hurries to the tea tray.
“Shall I refresh the tea?” asks Yvette
“Bring us some more of those little scones Mrs. White made.” Sir Benedict dismisses the French maid. Yvette leaves the Lounge in an anxious manner.
“I didn’t kill Hugh.” Professor Plum says
Sir Benedict shrugs, “Well then I suppose you might be in for a rude awakening soon.”
“You’ll protect me from the accusations?” Professor Plum says, “And my sister, Rose, her psychic predictions could help find the real killer.”
“You don’t honestly believe in the horse shit she says after gazing into her crystal ball?” Sir Benedict says
“She is your daughter,” Professor Plum says, “She is my half-sister. If she believes the paranormal and spiritual forces can help her, I’ll support her.”
“You being a man of science, I expected better of you.” Sir Benedict says, “Rose is not well mentally. I’m sure you know about her stay in the mental rehabilitation center?”
“You sent her to an asylum in Belfast.” Professor Plum becomes heated in the face, “If she has any mental illness it is from the mistreatment she received while there.”
“Yes and Hugh was all too happy to drag her back here.” Sir Benedict says, “Did you know that within the first week of being back at Blackwell Grange she tried to stab Mrs. White to death with an ice pick?”
Professor Plum is silent
“She has short bursts and her temper is uncontrollable.” Sir Benedict says, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed Hugh due to her manic delusions.”
“How can you say that about your own child?” asks Professor Plum
“I see you are taking as much of a liking to me as your siblings.” Sir Benedict chukcles, “At least we feel like a family.”
“I would never treat family like that.” Professor Plum says matter-of-factly
“Peter, I know about the incident that cost you your job.” Sir Benedict says
“It was a test that went wrong.” Professor Plum says, “There is no secret about it. I just don’t like to talk about it.”
“I would like to hear you tell me all about it.” Sir Benedict says
“Why?” asks Professor Plum
“Because I want to hear if you have the guts to tell me what really happened while you were testing on patients.” Sir Benedict says
“I was testing various patients that I was seeing.” Professor Plum says, “Psychiatric evaluation has always thrilled me. I made a miscalculation and it resulted in the end of a patient’s life.”
“That is not the story I heard,” Sir Benedict says, “Nor was it the story Hugh heard.”
“What do you mean?” Professor Plum seethes
“I heard that you lost funding.” Sir Benedict says, “I heard that you experimented in your basement and when you ran out of drooling patients from Rolling Hill’s Sanitarium you asked your dear wife to try out a prescription to help her with her own depression. I also heard that she was perfectly fine and happy the following days after the administered dosages. Then I heard that she passed away within a week due to brain swelling and seizures that were a side effect of the improper testing you did.”
Professor Plum swallows hard and starts breathlessly into his father’s eyes. Sir Benedict stands up from the sofa and walks to the door of the Lounge, “Don’t tell me how to treat my family when you killed your own, and don’t blame me for what you and your type of experimental doctors do to people like Rose.”
Sir Benedict leaves the Lounge, leaving Professor Plum angrily standing between the coffee table and the other sofa. He gets up and angrily swipes all the sheet music from on top of the piano.
“Did your father get to you?” Yvette slinks back into the Lounge
“Leave me.” Professor Plum says
“Don’t you want to distract yourself with something else?” Yvette comes over to the Professor and makes use of her skimpy maid’s uniform.
Professor Plum averts his eyes from the temptress before him.
“Come on, Professor,” Yvette runs her fingers through his hair, “You have had a rough few days.”
Professor Plum grabs Yvette by the arms and pushes her up against the piano.
“A little rough today?” Yvette growls with a wicked smile
“Shut up!” Professor Plum shouts, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about him being alive.”
“I was paid not to.” Yvette says
“Even after the countless nights we spent together?” asks Professor Plum
“If you are about to go into a long soliloquy about how you actually love me, I am going to need to ask you to stop before you embarrass yourself.” Yvette says trying to slip out of Professor Plum’s grip, “Let go of me.”
“No,” Professor Plum says, “You just sneak around here barely doing any work and having sex with the first man who springs for you and your obvious apparel.”
“I’m not having fun,” Yvette becomes worried, “Let me go, you are hurting my arm.”
“It’s not going to be fun,” Professor Plum says shoving her away. She stumbles and falls to the floor, “Nothing is going to be fun, Yvette, don’t you see? These people, this life…”
Yvette stares up at the Professor from the floor of the Lounge, “You’re irrational.”
“I’m irrational?” Professor Plum slams his fists against the top of the piano, “How long have you been sleeping with my father?”
