Catherine was sitting on the balcony outside of her bedroom.
It had been about a week since the restaurant incident. Despite the uproar, nothing had come of it. Word never made it back to her father, but even if it did it was unlikely he would've done anything about it.
But there was an unrelated change, she could finally smoke again. Catherine took a drag from the cigarette, relaxing as she exhaled.
Thank god. I don't think I could've survived another day.
The idea of being addicted to cigarettes somewhat amused her as she wouldn't have dreamt of smoking as Claire.
It wasn't even out of particular concern for her health, it just never really caught her fancy. But that was Claire and now she was Catherine, definitively Catherine.
She eyed the long black filter, the cigarette at the end had been reduced to a stub. Catherine contemplated smoking another one but decided against it. She took out the cigarette before mushing it into the ornate ashtray on the balcony table.
Aside from the newly added stub, it was completely empty. In fact, it almost looked brand new. The servants were so on top of cleaning every square inch of the household that it would never get the chance to obtain that "well-used" look.
Catherine returned to her bedroom. Once inside she placed the filter into her cigarette case before hap-hazardly throwing it on the dresser. She collected herself for a moment before sitting down at her desk.
Catherine unlocked the drawer and pulled out a large leather-bound notebook. The truth of the matter was she had been struggling with her identity for the past few days.
Even in Catherine's body, she had still thought of herself as Claire, but she soon realized that she had no real connection to her previous life. She didn't look like Claire, she didn't sound like Claire, and she didn't even particularly act like Claire.
She was trying her damndest to hold onto her previous identity, but it dawned on her particularly good reason to keep thinking of herself as Claire.
She didn't even particularly care about the name. It was fine. But to her names in general were just a means to an end. Something to be called by, or to call others by. It wasn't that deep.
That just left her experiences as Claire, but most of those were terrible. It would've been a privilege to not be plagued by them.
Besides, isn't this basically what she wanted? A new lease on life as a different person? One who had power, and influence, and couldn't be pushed around?
Claire wished she could talk to someone about this, but in that regard, she was out of luck. What would she tell them? She couldn't even make up a slightly different scenario to garner an answer; the circumstances were far too specific.
All that was available was to work it out in her own mind. Preferably while walking through the estate's garden.
While examining a particularly beautiful set of flowers the conclusion came to her. In hindsight, it was very simple. The reason she was reluctant to give up on thinking of herself as Claire, was her mother.
Not Catherine's mother Emilia, but Claire's mother Andrea. With all the craziness of this new situation, it hadn't truly sunk in that she would never see her mother again.
The realization had hit her like a ton of breaks. It was all she could do to not break down on the spot. Through sheer willpower, she was able to hold it in until having retreated to her room.
Most of that day was spent crying into a pillow. Catherine tried to shut Elizabeth out, but she was insistent on comforting her.
In the end, Catherine was glad her friend was there. Even if she couldn't completely confide in her what was going on.
Catherine merely told her that she missed her mother. There was truth enough in that, and it got the point across well enough. Truly the reasoning didn't matter, often it was enough to just have someone there who's willing to listen.
When the tears eventually stopped flowing it was already the evening. Elizabeth decided that it would be best to get Cathereine's mind off things, and surprised her by suggesting they go out for dinner again.
Catherine figured it would be a long and slow process for Elizabeth to accept the idea of going to dinner with her. So she was extremely happy that she was the one asking her to go out, even if Catherine knew it was just to make her feel better.
The suggestion was happily accepted, and the two were off. Luckily this time the whole affair went off without a hitch. There were a handful of whispers about the white hair, but nothing that could be called insulting. However, out of everyone there not a single person questioned Elizabeth's presence.
Much to her chagrin, Catherine was serious about buying her an assortment of dresses. Funnily enough, she didn't seem to protest too much when they were finally in front of her.
A simple yet elegant blue dress and a bit of tasteful makeup was all it took to fool the high society's finest about Elizabeth's true status. To any onlookers, it simply looked like two noblewomen were having dinner together.
The day after Claire was still melancholic, but she was determined. She decided that there needed to be acceptance of the fact that she wasn't Claire anymore. She was Catherine Blackwood, and that meant making the most of what had been dealt with.
