The Art Behind a Murder

Chapter Two - Mysterious Letters

Lady Anastasia Pelletier was a rich, snobby girl - around my age -  who had a reputation of being powerful, respectable and honourable. However, along with those traits is the overwhelming sense of fear and authority that follows her around. She can pretty much persuade anyone to do anything.

My hands turned cold and clammy at the thought of painting her. I closed my eyes and groaned. Her appointment was tomorrow just after lunch time - which meant that I had the rest of the day to relax and then worry about it tomorrow.

"Afternoon, ma'am."

A voice from the large French doors made me jump, and I whipped my head around to see who the voice belonged to. A small maid stood there with a small bit of paper in her hand - a bit of paper which appeared to be a letter.

"Oh, hello." I sheepishly scratched the back of my neck. "You made me jump..."

"Sorry Miss. But a letter was found on the ground a few streets away with your name on it."

She passed the crumpled bit of paper towards me, and I examined it. It was encrusted with mud, and there was a slight bit of water damage around the edges. It was as if someone had dropped it or thrown it out of a nearby window. It was sealed with an elegant wax seal with the initials D.W. Right in the middle, written with red cursive letters, was my full name:

Amélie Rose LaBelle.

I dismissed the maid, and opened the letter.  Unlike the envelope, the tinted parchment was in good condition and it was easily read. I squinted to get a good look at what it said.

'Old Castle Street, Whitechapel, London.'

"How odd..." I muttered, whilst frowning to myself. The letter was obviously addressed to me - since it had my full name - but that address meant no significance to me whatsoever. I sat down for a while and contemplated what the letter could mean. Looking out the window, the wind started to moan as it got caught in the trees and bushes. The sun was still up, but only just. It cast an orange glow across my garden, as if it were being set on fire.

What's the need for sitting around like a useless fool? Just get up and go to the address! I thought to myself.

I got up and dressed out of my old, paint encrusted dress and put on a red and black evening dress. Whilst slipping on my tight, black coat, I noticed it was going to be cold outside, so I grabbed my black leather gloves. I looked rather strange wearing such dark clothes for no particular event, but I would rather not draw any attention to myself by wearing a bright, flamboyant gown.

Without anyone noticing, I slid out of the door and felt the stinging, cold winter slap my face. I didn't bother asking for a carriage, since it was only three quarters of an hour away from my home. Many people would think it's wrong for a woman to be wandering around London by herself at night, but I knew that I was more than capable of looking after myself.