“What?” Yvette stands up, “Professor, you have clearly lost your mind.”
“Get out.” Professor Plum says
“Peter…” Yvette reaches out
“Get the hell out of this room.” Professor Plum says, “Before I do something I will regret.”
Yvette hurries out of the Lounge and slams the door.
Outside Blackwell Grange in the Stables, Mr. Ash rolls the clay disk trap into the corner. He looks around at the horses and other storage equipment and stares up at the rafters of the roof. He hears a creaking sound as if someone is walking in the loft.
“Hello?” Mr. Ash calls out. There is no response. He hears a creak again, “I wouldn’t stay up there if I were you. The floors are very old.”
There is an eerie silence, in which Mr. Ash can faintly hear the sound of another person breathing. The sound of the horse spooks Mr. Ash as the creaking continues.
“I have a gun.” Mr. Ash lies
From the edge of the loft a rope comes tumbling down, formed into the shape of a noose. The rope loosely swings back and forth in front of the startled butler. Monsieur Brunette steps to the edge of the loft, holding the other end of the Rope.
“We meet again.” Monsieur Brunette says
“Have all the demons in hell come to torment me?” Mr. Ash stares at Brunette in disgust
“We haven’t spoken to each other in nearly ten years.” Monsieur Brunette says, “How is the old crew?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Mr. Ash says, “They all went to Ian Masque’s Alpine chateau instead of Blackwell Grange.”
“Did you and Dr. Kell ever come to copes about your wife’s suicide?” Monsieur Brunette jiggles the Rope.
“You are a sick bastard.” Mr. Ash says calmly, “I will not give you the pleasure of acknowledging your sick act.”
“What’s sick is the things I wanted to do to Dr. Kell, Ian Masque, Miss Popov, and Sabata.” Monsieur Brunette says
“I assume you have come to kill me.” Mr. Ash says
“Sadly,” Monsieur Brunette begins to roll up the Rope, “Your life isn’t worth much to me. I followed you here because I wanted to let you know that tomorrow morning I will be bringing my eye patch out of retirement and I will become Martin Urfe again. Only I need you to keep my secret.”
“Like hell,” Mr. Ash says, “Your safest bet is to kill me here.”
“I need you to cooperate, Mr. Ash.” Monsieur Brunette says, “I told you I wasn’t going to kill you. There is, however, another beautiful specimen I would love to add to my collection.”
“Who?” asks Mr. Ash anxiously
“If I told you, you would warn them.” Monsieur Brunette says
“Who’s to say I will not warn them all about your phony personae – Martin Urfe.” Mr. Ash says, “If you aren’t going to kill me, and won’t threaten me by telling me whose life is in danger, what do you possible expect to gain?”
“I have made contact with Dr. Kell within the past three months.” Monsieur Brunette says, “Your little romance during your visits were not as secret as you think. I know she was the second love of your life after losing your wife. I figured her well-being and location would be of some interest to you.”
Monsieur Brunette tosses the Rope down to Mr. Ash.
“Julia is alive?” asks Mr. Ash
“Best of all,” Monsieur Brunette says, “She still loves you.”
“You are lying.” Mr. Ash says, “You are nothing but a killer and a liar.”
“If you turn me in to the police you will never know what happened to Dr. Kell after the incident of Bloodhurst Estates.” Monsieur Brunette says, “Think about it, Reggie.”
In the Study of Blackwell Grange, Nurse Silver rummages through the desk drawers.
“Are we looking for something?” asks Miss Dove, entering with a stern look on her face
“Miss Dove,” Nurse Silver’s face becomes hot and red, “I didn’t think you would be awake this early.”
“I woke up to the sound of those goddamned shotgun blasts outside.” Miss Dove says, “What the devil are you doing in Hugh’s desk?”
“It’s nothing.” Nurse Silver says, “I was just looking for something that I thought Hugh might have lying around.”
“Oh?” Miss Dove says, “It wasn’t by any chance adoption papers was it?”
Nurse Silver’s face goes pale.
“What the hell did you do with them?” Nurse Silver rushes around the desk
“If you do so much as lay a finger on me I will have you arrested.” Miss Dove says, “You had a secret love child with my fiancé and gave it away. I am pretty sure the police will see that as grounds to have you convicted of murder.”
“Hugh made me give up the baby.” Nurse Silver says, “I didn’t want to. I still want to rush back to that orphanage and take the boy back before he is old enough to know I even left him.”
