Before the Duchess say another thing, the door swung open to reveal a man of legal bearing. Dressed in impeccable black, he bore the gravitas of a lawyer, and his piercing gaze seemed to scan Holmes and Watson with suspicion.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” The man called out, “I am Reginald Pembroke, legal advisor to Her Grace. It is my duty to ensure her safety and uphold the integrity of her affairs," the lawyer declared, extending a hand for a firm shake.

Holmes and Watson exchanged a glance, as both men could easily detect the undercurrent of distrust in Pembroke's demeanor as well as his tone of voice.

“Mr. Pembroke,” Holmes stated calmly, “I can assure you that our only interest lies in resolving the matter at hand and ensuring the safety of Her Grace.”

The lawyer's eyes narrowed, and he scrutinized Holmes with a discerning gaze.

“Forgive me if I find it difficult to trust outsiders,” he chided back, “The Duchess's affairs are complex, and not everyone has her best interests at heart.”

“That is oddly understood,” Holmes replied, “I am often quite mistrusting myself. So, you will forgive me if the distrust is returned in kind while we investigate the matter at hand.”

“I would expect nothing less from a man of great wit,” Pembroke said, not even offended by the suggestion, as he would feel the exact same way if in a similar situation.

“Master Holmes, Dr. Watson,” The Duchess implored her guests, “Please understand the delicate nature of my predicament. I fear for my life, and I believe that only your renowned skills can unearth the truth.”

Holmes nodded, his keen eyes assessing the room.

“Your Grace,” Holmes called out, “What happened that made you fear for your life?”

“It started a few night ago,” the Duchess began to recall, her voice tinged with sorrow. “Under the cover of darkness, a man has been sneaking into my room every night as I’m try to find my sleep.”

“How do you know there is a man in the room if you can’t see him?” Watson asked.

“Hush, Watson,” Holmes snapped back, “Clearly she heard the man sneak in and most likely could smell him as well. She may be blind but her other faculties still function!”

“Of course,” Watson said, feeling quite daft. “Apologies.”

“Quite right, Master Holmes,” The Duchess confirmed, “I can hear the floorboards creak every night as he tries to sneak up to my bed. When he gets close enough he whispers a chilling threat in my ear as I lay helpless in my bed.”

“What does he tell you?” Holmes inquired.

“She just told you!” Pembroke reminded him, “She said he’s making threats!”

“I understood that part,” Holmes chided back, “But I need to know exactly what he said. In my line of work, details always matter!”

“The first night he came to my room,” The Duchess recalled, “He informed me that I would die in ten days.”

“Did he give any other details?” Watson asked, “Such as the time, or place?”

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“He did not,” Her Grace answered, “That was the only thing he would say and then he’d leave as quickly as he arrived.”

“You said he’s been coming to your room every night,” Holmes reminded her, “What did he tell you the next night?”

“The same thing,” The Duchess answered, “The only thing that changes is the number. The second night it was nine, and then eight…”

Watson felt a pang of sympathy for the Duchess, imagining the terror she must endure night after night, alone in the darkness with what was a specter of death looming over her.

“A countdown,” Watson interjected, “He’s bullying her with a countdown!”

“It appears so,” Holmes said, even though the deduction was quite evident. “The last time he came to your room, your grace, what number did he last whisper to you?”

“Six,” Pembroke answered for her, “We have less than a week to figure this out and that is why you were called in, gentlemen.”

Despite the interruption, Holmes remained outwardly composed, his mind already racing to formulate a plan of action.

“"Your Grace, fear not,” Holmes informed her, “Though the night may be dark and fraught with peril, Watson and I shall not rest until we have apprehended this fiend and put an end to his reign of terror.”

The Duchess nodded gratefully, as her faith in Holmes's abilities offering a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows that threatened to consume her.

“Shall we get started?” Pembroke ordered.

Holmes stood back up and acknowledged the pushy barrister with a nod.

“Mr. Pembroke,” Holmes replied, “Watson and I are here to assist the Duchess in any way possible. If you could provide us with the necessary information, we shall commence our investigation forthwith.”

The lawyer's eyes narrowed, and he studied Holmes as if trying to decipher the intentions hidden beneath his sharp features.

“I must caution you, Mr. Holmes,” the lawyer replied, “The Duchess's safety is paramount. This matter is delicate, and trust is not something that is easily earned.”

Watson exchanged a wary glance with Holmes, sensing the tension in the room. It became evident that Pembroke was not merely a legal advisor but a vigilant guardian, protective of the Duchess and suspicious of anyone who might compromise her safety.

“Mr. Pembroke is right to be cautious,” The Duchess spoke up, “I find myself in an intricate web of uncertainties. Strange occurrences and an unshakable feeling that my life is in peril have led us to seek your expertise.”

“The caution comes with good reason,” the lawyer said, interjecting once more, “Time is of the essence, Master Holmes. With each passing day, the Duchess's life hangs in the balance. We must act swiftly to ensure her safety.”

Holmes fixed a penetrating gaze on Pembroke, a silent acknowledgment of the urgency of the situation. The barrister had a passion and eagerness that Holmes also shared so no offense was taken by his constant badgering.

“Indeed, Mr. Pembroke,” Holmes agreed, “Dr. Watson and I shall commence our investigation immediately. Every moment wasted brings us closer to the fateful deadline imposed by this malevolent intruder.”

“What measures have already been taken?” Watson asked.

“Quite right,” Holmes concurred, “Have any precautions been taken to secure the premises, Mr. Pembroke?”

“Of course,” Pembroke replied, “I ensured they were put into place myself!”

“Such as?” Watson asked, not hesitating to push back.

“Increased patrols, additional guards, and reinforced locks.” Pembroke answered, “But the bolstered security measures have borne no fruit. None of them have stopped this intruder from making his nightly call to Her Grace. He continues to elude us with an uncanny skill. The castle is vast, and the grounds expansive; finding this mysterious visitor has proven challenging.”

“Can you help us, Master Holmes?” The Duchess requested.

“Of course, your Grace,” Holmes replied with a decisive nod, “Dr. Watson and I shall commence our investigation immediately. The night may cloak many secrets, but it shall also reveal the truth hidden within its folds. We shall conduct a thorough examination of the estate, day and night, to apprehend this trespasser and unravel the motive behind these repeated threats.”

“Thank you,” The Duchess said, looking relieved. There was a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. “We have heard of your deductive prowess, Master Holmes. I trust that you and Dr. Watson can bring an end to this menace that has cast its shadow over my life."

As Holmes and Watson left the room to prepare for the mystery that enveloped the Duchess's estate, the specter of the mysterious trespasser lingered in the air—an enigma that would no doubt challenge the very limits of Holmes's analytical mind and Watson's steadfast resolve. The grand castle, once a symbol of opulence, now held within its walls the echoes of whispered threats and the unspoken fear that the shadows concealed more than anyone could fathom.