Novel & Cerita Sherlock Holmes Housekeeper

Edward’s POV My hand moved to her smoothly, instinctively. I wanted to caress her head. She smelled good, as though lavender. I pushed the stray strands off her beautiful face. Suddenly, John’s face appeared in my mind to scatter and burn the tiny sympathy. Walking out, I faced Huxley’s twinkling eyes. Was he excited to hear something? We strode out, and I saw the new housekeeper they hired. This woman was in her early thirties and seemed humble. I could not bear bully wenches around Elenore. Only I could do whatever I wanted to her.

Seraphina cared for me, but I never imagined she would still be kind after everything that had happened, after the rushed marriage, the whispers, the shame. For a brief moment, hope flickered. After freshening up, hunger finally pushed me out of the room. My steps were slow as I made my way downstairs, following the faint clatter of plates. In the dining area, I saw a woman in her fifties arranging cutlery with practiced efficiency. “Good morning,” I said politely. “Who are you?” She turned quickly, startled. “Good morning, ma. I’m Mrs. Whitmore, the new housekeeper.”

Instead, I paused at the last step, frowning as a soft clatter echoed from the dining room. A woman—maybe mid-fifties—stood near the table, placing down a tray of toast. She looked up at me just as I opened my mouth to speak. "Oh! Good morning, dear." Her voice was warm, her smile even warmer. "You must be Luna." I blinked, my brow raising. "Uh, yeah. And you are...?" "Alice. The new housekeeper. Mr. Hardin hired me. Today's my first day." Housekeeper? I hadn't even gotten over the fact that Hardin had actually comforted me last night, and now this?

"What family secrets would you like to know, Miss Smith?" Keisha beat her teeth down and glared at Grace who had on the most innocent smile on her face. With a smile that was definitely forced, Keisha turned around slowly to face the housekeeper, Mrs Patterson. She was a gigantic woman with blonde tresses that were constantly tied in an impeccable bun; something they were all required to do. It had dawned on Keisha from the first day she had set her eyes on the housekeeper, that she was definitely a perfectionist and it was no use to attempt to match her knack for perfecting everything she laid her hands on.

She had fallen deep asleep on the table while she was jotting things down, and the sudden sound of a thud in her room had jolted her awake. “ I'm so sorry to have woken you up, ma'am,” she heard the voice of a woman behind her, and turned to see the unfamiliar woman, standing and smiling at her. Eloise stood up with a wrinkled forehead, “ Good morning, sorry please, who are you?” she asked the woman who seemed to be in her late forties, “ Hi Mrs Eloise, I am Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper.” “ Oh,” Eloise mouthed and bowed slightly, “ Good morning,”

A confused old woman after a chaotic night, nothing more. But Sera had spent ten years learning to notice the tiny cracks beneath a household's practiced routine. The small seams that gave away far more than any grand confession ever could. This one wouldn't let her look away. She found Arsen an hour later, still buried in the investigation, exhaustion beginning to fray the edges of his composure. "The housekeeper on the east wing." Sera kept her voice steady, though her heart hadn't slowed since the corridor. "She's still serving tea to a room that's been empty since this morning."

Arnold, deprived of his deception of invulnerability, could offer no avocation for the aggravation he had incurred. The housekeeper, seeing the destruction of the expert she had reliably served, remained at the junction. Compassion mixed inside her, encouraging her to pick a way that wandered from the murkiness she had unwittingly embraced. Reclamation called, and with a firm determination, she moved back from the shadows.

I gave a dry laugh, not believing the sight unfolding before me. "Jarvis, meet your new mum." I took a close look at her and felt chills. She didn't look like Barrett in any way. She stood perfectly still, staring at me with pale, empty eyes. She didn’t look like any child I had ever seen. Her gaze was as though she was the devil’s daughter. I didn't mind; she was just a child, and I walked up to her. "It's nice to meet you, Jarvis." I tapped her messy ginger hair. She looked so unkempt. What were the jobs of the housekeepers?

A polished, rich, beautiful chic like her, acting like she'd been starving for a thousand years. Not like I cared, anyway. Just as I finished and stood to pack the dishes, Ms. no-name housekeeper magically appeared at the doorway, her expression stern. “You can't do that, either.” Throwing my hands up in exasperation, I walked out of the room. That was when a phone rang shrilly in the living room. I looked at the housekeeper. She returned a blank stare. The call persisted and she sighed, shuffling towards it. “That's the home phone.”

’ I ask as the older woman turns to face me, she looks vaguely familiar, but I don’t remember ever seeing her before. ‘Are you lost dear and need help getting out, that lift can be tricky,’ she says eyeing me up her lips pursing together as she does so. I raise a brow wondering who she is. ‘No, I’m not lost, who are you?’ I ask not liking the way she continues to make herself at home. Ignoring me she continues rummaging in the cupboards. ‘Where has Helen put it now,’ she states under her breath, Helen is that Jake’s housekeeper’s name. I’ll admit I’m terrible with names and he went through everyone so quickly if I blinked, I missed it.