“The boy is eight months old.” Miss Dove says, “Which means you started taking care of my son only two months after giving up that baby.”
“Please,” Nurse Silver says, “Don’t tell anyone. Not yet.”
“Don’t think I didn’t know that you and Hugh were having sex.” Miss Dove says, “Why else do you think I was playing so hard to get. I wanted to see if those bloody rumors about Hugh’s uncontrollable sexuality were true or not. But I guess I learned when you couldn’t decide whether to call your employer Dr. Black or Hugh. Your informality cost you a lot more than just your position as a nanny.”
“What are you going to do?” asks Nurse Silver
Miss Dove smirks, “Everyone sees me as the innocent, delicate woman who was caught by the lustful monster that is Hugh…”
“Amelia,” Nurse Silver says, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Of course not,” Miss Dove says, continuing to smirk, “But you did ask me what I was going to do, so I shall tell you.”
Miss Dove walks across the Study to the globe in the corner. She spins it aimlessly.
“As soon as I found out about your affair with Hugh and the offspring it produced I did a little research. I did in fact find the very orphanage you gave up your son.”
“Please,” Nurse Silver begs, “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Miss Dove smiles wickedly, “I have legally adopted your son. I’m waiting for the paperwork to go through.”
Nurse Silver’s knees buckle.
“I will take that boy and Fivel and I will leave Blackwell Grange and you will never see or hear from us ever again.” Miss Dove says, “You stole the love I could have had for Hugh, but now I will raise his son as the son we would have had together.”
To Be Continued…
FLASHBACK – 10 YEARS AGO
Mr. Ash enters the Hall through the Kitchen to see Dr. Hugh Black parading around five interestingly dressed individuals.
“Ah,” Dr. Black says upon seeing Mr. Ash, “This is my new butler, Reginald Ash. He was formerly a butler at the Royal Opera, but I gave him an offer he could refuse.”
A bald man with an eye patch chuckles, “You always do.”
“Take a look at this exquist painting.” A young, twenty-year old Russian beauty exclaims, running her hand along the painting as Dr. Black runs his hands along her back and shoulders.
“Mr. Ash,” Dr. Black clears his throat, “This is my muse, Marina Popov.”
“Pleasure.” Miss Popov nods to the butler.
“This fine gentleman here is Martin Urfe.” Dr. Black points to the man in the eyepatch
“It is a pleasure.” The man says in a thick French accent
“This courageous woman here is Dr. Julia Kell.” Dr. Black says pointing of the mature, heavy-set woman in the kelly-green dress-suit
“You were at the royal opera?” Dr. Kell speaks in a German accent
“Yes, for nearly seventeen seasons.” Mr. Ash says
“I always loved the opera.” Dr. Kell smiles to Mr. Ash
Dr. Black motions to the tall, sharply dressed bald man wearing the navy blue designer suit.
“Ian Masque.” The man introduces himself
Mr. Ash nods his head politely. He then notices a man in the back of the group, a man with dark features who hasn’t spoken a word since the group has been milling about the Hall.
“I’m sorry I did not catch your name.” Mr. Ash politely approaches the man
The man stares into his eyes for several moments before opening his mouth, “Sabata.”
“Don’t torture the poor man, Sab.” Dr. Kell nudges Sataba
“You are from Spain?” Mr. Ash guesses, “I recognize your accent.”
Sabata stares again for an uncomfortably long amount of time before nodding his head.
“Mr. Ash,” Martin Urfe speaks up, “I was so sorry to hear about your late wife.”
“Oh,” Mr. Ash is caught off guard, “I…” he is lost for words, “I wasn’t aware Dr. Black had shared my recent loss.”
“Dr. Kell is a psychiatrist.” Dr. Black explains, “If you would like, I am sure we could arrange for the two of you to speak sometime if you would like to receive some consoling.”
“Suicide always hurts the people left behind.” Dr. Kell sighs, “I lost my own mother to suicide.”
“I’m sorry.” Mr. Ash says, in a bewildered, empty frame of mind.
“Anyway,” Dr. Black clears his throat, “The six of us will be retiring to my Study for a little business meeting. We would ask that you do not interrupt us for any reason.”
“Of course.” Mr. Ash nods
END OF FLASHBACK
Mr. Ash touches the frame of the picture with fear in his eyes and a shaking hand.
In her bedroom at Blackwell Grange, Vivienne Scarlet combs her hair at her vanity. The room is decorated in a deep crimson with white trimmings. As she brings the brush down through her wavy, platinum blonde hair she catches, out of the corner of her eye, two people in the Garden. She places the brush down upon the vanity and takes a look. She narrows her vision onto the two figures. Her pursed lips turn to a frown.