That didn't mean she was going to completely shut out anything and everything from her previous life, and to that end Catherine had already come up with a plan. That's why she was sitting here in the first place. So she could keep a record of the really important things.
What really stung about being transported to another world was there was nothing tangible to remember her mother by. No pictures, videos, or just talking to someone who knew Andrea. All there were, were her own memories.
Catherine still remembered her life as Claire fine enough. However, she was well aware that with time those recollections would begin to slip away.
This wasn't something she could wait on, she had to act now. The best course of action was writing down anything and everything that she could remember about her mother.
Catherine quickly discovered this wasn't exactly a clean-cut process. Reminiscing about certain subjects only brought on further memories about others.
In fairness, there was a method in the madness, and Catherine knew nobody else would be reading this. So as long as she understood the trains of thought it wouldn't be a problem.
The first notebook was filled up in no time, and she had to get another. It became an ongoing project as well as a pleasant part of her day. Dedicating an hour or two to the process of cataloging was honestly quite relaxing.
Catherine knew it was going to take a while before it was complete, so she didn't rush it. It would be a long time before some of these precious memories would start to fade. So as long as she was actively working on it every day she was content with her progress.
Ultimately, it also gave her something to do.
After the craziness of the first few days, Catherine realized that there was very little to keep her occupied.
In her previous life, she was always busy with work, but even if there was even a slight moment of boredom, there were a myriad of things to waste her time with.
It was about 200 years until the internet would be invented, and unfortunately for Catherine, she couldn't wait that long,so entertainment had to be found elsewhere. Well in truth it didn't even have to be entertaining as long as it passed the time.
She found that theprevious Catherine's methods of filling the days to have been quite insipid.
Mostly it consisted of waiting around. Waiting for servants to boss around, waiting for the prince to come (which rarely happened), and most pointless of all waiting for her father to take notice of her.
The only things she did for fun were buying things and going to parties. There was certainly an allure to buying things, but going to parties seemed like it was more trouble than it was worth.
They say good things come to those who wait. But there had been enough waiting around as Claire, so as Catherine she had a much larger level of determination to go out and get things done.
Catherine shut the notebook. It had been about an hour and a half of writing, and she'd come to an appropriate stopping point. She probably could've kept going, but it wouldn't do to burn herself out and get fed up with the whole thing.
Catherine sighed.
I said I wanted to get things done, but what exactly is there to do?
Catherine had already tackled all the busy work she could think of, which was done almost immediately because there virtually wasno busy work.
All of the servants did all of the chores inside and out. She didn't need to cook, she didn't need to clean, and there weren't any bills to worry about. The only thing that fell into the category of "chores" for Catherine was going over her school curriculum.
School was only a week out, so it would've been a good idea regardless. However, after rifling through some of her textbooks she was astonished at how basic everything seemed.
Catherine had never been truly worried about her schoolwork. In her previous life as Claire, she'd already gone to college. She'd garnered excellent grades in high school, which was exactly hard when you had no social life to attend to.
With her impressive grades, she managed to snag a full ride at a decent school, but in the end, all her degree got here was a low-level office job.
Now as Catherine, she was thanking her lucky stars. Her generals would especially be useful in covering the curriculum for the Avalon Academy.
All it took me was getting transported into another world for those classes to be useful! Catherine thought to herself.
Given this, preparing for the school year ended up taking very little time. Which on the one hand was a good thing but on the other hand. Well, it was one less thing that could occupy her.
Now she was idly walking through the estate, hoping something interesting would jump out at her.
Catherine eventually ended up in front of the library. She thought about going in but decided against it.
When she first discovered it the other day, she figured that this would end up being her main source of entertainment. Unfortunately, there was very little in the way of riveting literature.
The brunt of the reading material consisted of business acumen, various lectures on a variety of boring subjects, dictionaries, glossaries, and just about anything that would double as a sleep aid.
What was of slight interest was the history books. They were about as dry as the rest, but at least they were useful. Catherine could only force herself to read these for so long, but it was good to get a general idea of the world she was now living in.
The Kingdom of Avalon was the capital of a country called Cona. Cona itself was an island country smack dab in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and the language and culture stemmed from Great Britain. Which wasn't a big surprise as they had occupied Cona for many years.
