"Good evening and welcome all! Please do not use each other's real names tonight as this is a masquerade ball. Tonight's entertainment is in the form of a riddle-solving game with the theme of the 'Lord of Crime', due to the current events taking place in London. One of the guests tonight has already been chosen as the Lord of Crime and they will commit 'murder' as the night goes on. The victim will be asked to then remove their mask and contribute their most expensive item on their person, in name of the charity for this evening. That guest will move to the second floor while the game continues. Once the Lord of Crime has been snuffed out, they will 'die' and then the game will be concluded. Enjoy your evening ladies and gentleman!"
The diamond chandelier-lit ballroom is bustling with people, all dressed to impress wearing masks to match their attire for the ball.
As Albert takes Eleanor's hand in his and bows, he places a kiss on the back of her hand and takes in the sight of her in her pale pink ballgown. "You are breathtaking, Eleanor."
A tug on his hand pulls him in closer and she grins as they start to dance, their torsos close and chests brushing together. "And you're a smooth talker."
He laughs softly. "It's true though. Your radiance is shining brighter than ever tonight."
"What about the mask?" She gestures to the mask on her face —white and gold with a pink feather.
"It simply accentuates your beautiful eyes," He tells her. "Try as you may Eleanor, I will never cease the compliments."
With a light blush creeping on her cheeks, she raises an eyebrow. "Then I'll continue to blush, Albert."
The pair dance together some more, hand in hand, warmth radiating from their bodies with an electric-like feeling exuding from their skin to skin contact.
"The theme of tonight intrigues me." Eleanor comments.
Albert raises his eyebrow, spinning her. "How so?"
She shrugs. "Isn't the Lord of Crime supposed to be an evil, criminal figure?"
"It appears that way, or at least, most believe that." He comments.
"It just seems slightly odd to make the crime taking place in London as of late a theme for a ball." Eleanor continues. "But ignore me, it's all in good fun I suppose."
He chuckles. "I do understand your thinking, but yes, it's simply a riddle for us all to solve."
The string quartet, accompanied by a piano, plays their tune and Eleanor places a finger on Albert's chin.
"This is an incredibly romantic song, 'La Valse D'Amour'." She tells him.
"I'd love to hear you play the piano some time, Eleanor." Albert's eyes gloss over her plump lips, his gaze finding hers.
"A Shakespeare quote comes to mind..."
Albert nods. "Yes?"
She smiles sweetly. "Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?"
Placing a hand to the side of his neck and drawing his face closer to hers, she leans to the side and whispers softly, uttering the words for only him to hear.
"If music be the food of love, play on,"
As she pulls away, their faces are inches apart and their warm breaths graze the other's skin. Albert opens his mouth to answer when he's interrupted by the sound of a loud conversation behind the pair.
He straightens up, eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Excuse me, Eleanor."
As he turns to the group of gentlemen, Eleanor follows him, watching while he politely interrupts.
"Did I hear you all discussing the Lord of Crime? In keeping with the theme of the evening?"
One of the masked noblemen nods. "We were saying that he's rather well-liked and rumours of his identity are buzzing."
Albert nods to the gentleman sitting on the plush chaise lounge, a disinterested and critical look on his face beneath his mask. "Are you of the same opinion?"
"Of liking the Lord of Crime?" He scoffs. "Of course not. Whoever he is, he's getting star treatment for killing noblemen. He should be found and punished."
"Is that so?" Albert laughs. "It's surprising that he's being idolised like this, but all the noblemen he's killed have been corrupt in some form or another."
"So?" He asks accusingly. "What's that got to do with the matter?"
Albert smiles politely. "Surely it's a good thing they're being punished for their crimes?"
As Albert turns on his heel, a hand on Eleanor's lower back, the man huffs obnoxiously and looks away.
Once the pair have returned to dancing for a few minutes, Albert eyebrows raise, feeling a presence behind himself.
"Is everything alright?" Eleanor asks.
He shakes his head. "It's no matter."
The game's conductor raises a hand and the music comes to a stop as the chatter quietens down.
"May I have everyone's attention! It seems that the first sign of the Lord of Crime's killing spree is a splash of wine on the victim's clothing. Please check to see whether you have been a victim of the killer's wrath."
The guests begin searching their clothes for a stain of red wine and Albert huffs a laugh to himself.
"Eleanor, will you check my tailcoat?"
As he turns around, she gasps. "I think you've had some spilt on you, Albert."
He nods —just as he thought.
"I'll repeat, the sign of the Lord of Crime's victim is a wine stain!"