In the Garden, Mr. Clay and Mrs. Peacock walk towards the center.
“I just thought it was common courtesy to let you know that I will be courting your stepdaughter.” Mr. Clay clears his throat awkwardly
“How hard did that monster clonk you on the head?” Mrs. Peacock crosses her arms in annoyance
“I’m sorry?” Mr. Clay fails to follow
“Vivienne is not in love you with,” Mrs. Peacock sits down on a stone bench and motions for him to sit next to her. He reluctantly does.
“What do you mean?” asks Mr. Clay, “She seemed quite appreciative and meaningful when we professed our love to each other.”
“You are a sweet boy,” Mrs. Peacock says, “And Vivienne is a sweet girl, but wouldn’t you rather be a strong man with a strong woman.”
“Mrs. Peacock,” Mr. Clay stands up
“Come on, Chandler,” Mrs. Peacock says, “What we had was special. This thing you see with Vivienne is just blinding you.”
“I love her.” Mr. Clay says
“I know Vivienne,” Mrs. Peacock says, “She won’t be loyal to you. You will be a pleasurable diversion to distract her from the veracity of life.”
“Your poisonous tongue will not drive me to mistrust and weakness as you did to Miss Dove.” Mr. Clay says leaving Mrs. Peacock alone on the bench. Mrs. Peacock watches as Mr. Clay leaves the Garden, passing by Rusty, who is pushing a wheel barrel on the walking path.
“Good morning, Mrs. Peacock.” Rusty says, pulling a pair of garden shears from the wheel barrel.
“Good morning,” Mrs. Peacock returns, standing up and strolling near Rusty
“Inspector Brown and Sergeant Gray asked for the Library to themselves for the morning.” Rusty says
“Yes,” Mrs. Peacock says, “Mr. Ash told me this morning.”
“Always work to be done.” Rusty says snapping the garden shears at several sprigs of leaves.
“You should be mourning.” Mrs. Peacock says
“Ah,” Rusty shakes his head with a smile, “The servants are trying to prove trustworthy and dedicated.”
“At what cost?” Mrs. Peacock says, “You are running yourself dry. I saw you downstairs in the Lounge until nearly quarter past three last night.”
“Hopefully the heir to Blackwell Grange will see that and we will keep our jobs.” Rusty shrugs
“I’m sure your position is secured.” Mrs. Peacock says
“It’s sweet of you to say.” Rusty smiles
“Speaking of the heir,” Mrs. Peacock says sniffing a lily, “That brings up an odd question…”
“Indeed,” Rusty says, “Yvette, Mrs. White, Mr. Ash, and I went over it last night. It could be any number of people that Dr. Black left as the heir.”
“Who is the best choice?” asks Mrs. Peacock with an innocent chuckle
“Yvette thinks Sir Benedict is most lively to reclaim the Grange,” Rusty says, “Mr. Ash believes young Mr. Boddy might be the heir.”
“Miss Dove?” asks Mrs. Peacock
“Mrs. White has her money on Miss Dove and that boy finding themselves in the lap of luxury.” Rusty says
“And you?” asks Mrs. Peacock
“Professor Plum or Madame Rose.” Rusty says, “I feel Dr. Black would put his siblings above his father, lover, or nephew.”
“Madame Rose’s insanity would prove troublesome.” Mrs. Peacock says, “Professor Plum and Dr. Black had too much tension.”
“Who do you think?” asks Rusty, tossing the clippings and shears into the wheel barrel.
“I’m going to have to side with Yvette.” Mrs. Peacock says, “Despite faking his own death, Sir Benedict seems very in charge.”
At the Lake, behind Blackwell Grange, Colonel Mustard aims the shotgun in the air as the clay disk flies through the air. The sound of the shotgun’s blast echoes across the estate.
“Isn’t this in poor taste?” Mr. Boddy stomps his foot angrily
“Hugh loved to shoot.” Colonel Mustard says as Mr. Ash reloads a clay disk into the trap.
“Regardless,” Mr. Boddy comes between Colonel Mustard and Mr. Ash, “It is in poor taste to shoot weaponry so soon after what happened last night.”
“Maybe if Brunette hears enough shooting he’ll realize that we are not the type of people that take kindly to killers.” Colonel Mustard says raising the shotgun to the sky
“Yet killers wander amongst you.” Mr. Boddy says
“Watch your tongue boy,” Colonel Mustard says slamming the shotgun down into the grass and taking Mr. Boddy by the lapels of his coat, “I have had it with your arrogant sass.”
