#lostghosts

Those who knew Nathalie would never describe her as someone who cried, but one can only do so much after learning of their impending doom. 

She tried to hold back the tears, but they came and came, and she couldn’t stop them. Her face was wet with snot and tears running down her face and collecting on her chin, not that she cared. How vulnerable she felt, to be ugly crying in front of someone she’d just met, yet she couldn’t find it in her to actually care. 

She wasn’t sure when she’d ended up in Lady Lucie’s strong yet kind embrace, nor how they’d ended up on the floor. The library was silent, save for her sobs and Lady Lucie’s quiet whispers that she could neither hear nor comprehend. Then, a voice, clear and sharp, sliced across the room. 

“Oh grow up, will you?” Lady Brigid’s voice echoed throughout the room. 

Nathalie looked up from where her face was buried in Lady Lucie’s shoulder. Her eyes were puffy and her vision was blurry, but she could tell Lady Brigid was standing with her arms crossed, her whole body conveying the annoyance in her tone. 

“This isn’t the children’s manor. You can’t cry every time something doesn’t go your way,” she said harshly. 

“Have heart, Lady Brigid,” Lady Lucie snapped. “You think you’d fare any better if you learned you were going to die?”

“I do,” Lady Brigid said, an air of arrogance in her voice. “Most proper ladies could. It’s honorable, noble, for a lady to die. She’d simply accept her fate, as one should.”

“If you’re a dozen cycles old! She’s still a child!” Lady Lucie exclaimed. “It’s not right for a youth to die, especially such a horrid fate!”

Lady Brigid groaned. “Wonderful, now I have to hear your flimsy defences. I told you, did I not, that I would rather our manor be removed from the map. That all memory be erased of this place so no one will ever come and I don’t ever have to leave. But no,” she mocked, “your morals told you not to. ‘It’s not right! We’ll get in trouble!’ Oh, to hell with your blathering! Stop it, now!”

Her voice was practically a roar at this point, but neither of the ladies on the balcony said anything in response. Nathalie noticed that Lady Lucie had risen to her knees and pushed Nathalie behind her, putting distance between the young lady and their elder, who was tapping her foot impatiently.

Nathalie didn’t dare move, not even to wipe the tears and snot off her face. All she did was bury her face in Lady Lucie’s shoulder, unsure if she was more terrified of the legendary cavalier de l’ombre or the fuming Lady Brigid.

“It’s okay,” Lady Lucie whispered to Nathalie, holding her tightly. “Ignore her. I’m on your side. It’s okay, Nathalie.” She could barely nod as she heard Lady Brigid climbing the stairs up to the balcony. 

“Give me that book.”

Neither lady on the floor moved.

“Give it to me!” Lady Brigid yelled. “Lady Lucie, you give the book to me right now!”

Nathalie could feel Lady Lucie tremble as she handed over the book. That was why she was all the more shocked when Lady Lucie said quietly, “Léonie didn’t like it when you lost your temper, either.” 

Lady Brigid hesitated. “It doesn’t much matter now, does it?” she said quietly, a different woman than the one who had been such an imposing figure moments before. She then turned and climbed down the spiral staircase. A moment later, Nathalie heard the massive doors of the library swing open and thud close as Lady Brigid left.

The large manor had never felt so quiet, even when Nathalie had been alone in its drafty rooms and dark corridors. She pulled her face off Lady Lucie’s shoulder and saw silent tears streaming down her face. Slowly, she reached up and wiped them away.

“Lady Lucie?”

“Just Lucie, please.”

“Lucie? What did Lady Brigid mean by that?”

“Mean by what?”

Lucie’s voice was soft and hesitant, her gaze averted, as if by avoiding eye contact she could avoid a conversation. Nathalie didn’t feel right pressing the issue, but she was too curious to ignore the hundreds of questions burning inside her head. She switched to a different question, hoping if she asked all of them, Lucie might eventually answer one of them.

“Who is Léonie?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I want to know.”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it still hurts too much.”

Nathalie was unsure of what to say. The silence of the massive library seemed to be closing in on the two ladies as they sat there, Lucie avoiding eye contact. After what felt like an eternity, Lucie cleared her throat with a small cough and spoke again.

