The True Blood Returns

Chapter 11 - Is It Possible to Get a New Brain?

Alexander Fairmont, whose sharp senses rarely missed a thing, noticed the subtle confusion flickering across Eleanor Holton's face. His gaze lingered on her, and in a tone that was both concerned and curious, he asked, "Martha, what’s wrong?"

The servant named Martha, who had been working for the Fairmont family for several years, stepped forward without hesitation. "When Mrs. Walsh first arrived at the Fairmont family, she mentioned that her son had intellectual issues," she said. "He had been placed in a special-needs school before coming here."

Martha had been working at the Fairmonts for quite some time, so she knew a lot about the inner workings of the family. She and Eleanor had spoken before, and she knew the delicate nature of the situation surrounding Mrs. Walsh’s son.

Eleanor's brow furrowed as she processed the information, and she asked calmly, "Do you happen to know when her son stopped being…well, impaired?"

Martha thought for a moment, her hand absently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It must have been around eight years ago. I remember she seemed unusually happy one day, saying her son was fine now. It must have been in the summer," she replied thoughtfully.

Eleanor nodded in understanding, but her mind was racing. She turned to Alexander Fairmont and posed another question, "Do you know if, eight years ago, there was any child near Mrs. Walsh or in the Fairmont family circle who was once of sound mind but suddenly became... well, not?"

The room went quiet for a moment. Even Charles Fairmont, who had been sitting silently by the side, was visibly stunned. "What are you suggesting?" he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Eleanor’s eyes met his, her tone measured. "To make a person regain their mental faculties, you would have to transfer that intelligence from another person. But the one from whom the intelligence is taken would inevitably become a shell of their former self, becoming mentally impaired."

Her eyes flickered to the group as she explained her reasoning. She was certain that the answer lay somewhere within this circle. After all, Mrs. Walsh had worked for the Fairmont family for ten years. The range of potential individuals from whom she could have taken intelligence was limited to those nearby. It was a carefully calculated act, one that had likely taken place within the confines of the family’s inner circle.

Eleanor’s statement left no room for doubt. She wasn’t just guessing; she was piecing together clues, and every detail led her closer to the truth.

Oliver Fairmont, who had been sulking quietly until now, suddenly had a realization. "Miss Sinclair!" he blurted out without thinking, his voice laced with sudden clarity.

Everyone turned to look at him. The room seemed to freeze for a moment. Charles Fairmont, usually composed, narrowed his eyes and reprimanded Oliver, "Do not refer to Miss Sinclair like that."

He then turned his gaze to Eleanor, his expression softening, though still holding an air of skepticism. While Charles hadn’t yet fully accepted the idea that Eleanor had exceptional abilities, her statement about the Sinclair family made him pause. If what she was suggesting was true, the situation would no longer be just about Mrs. Walsh’s actions—it could involve the Sinclair family’s affairs as well.

The Sinclair and Fairmont families had a longstanding friendship, and it was widely known that Miss Sinclair had indeed fallen into a state of mental impairment eight years ago.

But there was a catch.

"Miss Sinclair's condition was said to have resulted from a fall while riding. She struck her head badly," Charles continued, his voice low. "That’s what we all believed. If her mental impairment was the result of an accident, the Sinclair family would never have considered anything beyond medical explanations."

Eleanor nodded but remained unfazed. "Do you know if Miss Sinclair visited the Fairmont estate eight years ago?"

Alexander, who had been quiet up until this point, straightened slightly. His gaze met Eleanor’s, and he responded firmly, "Yes, she did."

As the eldest grandson of the Fairmont family, it was Alexander’s duty to entertain guests. He remembered Miss Sinclair clearly—her round face, her innocent and sweet demeanor. He recalled how she had always been polite and reserved, unlike some of the other young guests. And he distinctly remembered that she had come to visit shortly before the accident occurred.

"It was after her visit that the accident happened," Alexander continued. "The Sinclair family never brought her back after that."

Eleanor’s interest peaked. "Do you have a photograph of her?"

