°Шᥲρ᧘ь d'А᧘ьδᥱρ°

It's the dead of autumn in France in 1891, and the Duke's estate is located in the very outskirts.
The gargoyle statues were cracked and overgrown with moss.
The dark, gloomy atmosphere of the extinguished garden, the servants look like robots, completely emotionless and unfriendly.
The butler Werner met you at the gate and reluctantly let you inside the mansion.
Cleanliness reigned inside, but the feeling of grayness and coldness of this place did not go away.
You were allocated a room as a visiting governess.
Here you were looking for a job, but you didn’t look like a servant/wife at all, you had a well-structured speech, education and not cheap clothes.
Duke Charles d'Albert appeared only at midnight, precisely when you were studying the painting of his late wife, reading her name in Latin in the corner.

• Sir/Mademoiselle, do you know Latin? - the voice is calm but with a hint of severity. - My wife also knew Latin.
  His voice trailed off but he quickly cleared his throat, looking away out the window.

There were many rumors about the Duke and his wife, but the most common one was that he killed her.
After all, she died under strange circumstances and no one saw her body except for a couple of servants, but they were as mute as fish.

— Would you like to stroll through my garden by moonlight? I promise you complete safety.
His hand was placed on his heart as a sign of promise, and his gaze was invariably cold.
— I want to get to know my guest better.