The People v. Eleanor Warwick
Protest Too Much

The script is very nice, and the binding held up remarkably well.

Those are really the only good things Eleanor can take from Sandy Crane’s diary. The rest is disturbing, if true. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Sandy paints a picture of a humble stable master’s daughter who caught the eye of a wealthy young banker. The two fell madly in love and were married.

Together they not only started a family of four children but were also excellent stewards of Carmadie’s preeminent House.

Through the pages, the young woman transforms from a blue-collar caretaker to not only the grand dame of Carmadie’s social scene, but a dedicated, understanding, and loving wife and mother. She refused to allow maids or butlers to care for her children, cleaning up after them and cooking their meals. Those were her responsibilities, and she took great pride in fulfilling them.

Her husband was Harold Crane, the aforementioned banker. He was close friends with Martin Warwick. House Warwick was on the rise at the time, but Crane was supportive of his friend’s ascension. Cross checking with her ancestor’s own journal, which she had read before, Eleanor corroborates Sandy’s version of their relationship.

Where the two accounts diverge is what took place on August 17th 1837.

According to Martin, the police intercepted Harold on his way home one evening and took him into custody. The charge was nine counts of murder. He claimed the police found bodies in Crane’s basement. Unofficially, Harold’s crime was practicing the forbidden art, necromancy. Sandy Crane, according to him, verified this claim. Both journals say Harold hanged the next morning. Neither say anything about a trial.

Sandy tells a different story. It’s her contention that Harold was innocent. That he was setup by Martin in an attempt to destroy them and guarantee his House’s supremacy. She accused that the bodies the constables found in their basement were placed there, though she admitted she wasn’t sure how. She bemoaned the fact they executed her beloved husband without her even getting a chance to see him.

I didn’t even get to say goodbye...is how the journal ends. Dozens of blank pages follow.

Eleanor sits the book down and leans back in her chair. She wants to believe her ancestor’s story, but something about it feels off. Like why Crane hanged so quickly. Why didn’t he have a trial?

On the other hand, it’s very possible Sandy was lying in an attempt to spare her House’s name. But why? What made her think that anyone would be reading her journal almost 200 years later?

“Why are you up here?” Henry asks as he enters the library.

“What? Too far from the liquor?”

“Obviously not,” the elder wizard replies, rattling the ice in his tumbler of scotch. “You just usually do this kind of thing in the study.”

The mere mention of the place puts Eleanor on edge. “No reason. Just thought I’d change things up.”

Taking a seat across from his protégé, Henry stares at her with unmasked scrutiny. “You don’t say.”

Eleanor stares back. “What?”

“What’s wrong with the study, girl?”

“Nothing.”

“I see.” Henry takes a swig of his drink, seemingly letting the subject drop. “Learn anything interesting?”

“Interesting? Yes. Good? No. Cassandra’s long-dead ancestor believes Martin Warwick set her husband up and destroyed House Crane. And apparently that’s enough to make her want to kill me.”

“Sounds a tad crazy.”

“She seems a tad crazy. There was something in her eyes. She seemed unstable.”

“Do you think it’s true?”

Eleanor sighs and tousles her hair. “I don’t know. I’d like to think it’s not, but there are a few things that don’t seem right about the circumstances of Harold Crane’s execution. I don’t suppose Dad ever said anything about this?”

“Not a peep. He wasn’t quite the study that you are.” Henry watches as his protégé rests her chin on her hands in contemplation. “I take it this troubles you.”

“Of course it does. Tearing down another House to advance his own? That’s not- .”

“Any different than anything any other House has done.”

“Exactly.” Eleanor moves to the edge of her seat. “We’re not supposed to be like every other House. We’re supposed to be different. We’re supposed to be above that sort of thing.”

“Says who?”

“Would my dad have done this?” He only offers a shrug. “Henry!”

“I don’t know, girl. Gordon was never a terribly ambitious man, but he could be cunning, even ruthless, when he needed to be.”