“Léonie and I grew up together. It was just the two of us in our class, and so we became best friends. We were separated during our first cycle, but we kept in touch. We wrote letters to each other nearly every day. Then for our second cycles, we both came here. It was wonderful.”

She paused, a slight smile on her face, clearly reminiscing. She cleared her throat again and continued.

“They came for her, and we didn’t know why. It took two years before they finally took her immortality, and she got very sick. And then…”

Lucie began crying again. Nathalie could figure out how the story ended. “I’m so sorry.”

She sniffled and rubbed her nose. “They took Léonie away. She’s not buried here. I haven’t visited her since the funeral. I still write to her sometimes, but of course she doesn’t read them.”

Nathalie squeezed her hand. “And it’s just been you and Lady Brigid here since then?”

She nodded. “Brigid won’t admit it, but she loved Léonie too. She wasn’t so strict about the title back then. We used to have a dozen chickens, and two goats, and there were cats that roamed around. We gardened together, not just produce but flowers that we’d sell at the market, or make into crowns. Léonie was always so full of joy, and when she left, it’s like the joy left too.

“Everything about her was wonderful. We didn’t use to hide away so much, or eat by ourselves, or have so much of the house closed off. Léonie was the best of us.”

Lucie had turned to look at Nathalie. “I had hoped you could be…not a replacement, of course, because no one could replace her, and I would never ask anyone to try and live up to a dead person’s legacy,  but I was hoping you would bring some of that joy back to the manor.”

She cleared her throat and stood up. “No use dwelling on the past. I should go finish the dishes.” With that, she picked the book up off the floor, put it back on the shelf, and all but ran out of the library, wiping her face as she went.

Nathalie sat in stunned silence. She remembered hearing about the passing of a lady when she was young, and Lady Sylviane leaving the manor for a few days and leaving them in the care of the older girls, but she hadn’t heard of it since. It was strange that it hadn’t been more talked about, really, considering death among the ladies so infrequent.

But hadn’t she read all of the legends, read about the history of the order, learned about all of the ladies who had passed? There weren’t many, but she couldn’t recall a Léonie among the names of the dead. 

Had Léonie been erased from the history books, or just never added? How had her name gone unsaid, her story untold?

Nathalie felt uneasy, her breakfast churning in her stomach. There were too many questions, too many unknowns. The whole thing made no sense to her.

How had she not known about Léonie?

-:-

The tall doors of the manor were nothing short of intimidating, and Nathalie had been standing outside for almost ten minutes, too afraid to knock. The air reeked of disregard and disrepair. Nathalie knew that education of the self was an unpopular stage, and many of the others had just cycled out of it, but she hadn’t expected Marchant Manor to be so silent. Even though the superior at the child’s manor had informed Nathalie that there would be two other ladies there, it seemed to her that Lady Sylviane had been wrong. The house seemed all but abandoned.

She stood outside a few minutes longer, wishing her childhood friends would have chosen education of self as well. Viviane and Roselyne had selected exploration, and Ivanna and Nadine had picked discovery. The five of them had made up one of the largest classes at Hazelford Children’s Manor, but they’d announced their separate paths at their going-away party. Nathalie could still taste the sweet chocolate cake and the bitter wine they’d been fed. It was hard to believe that had been only two days before.

The wind blew colder, and Nathalie drew her cloak up closer to her face. If only stage cycles didn’t happen in the coldest part of the fall. She couldn’t deny that part of her was also nervous to knock for fear of those who lived there, but the cold chilling her to the bone overruled any fear she had before. With one hand, she reached out to grab the ornate brass knocker and knocked it three times.

Barely a moment had passed before the door flew open. Behind it stood a woman wearing her dark hair pulled back into a bun that was starting to fall out. Her deep red blouse and brown skirt made Nathalie, in her pale blue child’s dress, feel inadequate. Although she didn’t look a day older than Nathalie, she knew that one of the ladies in the manor was one stage older than her, and the other three stages.

“Hello! You must be Lady Nathalie! Come in, out of the cold!” the lady cried. Even as Nathalie stepped into the dark foyer, she could tell that this lady had a warm personality. “I’m Lady Lucie, second cycle.” She slammed the door shut, pushing it closed with all her might.

