The Elites Manor

'This is the second time I have found you where you shouldn't be, young Isabella' her uncle said calmly.

She tried to stutter a reply but no words came out. She stared wide-eyed with shock and fear into the eyes of her uncle, standing there, as the two guests he had led into the drawing room loitered with uneasy, sinister stares behind him.

'You really should have asked before coming here' he continued 'lest you get the wrong impression from what I'm trying to do here. You see, I have been very busy because I am trying to achieve great things'.

'Is that Olivia?' she blurted quite suddenly, cutting him off and immediately stirring in his face a look of unbridled contempt.

'You came into my home because your mother is being a complete milksop in Paris, and so I took you in' he spat, beginning a rant of pure and unfettered rage 'It was a favour to my dead brother, and if he hadn't have been so intent on getting himself killed on the other side of the bloody world you would never have been here, would never have been able to serve your purpose' She had no idea what he was talking about, and as he shouted with bitter and fierce conviction into her face, she shrank further and further into the cold heart of the machine, that seemed to awake at the sound of his voice.

'You are not capable of understanding the extent of my work, the importance of it. You know nothing of the world, of the laws that govern its happenings, of greatness' He moved closer and seized the top of her dress. 'Yes, that is your dear cousin, my daughter. It's a shame you two never had the chance to meet – I do believe you would have been great friends. She too was curious, she too was always running off into places she wasn't meant to be. But she had spirit, and fight. She took quite some effort to wrangle into that tank, I can tell you' – at this he began to grin.

'I want to go home' Isabella sobbed.

'Don't worry' her uncle said, 'you can go home. But first, I need you to finish my little project' She didn't notice the knife in his hand until it sank cold and brittle into her chest.

...

"Dear Frances,

With sympathy and best wishes, Your brother-in-law,

Edward."