Small and tender fingers gripped unto the slim length of a quill as it attempted to make steady and clear words from shaky letters on a parchment. The fingers and the coach quarreled long; both stubborn to fulfill it’s task. Light streamed unto the parchment, on the small suit case, on small laps, from the slightly cracked window blind, letting in a small contrast to the rather dark coach.
“What so serious about, darling?” a deep voice asked from the other side of the coach.
The dark figure who just spoke flinched, as he could feel and almost definitely see the made out gray of the little eyes in the dark, as it threw him a glare. The dark figure knew his little lady remained angry; as he had numerously in one day, annoyed her and the sun was yet to set on his sins.
“Darling, I thought I had explained my self and apologized too. Why do you continue to punish me with your silence?” the man in the dark asked, but yet again met with silence. Though this time spared the anguish of her glare, he could feel words screamed at him in a familiar little and soft voice, where there was none a sound, safe the coach that rocked on.
He had always felt that way about her or better yet, she had always been that way. The air around her never quite seemed playful even as she played. One would always worry not to offend her. The coach stopped, signaling his time to face death; as they had arrived their destination. He hurried out of the coach to open her side of the coach door, but the coach man had beat him to it. He, like every one in his household, showed more loyalty to her than they ever did him.
The coach doors opened and little silver rested shoes came first as it graced the stone paved grounds. Hair, white enough to make snow hide in shame, demanded attention, as it flowed down a small back adorned by a cream lace-on-satin dress. Dark brows framed angry gray eyes on a silky almost pale face.
“Lucy, you must swallow your anger. Every noble lady your age must attend some sort of education by royal decree. This is every growing lady’s fate.” the man scolded.
“No papa, there is no fate. There is only me and what I allow happen to me.” Lucy answered, straightening her dress.
“The world does not work that way, my darling.” her father sighed.
“Let’s talk no more of this, papa. I am already here.” Lucy said, looking round the courtyard. The path was stoned to the door way. A fountain stood at the center of the walkway. Well trimmed grass and shrubs adorned the courtyard.
“Promise me you will stay in school and make the most of it.” her father said. Lucy finally turned after taking in the courtyard and looked up at him with blank eyes.
“I promise to make the most of it.” she said, relieving the ginger haired man to smile at last. He kissed her forehead before returning to the couch to return home. Only then did he realize she only promised to make the most of it, making his worried face return.
Lucy did not take note of the helps that took in her luggage, she only looked straight ahead as she walked towards the door of the building laid out like a small castle. A tall woman waited for her at the entrance with her head high, hair tied into a tight bun and hand clapped in front of her.
“Welcome to Courtkruff ladies academy, Lady Torgenn. I am Mattel Muburg. I’m you chief maid. If you would follow me, my lady.” the older woman said and started to walk away.
“Its Lady Wickshire. Have that corrected immediately” Lucy instructed making the older woman pause for a bit allowing Lucy to walk past her into the building. The older woman hurried after her.
“I’m sorry, my lady. I was told to expect Lady Torgenn. If you would please wait for me to verify with my superior.” the woman made a small bow and dashed away. Lucy did not wait, instead took time to look around. She soon found herself in a grand hall and it seemed like it was being prepared for an ball.
Mrs Muburg soon found her and rushed over.
“Please, there has been a misunderstanding. We do not have a Lady Wickshire in our accounts. If you would please come with me to the headmistress.” Mrs Muburg said.
“Have that sorted soon” Lucy said as she continued strolling, her eyes frozen in a deep gaze as it took in the room. Mrs Muburg’s person flustered as she immediately turned and rushed back to her superior.
“Madame, the lady insists it be sorted fast.” Mrs Muburg said. The older woman stared at Mrs Muburg in anger, before turning towards the headmistress’ office. She knocked twice before allowed in by the voice inside. Behind the large desk sat a lanky lady and before her, a man well known to all of them.
“Forgive me my lady, we have a bit of an issue.” the older woman said.
“What?” the headmistress asked.
“We were expecting a Lady Torgenn today, instead a Lady Wickshire turned up.” the woman explained.
“Who? There is no such person in our books.”
“Exactly, my lady.”
“It is the same person.” the man sitting before the headmistress said.
“What do you mean, Wensworth?” the headmistress asked him.
“The person mostly known as Lady Torgenn is really in formality, Lady Wickshire. That’s her formal title” Wensworth explained.
“Answering a different title from her father?” the headmistress scoffed.
“That’s the level of her importance” Wensworth answered.