“Hello, I’m Nath-” she caught herself, remembering what Lady Sylviane had taught them. “Lady Nathalie. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Lucie.”

“Oh,” Lady Lucie laughed. “You can do away with formality with me. It’s just me and Lady Brigid here, so I don’t mind. We’ve been here, just the two of us, for eight years. Education of self is a dying stage.”

“Ah,” Nathalie agreed. She wasn’t sure what else to say. It was clear that very few ladies chose education of self, and even fewer were sent to Marchant Manor. The crumbling stone building had clearly seen its glory days long ago.

She’d always thought the manor she’d grown up in was large, but Marchant Manor’s foyer alone was as large as the entire banquet hall of the children’s manor. What she also noticed was that the armchairs scattered around were all covered in heavy cloths, a visible layer of dust resting on top.

“Oh,” Lady Lucie said, following Nathalie’s gaze. “We don’t come here often. This manor is meant for thirty ladies, but there’s only three of us, so we closed off the rest of the house. There’s at least three sitting rooms that are closed off. We have three washrooms, four bedrooms, three sitting rooms, a library, a kitchen, a dining room, a banquet hall, and a ballroom that aren’t closed off. Speaking of, would you like to see your room?”

Nathalie nodded, and reached to the bags she’d set on the floor, but Lady Lucie was fast. “I can carry that,” Nathalie said as she picked up her remaining bag, but Lady Lucie was already partway up the grand staircase at the far end of the foyer. Nathalie followed after her, afraid to lose sight of her in the large building.

She tried to soak in every detail of the ornate house, from the carved stone staircase to the painted details on the ceiling, but Lady Lucie was almost out of sight, turning a corner just as Nathalie reached the top of the stairs. She jogged after her, turning to see a hallway with about a dozen closed doors, and a row of chairs set up about three doors down. They were covered in the same thick cloth as the armchairs downstairs.

One of the doors creaked open, and Nathalie realised it hadn’t been fully closed. She pushed it open to find Lady Lucie setting her bags down on a bench at the end of the four-poster bed. She turned to face Nathalie and said, “It’s not much, but it’s all yours.”

The room was huge, a four-poster bed with dark, silky curtains taking up only a fraction of the floor space. The tall windows looked out over the back garden, with a wooden desk under one window and a vanity under another. A forest green rug sat underneath the bed, extending several feet past it on all sides. The room was three times bigger than the bedroom she’d shared with Roselyne and Nadine at the children’s manor. She wasn’t sure if this manor was unusually large or the children’s manor unusually small, but it was certainly a change from the only place she’d ever known.

“This is wonderful, thank you,” she said, placing the remainder of her belongings on the bench Lady Lucie had already placed her things on. “Is there anything I need to know? When is supper?”

“Depends. We cook a roast on Sundays, and visit the market on Tuesday and Saturday, but it’s whenever you’d like most nights. I quite enjoy cooking breakfast, and we eat around nine in the morning, and then late lunch and supper on our own usually. But tonight we’ll be eating together, all three of us. Supper will be at seven-thirty.” Lady Lucie spoke a mile a minute, but her words were crisp and clean, so Nathalie could hear every single one clearly. “If there’s anything you need, the kitchen is downstairs and down the hallway to your right. I’ll leave the door open. You might want to change before we eat, and I’d suggest we keep the formalities, at least for now. If that will be all, I’ll leave you to get settled.” With a small nod from Nathalie, Lady Lucie left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Nathalie stood in silence for a moment before walking and flopping onto the bed. Seven-thirty was a long time away, and the journey to Marchant Manor had been a long one. Her class had awoken before the sunrise, and left the children’s manor just as the sky was beginning to lighten. Even now, she could tell the sun was setting beyond the hills in the distance. The days were shorter but by no means had the day of travel been short itself. They’d been in a carriage for almost seven hours, with stops to deliver Nathalie’s former classmates to their respective manors, and so they could stretch their legs. Both of the manors before her stop had been large and beautiful, and her dismay at finding the decrepit manor she would be staying in had been immense.

She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the manor, or Lady Lucie. She didn’t even know the name of the other lady in the house. Hopefully, supper would provide a sense of enlightenment, but until then, she had little to do but take a nap. Nathalie removed her cloak, placed it on the bench at the end of her bed, crawled across the spacious bed, and lay down. Just a short nap so she wouldn’t fall asleep during supper.

