Joanna “Joe” Stuart, the former office worker of the most unimaginative and boring kind, sat in front of the dresser with a furiously beating heart. She tried and failed spectacularly to sit as still as possible, and her nervous jitters broke out every other second. There was only an hour left till the ‘dinner’, and Joe was already this close to shitting bricks. But seeing as it would not do any good either way, Joe (who was currently ‘posing’ as a young noble missy) willed herself to stop moving and decided to talk with Mirian, who was standing behind Joe and carefully braiding her long, ebony hair.

 

Mirian Connelt, the oldest maid of the Western wing, and a veteran in all things related to dealing with Lady Joanna Winsten, was currently standing behind the said Lady and getting her hair done for the family dinner. She took utmost care not to accidentally touch the lady, and took even more care to clamp her mouth shut and keep her head down and just do her job as quietly as possible. The lady was lost in thought, and Mirian honestly wanted nothing more to be ignored till her job was done. Fate, however had other plans in mind.

 

“Mirian.”

 

“Y-Yes, my lady!” The maid hastily put her hands down and stood ramrod straight at the sound of the voice. What did she do wrong this time? Did she accidentally touch Lady Joanna somehow? Did she accidentally pull the braid too hard?

 

“I was kind of wondering…” the Lady fidgeted in her seat; a very strange sight in itself, Mirian thought.

 

“Doyouknowanythingaboutthedinner?”

 

“H-Huh?”

 

The flurry of words momentarily stunned the maid, and flew right over her head. Joe paused, and then repeated herself slowly.

 

“Do you happen to know anything about tonight’s dinner, Mirian?”

 

“Milady..” Mirian cocked her head to a side, clearly surprised. Her face brightened visibly. “I do! I do!”

 

Joe waited eagerly with baited breath.

 

 “The main course is Honey Roast Duck.” The maid reported happily, feeling a tinge of pride at Lady Joanna’s rare curiosity. “With creamed cauliflower and stir-fried orange pumpkin!”

 

Joe almost fell over from the chair and smacked her head against the dresser. It rattled with a horrible sound. Mirian stepped back, startled and a little scared. Then she gasped in horror and rushed over to the young girl moaning on the floor.

 

“My lady! What happened to you?” she frantically searched for injuries or any tear on the fabric of the dress. “Are you alright?!”

 

“Not that, Mirian!” Lady Joanna said exasperatedly, clutching her head. It was beginning to swell. “I meant, do you anything about why I was suddenly summoned for dinner by my …ahem--, parents?”

 

Mirian looked like she became more confused, if it was even possible, and eventually answered that no, she had clue about that, and that could Lady Joanna please let her put some ice over the swelling on her forehead?

 

Just what did you expect, stupid? The voice in Joe’s mind reared its head again. It sounded sneering and arrogant. She is just a lowly maid. What could she possibly know about the affairs of nobles?

 

‘But it’s been seven days already!’ Joe thought, as Mirian gently placed an ice pack over her forehead with careful hands. ‘I haven’t heard even a peep from them for that past week. There were no letters from Lord Winsten. No word or visit from Lady Patricia. What possessed them to suddenly want to have dinner with me?’

 

Oh, surely not any parental love, or anything sentimental like that, I assure you. The voice said, sounding bored now. They want something from you, probably. Something related to the honour and prestige of the great noble house of Winsten; anything else is obviously inconsequential to them.

 

Joe frowned at the words. She was your average, uncomplicated civilian in her original world, and she hardly knew what went on inside the noble minds of the nobility, but it sure looked like the villainous Lady Joanna Winsten of Triciella didn’t have the best relationship with her own parents. Not that Joe had any business poking her nose where it didn’t belong to, but if she had to stay in this body for a while, it was wise not to antagonize the wrong kinds of people, especially the kind who could easily kick her out on the streets on a whim.

 

‘Well it’s not like they’d kick their daughter out all willy-nilly, family honour and all that.’ Joe thought, ‘Although this looks more and more like a business transaction than a happy family dinner.’

 

When Mirian was done smoothening the last of the creases in her velvet green dress, Joe stepped out of her room to find Perry standing outside of her room with the same stoic face as ever. For a brief moment Joe almost envied that nonchalance, and then shrugged out of her nervousness. ‘It’s just a dinner,’ She repeated inside her head.

 

“My Lady, I shall escort you to the dining hall.” Perry said with a tiny bow, and led her down the hallway towards the southern side. Joe tried to keep up with her pace without tripping over the thrice damned dress, until they finally arrived at yet another lavishly decorated room with glowing chandeliers and a long, intricate table in the middle. Lord Johan sat at one head of the table, looking all important and impassive, and Lady Patricia sat to his right side, her red lips curled up in boredom.

 

 

“Father. Mother. ” Joe greeted, holding up her skirts gracefully, and bowed her head. There was a subtle nod from Lady Patricia Winsten in her direction, and Joe took it as an invitation to take her seat. Lord Winsten remained silent with a poker face more impressive than Perry, and gave no indication that he’d even heard her.

 

Lord Johan Alexius von Winsten, the twelfth head of the prestigious Winsten family, was a particularly handsome fellow, with a chiseled face and sharp, blue eyes. His beauty must have been devastating in his younger days, and Joe remembered how Gracie had been swooning over the man’s visage during the game. Joe had to physically restrain her from kissing the animated image on the TV screen. 

 

Lady Patricia Marcella Winsten, née Svalford was beautiful in her own right, although it seem to pale in front of that of her husband. She was excessive in everything: excessive lipstick, excessive make-up, an exceptionally puffed up gown (It’s just a frigging dinner, Joe thought in annoyance.) and an excessive hairdo that looked like it was ready to fall apart any moment. Her eyes were a sharp golden brown, similar to Joanna’s own, and they would either glare arrogantly or glare disgustedly.

 

Lady Patricia looked like she was born to glare at everything under the sky.

 

 

“The talks of your engagement are almost finalized.” Lord Winsten spoke to his daughter for the first time in the evening. “The man in question is Emmanuel Grayford, the second prince of Triciella.”

 

His ‘daughter’ twitched at his words.

 

‘Good evening to you too, dear father.’ Joe thought sarcastically. ‘What a fine way to start a conversation with your daughter.’ She didn’t have the balls to actually say it out loud, so she sat in her seat and silently stewed in anger. 

 

Oooooh, it is Prince Emmanuel! The voice in her head crooned delightedly. I knew it! Only someone like me is fit to be engaged with Prince Emmanuel..!

 

Joe was beginning to think that the voice was an entirely separate entity from her own mind. The idea that a strange voice was living rent free inside her head should have freaked her out in normal circumstances, but right now Joe was too pissed off to care.

 

She did not want marry any one, dammit!

 

Think, think… what could she potentially use to stall the talks of marriage for the time being? Joe thought back to the fuzzy details of the distasteful, lovey-dovey game that she’d played over a month ago, and suddenly remembered the most important plot point.

 

“Father….” She began carefully, “Is it not possible to postpone the talks until I have graduated from the St.  Clarence Academy?”