“Quickly, get her to her chambers. Have her well taken care of.” the headmistress ordered. The older woman immediately turned and passed down the information as she rushed out of the office. It did not take long for Mrs Muburg to be seen hurrying through the halls looking for Lucy but to no avail. She started to wonder if the lady had returned home after the long delay. Her thoughts immediately went to the headmistress, who she knew would not hesitate to fire her in a second. She soon recognized the white hair that fell down a slender small back when she rushed into the drawing room. She took a second to calm her self before approaching the lady.
“Sorted?” the soft voice asked without sparing her a glance.
“Forgive me my lady, I’m completely at fault.” Mrs Muburg apologized. Lucy remained silent, as she started to walk away.
“Hurry up” she said softly to the older woman. Soon she was led into luxurious chambers, where before her waited two girls Lucy was sure were in their early mids1 of life.
“They are Shilla and Taylor. They are you personal maids. What ever you need I’m confident we can make it happen.” Mrs Muburg said, as the two girls curtsied.
“Are you, now?” Lucy commented, her tone fairly amused.
“What is happening tonight?” Lucy asked.
“There is a welcome ball.” Shilla, the much slimmer girl answered.
“Shall we start looking for what to wear?” Taylor asked. Lucy did not answer as she found her way to a chair and sat.
“The pale yellow dress with the soft lacing” She said, before looking out the window to discover a backyard garden. She ignored the maids for a while before getting up and heading to the where she found warm water waiting behind a screen. She quietly stripped and got in. After a while of cleaning she got out and dressed before she took her dinner. It was a while before she was dressed and ready for the ball. The maids were awkwardly quiet as they had no idea what to do. They were all experienced in their work. The least of years any of them had worked, was five years. Yet, this was the first time they had ever met a young lady that made them this uncomfortable. Her choice of clothes were plain and she wore no jewelery even though they had seen quite a lot while unpacking her belongings. They led her out of the room, through different halls and into the ballroom. They were unfashionably late, cutting into the headmistress’ speech.
A man stood by the corner completely bored out of his mind. His suit, expensive and sharp while he leaned on the wall lazily. His ears perked up as silence momentarily seized the room. He looked up to find the source of the silence; a lady had arrived late. Her maids following behind her, before finding a corner aside as their lady stole the attention. Some second later, the headmistress continued her speech. He took in the lady’s plain clothes. He noticed she wore no jewelery as his eyes made its way to her face. Though he was sure he had never set eyes on her before, he knew exactly who she was. Overlooking the glaring white hair; a symbol of her identity, he saw the look in her eyes. She had power and she knew it.
She was exactly the client he needed, Wensworth thought as he glanced at all that ladies in the ball room. She was the most mysterious of them all. His face paused into a frown as he saw a chubby man approach her.
Lucy stood like a statue as the eyes of the room feasted on her.
“Hello, I’m Jo Jodanham.” a chubby man introduced. Lucy maintained a blank expression as she replied.
“Its an honor, my lady. I am an asset manager. My lady, if any time in future you need such, I am your man.”
“Asset manager? I’ve never heard of such.”
“Its a highly respectable profession, my lady. I, for example, would manage you possessions in your stead, so you do not need to bother about details and numbers.”
“I’ll tell it to you straight, Mr. Jodanham. I have no intention of letting anyone manage my assets. No one in this room at all. I’m going to assume you are not the only asset manager here.”
“Oh, of course not. But there are others from other professions.”
“What assets does a lady truly have that her drawer cannot manage? A respectable profession? You all here are at the bottom of the carrier chain, if so. But you are in luck Jodanham.” Lucy said mildly, silencing the now sweating fat man. The way her eyes pierced his, it was as though she knew who he was. As though, his secrets were before her eyes.
“Though I have no need for these asset managers, I do need an obedient boy. One who would do as told. As for the money involved, I’m sure a man such as you self, can always do with more money. If you are interested, then leave you address with my maid; the redhead wearing pale pink bow on her weave. Good night.” Lucy said and turned away.
Mr. Jodanham stood frozen in place as he watched the lady stroll away. Only then did he notice he was sweating in the rather airy room. Only once in his live was he ever as scared as he was just then. Something about the way she looked at him, which made him scared out of his mind. He did not know if to run or do as she said. Though all she did was make an offer, he felt it more like a command, and he knew somewhere in his heart that he would be seeking death by disobeying her. As if led by chin, he walked over to the maid and left his address. Though he felt a relief from the knowledge he had escaped a horrid experience, he felt as if he had just signed away his life on that address and only he could fathom why.
