It was two days after they had returned from the capital city of Riseindell, when Lucia decided that she had unknowingly, inevitably and irreversibly developed a troublesome amount of affection for Lady Joanna. Currently the maid was working inside the library of Winsten manor, pretending to dust the mahogany bookshelves but secretly peeking at the young Lady from her place behind a strategically hidden shelf.
The Lady in question sat forlornly in one of the large tables all by her lonesome and had been staring at the same page for the past one hour. Even Lucia could tell that she her mind was lost elsewhere.
The maid thought back to their last conversation in that particularly bizarre summer afternoon, two days ago. The Lady hadn’t made so much as a peep since then, brooding in the hallways in the day and cooped up inside her bedrooms in the evenings. Lucia had foolishly thought that the conversation had ended right then and there, but Lady Joanna was obviously more troubled by it than she’d anticipated. And now two days later, a surprised Lucia found herself feeling troubled on behalf of her Lady, and that she couldn’t do jack diddly squat about it.
Hey, hey, hey! Perry would give her the lecture of a lifetime if she found out that Lucia had gone off and done exactly what she’d been warned against. She could almost imagine the displeased frown and that disappointed, icy glare of an angry Perry that would make her want to disappear under the earth. ‘I told you not to get involved with Lady Joanna.’ She would tell Lucia, ‘I told you, and now you’ve gone and bitten more than you can chew, you idiot.’
Lucia valiantly tried to concentrate in her task, but found her mind wandering back to Lady Joanna. The maid didn’t know just what had compelled the Lady to decide against meeting the witch, but realized that she felt uncomfortably conflicted about the whole affair. On one hand she definitely didn’t want the young Lady to waltz into the suspicious forest, bodyguards or not. She wanted no part of that, oh no. And hey hey, she was pretty certain that she wouldn’t be able to get away with her head intact if the Master and mistress of the manor got any wind of it.
On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel a stab of guilt when she saw Lady Joanna afterwards. The young girl had been listless and uncharacteristically silent for the past two days, and Lucia had a sinking suspicion that it had something to do with the witch of the West. It didn’t even take long for the other maids to notice the sudden change, and to her dismay, they had taken it as more of a blessing than a reason for concern.
Lucia suspected that once upon a time, she might have felt the same. The realization sent another stab of guilt through her heart.
Another day passed with excruciating sloth, and eventually Lucia resolved to herself that she’d put the nagging, gnawing guilt to a rest. She dutifully ignored Perry and went straight to talk to Nero. He was the only other person who’d know what to do.
The maid found him carrying an armful of dry, chopped firewood into the kitchen storeroom. He greeted her with a knowing smile.
“Nero.” Lucia began nervously, and asked him the same thing that had been weighing down on her mind for the past few days. “Hey, hey, hey! What do you think is the matter with the young Lady Joanna?” she said, “She already told us that she wouldn’t chase after the Witch. She’d already dropped the idea! Hey, do you think that she’s having second thoughts?”
The man blinked at the onslaught of questions.
Mirian and Perry had often chided her about poking her nose into places that it didn’t belong. Lucia was aware that whatever went on in the head of her employer was no business of hers. But try as she might, Lucia couldn’t help herself. Not when she had suddenly grown fond of her young mistress in a span of few days, all rumours be damned.
“Nero is surprised that you are asking about it.” Nero said with a twinkle in his eyes. “But Miss Lucia, why do you think Lady Joanna dropped her plans in the first place?”
The woman wrung her hands anxiously, and thought that sometimes, Nero seemed to know more than he let on. “Hey, I don’t know about that.” She said at last. “But I can’t help but wonder what was it that she needed to meet the witch of the west personally!”
“I am sure it whatever it was, it was important enough for her to ask us for help in person.” Nero said cryptically, and Lucia realized belatedly that his speech was different. “But she gave it up in the end, did she not?”
“H-Hey, hey! Maybe she was scared?”
“Oh she was!” Nero smiled again. “But not for herself. We’re talking about the person who’d all but decided to meet the witch even after listening to all those weird rumours, don’t you think? No, but you see, she was scared for us, Miss Lucia.”
And Lucia felt the gnawing guilt return with a vengeance.
Joe snapped the last book shut with a groan. It was late afternoon in a stupidly hot Sunday, the kind she’d prefer to sprawl out on the cool floor and doze off in, but such was not included in the privileges of elegant aristocrats. So she pulled up her stupidly long hair into a messy bun and devoured all the books on magic and charms that she could find in the Winsten manor library. The library, while not as huge as the central one, was still ridiculously huge. She had been sneaking in there in between her lessons for the last few days hoping to find another clue somewhere in the tome of books.
It was a flimsy excuse she’d conjured up in her head, trying to forget about the absence of the familiar shrill voice of a villainess that she’d inevitably gotten chummy with in a measly few days.
But the library was no messiah. It did not save her from the same old boring lessons, the annoyingly tight corsets and the shitty weather that seemed to be getting hotter by the day. Joe resisted another urge to rip the thick folds of silky frills from her dress and jump into the garden fountain in all of her underwear glory.
Never mind the family honor. She’d deal with that crap when September comes.
A throat was cleared purposefully right behind her ears. Joe nearly jumped a foot from her seat in fright, her heart leaping to her throat. For a wild second she panicked that she’d said her thoughts out loud, but when she whipped her face around, Joe found a poker faced Perry standing respectfully at a distance from her seat.