-:-

SLAM!

Nathalie awoke to the sound of what she assumed was a door slamming shut. The wind howled outside her window, making the panes rattle. She looked at the clock, but the room was too dark for her to see. She lit the candle that had been sitting on her bedside table and padded across the floor to look. Two-fifty-four.

Given the strong winds outside, a draft blowing a door shut was nothing too out of the ordinary, so Nathalie decided to return to bed. She started crossing back to her four-poster when she heard another SLAM! It sounded closer, as though the first one had been one of the vacant bedrooms at the far end of the hallway, and this one was only a few doors down. While it did seem odd, she didn’t think much of it. An old, empty manor could only withstand so much on a night as windy as this one.

SLAM! A third door slamming shut, this one stopping Nathalie in her tracks. It sounded as though this door was across the hall, the door to the only accessible room that was currently vacant. She turned around slowly and crept towards her door, so she could check the hallway and put her mind at ease before returning to bed. She reached out to grab the doorknob before she realised she was shaking. Maybe checking the hall wasn’t the best idea. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she kneeled down on the floor and laid down on her stomach, peering under the door. She couldn’t see anything, and after a few minutes she was ready to go back to bed, until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

She could just make out a heavy pair of boots, walking swiftly yet somehow silently across the floor. She held her breath as the boots stopped right in front of her door. Her heart was pounding, louder than it ever had before. The boots moved closer to her door, taking one step, then another, before stopping once more. They turned and ran down the hallway, towards the vacant bedrooms.

Nathalie wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, on the floor next to her door, the only light the candle on her nightstand slowly dimming as the wax melted. Not another door slammed, though the wind blew ever stronger. Who was that, with the black boots, and why were they here? How had they gotten here? Her brain rattled with questions, like the panes clattering in the window frames. But there was nothing she could do about it tonight. She’d ask Lady Lucie in the morning.

Slowly, she got up off the floor and climbed back into bed, snuffing out the candle as she did so. Her heart was still racing and her head was still pounding, but as darkness enveloped the room once more, she couldn’t fight the exhaustion, and she slipped into an uneasy slumber.

-:-

Nathalie was awoken by the sun streaming through her windows, so bright it felt blinding. The house was quiet, the ticking of the clock the only sound. Nine-twenty-seven. Lady Lucie had said breakfast was typically at nine, but she’d make it fresh for Nathalie. She could afford a few more moments in bed before getting ready for the day.

Thoughts of breakfast and sunlight and the other ladies in the house distracted her for a moment, but it wasn’t long before her questions about last night’s events took front and center in her brain. Even now, she shuddered at the memory of the boots standing outside her door, silent on such a creaky floor.

She couldn’t bear to sit and wallow in memory any longer, so she instead climbed out of bed and changed out of her nightdress to an outfit nearly identical to that of last night, only the skirt was green and the blouse was white. She quickly untied the ribbon wrapped around the end of her braid and tied her hair into a bun, the same way she had everyday since she was a child. Slipping her grey shoes back on, she headed downstairs to the dining room they’d eaten in the night before.

There was no evidence anyone had used the dining room thus far that morning, but the door to the kitchen was propped open. Nathalie cautiously walked towards the kitchen, spotting Lady Lucie elbows deep in the sink. The clatter of dishes being plunged into the soapy water was loud, but it still seemed strange to Nathalie that her footsteps hadn’t been loud enough to alert Lady Lucie to her presence.

“Good morning,” she said, raising her voice so she could be heard above the dishes.

Lady Lucie whipped around, as though she hadn’t been expecting Nathalie. “Lady Nathalie!” she cried. “Good morning! Don’t mind me, just tidying up after breakfast! I left a bowl next to the stove for you, and there’s a plate of fruit and a bowl of sugar on the counter.”

