And arrest him, she hoped. Oh, how angry Magnus would be when police showed up and told him what they were there for. And confused, surely. And still drunk, with a bit of luck. She hoped he'd do something stupid. But none of this showed on her face as she looked up at the policeman with eyes wide. "He was when I fled the house, sir."

Albert had hitched a ride to the Carrington estate on a passing cart. The sedate pace of the animal led Albert to wonder when the world was going to put a boiler in one of these things and make it steam powered. Or the police could just issue him with a bicycle. The groundskeeper wasn't happy either at letting Albert in. Albert told him it was official so all he had to was follow him up to the main house and listen to the muttering, his lantern swaying in the darkness.

Albert marched right up to the grand doors of the manor and rang the bell. To hell with 'tradesmen round the back'. A heavy door creaked open and the face weary domestic appeared in the gap.

"Constable Hailey to speak with Mister Carrington. Police business." He flashed the little booklet that proved he was a real policeman.

"Which Mister Carrington?" the member of staff asked. That's right, there's more than one! Albert thought.

"The old man."

Robert stood in his dark apartment looking out of the window. He had full view of the lawn and could see the entrance gate to the park in the distance, it's dark heavy metal gate reflecting in the moonlight.

They took their sweet time.

He scowled when he finally saw one lonely policeman let into the gate by the groundskeeper, waited impatiently as he approached the house by foot, and turned away from the window only when he knew the constable had reached the door. He lazily made his way down the wide corridor.

"What's the meaning of this?" his voice cut sharply across the entrance hall as he made his way down the marble stairs, buttoning up his cuffs, then tightening his tie. "Calling on us at this hour?" He reached the bottom of the stairs and walked over, eying the policeman with suspicion. "We've answered all your questions, sir, and have worked along with the investigation in every way you desired. Must you even disturb a grieving family late at night?" He stopped in front of Albert and looked at him haughtily. He ignored the butler.

Bert jaw twitched as the Carrington offspring laid into him, his darling Delilah was well shod of this lot. He cast a quick look at the help. They seemed defeated. This whole family would fit nicely into the slums of Teeside, only the balance of their bank account prevented it. Bert cleared his throat.

"I am here on official police business, lad. Take me to your father now or I shall have you detained for obstructing justice." His voice was loud and official; his hand hovered near his truncheon, itching to give the boy a thwacking.

Robert looked at the constable sourly. The nerve, to speak to a Carrington like that in their own home. But his eyes followed the man's hand. He shrugged. "He's probably not fit to see you, but this way." He led the constable to the library, where he suspected his father was.

Magnus Carrington had no idea his wretch of a wife had gone to the constabulary. He was well into his cups by the time the constable showed up. The elder Carrington sat slumped in a winged chair in front of the bare hearth, a crystal tumbler half filled with brandy was cradled in his hand. He sobbed then, feeling the last bits of his sanity starting to crack for all that was happening. How in the fuck had he gone wrong as far as his brood went? Sure, he'd slipped up and sired his youngest daughter with one of the maids and would not let the woman raise her, but she was not to blame for that.

He understood why she did what she did at least, but even still, he was angry at her for doing it when he had all but shoved permission for the boy to court her at Joseph. Then there was most of the rest of his brood, his killer of an heir no longer alive, his second son lost in the clouds with his art, his first daughter was a cruel young woman who took after his bitch of a wife, his triplets were all... well... special in their own way, all arrogant. Needless to say, he could go on and on with the shite his family was putting him through.

He gave a sob and downed the last of that cup before wavering and shaking as he poured another glass. The amber liquid sloshed onto his hand and he nearly toppled from his chair. "Oh, Ballocks!" He threw the decanter, his precious decanter made of crystal, into the fireplace where it shattered. He once again downed the contents of the glass and then slid down in his seat, sobbing even harder.

The sound of it could be heard down into the foyer from the library.

[TW: Suggestions of suicide, sexism]

Bert quickened his step at the sound of breaking glass. Was Carrington Senior trying to abscond, or perhaps he had decided to end it all and escape justice permanently? Both were common enough in Bert's world. The door to the library opened was thrown open. To the constable's relief, the Carrington patriarch was very much alive just an undignified mess crumpled in an armchair, weeping as if he were babe or a woman.

"Um this looks a family matter," He turned to the young Carrington berk at his elbow "do you want to you... you know.. get him in a proper state?"

"To be honest constable, we suspect he's losing his mind," Robert whispered under his breath. "He's been acting like a boar as of late. Well... more boarish. I doubt you will find him in a normal state anytime soon." All this was said quietly enough to avoid being overheard. "Good luck, constable," he added louder and he turned to walk away.

[CW- swearing]
"Do... DOn'tchu.... walk away from me, boy!" he shouted sloppily and sobbed again, "The whole lot of you... ruined by your bitch of a mother. Even my precious Pearl... Ruined. Ish ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL gone." He put his face in his hand. "Everything -hic- that I worked for in this life! Ruined by an ungrateful bunch of children and a terrible SHREW for a wife. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhuhhhhhhuhhhhhhhhhhuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. And my oldest son? A monster? What has happened to my family?"

He turned toward the constable and said to him, "D'you... d'you know what she did?? Anne? Sh' blamed me for my son being a monster. She threw me under the wagon wheels."

Bert puffed out his cheeks slightly at learning the apparent ruination of one of Whitby's first families. He'd heard so many similar stories Why did Bert find himself in the middle of messes like these? In this job, he was part soldier, part of those catholic priest jobbies with their confessions. He wasn't one of this man's chums at a elite club, just an awkward bystander. However he felt about the man before him, he had to be guided by the law.

"It's alright. There now, you've had a bit to drink I see." the policeman looked around the room at the smashed glass. "Did you fight with your wife tonight, sir? Sounds like you had a lot to fight about."