Clara: Please, Your Lordship, you have to look at this right now!
Lord Arthur: What is on that phone, child?
Lady Beatrice: Don't look at her phone, Father! She's making up excuses to save her job!
Clara: LOOK! SHE POISONED YOUR WINE TO TAKE YOUR ESTATE!
Lord Arthur stared at the phone screen in utter disbelief as the video played in high definition. The video clearly showed Lady Beatrice standing near the sideboard ten minutes earlier, carefully opening a small paper packet and pouring a fine white powder into the wine decanter before stirring it with a silver spoon.
Lady Beatrice's jaw dropped in complete shock and horror as the color drained completely from her face.
Lord Arthur: Beatrice... what is the meaning of this?!
Lady Beatrice: Father, wait! That... that video is a total fake! It's an edit!
Lord Arthur: YOU TRAITOR! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!
Lord Arthur stood up in pure rage, his face turning bright red as his chair scraped violently across the marble floor. He stepped forward and forcefully slapped Lady Beatrice across her face, the heavy impact forcing her to clutch her cheek in horror under the giant British flag painting.
Lady Beatrice: Father! You hit me?!
Lord Arthur: I gave you a place in this family! I welcomed you into my estate when my son married you!
Lady Beatrice: Father, please listen to me! I would never hurt you!
Lord Arthur: You tried to murder me in cold blood at my own dinner table!
Clara: I saw her doing it from the hallway kitchen door, Your Lordship. I recorded it so you would believe me.
Lord Arthur: You saved my life today, Clara. Bless you, child.
Lady Beatrice: She set me up! She's a lying little maid trying to turn you against your own family!
Lord Arthur: The video shows your face, Beatrice! It shows your ring, your dress, and your hands pouring poison into my glass!
Lady Beatrice: It's a misunderstanding! It was just a digestive supplement for your health!
Lord Arthur: A supplement?! Do you think I am an idiot?!
Clara: It's arsenic, sir. I saw the bottle in her purse earlier when I was cleaning the parlor.
Lady Beatrice: Shut your mouth, you filthy servant!
Lord Arthur: Do not speak to her like that in my presence! Clara has more honor in her little finger than you have in your entire body!