She pointed as she spoke, guiding Nathalie to a pot of porridge on the stove. She groaned. After eating it nearly every day of her childhood, she despised porridge. The bland, tasteless mush was one of the worst things about Hazelford Children’s Manor. However, she couldn’t deny that her stomach was rumbling, so she took a small scoop and added several heaping spoonfuls of sugar before taking her bowl and the whole plate of fruit to the dining room. There wasn’t much on the plate, as the native berries were mostly out of season, but there were apple slices, which in Nathalie’s opinion, were the best of all the fruits. She reluctantly put a bit of porridge on the apple slice and ate it, delightfully surprised at her creation. No longer despising the food in front of her, she ate it as quickly as she could.

Partway through her bowl of porridge, Lady Lucie emerged from the kitchen and joined Nathalie. “I trust you sleep well?”

For a moment, Nathalie debated lying, saying that her sleep had been uninterrupted. Would Lady Lucie know if she lied? But she decided to ask about the heavy yet silent black boots last night.

“There were some doors that slammed last night. I don’t know if you heard them. They woke me up, and I saw something...strange.”

“Oh? Strange how?” Lady Lucie seemed surprised, though Nathalie couldn’t fathom how. The doors had been quite loud, and she wasn’t sure how anyone could sleep through them.

“There was...a person, in the hallway upstairs, I think. I saw, under my door, a pair of black boots, but they were silent.” She decided to leave out the part where they had walked towards her door, and had seemingly been called away.

Lady Lucie paled. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

“The what?”

“Cavalier de l'ombre. A legend,” she said, jumping up. “Come, to the library, I’ll show you what I mean.”

Nathalie had no time to argue, because Lady Lucie had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her away from the table. She had no choice but to run to keep up as they wound through hallways, past closed off sitting rooms and boarded up doors, too many to count. Finally, they reached a pair of the largest doors Nathalie had ever seen, even larger than the front doors. Lady Lucie let go of her wrist to push the door open, not straining despite their size.

Had she not been terrified of what seemed to be imminent doom, Nathalie would have stopped and marveled at the library. The ceiling was three stories tall, and at least half of Hazelford Children’s Manor alone could fit in here. Bookshelves spanned from floor to ceiling, with two balconies wrapping around the entire room so books higher up could be accessed. There were at least a dozen ladders hung onto rods above the bookcases with small wheels at the bottom so one could reach any book they pleased. The highest balconies had small baskets on pulleys to lower books down while climbing down the narrow spiral staircases hidden in the corners. Grand chandeliers illuminated the room, along with the light streaming in the great stained glass windows directly opposite the doors, the only bit of wall space that wasn’t covered in books. Sofas, tables, armchairs, and desks were scattered about so that everyone had a spot to read and study, although there was a fair number of floor pillows as well.

But Nathalie had no time to marvel at these wonders as she was dragged up a spiral staircase and around a balcony until Lady Lucie stopped so abruptly, she almost fell over.

“Here it is,” Lady Lucie said breathlessly, pulling a book off a shelf at eye-level and flipping through it frantically. “Legends of the Ladies, by Lady Auriane. It’s old, maybe 12 cycles, but it’s one of the best when it comes to our lore. Here,” she said, settling on a page and pointing to the header. “Le Cavalier de l'ombre.”

She offered it to Nathalie, and she took it and started reading. “Le Cavalier de l’ombre is a figure who has no face, makes no sound, and leaves no memory of their visit. They travel in shadow, typically appearing at night to unsuspecting souls. Only appearing to the ladies of the order thus far, they seem to steal immortality, weakening the lady until she has no life left within her, so she meets her demise shortly thereafter. The ladies who fall victim pass with no knowledge as to how or why. No lady has been able to speak of how their immortality is stolen, but all can recall a sense of dread and a drop in temperature before their memory is blank. There seems to be no pattern as to who falls victim to this being, but they will choose one lady and pursue them until they have achieved their goals. Thus far there has been no way found to harm this creature.”

Nathalie finished reading and looked at Lady Lucie, who was paler than any person Nathalie had ever seen. “What does this mean?”

“It means,” Lady Lucie choked, “you’re the next victim of le cavalier de l’ombre, and we don’t know how to stop it.”

-:-

The sky outside was dark when Nathalie opened her eyes, and it took her a moment to remember where she was. She wasn’t in the small dormitory of the children’s manor, but sprawled out on the cushioned expanse of her new bed in Marchant Manor. She looked to the clock across the room next to the door. Seven-twelve.