“You have had enough,” Mr. Boddy scoffs, pushing the colonel off of him, “Yet you have no power of making a difference. This is my family’s estate and I will not tolerate such a barbaric game during the wake of my dear uncle’s passing.”
“Reggie,” Colonel Mustard points to Mr. Ash, “Silence this damn boy.”
“Master Boddy,” Mr. Ash says, “Perhaps you leave the Colonel to his grieving. I’m sure Miss Peach would love someone to speak with.”
“Cousin Melba and I haven’t much to say to each other.” Mr. Boddy says
“Either way,” Mr. Ash says, “I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable away from the gunshots if you are inside Blackwell Grange.”
“Do they even know what room my poor uncle was killed in?” Mr. Boddy says, “They are being so elusive.”
“I’m not sure it would be in Inspector Brown’s best interest to reveal those facts yet.” Mr. Ash says
“Did you see the body, Colonel?” Mr. Boddy asks
Colonel Mustard clenches his fists as he picks up the shotgun, “You are crossing the line.”
“The police don’t even know how he died.” Mr. Boddy continues, blatantly ignoring the frame of mind Colonel Mustard is in.
“That’s quite enough!” Mr. Ash says
“One day,” Mr. Boddy says, “I’ll be heir and you will regret talking to me that way.”
In the Ballroom, Mr. Green idly strolls through the room smoking a cigar. He plucks the string of a dusty harp as Mrs. White enters the room.
“Mr. Green,” Mrs. White exclaims upon seeing him, “I just wanted to let you know I am making your favorite dish tonight.”
“Oh that is very thoughtful Mrs. White.” Mr. Green says patting the maid on the shoulder
“I know how much you like my pastas.” Mrs. White smiles, “Will you be staying in town for long?”
“I hadn’t given it much thought.” Mr. Green shrugs, “I assume I would stay here till the funeral.”
“Of course,” Mrs. White nods, “Oh dear, I suppose everyone will be here that long.”
“Have any of the arrangements been planned out?” asks Mr. Green, “In the event of Hugh’s death?”
“I suppose that would all be something Mr. Meadow-Brook would know.” Mrs. White says
“Who?” asks Mr. Green
“Mr. Meadow-Brook is Dr. Black’s lawyer.” Mrs. White says, “I suppose he will be handling the will as well. Everyone wants to know the same answer: who inherits Blackwell Grange.”
“I could honestly care less who gets this dusty old manor.” Mr. Green says
“You know,” Mrs. White smiles to herself, “Dr. Black spoke very fondly of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he left you a little something.”
“I think it would be in poor taste to just show up to the will reading.” Mr. Green says
“I’m sure Mr. Meadow-Brook will invite you.” Mrs. White says, “I used to help Dr. Black with his finances before he hired a professional accountant.”
“He hired an accountant?” asks Mr. Green
“Some jew by the name of Slate-Grey.” Mrs. White says, “Anyways, I recall him dividing up a sizable sum around the time he had Mr. Meadow-Brook called in to update his will.”
“He updated his will recently?” Mr. Green muses
“Weekend before last,” Mrs. White says thinking back, “If memory serves me correctly.”
“That is very interesting.” Mr. Green says
“But after finding out it was murder, the last thing we need to worry about is the will.” Mrs. White says
“You didn’t,” Mr. Green clears his throat, “… haven’t had any recent problems with Hugh?”
“I didn’t kill Hugh,” Mrs. White says, “And if I had, you would know. I would have gotten you to kill him.”
“Just like Winslow.” Mr. Green chuckles
“You cannot take credit for my work.” Mrs. White laughs, “I killed my husband. You just disposed of him to save Rusty and I.”
“Your memory isn’t what it once was.” Mr. Green says half under his breath.
In the Lounge, Yvette scampers over to Sir Benedict’s empty tea cup and fills it. Professor Peter Plum sits across from his biological father in silence.
“I know this is an unparalleled experience you are going through, and I won’t begin to try and understand it or analyze your behavior,” Sir Benedict sips his tea, “But would you kindly refrain from staring at me. It’s making me rather nervous.”
“I’m sorry.” Professor Plum looks away, “I’m just in such wild disbelief that you are alive, right as Hugh dies. I feel I’ve traded a brother for a father.”
“There are a lot of things to be grateful for.” Sir Benedict says, “Now we have much more appreciation for each other.”
“Of course,” Professor Plum says, “I want to know everything there is to know about this family and your life.”
