Eastcheap, South Lindebo was a highly respectable part of town. Andrew had known that when he moved into his sophisticated brick townhouse. The people in the neighborhood were all very well bred and mannered. He'd fell in love with the house the moment he'd seen it. With it's spacious rooms and a respectable three stories he'd seen it as impressive but not presumptuous, sophisticated but not pompous. It had ivy and jasmine growing up the wall and over the wrought iron gate. He'd loved the way everyone in the neighborhood took an evening stroll and exchanged greetings with eachother. He hated the way they were all looking at him now. Who could blame them though? He would've been mildly upset to see a blood covered man walking through his neighborhood. They all stared at him looking horrified. How odd he must've looked, not wearing a hat, or coat, for he'd left them at his office in his haste, holding only a doctor bag with splotches of blood that were a rusty red color.

He smiled at the people he saw directly on the street but it was only returned by a bewildered look. He didn't feel angry towards them, they had every right to be frightened. For all they knew he was a murderer, and what with that Kirk-Street Killer about, everyone was more paranoid than usual.

It was a relief to walk up the family steps to the door of his townhouse. The evening air filled his nostrils with the scent of jasmine and the wonderful, saturated evening air did not seem fitting for what had just happened. The image of Shannon Quartermine, covered in blood at her own will was one of the most deeply upsetting cases Andrew had seen in years. He opened the door and walked in. He set his bag on the finely carved mahogany table in the entrance parlor.

"Damnit," he muttered to himself, massaging his brow.

A second after saying it he noticed a figure in the doorway that led towards the servants quarters.

"Forgive me," he said sadly to her, though he in his mind, she wasn't the only one he was apologizing to, "Could you...Bring just a thimble of brandy please?" he asked the unfamiliar servant.

The servant’s quarters, as Vienne had decided, were highly convenient. They were cramped and smaller than she was used to, but other than that they were a nice place to go and avoid her work, which she did on every opportunity given to her. Awareness to her poor work ethic did nothing to affect the young woman’s conscience. As far as she was concerned, she was doing enough around the house and to Dr. Andrew Marcs knowledge, she was doing everything that was asked of her. At least she hoped. The opportunity to slack off given to Vienne that evening proved to be as useful as ever. Dr. Marcs had been rushed out of the townhouse to go see a patient, and Vienne had rushed off to the quarters with a book in her hand. She had enjoyed his absence thoroughly, despite the fact that some dying girl was the reason for her leisure. For this she felt slightly guilty, but cleaning houses wouldn’t save her now.

Soon this guilt dissolved as she opened the pages of a book she had found in the house. She obviously packed a few when she had left the Ashbury Manor, she would have been idiotic not to. However, Vienne was more enticed by this particular book because she had never read it before. Perhaps with a few more opportunities likes this one she could finish the book.

When the sound of the door swinging open and several footsteps sounded, Vienne had been curled in a chair and absorbed in her novel. So absorbed, actually, that it took a few moments to register she now had to get up and go back to working. Jumping up and running towards the door, she stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed her employer standing in the room she was about to rush in to. He muttered words she could not comprehend and so far seemed oblivious to the fact that she was standing there. Vienne was still rather new to the business of being a maid so she wasn’t sure how frowned upon relaxing during her works hours was. Hell, she could hardly even remember how to act properly in front of the man in order to keep her job. She would need to act as well as possible in front of him, considering she faltered in other aspects of the job. Vienne knew exactly how to act at a ball, play, opera and other sorts of functions, but when it came to showing humility and being of a lower rank she was completely out of her element.

"Forgive me, Could you...Bring just a thimble of brandy please?"

Why he would request forgiveness was beyond Vienne, but she nodded anyway. He seemed sad, and enough that even Vienne could detect the gloom in his voice. Murmuring a quick “Yes, sir,” she hurried off to fetch the brandy he had asked for her to bring. Bringing back the small glass back to him she handed it to him and then stood still. Observing him closer she noticed with shock he was covered in blood, something that she had missed the first time around, probably because she had not been looking directly at him. She had to wonder what had happened when he left the house but dared not ask. Was she allowed to ask him questions? Forgetting she was still in his presence for a moment, she scrunched her nose in dislike of all the rules she must follow. They were so difficult.

The ability to ask questions would have pleased Vienne, as there were many things she was curious about. Normally she wouldn’t care, but if she had to work for someone most likely longer term, she at least wanted to know something. For instance, it seemed a bit strange that Dr. Marcs did not have a wife, something she had expected and surprised to find missing when she first came to the house. Vienne wondered if anything had happened to her, or if he simply had never married. Vienne brushed off thoughts of marriage, because it made her think of Alexander, which gave her the urge to slap someone. Seeing how the only other person in the room happened to be employing her, Vienne thought very poorly of doing so. It would be best to keep thoughts of London, marriage and dull men by the name of Alexander as far out of her mind as possible, to avoid said slappings.