Much like in the other reality, Britain's stranglehold on the world had slowly started to slip throughout the years, and with help from various other countries who were eager for more lucrative trading with Cona. British occupation was eventually ousted.
After gaining their freedom, the people of Cona in a baffling move gave it away again, when they voluntarily reinstated a monarchy.
A modern-day outsider would most likely question the choice, but the people of Cona were highly devoted to the royal family.
After removing the puppet king inserted by the British the Andsor family took their rightful place on the throne. The Andsors were no slouches; they played a key role in the revolution and were considered by most to be benevolent rulers.
Despite it almost being of interest to her. Most of this probably wouldn't end up mattering that much to Catherine. Regardless, it was good to know. It probably would end up being on some kind of test anyway.
It would have mattered a great deal more if she were to actually end up marrying her fiance Isiah, but there was already an understanding that it wasn't going to happen.
Other than the history there were a handful of seemingly out-of-place fiction books.
Catherine wondered how these ended up here in the first place, and she could only imagine it was some kind of mistake.
They consisted of adventure stories, a few romances, and a drama. Nothing that would've particularly piqued her interest as Claire, but beggars couldn't be choosers.
She was quite desperate, and she would've chosen to read more of them today, but there was one small problem. Catherine had already finished all of them.
She was kicking herself for not pacing it out better, but there was no helping it. She was truly bored out of her mind!
Catherine couldn't ask her brother or her father for anything to read. Even if they didn't blow her off it was unlikely they would have anything suited to her tastes.
Those two look like the type to curl up by the fire with a good tax return, Catherine thought to herself.
Elizabeth once again came to the rescue. Well, kinda. She provided a single beat-up pocketbook. Unfortunately, her literary ability was significantly lower, and the book reflected it.
Again beggars couldn't be choosers and Catherine accepted it graciously, but it only took about an hour for her to finish. So she was back to square one.
Catherine did have business in the city today, and she planned to buy more books after she finished with her appointment. However, killing time until then was what she was doing in the first place.
So getting more reading material after the fact didn't help with the current predicament. So Catherine had no choice but to move on.
She eventually found herself in the living room, which was a misnomer because no living soul ever resided there. It was a waste, as the construction of the room was truly magnificent.
Large bay windows, expensive furniture, and a gigantic ornate fireplace. Not to mention the Grand piano that appeared to serve as the centerpiece for the whole space.
Hmmm, a piano, Catherine thought to herself.
She'd never given this much credence, but the previous Catherine had put an extensive amount of time into practicing playing. Emilia had been very adept, and as a child, Catherine had strived to follow in her footsteps.
Even after the death of her mother, Catherine still kept at it until she was a teenager, before getting fed up with the whole thing.
It seemed like a waste. Claire never had a chance to play any instruments. It never bothered her too much. Her interest had always been mostly casual, but it did seem like fun.
Presently Catherine was well aware that five years of atrophy probably left her with very little skill. Still, it was worth a shot. Besides, what else was she going to do?
She opened the piano seat to leaf through the sheet music. One would expect the inside to be extremely dusty, as no one in the house ever used the instrument anymore. Despite all that, just like the rest of the house. The inside of the seat was completely immaculate.
After rifling through all of the music Catherine decided that the easiest piece was the first movement of Moonlight Sonata. She had hoped that there were some practice books to help her get into the swing of things, but there were none.
Thinking about it she seemed to recall some sort of dramatic incident involving Catherine, all of her practice books, and a fire.
Best not to dwell on these things.
Catherine set the sheet music on the rack and sat down. She looked over the notes for a long while. Unfortunately, this did not magically improve her skills so she figured it was best to just start.
It could only be described as rough. She played the right notes…mostly, but the whole thing felt stilted.
But with no one breathing down her neck, there was no cause to feel self-conscious. When she finished the song, she simply started over again, and little by little she felt herself improving.
* * *
The Duke exited his office, officially finished with his paperwork. There was a short-lived feeling of satisfaction, before the realization set in that Arthur much like his daughter also had nothing to do.
This was the consequence of dedicating your life to your work. When you had no work you had no life.
The answer to this conundrum was simple…find more work. So the Duke was off to see if he could busy himself with something.
It was mostly a foolish endeavor at any rate. He was more or less instantly notified if anything needed attention. So looking for more work turned into wandering around the estate.