Raising a hand, Albert flashes Eleanor a smile before he walks forwards into the crowd. "It seems I'm the first victim of the Lord of Crime this evening."
Removing his black and gold mask, there are murmurs from other guests as his identity is revealed.
"Let's give a hand for Lord Albert Moriarty!"
They all clap, Albert placing his mask in his jacket pocket and walking up onto the steps to join the game conductor. He glances down at his hand, removing his bluestone, gold-banded ring from his finger.
"This is my donation for the charity." He places the ring in the silver dish, smiling as he walks up the stairs and the guests clap.
"I've been hit as well!"
Another hand is raised by a slim, dark-haired gentleman further back and he weaves his way through the crowd, also removing his mask.
"Another victim, thank you Mr Ormstein!"
The gentleman places a wristwatch in the tray, following Albert's action of making his way to the second floor.
"Thank you, gentlemen. Please, enjoy your time this evening!"
Pursing her lips as everyone returns to dancing, Eleanor attempts to walk over to the bar area, only to feel a pulling on her hand.
Eyebrows raised, she turns to see a black-masked, blonde gentleman holding her wrist.
"Care to dance?"
"Oh, um, I don't see why not?" She shrugs.
A smirk tugging on his lips, he guides her back over to the dance floor, the pair in hold as they sway to the music.
"I didn't mean to catch you off guard, Miss. I only thought I would steal you away for a dance." He tells her. "I wouldn't want to jump on anyone's toes."
Eleanor's gaze fixates over his shoulder. "No, you're fine. It's only a dance."
"Your gentleman friend was killed off I see?" He queries, his voice grating.
She nonchalantly nods in response. "It seems the Lord of Crime had his way."
"Such a shame. We had such an interesting conversation about the villain himself earlier. Although, his thoughts were rather bold."
Her eyes scan his features from the corner of her eye, his mouth tugged up into a smirk as she answers him. "I admire a man who speaks his mind."
"I see," The man shrugs. "Anyway, you're Miss Eleanor Williams, aren't you? I saw your performance of Macbeth the other week. My name is Baron Ronald Rollinson."
"We're not supposed to use our real identities tonight," Eleanor rolls her eyes discreetly. "Was that not the rule?"
"Who cares for the rules."
As he spins her away with his arm outstretched, a wave of recognition washes over Eleanor. With full view of him, she takes in his facial features beneath the mask and his stature and height.
In the back of her mind, she remembers the previous week of performances, where she took a break outside to see a fellow actress held against the brick wall with a man hunched over her slim frame. She pictures the same grin on that man's face that Ronald sends her right now. She remembers the look on the actress's face as he leaned in, her body pinned to the wall —it sends a shiver down Eleanor's spine.
"You're the man who I spotted too close for comfort with Rosie in the alley behind the theatre, correct?" Eleanor questions. "You were quick to diffuse the situation once I appeared, but Rosie hasn't been herself since that evening."
Ronald shrugs. "She wasn't as interested in me as she let on in the first place. The girl can only blame herself for leading me on."
She raises an eyebrow. "That's false and you know it. You did or said something to that poor girl."
"Are you accusing me of something, Miss Williams?" He asks, a false sense of naivety laced in his words. "That's quite a statement to make about my encounter with the young girl."
Eleanor eyes him carefully from the corner of her eye. "And that was a rather disgusting thing to have done to said young girl."
He leans his face closer to hers, Eleanor attempting to stand her ground despite the look in his eyes and the sneer on his face. "You dare accuse me of that sort of action?"
"It's not the first time I've heard your name in a similar situation," She narrows her eyes. "Let's hope it's the last."
Only a single bead of sweat runs down the back of her neck as the hairs stand on end. Unblinking beady eyes send an icy chill through her bones and he hisses back at her.
"You don't want to underestimate me, Miss Williams. These events have happened more than your naivety will ever be able to comprehend and I can make your life very difficult if you make this public knowledge."
She eyes him, jaw clenched. "You clearly weren't trying to be too secretive the other night and you yourself would be naïve to believe that this information isn't already public knowledge to certain members of said public."
As he opens his mouth to answer, she grabs him by the bowtie and pulls him down to her level.
"And was that a threat? I'd like to see you try."
The narrowing of her eyes, the crinkle of her nose in disgust and the tightened grip on his shirt are enough for Ronald to tear his gaze away. He reaches for his glass of red wine before pouring the contents on the skirt of her pale pink ballgown.
-
Swirling the wine around his glass, a smirk plays on Albert's lips before he takes a sip.