Supper. She had just over fifteen minutes to change and fix what she knew was a rat’s nest in her hair. Nathalie leaped out of bed, tore open her bags, and grabbed a midnight blue skirt, along with an off-white blouse. She threw them on as quickly as possible and slid on the grey shoes she’d kicked off before climbing into bed. She checked the clock again. Seven-twenty. Grabbing her brush, she ran to the vanity and started pulling her hair back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. No time for makeup, not that she had much to begin with.

The clock read seven-twenty-seven as she ran out the door and down the grand staircase. Lady Lucie had told her where the kitchen was, but not the dining room, and Nathalie had no idea where it was. At the children’s manor the dining hall had been connected to the kitchen with a swinging door. Maybe it was the same at Marchant. She ran down the hall towards the kitchen, and burst through the first doorway she came across.

Unfortunately, the room she burst into wasn’t the kitchen. Fortunately, her search was over. She’d found the dining room with- according to the clock on the opposite wall -not a moment to spare. The room was empty, but the chandelier had been lit and there were three place settings on one end of the long, ornately carved table. Lady Lucie was nowhere in sight, but neither was the third lady of the house. She wasn’t sure what else to do, so she walked to the table and took a seat.

The room was large and drafty, and eerily quiet. Nathalie noticed the whole house was like that, for the most part. Lady Lucie had said that they had been alone, just the two of them, for eight years. It was no surprise that the manor was as dilapidated as it was, but it still, to be alone in the dining room was terribly frightening, and Nathalie hoped it wouldn’t be that way for long.

Just then, a small door near a corner of the room swung open and Lady Lucie bustled in, carrying two platters and a bowl. “Ah, there you are! I was wondering where you went off to. I checked your room not long ago but I didn’t see you there.”

Nathalie looked at her, baffled. “How long ago did you check?”

“Oh, maybe an hour or so? How come?”

“I was...taking a nap. I was in my room the whole time.”

“Oh,” Lady Lucie said. “I must have missed you.”

“Yeah,” Nathalie agreed, although she was skeptical.

“Have you seen the other lady of the house yet? She’s late,” Lady Lucie asked as she placed the platters down in front of Nathalie.

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted.

Just then, the door to the hallway flew open, and there stood a slender lady with a tight bun and a floor-length black skirt. She didn’t look up from the book she was reading, the title of which Nathalie couldn’t make out. Even though she wasn’t watching where she walked, she moved with speed and grace, as though she’d done this a million times.

“I’ll take my supper in the library, Lady Lucie,” she said, flipping the page with her bony fingers.

“Lady Brigid, we have a new lady in the house. For one supper, you can put the book down and engage in conversation.” Lady Lucie walked towards her and grabbed the book. Lady Brigid cried out and reached to grab it, but Lady Lucie had already tucked it away into the folds of her own skirt. “Come, sit. Set a good example for Lady Nathalie.”

Lady Brigid scowled and sat down, her long skirt sweeping the floor as she did. She glared at Lady Lucie, but she seemed not to notice, serving Nathalie a helping of potatoes and a serving of mushrooms.

“So who is this?” Lady Brigid asked, turning her attention to Nathalie.

“I’m Nath- Lady Nathalie,” she said, remembering what Lady Lucie had told her. The title was still strange, and she was still getting used to it.

“Where did you come from?” Lady Brigid stared at her, as though trying to bore holes through Nathalie’s skull.

“Hazelford Children’s Manor in Toulliers, ma’am. First cycle.”

“So I see they’re sending just anyone here now, are they?” Lady Brigid remarked, as though Nathalie were the scum of the Earth.

“Lady Brigid, that’s quite enough,” Lady Lucie interrupted. “This is not a time for argument. I’m sure Hazelford does a fine job of educating the young ladies in their care, and Lady Nathalie is as good as any of the ladies.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Lady Brigid said, still staring at Nathalie.

A moment of uncomfortable silence followed, broken by Lady Lucie declaring, “Well, we mustn’t let our food get cold. Eat, eat!”

Nathalie folded her hands to pray, but Lady Lucie and Lady Brigid had both started cutting into the duck meat on their plates. “Do we not pray?”

The other ladies stopped and looked at Nathalie. “I suppose we do,” Lady Lucie said slowly, putting down her fork and knife. Lady Brigid followed suit and they folded their hands and bowed their heads.

