It was strangely pleasant to be woken by the sound of birdsong. It reminded me of my girlhood, when I used to sit perched on the branches of a persimmon tree and listen to their songs at dawn. So, they have birds here too?
I opened my eyes slowly, as the sunlight spilled gently into the room. I was still in my bed, staring up at the same ceiling from yesterday.
So this wasn't a dream?
I sat up quickly, heart hammering, and paced the room, trying to make sense of the impossible. How did I end up like this? Perhaps I hadn't fallen to my death at all — perhaps someone had brought me here to recover. My mind scrambled for sense, for reason. I hurried to the mirror, breath catching: would I see my older self, or this younger version again?
The reflection did not change. Young. Vibrant. Entirely familiar.
So had I truly gone back in time. Must I endure this household all over again?
I drew a long breath, forcing the panic down. Before I could unravel further, a soft knock at the door broke my thoughts.
"My lady, are you awake?"
I straightened on the edge of the bed. "Yes, you may enter."
Two young girls stepped in and bowed gracefully. Their faces were familiar in some way, though I couldn't place from where. Perhaps they were the first maids who had served me all those years ago. Thirty‑two years is enough to bury even vivid details under layers of neglect.
"Would you like a bath, my lady?" one asked, voice polite but hesitant.
Before answering, I gestured for introductions. The girls exchanged flustered glances before speaking.
"My name is Nellie, Your Grace," said the girl with dark brown hair, falling loosely over her shoulders, with freckles running along her cheeks, her light smile wavering.
"And I am Bess," replied the second, her curly orange hair tied into braids, bright green eyes flickering with nerves.
"And your ages?"
"I am fourteen, my lady," Bess answered, "and Nellie is twelve."
Children. That was what they had sent me. Barely more than children, these girls. I could see their inexperience in every movement. I would have to be patient.
"Is the bath ready?" I asked, already moving toward the adjoining room.
"Yes, my lady," Nellie replied quickly.
I stepped into the cool water, the scent of pearls in the bath bubbles a gentle surprise. These little luxuries hadn't been there before. I washed quickly, letting the unfamiliar comfort soothe me. When I emerged, Bess offered a towel, shyly averting her gaze as I dried myself. I smiled gently, appreciating the awkward sincerity.
At the closet, my wardrobe was in mild disarray. Nellie and Bess hovered nearby, waiting for direction.
"Could you help me find my dress, please?" I asked.
They moved with care. I selected a muslin gown of ivory tied with a sky‑blue ribbon beneath my bust. Short puffed sleeves edged in lace, and a skirt that fell gracefully to my slippers — a gown once beloved, however, discarded to please a man who never valued me.
They helped me into the gown. My bust was accentuated, as was my youth, and I allowed my hair to fall naturally, untouched by pins. Nellie fetched a matching shawl, and I draped it over my shoulders, acknowledging their eagerness with a soft smile.
I left my room. The halls were quiet but alive with the distant bustle of servants preparing for morning. I could feel their stares but held my head high.
The dining room was already lively. The duke, Lord Alaric Valemont, sat at the head, with the duchess, Lady Seraphine, to his right. Cedric, my husband, sat across from her, his gaze sharp and calculating. Lucien, the second son, and their sister Marienne completed the tableau.
"Pleasant morning," I said, bowing lightly before taking my seat beside Cedric.
"A pleasant morning to you as well," the duchess replied warmly. The duke merely nodded, more absorbed in his tea. A servant set my plate before me: smoked salmon with dill and lemon, cream porridge with honey and nutmeg, fresh berries, pastries, soft‑boiled eggs with toast, and a cup of orange juice.
I allowed myself to savor it. The salmon melted on my tongue, the sweet porridge mingled with bread, the sugared fruit a small delight. Cedric watched silently, his plate barely touched, waiting as though to time me. Even after thirty‑two years of his disdain, I was learning to take pleasure where I could.
After finishing, I excused myself and walked to the orange tree, my old retreat. The wind whispered through the leaves, and the shade offered its quiet refuge. I must have dozed, for a voice roused me.
"How long do you plan on staying here?"
Cedric. I didn't need to see him to know.
"Does it matter whether I stay or not?" I asked calmly.
"Tch." He sucked his teeth and walked off, leaving me to dust myself and return to my room.
Nellie and Bess were gone, but everything was spotless — my bed neatly made, clothes hung, bathroom pristine. A small flicker of appreciation warmed me.
I recalled the upcoming tea party in the duchess's garden in two weeks. Last time, I had embarrassed myself horribly, lacking proper etiquette. From the balcony, I could see servants preparing delicate arrangements, silverware polished to perfection, flowers in bloom.
A knock at the door pulled me back.
"Come in."
Nellie and Bess entered, cheerful and attentive.
"Could you fetch paper and a pen, please?" I asked.
A few minutes had passed before Bess returned with both items, a faint bruise on her cheek. My voice hardened, concern overtaking me.
"What happened?"
"I was struck by another maid, my lady," she admitted softly, eyes welling.
"Why?" I asked, my tone sharp. "Show me."
She led me to a maid who I overheard speaking ill of me.
"You should have seen her eating this morning," the maid sneered. "I couldn't tell if it was a lady or a pig." A few others laughed quietly.
"I overheard she was sent as a spy for her father," another whispered.
"I heard she's his illegitimate child, sold off and abandoned," a third chimed in.
I stepped closer, my voice low and icy. "Is this how you speak of the wife of your young master?"
Their laughter died instantly. The maid trembled.
"N-no, my lady," she stammered, bowing.
"But I could have sworn I heard you call me a pig. Did you not?"
"I-I wasn't referring to you, my lady," she whimpered.
"Then who? The Duchess? The young miss? Or perhaps… none of them, leaving only me?" I leaned forward, my calm voice now laced with warning.
Fear spread across her face as she dropped to her knees. "My sincerest apologies, my lady."
I crouched slightly, whispering into her ear, "You will think twice before speaking ill of me again." Then, in a swift, shocking motion, I struck her across both cheeks — not once, but enough to leave her begging for mercy.
This was not needless cruelty. I remembered this maid clearly: someone who had tormented me relentlessly as a young wife. Finally, I could release years of pent‑up anger.
The commotion drew the attention of nearby maids. They froze, watching in stunned silence.
I released her hair and stepped back, my chest rising and falling steadily. "Let this be a lesson," I said coldly, my ash‑grey eyes sweeping the room. Fear flickered in every face.
I returned to my room, leaving them shaken — but aware that I would not be disregarded.