“My Lady Joanna.” The maid greeted her monotonously like she was reading out from a menu card. It was Perry’s normal tone, but it never failed to unnerve Joe whenever she heard it.
It didn’t help that Joe hadn’t even heard the maid’s footsteps when she’d approached her. What was the woman, a hidden-leaf ninja?!
“Perry! You scared me! Wh-What’s the matter?”
Perry gave no indication that she was bothered by anything under the sun. “You have been summoned, my Lady” she said blankly. “By the mistress, Lady Patricia Winsten.”
‘What does that woman want now?!’ Joe thought exasperatedly, but there was already a sliver of fear blooming in her heart. She’d already learnt her lesson, thank you very much. Nothing good ever came out of meeting the Lady Winsten, as far as Joe was concerned.
She must have been making a funny face, because Perry looked at her strangely and raised an eyebrow. Joe quickly smoothed out her expression before any weird questions could be asked.
“Ah, yes, yes. I’m coming.” The sooner she’d get it over with, the better.
Some ten minutes later, Joe found herself standing in front of a large, elaborate white door, quite a ways from her own room in the western wing. This was located in the northern side of the Winsten manor, and it was her first time coming here since the time she’d landed in this world. You cannot blame her really; Joe had taken it upon herself to avoid the master and the mistress of the manor like a plague.
Perry daintily knocked twice on the door and seconds later, a muffled voice beckoned them to enter.
Joe took a deep breathe and entered the lion’s den.
It was a spacious dressing room, decorated lavishly and wiped squeaky clean, so much so that Joe was certain that she could see her reflection in the marbled floors. The sole occupant was busy rummaging through a closet and throwing out clothes at lightning speed. There were several crumpled heaps of frilly gowns and dresses lying all over the otherwise spotless room. Joe winced at the mess, and peeked at Perry out of the corner of her eyes.
The maid merely blinked and gave no indication that she was bothered by the sight before her. Joe was pretty certain that if she were in Perry’s shoes, she would throw the biggest tantrum in the history of tantrums and give the Lady Winsten a piece of her mind.
“My Lady, I have brought along young lady Joanna as you had asked.” Perry said.
“You may leave Perry,” came the reply.
No! Don’t! Don’t leave me alone with this woman!
Joe desperately tried to convince the maid with her eyes, but Perry had already turned around swiftly and clicked the door shut behind her.
Joe swallowed in dread, shuffling around the room like a schoolgirl, wondering what to say and how to escape with her dignity intact. The room smelled like someone had taken a handful of strong smelling perfumes and mixed them together without much thought. In other words, it smelled like crap. A uniquely fragrant crap, but crap nevertheless. No wonder Lady Winsten was always in a bad mood.
Joe idly wondered how to excuse herself politely without pissing the older woman off, and wondered again if Lady Joanna would have had any better ideas if she were here. But she was not, and Joe felt another pang of loneliness slam into her gut.
Lady Patricia greeted her with a “You shall be meeting Prince Emmanuel in the Royal Palace on the day after tomorrow.” before Joe could even open her mouth.
As expected of Lady Winsten, her parenting skills were just as bad as that of her husband’s. They were truly a match made in heaven.
But Joe was in no condition to voice her sarcasm. She stood stunned in the middle of the room like a deer caught in headlights, her mind reeling with the new information. She had no idea whatsoever how to deal with the (potentially murderous) prince. The situation was going out of hand at a ridiculous speed! What the hell was she supposed to do dammit?!
Crap, crappity crap!
“E-E-Excuse me, but I happen to have my piano lessons on that day, so ….”
Lady Patricia turned to give her a look that could mean anything from ‘you are stupid’ to ‘I can’t believe you are this stupid’, but Joe suspected it was the latter. “We will cancel your lessons of course. It is imperative that you two get acquainted before your social debut.”
“Th-The prince might be on a busy schedule, so…”
“Prince Emmanuel was the one who extended this invitation.”
Joe fidgeted under the woman’s glare; there was something utterly useless about her brain that couldn’t figure out any smart ideas when she was in a pinch. Why was the prince inviting her out willy-nilly into the frigging palace? Didn’t the idiot have better things to do?!
Lady Patricia turned up her nose and stared down at Joe with an air of finality, as if asking ‘Anything else, smartass?’
Joe slumped, defeated and out of excuses. “Understood, mother.” She was beginning to miss the familiar annoying cackle of the unlawful tenant of her mind. Ex-tenant, she corrected herself hastily. The fact that Joe was actually missing the weirdo was proof enough that she was going crazy.
There went all the plans to find out about the witch. Once she’d agree to this invitation, there would be another. And then another right after. And before she knows it, she’d be married off to the murderous prince as a sacrificial lamb, all in the name of their lily-white, spotless family honor.
For a wild second she considered flipping the bird at Lady Patricia and storming off to her room, but then immediately discarded the idea. Joe was a mere thirteen year old in this mysterious world, and she had no knowledge, no skills and no jobs to sustain herself all alone. All she had was the Winsten family name, and there wasn’t going to be much help if she were to accidentally piss of the family heads themselves.
It was better to keep her head down and pretend to obey until she had a way to fend for herself.