“Oh Lady of All Ladies, protect the ladies of the order and bless us this day, as you have and will forever, amen.” It was a short prayer that Nathalie knew by heart, having said it before each meal for as long as she could remember. After saying this, she placed her napkin in her lap and started cutting her meat, just as Lady Sylviane had taught her.

“A lady must act like a proper lady, otherwise her title is for naught,” Lady Sylviane had been fond of saying whenever she saw a girl whose posture was not perfect or took too large of a bite. Nathalie could still hear her reprimands, even at a meal she wasn’t present at.

She glanced over at her fellow ladies. Had Lady Sylviane been there, she would have been appalled. Lady Lucie was eating potatoes with her fingers, and Lady Brigid had somehow acquired a new book that she had placed next to her plate and she was poring over as she took a bite of her duck. She gaped at them for nearly a minute before they realised she was staring.

“Have you no shame?” Nathalie asked. “Have you no shame at all?”

They stared back at her for a moment before Lady Lucie said sheepishly, “It’s been a while since anyone else dined with us. We usually take supper independently, in the library.”

“If we don’t use cutlery, we don’t have to wash it,” Lady Brigid added. “It’s just us taking care of the whole manor. That’s why we closed so much of the house off, so we haven’t got to clean it. We try to make as little mess as possible, so we can dedicate more time to study.”

Nathalie stared at them. “Did you not receive proper education in the children’s manor?”

“We did, we just have a mutual, unspoken agreement that that’s too much trouble.” Lady Lucie looked at Nathalie as though she were stupid. “We can use proper manners, but it’s so rare we have visitors that we decided not to bother.”

With that, the pair of them went back to their meals, their manner the same as before. Nathalie stared a moment more, baffled at their logic. She supposed it made sense to close off parts of the house, as there was simply too much of it for the few people residing in Marchant Manor, but she’d assumed that all of the ladies would use proper table manners. Some small part of her had always hated Lady Sylviane’s rules, but she’d been too scared to try and defy her. But seeing as the ladies here didn’t mind…

She tentatively put down her fork and gingerly picked up a baby potato. Had she been using cutlery, she would have cut it in two, but it wasn’t too large as to not fit in her mouth. Before she could change her mind, she placed the whole thing in her mouth and started chewing it. She couldn’t entirely close her mouth, but it didn’t matter. The potato itself was nothing special, but the action was what made it truly special. It was silly, really, that something so small could bring her such joy, but it did. She ate her whole meal in that fashion, finally sitting back and licking her fingers.

“It’s nice, not to have to think about the rules, isn’t it?” Lady Lucie asked, watching Nathalie finish up. She nodded, and Lady Lucie smiled. “Would you like to see the rest of the house tonight?”

“Oh, no thank you,” she said. “I’m full, and I’d like to go to bed.”

“I figured as much. Lady Brigid, you’ll be returning to the library, I assume?”

“Yes, thank you for supper,” Lady Brigid stood up, not looking up from her book as she exited the dining room.

“Mysterious, isn’t she?” Lady Lucie remarked as she began to clear the dishes. “She’s nice enough, but she’s strange. Still don’t know much about her, and I’ve been here eleven years.”

“Really?” Nathalie asked, stacking up the supper plates. “How odd.”

“Yes, well, I’m not sure what else to do with her,” Lady Lucie said. “Perhaps we can discover things together. But it can wait until tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up supper?” Nathalie asked.

“Oh, I’m fine. I clean up by myself all the time,” she said, taking the plates from Nathalie. “Truly, I can handle it. Go to bed, and I’ll see you in the morning. Breakfast is usually around nine, but I’ll make yours whenever you wake. Sleep well.”

With that dismissal, Nathalie felt she had no choice but to climb back up the grand staircase to her bedroom, where she shut the door behind her. Supper had been interesting, in more ways than one, but she was too exhausted to think about it. Instead, she removed the bun from her hair, replacing it with a long plait, and slipping into her nightdress before climbing into bed, under the heavy sheets. Tomorrow would be a day of education, in more ways than one, but right now, it was time to rest. Nathalie had barely drawn the covers up to her chin before she was fast asleep.