“You want to become a true Black?” asks Sir Benedict
“It’s been my dream as long as I have known about my true parentage.” Professor Plum says
“Then there is probably something you should know to help get you started,” Sir Benedict says motioning for Yvette to come over to his side, “This is a dark family. We were rightfully named. Thieves, murderers, deviants, and other bringers of debauchery have dwelled under this roof for decades.”
“I suppose it was not uncommon for you to fake your own death?” Professor Plum says, “Everyone is treating it as if it is a normal occurrence.”
“I believe I am the first to fake my death.” Sir Benedict says, “But we Black’s will do anything to protect what is ours.”
“You saved Hugh’s life by taking the fall.” Professor Plum says, “Regardless to how ignorant Hugh was for getting tangled up with Brunette in the first place.”
“Believe it or not,” Sir Benedict says, “Brunette is not a bad man.”
Yvette glares as Sir Benedict.
“He is a serial killer and distorts the bodies of innocent women!” Professor Plum says, “I only studied psychology casually, but I am pretty sure he is a bad man.”
“He is sick.” Sir Benedict says, “But he wasn’t always that way. He had dreams, ambitions, plans, and he got lost during the journey. It happens.”
“You believe there is some good in him?” asks Professor Plum
“I believe there is good in everyone.” Sir Benedict says
“Even the person that murdered Hugh?” asks Professor Plum
“Especially the person that murdered Hugh.” Sir Benedict says, “I always told my son his actions would bring great consequences. You are my son too, let me reiterate what I mean by that.”
“Of course.” Professor Plum says motioning for his father to continue
“If you piss off the wrong people or hurt the same person over and over, you will end up with a list of enemies long than your list of friends.” Sir Benedict says, “And if you pick the wrong friends you might end up at odds with a murderer or murderess as it would seem to be.”
“You knew he would be murdered?” asks Professor Plum
“I figured he would be pushed overboard during the boating trip.” Sir Benedict says, “But fate has a way of cleaning up.”
“You hold no remorse over Hugh’s death?” Professor Plum stands up, somewhat offended
“Hugh has been dead for a long time.” Sir Benedict says, “He dug his grave when he fell in love with Mrs. Peacock and hired Mr. Green to do his dirty work. He dug his grave even deeper when he didn’t sever his bond with that deranged Colonel.” Sir Benedict motions for Professor Plum to sit down, “He dug that hole the deepest when he refrained from telling you about my livelihood, yet he bothered to tell Yvette, Nurse Silver, and other household staff.”
“I found it bothersome.” Yvette says shrugging
“Peter,” Sir Benedict sets his tea cup on the coffee table and motions for Yvette to pour him another cup. She complies.
“Yes, father?” asks Professor Plum
“Did you murder your brother?” asks Sir Benedict
Yvette uneasily clanks the tea pot against the tea cup.
“No.” Professor Plum says
“I think you did.” Sir Benedict says, “I think a lot of people think you did too.”
Sir Benedict takes the tea cup from the table as Yvette hurries to the tea tray.
“Shall I refresh the tea?” asks Yvette
“Bring us some more of those little scones Mrs. White made.” Sir Benedict dismisses the French maid. Yvette leaves the Lounge in an anxious manner.
“I didn’t kill Hugh.” Professor Plum says
Sir Benedict shrugs, “Well then I suppose you might be in for a rude awakening soon.”
“You’ll protect me from the accusations?” Professor Plum says, “And my sister, Rose, her psychic predictions could help find the real killer.”
“You don’t honestly believe in the horse shit she says after gazing into her crystal ball?” Sir Benedict says
“She is your daughter,” Professor Plum says, “She is my half-sister. If she believes the paranormal and spiritual forces can help her, I’ll support her.”
“You being a man of science, I expected better of you.” Sir Benedict says, “Rose is not well mentally. I’m sure you know about her stay in the mental rehabilitation center?”
“You sent her to an asylum in Belfast.” Professor Plum becomes heated in the face, “If she has any mental illness it is from the mistreatment she received while there.”
“Yes and Hugh was all too happy to drag her back here.” Sir Benedict says, “Did you know that within the first week of being back at Blackwell Grange she tried to stab Mrs. White to death with an ice pick?”
Professor Plum is silent
“She has short bursts and her temper is uncontrollable.” Sir Benedict says, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed Hugh due to her manic delusions.”
“How can you say that about your own child?” asks Professor Plum
“I see you are taking as much of a liking to me as your siblings.” Sir Benedict chukcles, “At least we feel like a family.”
