The old mansion loomed ominously on the misty hilltop. Its crumbling facade spoke of decay and secrets long buried. Inside, the musty halls were shrouded in shadow, save for the flickering candlelight that illuminated the foyer. There, Detective Evelyn Reeves stood surveying the scene with grim purpose. The body of Lord Ashcroft lay crumpled at her feet, an ornate dagger protruding obscenely from his chest. Crimson blood pooled beneath him, staining the once pristine marble. "Looks like we've got a right royal mess on our hands," Reeves muttered to herself. She knelt beside the corpse, carefully examining the wound. The dagger appeared to be from the same era as the mansion itself - an antique with a gilded hilt. Rising to her feet, the detective's keen eyes roamed the foyer. Portraits of stern-faced ancestors lined the walls, their painted gazes seeming to follow her movements. Reeves frowned. The murderer must still be somewhere in the house, as the victim was likely killed recently given the freshness of the blood. She made a mental note of all the exits - the grand front doors, a servants' door leading to the kitchen, and the sweeping staircase leading up to the upper floors. Reeves knew she would have to search every inch of the cavernous manor to find the culprit. With grim determination, the seasoned sleuth began her meticulous investigation, determined to uncover the dark truths concealed behind these walls and bring a killer to justice, even as the old house seemed to shudder with secrets waiting to be revealed.