“Is that all?” she asked, but then in remembering her position bitterly added, “sir” Despite the rude ending of the question, she had meant anything to help him in his current situation. Perhaps he would want his bloodstained clothes washed or something of that sort. Vienne would have not asked at all if he wanted anything else had it not been for the fact that she would do any chore that did not include cleaning the house. She was aware that was what most of her job consisted of, so she was happy whenever she was needed to do otherwise. She mentally reminded herself that she also needed to return his book, which had been tossed upon the floor of the quarters in her haste before she was accused of stealing.

“Yes, sir,”

Andrew was mildly surprised by her excellent diction and refined accent. It was even more refined sounding than his own, a thought which made him feel a bit more cheerful for some reason.

In general, Dr. Marcs didn't really enjoy alcohol. He'd seen the effects it could have on someone and he didn't believe in using it to deal with pain. However, everyone did have hypocritical moments in their lives and Andrew was no exception. He knew very well that a thimble of brandy would be just enough to help him overcome the overwhelming sense of failure. He could've kissed the servant who brought him the small glass with a few drops of amber liquid in it. He drank it quickly and spluttered a bit as it burnt his throat. He stood still for a moment, waiting for the warm, sleepy feeling to kick in a bit.

"Thank you," he said as he ruffled his hair a bit, out of habit.

“Is that all...sir?"

He glanced at her and paused a moment. Was she a servant? Of course she is, he answerned himself. Why was it that he'd never seen her before? Probably because he spent more time at his office than at home.

"Where did you come from?" he asked bluntly, "I'm sorry," he said, trying to shake off his 'doctor persona', "I mean, how long have you worked here? You work in my house and I don't know your name or anything about you...It's a bit irresponsible of me isn't it?" he said, smiling to himself.

How ridiculous it was that he didn't even know her name? Of course, he knew his housekeeper, Mrs. O'Leary would never hire someone untrustworthy, but Andrew felt some sort responsiblity fo the people who lived in his home.

Vienne simply nodded as the man thanked her for the brandy. She decided to appear the most proper she would have to act as professional as humanly possible. This explained why her eyes were fixated upon the floor with much effort to avoid any eye contact. At least, she mused, he was kind unlike the horrible sort of person she had imagined he would be. Vienne was also incredibly grateful that she never mingled much with the servants at her previous home, because that would probably mean they would all hate her. If they had hated her, she would have to feel guilty once understanding things from their point of view. Vienne hated feeling guilty, and was glad to have avoided the dilemma all together by being slightly introverted around the manor. The more she was away from London, the more she began to realize how much they all must have despised her. She didn’t mind, surprisingly, because she preferred her way of living much more than having to win the affection of people not worth her time. None of that mattered anymore; she was away from it all.

”Where did you come from?”

It was a strange enough question to cause Vienne’s eyes to flicker up from the floor. She wasn’t exactly sure what he meant so stayed silent for a moment. It was better than opening her mouth and babbling like an idiot.

"I'm sorry, I mean, how long have you worked here? You work in my house and I don't know your name or anything about you...It's a bit irresponsible of me isn't it?"

Again with the apologizing. Vienne might not be able to understand his extensive courtesy, but she did appreciate it to some extent. Of all the things she took for granted as a child and then young adult, kindness was not one of them. She did not expect pity for her relatives’ indifference towards her, because long ago she realized that if she was going to act so cruel she couldn’t expect so much kindness in return. Vienne enjoyed being cruel majority of the time and was very well aware of the fact with no desire to change whatsoever, which is why while she could understand her cousins and aunt, she could not understand the person standing before her. Perhaps in good time she could figure the mystery, that is, if she wasn’t fired first. Now that she had confirmed Dr. Marcs wasn’t of evil and conniving sort (sadly, like herself) she might feel obliged to work a little harder around the house. Curse his humanity.

“Lets see, I haven’t worked here for more than a few days, so your inability to recall my name is more human nature than irresponsibility,” she assured, still standing rigidly in the same spot. Her body was tense, because the subject of where she was from had come up, something she did not exactly enjoy talking about. She was sure that elaborately explaining the events that resulted in her being where she was would be an idiotic idea, so she would do what she did best and lie. Technically she would be excluding facts instead of actually lying, but she still spoke without hesitation or any signal that what she was saying was anything but the truth, “I come here from London where I was also a maid in a household well known as the Ashbury Manor… sir.” This “sir” rule was becoming exceedingly irritating.

It was a stupid lie, but Vienne had spoken before she could really think about what she was saying. It would become evident soon enough that she had no previous experience as a maid, unless Vienne was always very alert of her behavior. Still, part of her wanted to keep her previous wealth and fiancé (if she could still call him a fiancé, though she doubted it) a secret for reasons even unknown to Vienne. She was sure she could be convincing with her lie, she had to pull it off, it was just a matter of how inconvenient the charade she had managed to put her self into would become.