Lucy stood a while and watched as others conversed and made small talk before leaving for the night. Her maids followed her back to her chambers where they helped her change and settle in.
When the night sang of silence, Lucy decided to know for her self, every part of the school. She walked round in the dark with nothing but the lamp lit in the hallways to guide her way. As she walked, a lot went through her mind. She wondered why the headmistress gave her three maids when all others had one. Clearly a school such as this had people of more importance and status than she, especially amongst ignorant women. Unless the criteria for importance was totally different. If so, why was she awarded such confusion on her first day. She recalled who the ladies referred to as the headmistress. The stiff young woman in her early mids1. She remembered how for a moment the woman’s eyes had rested on her.
“Who goes there?” asked a male voice.
“I am known as Lady Wickshire.” Lucy answered the voice in the dark.
“Forgive me, my lady.” the voice replied and a young boy no younger than nineteen stepped into the light. Light possessed his sandy blond hair, causing him to look much older than he should be.
“What are you called?” Lucy asked.
“Walter, my lady. Walter Krain”
“Are you alone, Walter?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Lucy suddenly had a thought. She assessed the young boy before her. She knew what she needed. Trusting anyone in this school is a stupid thing to do. She needed someone that could come and go as pleased. Someone no one knew about.
“Do you live here?”
“No, I live in the nearby village.”
“I would like you to deliver something for me, Walter. I will pay in gold.”
“As long as you remain discreet as you do so, then you shall be rewarded. Can I trust you with this task?”
“Yes, my lady.” Walter hurriedly answered after a moment of pause.
“Good.” Lucy walking into the light for the first time. Walter stared into eyes reflected by light. Her white nightgown and white hair made her out as ghostly.
“Heed my words, Walter Krain. When I ask of you a task, fail if you must, but do not be found failing. If you are found or tell of my acts to any but those instructed to you or even dismiss my instructions, I will gift you death to take home for all of yours same of blood to share. Instead stay as you are and change to what you could be by my side, you will not be disappointed.”
Walter felt a chill down his spine as he took in the lady’s words. He was a boy just nineteen years of age and before him, was a girl he was sure was just approaching her twelve-thirteen years. Yet, she held the ability to turn him stiff in fear.
“I will keep my word, my lady.” Walter managed to say.
“Good. Can you find your way to the last window facing the west garden?” Lucy asked.
“Of course my lady.” Walter answered quickly.
“Be there in 20 minutes.” she instructed and immediately retreated into the dark. Lucy found her way back to her room. She took a piece of parchment and carefully wrote down instructions. She retrieved the contact which Mr. Jodanham had left with her maid and placed it on the two envelopes, each containing a letter. It did not take long before she heard a knock on her window. She got up to open it. She passed the letters as well as the contact address to Walter standing just outside her window.
“To that address. Give the smaller letter first to no one but the name on that address. Only after he signs it, are you to give him the second. Do only as I have instructed. Retrieve the signed letter from him before you leave. Return this to me this time tomorrow and I will pay.”
“Okay.” Walter hastily answered from the other side of the window.
“That is all.”
“I’ll take my leave then.”
He wasted no time. He mounted his horse and rode out from the school. He had taken a good look at the address and it was far into town, in the opposite direction of his village. He knew this job would take him a while and somewhere in his mind, he worried what his father would say when he arrived home. He shook the thought off his mind as he silently nudged ahead his horse. After an hour rushed ride in the biting cold, Walter felt eager to be done with his instructions. He had arrived the said address, so he paused for a breath. He walked up the stone steps leading towards the large door. With two knocks, a lanky man answered.
“Yes.” Walter heard a shrill voice say.
“I have a package for Mr. Jodanham.” Walter answered.
“Hand it over.” the lanky man said.
“You are not Mr. Jodanham.” Walter said as a fact. Though, he had never met the man in question, he knew such a man would not open his own door.
“I will collect it for him. Don’t waste my time, boy. Hand it over.” the man sounded irritated.
“My instructions were clear. Only Mr. Jodanham may collect this and no one else. It is best you inform him of this. This is not a matter he can over look.” Walter said.
“I am not allowing you dirty thing in here.” the man snorted.
“Then I suggest you start searching for another employer. I guarantee you will loose this one if you don’t inform him.” Walter warned. The lanky man frowned, but retreated inside for a while before returning.
