The Corpse Who Came to Tea: Intro

Hello, my name is Lila Elizabeth Garnier. I was born in Paris, France in 1854. I was raised in a proper boarding school to be a proper young lady, and I was to marry a proper French gentlemen upon turning eighteen.

That, however, didn’t turn out quite as well as my parents had planned. I’d rather not talk about it, actually.

Now the year is 1875, and I am twenty-one years of age. I am employed as a live-in secretary for two of the oddest men I pray you never have the misfortune to meet; Gilles Giry and Richard Delacroix.

Gilles Giry is not intolerable. In fact, he is often quite enjoyable. He is well-read, neat, and has a deep love of music; he plays the piano and the violin much better than he will ever admit. He is always a perfect gentleman, polite and courteous. He is also quite intelligent, and is quite knowledgeable in literature, history, science, and other things I have yet to discover. And for a man in his mid-forties, he far from hideous, though I myself have no eye for older men. One can easily overlook his revolt at the slightest bit of blood.

No, it is Richard Delacroix whom I cannot stand. Although he is the same age as Monsieur Giry, he acts as if he were a quarter, no, an eighth of that. He is immature to the highest degree. He is vulgar, and thinks that everyone wishes to hear his crude jokes at the breakfast table. He will not take sugar in his tea, but that will never stop him from crumbling a cube of it down someone’s collar. And most importantly of all, he is, plain and simple, an idiot. His only talents lie in the field of medicine. He considered being a doctor as a much younger boy, but was promptly kicked out of the entrance exams to medical school when he told the examiner just what to do with his scalpel. He also has some connections to people I’m not quite sure if I ever want to meet.

You may be wondering just why a man like Richard Delacroix is a detective. Believe me, I’ve been wondering the same thing ever since they hired me.

But it is not my job to question his career choices, it is simply my job to make sure he doesn’t make a complete muddle of everything he lays his hands on. I really must pity Monsieur Giry, he’s been doing this for years…

Exasperatedly,
L.E. Garnier