“Lets see, I haven’t worked here for more than a few days, so your inability to recall my name is more human nature than irresponsibility,”

"Oh," he said, slightly relieved, "You're the new girl Mrs. Grimm hired then" he confirmed.

Mrs. Grimm. He smiled inwardly. She was his housekeeper and was a woman in her late 40s though her matronly attitude certainly added a good few years to her. She acted like Dr. Marcs mother, always making sure there was camomile tea and crushed eucalyptus leaves in his room when she heard him sneezing or coughing, always informing him of which women were probably after his money, making him eat vegatables and hearty meals and a whole assortment of bothersome things that were good for the doctor's health. He now vaguely remembered her informing him that she was hiring a new maid to help with the chores. Her words had been something like "A right bonny lass from some place I'neva eard of". He'd chuckled softly and asked if Mrs. Grimm was entirely sure she was trustworthy. She'd assured him that her keen judgement was certain that the girl was.

“I come here from London where I was also a maid in a household well known as the Ashbury Manor… sir.”

"Ashbury? I believe I had a patient named Ashbury...Or was it Ashford? Anyway," he said as he fiddled with the glass on the chest of drawers, "What do you think of Lindebo so far?" he asked innocently. He knew some servants felt uncomfortable with small talk, and he didn't blame them.

"Come, let's move to the sitting room. It's my obligation to get at least know a little bit about the help don't you agree?" he asked, somwhat rethorically.

Vienne knew she would have to be tolerable. It wasn’t a matter of petty socialization, but more of a necessity. It wouldn’t be easy, if she could just put her mind towards actually bettering herself for once in her life it may be possible but still thoroughly a dreadful experience. Vienne wasn’t exactly used to not being able to say what she wanted when she felt it necessary and she feared that sooner or later some remark would slip that would cost her the job. Surely, she mused, this would be easier if she had some sort of motive, anything to make her more determined to impress, besides the whole concept of being paid. She emitted a soft sigh, as if confused and flustered by her own thoughts, going in circles about how she should behave. Her employer, Andrew Marcs, seemed nice enough… but as it were, Vienne was not.

It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated, at least not yet.

With the confirmation that she was “the new girl” Vienne nodded a confirmation and said, “Vienne,” she corrected “so that for the remainder of the time I work here you might not have the misfortune of addressing me by a name so long as ‘The new girl Mrs. Grimm hired.’” She scrunched her nose for a moment, the title made her feel rather insignificant. The housekeeper had seemed convinced by Vienne’s act that she was a reliable maid, but the young woman had not been aware at the time she would have to act like that all the time. From what she had heard the man was supposed to never be home, always at the office, leaving Vienne to act as bitter and unpleasant as she wished. Despite all of this, she had still found herself standing in front of the doctor who was supposedly never home, in a quandary of how to go about conducting herself. She must have known it was too good to be true that he would never be home, but the woman had been eager and excited at such a perfect opportunity and had not thought of the consequences of feigning civility in order to get what she wanted. She never did. Keeping details straight could be such a dilemma at times.

"What do you think of Lindebo so far?"

“Honestly sir, there is not much for me to base an opinion upon. To be sure, Lindebo is a very beautiful city,” she spoke of the truth, “but what I can say of its people is very limited, I have not yet had the opportunity of becoming acquainted with any of them.” Vienne spoke firmly, sure of her reply. Conversation turned to a less difficult topic, away from all the complications of her personal life. Now it was much easier to maintain a neutral composure, as she watched him play with bottles on the chest. As for herself, she continued standing in that corner of the room she had been occupying, simply because she no reason to move, It was curious thing that he had not yet dismissed her from the room and gone on with his life. Vienne comforted herself with the thought that under that innocent and sweet exterior must be some major character flaw. Some might find it depressing that this is an assurance for her, but there are not many other ways she can deal with the cruel inhumanity of her own nature.

"Come, let's move to the sitting room. It's my obligation to get at least know a little bit about the help don't you agree?"

No, the truth was Vienne did not agree. She did not agree in the least bit. It wasn’t just the matter of the lies; she had enough experience with those that she could grudgingly handle all the complications. It was more that there was no joy in conversation where she had to act like a good-doing and well-behaved maid. It was almost like being back in one of those balls she attended in London, where everyone was expecting her to act like a perfect angel, only more degrading. Back in London she might not have chosen to meet everyone’s expectations, but in this situation she didn’t have a large room in a mansion to run off into and shun the entire world. Instead of having that leisure, she had ignorantly shoved herself into the reality of the world and working and she did not like it at all. Now, she couldn’t very well tell all this to Mr. Marcs. That would just be nonsensical. Therefore she had no choice but to play along with his idealistic “quality time” scheme. Fantastic.

“If it is what you wish, then I find myself obliged to comply.” Efforts were put in that her tone might seem carefree and airy, but how successful Vienne was she did not know. Finally moving from her statuesque posture she followed him into the sitting room and was faced with the next conflict. Was she to sit down? For the time being she remained standing but turned to the man. "What do you wish to know?"