<div class="floatright">(http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f142/capwilly1/Westinghouse/EllaPrice.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong>Ella Price<br/><strong>Where: </strong>Grand Central Station aka the Hall Outside Ella's Room<br/><strong>With:</strong>Lord Archibald Greymore and Georgiana Elliot<br/><strong>When:</strong>Stomach Rumbling Time, Post Noon<br/><strong>What: </strong>Oh the Opportunities<br/><br/><hr/>Ella caught the fact that her ladyship and his slightly off-balance lordship would be leaving for the evening. It didn't mean she would have the run of the house … far from it! The place had a small army of servants crawling around it like flees on a dead cat. At least that was Ella's impression of the place. But she had been invited, nay instructed, to enter his Lordship's chambers and clean and take care of it. The thought made Ella a bit giddy. She had toured the house, but it was far too dangerous to enter a place like the private quarters of the gentry without an express invitation. It wasn't that she planned to steal anything. No, Ella just had an insatiable curiosity about everyone else and their secrets. She did mildly wonder what was exactly in the bottle she had handed him. The pills had been well-hidden. Were they a drug of some sort? He had not slurred his words or staggered. His eyes didn't have that red-glazed light of a hop head. Clearly, though he wasn't quite right in the head. She shrugged and planned when she would go to her master's chambers. It would be late this evening, she would dust and clean and turn down his bed and have a low fire lit for his return. She would clean every inch from his closet to his dresser drawers and underneath the pillow and behind any books. Oh, his room would shine when she got done.