Death Always Follows the Rich;
The country house of the 19th Earl of Emrys, Oxford, England, early 1930′s. Someone is going to die tonight; you can feel it in the air. They’re young, rich and beautiful with nothing to lose.
Miss Gwen Leodegrance is going to die tonight.
She arrived at the grand country house an hour earlier with her band to prepare for the evening’s entertainment. She was a renowned singer who often sang for the royal family and was always received with praise, she knew her own worth. She knew too much. The moment she stepped in the stately home she knew she wouldn’t leave, this was a night that would change the course of history. She put on her best show dress, curled her hair, left a note in her guest room and then she walked on to the stage in the grand hall and starting singing. ‘All aboard the dead of night express…’ The drinks flowed, the guests danced and that later that night Miss Leodegrance died.
The Princess Royal will leave with blood on one hand and a champagne glass in the other.
The guests waited with bated breath for her arrival and curtsied low when she walked in. She delighted everybody she came across with ease, the belle of the ball. They all fell in love with her. They always fell in love with her. All but her brother. She wore a fake red smile and a glint of danger in her eye. Something was going to happen that night; she saw it in her dreams. The music intoxicated her. ‘Devil of a stoker at a furnace fire. My night-time dreams and desire.‘ She was there again. She was always there. In her dreams and here again. The nation’s beloved princess smiled and laughed and played the darling and the end of the night the red of blood matched her red lipstick.
The Prince of Wales will never forget the knife in his hand dripping with blood.
The Prince drank that night, drank to forget. His sister made her grand entrance, and he drank more. He flirted and danced with the women all night and leaned in close to whisper in their ear whilst the prince watched and drank. His eyes followed him round the room and landed on the stage. ‘Getting closer on the midnight run. My heart is a-pounding and a-pumping and a-thumping.’ This was her fault. Her and her words. She was taunting him with this song. He should have worn his red uniform, he thought during the chaos later that night, it would have disguised the unspeakable truth.
Merlin, Viscount Ealdor, will fall to the floor and beg for forgiveness.
An hour earlier he met her at the grand entrance of his father’s country house, one he was to inherit, and they exchanged pleasantries. She was the country’s most celebrated singer and this was a ball to end all balls. He greeted his guests with a smile that could only be described as dangerously seductive, he had other plans for tonight. The feeling of foreboding clung to the room. He leaned in close to Lady Kitty and whispered a string of words that made the sweet maiden blush and in the distance, he heard a champagne glass break. He could hear his heart hammering as he felt the night coming to a close. ‘It’s inviting. It’s exciting. The dead of night express train is exciting.’ She had a pleasant voice and a wicked all-seeing eye. He would never forgive her. In the small hours of the night, no matter how much he washed the blood had stained his skin and wouldn’t come off.
Young, rich, beautiful and the worst people to grace the earth.
This is a long one! I’ve intentionally left it ambiguous but if you would like scenarios as to who killed her, I have them here.
[Thanks to @ripmacbeth & @ofkingsandlionhearts for helping to edit this one, I know it’s a long one! This one’s for ya @prince-pratdragon, you’re doing great & I’m proud of you.]
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