However when passing the door to the living room he couldn't help but be alerted to the unmistakable sound of a piano playing.
Who could possibly be playing that old thing? The duke thought to himself.
He listened through the door. The playing was amateur. The notes were stilted, and occasionally a wrong note would be played. This was followed by a short pause before the song would resume.
Despite how bad it was Duke Blackwood couldn't help but feel like it had a pleasant quality to it.
He slowly opened the door, to see Catherine sitting at the piano. Despite her white hair, he had a strong sense that at this moment she was the very visage of Emilia.
"Catherine?" He called out.
Startled by the sudden presence of another person she gave a slight jump and the song ended. She turned around and stared blankly at her father.
"I see you've taken up the piano again," said the duke.
She smiled a little at this.
"'Taken up' is somewhat generous. It just seemed like a good way of passing the time."
"Ah I see"
He shifted around slightly before he resumed speaking.
"Would you like to start taking lessons again?"
Catherine tilted her head as she thought about it. The Duke lost confidence in his suggestion as soon as there wasn't an immediate answer.
"Well…it was just a suggestion at any rate, but with school starting I understand that you probably won't have time for that-."
Catherine put her hand up, cutting him off.
"My studies shouldn't interfere with it, I'd love to take you up on your offer Father," she looked up at the clock. "But right now I have an appointment that I must keep, we can hammer out the details later."
With that she bid her father adieu and left the room, however, the Duke lingered.
He made his way over to the piano and fiddled with the keys. Catherine had been going into the city a lot lately. It was very unlike her.
Everything she did now was "unlike her." He supposed he should be happy. For the first time in years, the house was a peaceful place to be, but Arthur couldn't help but be anxious.
Catherine had been a source of anxiety for a long time now, but it wasn't her he blamed. When Emilia died the Duke neglected his children, this much was true. But he didn't do so on purpose.
He was clouded by a deep depression, and as a coping mechanism, he immersed himself in his work to avoid reality.
He eventually snapped out of it, but the realization took years. Knowing full well that he had forsaken his children when they needed him most, brought on an immense sense of guilt that the duke still hadn't gotten over.
He could face his son. Arthur the III had been able to adjust well enough, but that was to be expected.
His son's life had already been laid out before him, he was always going to follow in his father's footsteps. He just started a little earlier is all.
The Duke hoped that maybe Jr. would eventually lighten up a bit on his work ethic. It pained him that he had inadvertently taught his son that there was nothing more to life than making money, but for now, he wasn't too worried about Arthur the III's future.
Catherine on the other hand was a completely different story. She didn't have a clear path in life like her brother did, and by the time the Duke had come back to this plane of reality, his daughter was completely foreign to him.
The sweet little girl he once knew was now a terror. She at the very least respected his authority, but even with that the duke still had no idea how to approach her.
This compounded his guilt, and he couldn't bring himself to come back to her. He knew he was just making things worse, but he could never steal his resolve to try and patch things up.
Now it had happened again, the person he thought he knew seemed completely foreign.
Catherine had become exceedingly eccentric as of late, but if that was the only change he wouldn't have been worried.
It was how distant, cold, and calculating she'd become. At least before when Catherine was angry he could always tell what she was thinking, but now he had no idea.
If she had let go of her anger he would consider that she had just finally matured out of her inclinations, but the duke wasn't so sure of that. It seemed like she had just switched the targets of her rage.
Catherine had fully embraced Elizabeth as a friend, and while she didn't treat the rest of the staff with the same warmness she was always cordial with them. The duke was unaware of the incident at the restaurant so from his perspective it seemed like the only people who upset her now were him and her brother.
Often at dinner, he'd catch looks of pure contempt directed at the both of them. However once Catherine noticed she was being perceived, she'd switch back to a neutral expression like nothing ever happened.
Impotent rage was easier to dismiss, but Catherine hiding her true emotions was disconcerting, to say the least. He'd understand why she would be mad. He expected one day she would finally lose all respect for him, but why wouldn't she just say it outright?
He tried to reason with himself. That this new attitude was a much-needed improvement, and that learning to hold one's tongue was a necessity if you wanted to get anywhere in high society.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something major had changed, and the ultimate result of that wasn't going to be pleasant.