“I would never treat family like that.” Professor Plum says matter-of-factly
“Peter, I know about the incident that cost you your job.” Sir Benedict says
“It was a test that went wrong.” Professor Plum says, “There is no secret about it. I just don’t like to talk about it.”
“I would like to hear you tell me all about it.” Sir Benedict says
“Why?” asks Professor Plum
“Because I want to hear if you have the guts to tell me what really happened while you were testing on patients.” Sir Benedict says
“I was testing various patients that I was seeing.” Professor Plum says, “Psychiatric evaluation has always thrilled me. I made a miscalculation and it resulted in the end of a patient’s life.”
“That is not the story I heard,” Sir Benedict says, “Nor was it the story Hugh heard.”
“What do you mean?” Professor Plum seethes
“I heard that you lost funding.” Sir Benedict says, “I heard that you experimented in your basement and when you ran out of drooling patients from Rolling Hill’s Sanitarium you asked your dear wife to try out a prescription to help her with her own depression. I also heard that she was perfectly fine and happy the following days after the administered dosages. Then I heard that she passed away within a week due to brain swelling and seizures that were a side effect of the improper testing you did.”
Professor Plum swallows hard and starts breathlessly into his father’s eyes. Sir Benedict stands up from the sofa and walks to the door of the Lounge, “Don’t tell me how to treat my family when you killed your own, and don’t blame me for what you and your type of experimental doctors do to people like Rose.”
Sir Benedict leaves the Lounge, leaving Professor Plum angrily standing between the coffee table and the other sofa. He gets up and angrily swipes all the sheet music from on top of the piano.
“Did your father get to you?” Yvette slinks back into the Lounge
“Leave me.” Professor Plum says
“Don’t you want to distract yourself with something else?” Yvette comes over to the Professor and makes use of her skimpy maid’s uniform.
Professor Plum averts his eyes from the temptress before him.
“Come on, Professor,” Yvette runs her fingers through his hair, “You have had a rough few days.”
Professor Plum grabs Yvette by the arms and pushes her up against the piano.
“A little rough today?” Yvette growls with a wicked smile
“Shut up!” Professor Plum shouts, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me about him being alive.”
“I was paid not to.” Yvette says
“Even after the countless nights we spent together?” asks Professor Plum
“If you are about to go into a long soliloquy about how you actually love me, I am going to need to ask you to stop before you embarrass yourself.” Yvette says trying to slip out of Professor Plum’s grip, “Let go of me.”
“No,” Professor Plum says, “You just sneak around here barely doing any work and having sex with the first man who springs for you and your obvious apparel.”
“I’m not having fun,” Yvette becomes worried, “Let me go, you are hurting my arm.”
“It’s not going to be fun,” Professor Plum says shoving her away. She stumbles and falls to the floor, “Nothing is going to be fun, Yvette, don’t you see? These people, this life…”
Yvette stares up at the Professor from the floor of the Lounge, “You’re irrational.”
“I’m irrational?” Professor Plum slams his fists against the top of the piano, “How long have you been sleeping with my father?”
“What?” Yvette stands up, “Professor, you have clearly lost your mind.”
“Get out.” Professor Plum says
“Peter…” Yvette reaches out
“Get the hell out of this room.” Professor Plum says, “Before I do something I will regret.”
Yvette hurries out of the Lounge and slams the door.
Outside Blackwell Grange in the Stables, Mr. Ash rolls the clay disk trap into the corner. He looks around at the horses and other storage equipment and stares up at the rafters of the roof. He hears a creaking sound as if someone is walking in the loft.
“Hello?” Mr. Ash calls out. There is no response. He hears a creak again, “I wouldn’t stay up there if I were you. The floors are very old.”
There is an eerie silence, in which Mr. Ash can faintly hear the sound of another person breathing. The sound of the horse spooks Mr. Ash as the creaking continues.
“I have a gun.” Mr. Ash lies
From the edge of the loft a rope comes tumbling down, formed into the shape of a noose. The rope loosely swings back and forth in front of the startled butler. Monsieur Brunette steps to the edge of the loft, holding the other end of the Rope.
“We meet again.” Monsieur Brunette says
“Have all the demons in hell come to torment me?” Mr. Ash stares at Brunette in disgust
“We haven’t spoken to each other in nearly ten years.” Monsieur Brunette says, “How is the old crew?”
“I wouldn’t know.” Mr. Ash says, “They all went to Ian Masque’s Alpine chateau instead of Blackwell Grange.”