“Come in.” Walter followed the begrudged man inside. It took him a while to adjust to the light inside, but he eventually took in the empty space. Though the house stood big and sturdy, it was devoid of much furniture. The lanky man led him upstairs to a large door. The lanky man knocked twice before opening the door for Walter to enter. Walter stepped into another empty space; except for the books and documents scattered around the room and the single shelf by the corner, a large desk sat before him. On the other side of the desk, sat a chubby man with his nose in a book.
“Who are you and what do you want?” the man grumbled, completely annoyed about being disturbed.
“I have a package for you.” Walter said dropping the first envelope on the desk. Mr. Jodanham glanced briefly at the boy before opening the package. It was a letter. One look and he knew who it was from. He was clear what she wanted from him. It was a contract. One that not only binds him but his future. Until released from her service, he must do as told and with the utmost discretion. The room suddenly felt hot and stuffy as he stared at the paper before him.
“Sign it.” Walter said before he could stop himself.
“What makes you think you can forget your place and start giving me advice?” Mr. Jodanham said in anger.
“It wasn’t an advise, it was an order.” Walter said passively.
“What?” Mr. Jodanham frowned.
“The letter, it’s an order. When she gives you something to sign, it means you must. Why are you still thinking? It’s dark and I have to be done with this.” Walter said.
He knew he had no place to tell the man what to do but, looking at him hesitate made Walter frown. He had met the lady and he was sure of one thing; she was not giving the man before him an option, but an order. Mr. Jodanham signed below and looked up to find Walter’s stretched hand. He returned it to Walter and Walter handed him the second letter.
“I’ll take my leave now.” Walter turned and left Mr. Jodanham staring at the door he just closed.
A noble man garbed in gray, sat in his town home, his eyes fixed upon his swirling tea than the chess pieces before him. His opponent, a round study man, glaring so hard at him, one would wonder what kind of chess they were playing.
“You can not reject the queen, Haye. As the Duke of Crystal-mot, you have an obligation....”
“To the king, Lord Rhog. Not the queen.”
“We all know she usually gets what she wants, my friend. Is it wise to openly stand against her?” Lord Rhog asked.
“Openly? My dear friend, the queen’s petty schemes has not a speck of dust in my nightmares.”
“Lord Stellden, you have always been one incapable of knowing when to fear.” Lord Rhog said in frustration. He feared for his old time friend. The queen schemes, yes. But this time, she is dead set on making this happen. She has every intention of seizing the kingdom by force if necessary. You hold high regards for death, yet less for fear?”
“No, my dear old friend. It is you who has not opened a ciere2 with death, not I.” Lord Stellden said.
“For once, my friend.... the queen is clear to those in her trust who her enemy is.”
“The same enemy you ought not make yours, Lord Rhog. I am willing to bet that the queen’s agitation is not from her enemy but from her supporters. If I can stand on my wealth of experience, I’d say others, even in the king’s counsel, are standing on theirs.” Lord Stellden warned.
“Why can’t you all see sense? The opposition and the queen, I am sure the one with power is as clear as a roster’s burnt behind.”
“Power, my friend is not of he who holds the cards nor the one who uses it. It is he who sees those who hold and those who use and even those who see as well. Rumors of Lady Wickshire and whispers are more than whispers. The queen is trying to drown by doing this and I’m wiling to bet she will.” Lord Stellden sipped his tea.
The king of Juhntt laid on his bed, light in thought unlike his physician whose bald head and brows greased with sweat.
“My king, you need not resort to this.” he protested, earning a look from the king.
“My wife intends me dead. You confirmed the potent nature of this slow killing drought yourself.”
“Then handle it, sire. As king, you can....” the physician started.
“Oh, I’m well aware of what I can or cannot do to my wife. But I’m sure there shall be protest from her supporters. People supposed to support me.”
“Then why pretend that the potion lives within you doing as intended?”
“My dear wife thinking I’m dying will not try to kill me and this is time more than ever to retract myself from her company.”
“She has with her own hands, started a fight she cannot win. It is but her greed alone that drew her to the cleaver’s edge.”
“She intends to have total control of the council. Trying to flush the power of Lady Wickshire is her error. But what has this got to do with lying about your health?”
“And right she is. The Lady Wickshire has in her command too many in my service and everyone’s service. But trying to fight her head on is her error. This is where I step aside as she falls, pretending to be dying as she intends me to.”
“And the Lady Wickshire? Will she actually stand against the queen? She seems in every way, aloof of the queen’s plans”
“I don’t fancy my self wise in the matters of the lady, my friend. But one ought not to be scared when she does something, but when she does nothing. Given that she rarely does a thing, one ought to wonder what might happen if she does.” the king said, his voice a shade of grave never heard by his friend before.
