Chapter 27
Having a little more coin to spare, Kyle and I set out to acquire new sets of clothing and shoes. Naturally, this meant venturing beyond the destitute shops of our humble district, where the wares were of such abysmal quality that one might as well wrap their feet in paper and pray for the best.
And so, into the noble shopping district we went. I dragged a rather apprehensive Kyle into a men's shoes shop that was respectable in size, though hardly extravagant. The moment we crossed the threshold, Kyle stiffened like a man about to be sentenced.
"Ann, love," he muttered as his eyes darted around the establishment. "them prices ain't right. The boots I got now do just fine."
I held his hand firmly, not allowing him even a fraction of escape. "No, you are getting proper boots this time," I declared, beaming at him with a dazzling smile.
He was not charmed. His gaze flickered to the price tags. "They cost a bloody fortune, love," he whispered.
An attendant approached and scanned us with the thinly veiled curiosity of a man wondering how two peasants had wandered into sacred territory. The audacity. Had he never seen a commoner before? My goodness, the sheer judgment radiating off this man! And yet, I was in no position to complain considering I, myself, was the most judgmental person I knew.
"I believe you may be in the wrong place," the attendant said.
I responded with a polite smile. "We are precisely where we need to be. We have come to purchase a fine pair of boots for this lovely man."
The attendant hesitated, his eyes flicking once more over Kyle. After a brief moment, the man nodded. "Sir, please follow me."
Kyle had no choice but to leave with the attendant. As for myself, I was just about to settle into a nearby chair when a voice called out from behind me.
"My Lady…"
By instinct, I turned. And there she was. Laura. Ah, Laura. And that wretched title I had long since set ablaze and hurled into the abyss.
Lady.
It had been quite some time since I last heard it, and no, I did not miss it. I was, regrettably, born into a noble family. I would rather keep that detail buried, though it clings to me like a curse. In truth, I had deliberately withheld the title. Yet it was there, threaded through every word Cecilia or Laura ever uttered to me. Always "My Lady." Millicent, every noble and every servant called me "Lady Florence."
I had hoped to keep that nonsense buried, but alas, Laura had shattered my fragile illusion with just two words. Has her loyalty to me wavered in my absence? I vanish from her life, and suddenly, she decide to betray me like this?
Laura Cooper. A few months prior to the Vaneeri ball that summer, she had been among the four newly appointed maids assigned to my service. As I am now three and twenty, she ought to be four and twenty by now.
That summer, I lay sprawled upon a bench beneath the shade of a great willow tree, my head resting upon Cecilia's lap as though the very heavens had crafted such a spot for my leisure. A small smile graced her lips as she indulged me with peanuts, placing them delicately in my mouth one by one. The sunlight filtered through the cascading branches, casting a dappled glow upon us.
A rustling sound from the side disturbed my tranquil afternoon. A small cluster of women approaching with hesitant steps.
The head maid, Sarah, led them forward. "My Lady," she intoned formally, "I have brought the new maids to greet you."
I did not move. I merely allowed my gaze to drift toward them. "Welcome," I said with a faint, almost lazy smile, twirling a strand of Cecilia's dark hair around my finger. "I do hope you last longer than the last ones."
A wave of uneasy curtsies followed. Not one of them dared meet my eyes. Whether out of fear or because they were too entranced by my presence.
My lips curled into a slow, wicked smile as I observed the new maids squirm beneath my gaze. I tilted my head ever so slightly, my eyes narrowing with mock interest as I regarded them as one might inspect a line of prize cattle. "Fresh meat."
One poor soul, Lily, bit her lip as though she were weighing the possibility of fleeing.
"Oh, do not fret," I drawled, stretching languidly as I lay upon Cecilia's lap. "I do not bite." A pause. "Unless, of course, you believe I might."
Cecilia merely shook her head, a smile gracing her lips.
"You see, dear maids, I am quite harmless," I continued airily. "Unless, of course, you are dreadfully dull. Then, I am afraid, I shall be forced to create my own amusement."
A soft chuckle escaped Cecilia as she idly combed her fingers through my hair. "You ought not to frighten them, My Lady. They might not last a week if you keep at it."
"Ah, but where is the fun in that?" I sighed. "Must I behave like a proper lady? How terribly tedious."
One of them, clearly attempting to summon some courage, stepped forward. "It is an honor to serve you, My Lady."
"An honor, you say? How positively delightful. I do wonder if you shall still think so after I sever one of your fingers and… eat it."
The poor girl went so rigid, I half-expected her soul to flee her body on the spot.
My grin widened. "Oh, I jest. Or do I? Who can say?" I leaned back onto Cecilia's lap. "Perhaps you shall follow in the footsteps of the last batch of maids. Who, if I recall, fled before the month's end."
"My Lady," Cecilia chastised gently. Her voice was a soothing balm against my devilry. "Perhaps you should not terrify them quite so much on their first day."
"Oh, very well, Cecilia. But truly, if they cannot withstand a bit of playful banter, they shall find their time here rather miserable, do you not think?"
Cecilia's serene smile did not waver. "Not everyone is accustomed to your unique sense of humor."
I smirked. "Is that what we are calling it now? My 'unique sense of humor?'"
The maids stood frozen in place, unsure whether to breathe, curtsy, or flee. The air was thick with tension, their gazes skittering away from mine as though meeting my eyes might summon some unspeakable doom upon them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, Laura mustered the courage to step forward.
"I greet you, My Lady," she said. Her voice was steady despite the clear weight of her hesitation. "My name is Laura Cooper. I am eighteen years old this year. I look forward to serving you to the best of my abilities."
Her appearance? Not the sort to inspire sonnets, nor the kind to turn heads in every ballroom she entered. But pretty. Yes, that was the word. Shoulder-length brown hair, deep black eyes, and shorter than me. Though, in fairness, most women seemed to be shorter than me.
She was my loyal maid, my accomplice, my friend. Though Laura, at the time, had no inkling of the role she would eventually play in a rather gruesome affair.