“Did you and Dr. Kell ever come to copes about your wife’s suicide?” Monsieur Brunette jiggles the Rope.
“You are a sick bastard.” Mr. Ash says calmly, “I will not give you the pleasure of acknowledging your sick act.”
“What’s sick is the things I wanted to do to Dr. Kell, Ian Masque, Miss Popov, and Sabata.” Monsieur Brunette says
“I assume you have come to kill me.” Mr. Ash says
“Sadly,” Monsieur Brunette begins to roll up the Rope, “Your life isn’t worth much to me. I followed you here because I wanted to let you know that tomorrow morning I will be bringing my eye patch out of retirement and I will become Martin Urfe again. Only I need you to keep my secret.”
“Like hell,” Mr. Ash says, “Your safest bet is to kill me here.”
“I need you to cooperate, Mr. Ash.” Monsieur Brunette says, “I told you I wasn’t going to kill you. There is, however, another beautiful specimen I would love to add to my collection.”
“Who?” asks Mr. Ash anxiously
“If I told you, you would warn them.” Monsieur Brunette says
“Who’s to say I will not warn them all about your phony personae – Martin Urfe.” Mr. Ash says, “If you aren’t going to kill me, and won’t threaten me by telling me whose life is in danger, what do you possible expect to gain?”
“I have made contact with Dr. Kell within the past three months.” Monsieur Brunette says, “Your little romance during your visits were not as secret as you think. I know she was the second love of your life after losing your wife. I figured her well-being and location would be of some interest to you.”
Monsieur Brunette tosses the Rope down to Mr. Ash.
“Julia is alive?” asks Mr. Ash
“Best of all,” Monsieur Brunette says, “She still loves you.”
“You are lying.” Mr. Ash says, “You are nothing but a killer and a liar.”
“If you turn me in to the police you will never know what happened to Dr. Kell after the incident of Bloodhurst Estates.” Monsieur Brunette says, “Think about it, Reggie.”
In the Study of Blackwell Grange, Nurse Silver rummages through the desk drawers.
“Are we looking for something?” asks Miss Dove, entering with a stern look on her face
“Miss Dove,” Nurse Silver’s face becomes hot and red, “I didn’t think you would be awake this early.”
“I woke up to the sound of those goddamned shotgun blasts outside.” Miss Dove says, “What the devil are you doing in Hugh’s desk?”
“It’s nothing.” Nurse Silver says, “I was just looking for something that I thought Hugh might have lying around.”
“Oh?” Miss Dove says, “It wasn’t by any chance adoption papers was it?”
Nurse Silver’s face goes pale.
“What the hell did you do with them?” Nurse Silver rushes around the desk
“If you do so much as lay a finger on me I will have you arrested.” Miss Dove says, “You had a secret love child with my fiancé and gave it away. I am pretty sure the police will see that as grounds to have you convicted of murder.”
“Hugh made me give up the baby.” Nurse Silver says, “I didn’t want to. I still want to rush back to that orphanage and take the boy back before he is old enough to know I even left him.”
“The boy is eight months old.” Miss Dove says, “Which means you started taking care of my son only two months after giving up that baby.”
“Please,” Nurse Silver says, “Don’t tell anyone. Not yet.”
“Don’t think I didn’t know that you and Hugh were having sex.” Miss Dove says, “Why else do you think I was playing so hard to get. I wanted to see if those bloody rumors about Hugh’s uncontrollable sexuality were true or not. But I guess I learned when you couldn’t decide whether to call your employer Dr. Black or Hugh. Your informality cost you a lot more than just your position as a nanny.”
“What are you going to do?” asks Nurse Silver
Miss Dove smirks, “Everyone sees me as the innocent, delicate woman who was caught by the lustful monster that is Hugh…”
“Amelia,” Nurse Silver says, “Please don’t tell anyone.”
“Of course not,” Miss Dove says, continuing to smirk, “But you did ask me what I was going to do, so I shall tell you.”
Miss Dove walks across the Study to the globe in the corner. She spins it aimlessly.
“As soon as I found out about your affair with Hugh and the offspring it produced I did a little research. I did in fact find the very orphanage you gave up your son.”
“Please,” Nurse Silver begs, “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Miss Dove smiles wickedly, “I have legally adopted your son. I’m waiting for the paperwork to go through.”
Nurse Silver’s knees buckle.
“I will take that boy and Fivel and I will leave Blackwell Grange and you will never see or hear from us ever again.” Miss Dove says, “You stole the love I could have had for Hugh, but now I will raise his son as the son we would have had together.”
To Be Continued…