The rain hammered against the windows of the opulent Victorian mansion, mirroring the frantic beat of Inspector Davies's heart. A chill wind whistled through the ancient oak trees, their bare branches clawing at the stormy sky above. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the perfume of lilies that filled the drawing-room. A single flickering candle cast long, dancing shadows on the crimson carpet, illuminating the scene of the crime. Lord Ashworth lay sprawled on the floor, his lifeless eyes staring accusingly at the ornate chandelier above.