“Harold Crane was his friend. Are you saying Dad would have had you killed if he stood to benefit?”

“I should hope not.”

Aggravated at her mentor’s non-commitment, Eleanor falls back in her chair. “For God’s sake, Henry!”

“Why are you wasting time thinking about this? Unless the charming Agent Grey has misplaced her watch, you are still on a schedule.”

Eleanor only stares a moment before sighing. “You’re right. I made an appointment with the headmaster at Arkshire. He’s in town and willing to see me this evening.”

“That won’t necessarily lead you to the Stone.”

“No, but hopefully it’ll lead me to something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and Marvin will call. That is if he’s not distracted with his date.”

“Oh my,” Henry says with a chuckle.

“What?”

“Date,” Henry mimics. “You said that with quite a bit of venom.”

“I did not.”

“Oh, yes you did.”

“I don’t have a problem with Marvin hanging out with Jessie.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“Drop it, Henry.” Eleanor rises and collects the journals. “You’re not going to sucker me with the agree/disagree game like you did Jessie. I’ve read your playbook.”

“Sit down, girl.” Eleanor only offers any incredulous stare. “I’m being sincere. Sit down.”

Rolling her eyes, the way she always did when Henry said the word sincere, Eleanor returns to her chair. “Yes?”

“I cannot begin to imagine what you see when you look at that sarcastic, foul-mouthed little monster, but it could not be more obvious that you have feelings for that woman.”

“I do not,” she answers in almost a whine.

“Girl, it’s clear to everyone in the world except you and her. It’d be adorable if it weren’t such a cliché. Take it from me- .”

“And your four ex-wives.”

Henry grimaces but continues. “Take it from me, the longer you try to deny it, the greater the chance of it blowing up on you and causing you to do something crazy. Like marrying someone you don’t really even like just to prove to yourself that you aren’t obsessing over a woman half your age.”

“That’s a very...specific example.”

“Yes.” Henry shifts uncomfortably. “The point is you’re going to continue to do things like storm into a dark access tunnel alone just to prove you don’t need her.”

“Why are you trying to make this happen? You don’t even like her.”

“Well, I just can’t win with you, can I? I try to put my own feelings aside to help you out and you complain about it.”

“Fair enough.” Eleanor only stares at her mentor a moment as she considers the situation. “Okay. Assuming you’re right,” It’s Henry’s turn to roll his eyes, “Jessie and I...we...we just would never work out.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that she doesn’t like me? At all. She tells me that. Right to my face. Usually with…sorry…always with quite a few profanities.”

“Have you considered that perhaps the lady doth protest too much?”

“She threatens to kill me on a regular basis.”

“What?” Henry shoots up in his chair in false surprise. “A woman lashing out at someone she’s attracted to but thinks she shouldn’t be? Preposterous, says I!”

Laughing, Eleanor concedes the point. “All right, fine, but we’re kind of tiptoeing around the big problem here: She’s not into women.”

“Maybe she hasn’t met the right one.”

She scoffs. “Men. You think every woman is one saucy encounter away from being a full-blown lesbian.”

“Not a lesbian. That implies she’s attracted to women in general. I’m suggesting she could meet someone for whom she’s willing to make an exception. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen such a thing before.”

“I have, but why would that someone be me?”

“I don’t know. You got Penelope somehow, did you not?”

“That was different.”

“Well,” Henry rises and finishes off his drink, “something about you compelled a goddess. Jessie shouldn’t be too much harder to bring around. Just give it some thought, girl.”

As Henry leaves the library, Eleanor places her hands on her head and leans back in her chair. She has an appointment to keep, but she can spare a few moments to sit in the silence and still. She considers Henry’s suggestion and the possibilities that exist with Jessie.

Pulling out her phone, she stares at a name on her contact list. She likely won’t answer, but Eleanor is desperate for a second opinion. With a deep breath, she selects the name.

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