Lucy’s day in her books was as uneventful as could be. After an hour in morning class learning the different types of tea and supposed meaning as to different circumstances, she went in for lunch only to have it cut short by a visitor. She now sat in the drawing room waiting for this unknown person with her maid, Shilla standing behind her. Lucy recognized the man that walked in; it was Lord Morge. The grim look on his face set a contrast to his light brown coat and shinny combed back black hair. She noticed Shilla’s looming presence as she neither stepped back or excused herself instead curtsies and remains in place as she sees the lord walk in. The Earl of Morge kisses Lucy’s raised hand before sitting.
“Do you have something for me?” Lucy asked.
“Forgive me my lady, I’ve failed you. During my watch, the diamonds went missing.” Lord Morge said, his voice a worse shade of grim than his face.
“Were you thinking it’d be there?” Lucy asked.
“It was only a matter of time. Some have started to loose faith in my ability, this is to be expected.” Lucy said offhandedly.
“Do you have an idea who?” Lucy asked.
“Rumor has it the Mclears are openly trying to drown you.”
“Rumor or they truly are open about their intentions?”
“They think your father is the one they fight, my lady. What do you want to do about them?”
“Oh, let them be for now. Be ready to take from them, though.”
“Everything.” Lucy said. Lord Morge looked at the soft face before him. He felt a chill down his spine. One would think that look on her face innocent, but he knew better. That look was anger. He kissed her raised hand with caution, before leaving in haste. Lucy remain silent for a while before calling to Shilla. The maid walked round to face Lucy before curtsying.
“Tell me, Shilla, did you learn any thing useful?”
“My lady?” Shilla’s eyes filled with confusion.
“I have had a thought. If I owned this institution and I wanted to know what the ladies of heighten positions were up to; what they talked about, what they knew of their families and their businesses, I’d have a system were I’d receive reports; know when their letters are in, so I can see it contents first. But you see, this plan of mine would be terribly flawed. I would need a key; the maids. Those that walked behind the ladies hearing their whispers, knowing exactly when they receive a letter, write one, get any thing from home and whisper as secrets.” Lucy paused letting the room soak her words.
Shilla felt the back of her dress soak with sweat she could swear before the king, could not possibly be hers. She looked before the young lady. Those grey eyes pierced her deeply as if it saw all and she knew that if the head maid or headmistress found out that the lady suspected something, she would go missing like others before her. She could not move or breathe, for fear that the lady would see.
“If you owned a school such as this, would you not consider this?” Lucy asked, her face as straight as ever, her eyes though trained on her maid, had a look starved of care for the matter of which she spoke of.
“And if a maid could not keep discrete, I could get creative with their service. What say you?” Lucy asked. The pause was deep, as though everything had frozen in place. A knock on the door brought air into the room Shilla did not know was absent. Taylor walked in and curtsied to Lucy.
“I’m here to release Shilla. The head maid asks to see her.” Taylor said. Shilla thought an earth quake just seized the room as she could not stop shaking.
“You are released Shilla. Go. It is an institutional necessity.” Lucy said, a soft smile gracing her lips.
Shilla soon stood before the headmistress’ door. She was supposed to report to the head maid but was redirected to the headmistress. She took in two deep breaths as her thoughts scattered in different directions. She remembered the look on the Lady Wickshire’s face and fear like never before settled in her heart. She could walk in there and tell what she had heard. After all, she did not want to disappear. She knew the choice before her was clear. This is what she was employed to do and she had every intention of doing it right. Knocking twice, a calm voice called for her to come in. She walked into the office with a confidence she had never before experienced.
“Report.” the headmistress ordered without looking up.
“Pardon?” she found her self asking the lady before her.
“Are you new?” the headmistress frowned.
“No, headmistress” Shilla answered. For some reason, she had lost all fear.
“Then, why do you need to be told what to do?” the lady asked.
“I’m sorry headmistress, I still do not understand.” Shilla maintained her ignorance.
“What did the Earl of Morge want, that he came all the way to see the Lady Wickshire?”
“Oh, that. Forgive me headmistress, it seems there is a meeting he is attending and was entrusted to deliver painting drafts to my lady.” Shilla found herself answering.
“My lady says, its a... hand sketch of... the final outcome of the painting for... her tea room.” Shilla found words from some where she was sure not her head.
“Hmm?” the headmistress raised a brow in confusion.