"My conditions," Iren Adler,—dressed in a male disguise of a Mr Ormstein— turns to Albert, a hand on the balcony. "Keep me safe and once I return the documents, the Government is to turn the other cheek and overlook my crimes. Can I guarantee my safety, Lord Moriarty?"
Placing his glass on the table beside them, he pours himself more wine, raises it to his lips and gulps down a mouthful. His gaze meets Irene's, his eyes turning darker.
"The answer... is no."
Irene gasps, eyebrows raised. "What do you mean 'no'?"
"Your conditions are not possible, following the severity of the situation. The government is in no position to bargain with you and I cannot go against their orders." He tells her.
"Then why bring me here?" She questions. "A sick joke before you liquidate me or put me behind bars?"
Albert chuckles. "This whole arrangement seemed peculiar from the start, I must admit that I had my reservations from the get-go. You asked for nothing in return and you chose to do nothing. And why was this?"
He turns to her, wine glass in hand.
"Perhaps the information is more than you can handle?"
She clenches a fist. "What was this all for? I can't win in this situation—"
"Miss Adler," He begins, his emerald eyes looking at her pointedly. "I'm here to tell you I can help you."
Her eyes widen, a bead of sweat running down her forehead as she unclenches her fist.
Albert smirks. "To save your life, you must do something in return."
"What do you mean?" She asks.
"I run an organisation that seemingly doesn't exist in public view, it simply 'non-existent'. This organisation supports the government underground with the security of London and the United Kingdom in our hands. Only a handful of people are even aware of the creation of this organisation." Albert explains.
"Why are you telling me this if it's top secret?"
Laughing coldly, he turns back to look down at the ballroom. "Miss Adler, the situation you're currently in means that you have no choice but to keep everything we've discussed tonight a secret. Your life hangs on the line here."
She swallows hard, nodding. "Continue."
"You shall become an agent in this organisation, 007 will be your code name, and you will work under this group, as well as another group." He tells her.
"Will you tell me more?"
He grins, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as he sips his wine. "All in good time. You'll be aware of the power this second group has in a few minutes, trust me."
"W-why are you doing this?" Irene stammers. "Surely the government will have knowledge of my identity if I join this organisation?"
He shakes his head. "That will all be taken care of."
The pair stand in silence for a moment, Irene watching as Albert stares down at the dancefloor, the orchestra playing in the background.
"Who is she?"
He raises his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"The woman you're staring at."
She notices his demeanour soften and the hard exterior peels away as he stares at her adoringly —this relaxes Irene and she chooses to ask more.
"You seem fond of her."
Albert nods, raking a hand through his curly locks. "She's a special woman, someone I wish to share more time with."
Irene exhales, the corner of her mouth turning up. "Keep hold of that. It's a rarity to see genuine compassion towards another."
The pair hear a huff from behind them and an irate-looking Eleanor storms over to Albert.
"Eleanor? Are you alright, my dear?"
"That vile creature Baron Rollinson," She scowls, Albert pouring her a glass of red wine that she gladly accepts. "He's awful, I can't stand the man."
"I believe he's the man from earlier," Albert recalls. "He certainly had very close-minded opinions."
Eleanor nods. "He's a slimy man, the worst kind of nobleman, flaunting his power and authority over innocent women."
"He'll get his comeuppance, I'm sure."
Calmer than a few moments ago, she drinks some of the wine, eyebrows raised. "Cabalie? It's your favourite isn't it, Albert."
"I was sharing a bottle with this gentleman who also fell victim to the Lord of Crime this evening," Albert motions to Irene. "Eleanor, this is Mr Ormstein."
Smiling, Eleanor nods her head. "A pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise, Miss." Irene returns the gesture, turning to Albert. "I'll be taking my leave."
Tucking a hand inside his blazer, Albert retrieves a card, handing it over. "If you need my details, call the landline. I'll be awaiting your answer, Mr Ormstein."
"T-thank you, Lord Moriarty." Irene nods, beginning to walk away when Albert places a hand on her shoulder and she stops in her tracks.
Albert speaks in a hushed toned. "Everything we spoke about is confidential, for both parties. Think carefully, Miss Adler."
With that, Irene places the card inside her jacket, gulping as she walks away from the pair and towards the exit.
Albert turns back to Eleanor, taking her hand in his. "I apologise, Eleanor."
"Is it work?" She asks.
He nods. "It's no matter now. Let's enjoy the rest of the party, shall we?"
A warm glow appears on her cheeks and she smiles. "You read my mind."
The pair clink their wine glasses and return their attention to the ballroom, Albert stealing a glance to admire her side profile from the corner of his eye.
-
-
-