Alexander hesitated briefly, but he soon arranged for someone to retrieve a photo of Miss Sinclair from social media. Within moments, a clear image of her appeared on a device in front of Eleanor.

Eleanor studied the photo closely. One glance, and she knew for certain. "It’s her," she said with unwavering certainty.

Despite Eleanor’s conviction, a tense silence enveloped the room. The implications of her statement were far-reaching. If what she said was true, then it was not just Mrs. Walsh who was to blame—it was the entire Fairmont family that would be implicated. Even if they had no direct involvement, the perception would be that they had been complicit in the exchange of intelligence, a dark and dangerous act.

The Sinclair family had always been protective of their daughter, and even after her condition had been diagnosed, they had continued to treat her with the utmost care. The Fairmonts could not afford to be careless in their actions, especially given the strong bond between the two families.

"Is it really possible to transfer someone’s intelligence like that?" Oliver muttered, clearly unconvinced. "If it were so easy, couldn't I just swap brains with someone else?"

Eleanor, recognizing his need for validation, finally turned to him. "You could," she replied solemnly, "but you probably wouldn’t want to."

For a moment, Oliver, who had never considered the possibility that his intelligence could be so easily swapped, took her words seriously. He stared at Eleanor, trying to discern whether she was making a joke or genuinely giving advice.

It wasn’t until he realized the nature of her statement that he reacted. "You’re calling me stupid?" he blurted, his face reddening as his frustration boiled over.

"Enough!" Henry Fairmont, who had just walked into the room, strode over to Oliver and, without warning, delivered a resounding slap to his backside. "Stop causing trouble! Are you going to fight with your sister again?"

The slap echoed through the room, and Oliver let out a yelp, his expression a mix of surprise and indignation. "Father, why did you hit me? She called me an i***t!"

Henry turned to Eleanor, his face stern. "What nonsense is this? Eleanor wouldn’t insult you without reason."

Oliver, still bristling with anger, pointed a trembling finger at Eleanor. "She did! She called me a fool!"

The rest of the family, hearing the commotion, turned to look at Eleanor. Lily Sanders, who had been nearby, quickly stepped in to explain what had happened, including the details of Eleanor’s suspicions about Miss Sinclair and the possibility of intelligence being exchanged.

Oliver’s mother, who had overheard the explanation, gently patted her son’s head. "Eleanor didn’t say anything wrong," she said soothingly.

Oliver stared at her in disbelief, his eyes wide. "You too, Mom?"

"She’s right," his mother insisted. "You could really use a new brain."

The statement was met with an uncomfortable silence, but the family was more concerned with Mrs. Walsh’s recent actions in the garden. Though most of them didn’t believe in the superstitions surrounding charms and incantations, the idea that someone had buried such objects in their garden left them uneasy.

As for Eleanor, the family assumed that she had simply stumbled upon the truth by accident. They didn’t believe her theory about swapping intelligence—no one was ready to entertain such a possibility.

Marcus Fairmont, the second son, who had made a career in the entertainment industry, was particularly dismissive of the situation. "Girls and their horoscopes and mysticism," he muttered. "It’s just a way to get attention, nothing more."

Marcus, like many others, assumed that Eleanor’s behavior was simply a phase. She had just returned to the family and was trying to establish her presence, even if it meant dabbling in strange beliefs.

Despite this, Charles Fairmont, the head of the family, wasn’t entirely dismissive. "I’ll make sure the Sinclair family is aware of what’s going on," he said, his tone serious. "But I’d prefer if you stayed out of it, Eleanor."

Eleanor glanced at him for a moment, then nodded. She understood his concern, but she also knew that if she didn’t act now, she would never uncover the full truth.

"If you don’t want me involved..." she murmured, her voice trailing off as she turned away. "Then I’ll just have to handle it myself."

She was determined. No matter what the family thought, she wasn’t about to let this mystery slip away. There were things she had to uncover—and she would do whatever it took to make sure the truth came to light.

And in the end, the prize was worth it.