“One of my lady’s brilliant ideas.” Shilla said.
“You may leave.” the headmistress said and Shilla curtsied and left.
The headmistress watched the maid leave as she sat on her large oak desk, dazed. Her brows pinched together as she seemed deep in thought. Too long did she remain so, that she did not notice the man who entered and lazily leaned on the office door.
“My lady?” she finally said the words she had heard Shilla repeat too many times, a graceful frown stealing her face. Something about the way Shilla said those words when referring to the Lady Wickshire bothered her. She knew, only once has she heard a phrase feel like that. When? She could not remember.
“That look on your face says, you’re in a state. The maid that just left, is it she you put in the lady’s entourage?” A deep voice echoed its question, waking the headmistress from her trance. The man dressed in a sharp brown coat, strolled over and took a seat before her. The headmistress did not look up, as she knew who it was that spoke.
“The way that maid kept repeating the words, ‘my lady’ when referring to that girl, was unsettling.” the headmistress said.
“The Lady Wickshire is after all, her lady.” the man answered.
“Yes. Forget it. It’s nothing but my mind making up trolls to unsettle me. What I want to know is how you knew that it was the Lady Wickshire in question that I referred to.”
“She is your most recent acquisition thus, the client you promised me.” the man answered with a snort. The headmistress looked up for the first time since the man made himself known, into sharp blue eyes glazed with hints of impatience. She found the man in her presence terribly attractive yet too much below her to pursue, much more concoct thoughts of love. There was something about the way he paused his lips and rubbed his hairless chin, that stopped her heart.
“She just arrived and settled in. It would take time to deliver and you know that.” she said.
“That is only because you have schemes in your head towards the lady.”
“My, Wensworth, what ever do you mean?” she feigned ignorance.
“Anne, do you know why she is referred to as the Lady Wickshire?” Wensworth asked, “Her family title was that of an Earldom till only few years ago; His Majesty gifts her father Lord Torgenn, the Wickshire fortress. A territory that is accompanied by a dukedom. Her father remains as to this day, Lord Torgenn; maintaining his position as an Earl while his daughter stands, the duchess of Wickshire.”
“She’s daddy’s little pet. Everyone with a brain is well aware of how dotting her father is on matters of her.” the headmistress snorted.
“No, Anne. As true as that may be, what you do not know is that there is a trend of some sort in the Wickshire dukedom that extends into the Torgenn earldom. As I hear, I believe the saying is; the Lady Wickshire is the beginning and end. Her father maybe doting, but what about the higher social class? Sure, the women may not be informed, as not so much concerns or is allowed to concern them, but never will you find more secretive noble gents than when talk sways towards the Lady Wickshire.” Wensworth said, getting up, “I have things to see to. You promised me an opening to have her as a client. Make it happen.” Wensworth buttoned his coat, then strolled out.
Lucy made her way to have dinner. She sat at the head of a table in a well furnished dinning hall filled with ladies seated in groups as they took their light dinner. She sat in silence as Taylor rushed to get her meal arranged.
“Hello.” a small voice called for her attention. Lucy looked towards the voice. Her eyes settled on a natural redhead taking a seat beside her.
“I hope you don’t mind me sitting, I’m Methrede Tayllum or Lady Jeuteh if you please.” the redhead introduced her self. Behind her, two girls follows suit and took seats on the opposite side.
“I’m Lucy Sharterux, Lady Wickshire.” Lucy answered.
“Wickshire? As in Lucy Wickshire? I’ve heard of you!” Methrede exclaimed in a voice not short of a whisper, yet very much heard.
“What have you heard?” Lucy asked as Taylor and some maids arrived with their dishes.
“Nothing really, just whispers. Your name comes up a lot. But much more of recent.” Methrede said rapidly.
“I’m Christy Laz. My father, Lord J’hunten is also a household name.” the blonde girl said haughtily.
“I did not mean her father Christy, I meant her.” Methrede frowned.
“What ever. She should at least know since she now has me as a friend.” Christy nodded as though what she spoke of, was obvious knowledge.
“Friends? Why would I be friends with her? I know your father; Diamond mines, miles of land unused and wasted; Just needs the right hands.” the other girl with raven hair snorted.
“Shut it, Leah. How did you end up tying yourself to me? Of course she can’t be friends with you, she’s already friends with me and I don’t like you. As her best friend, it is only right that she can not be friends with you.” Christy declared.
“I hear you come from a long linage of blondes. Is that why your hair is white?” Methrede asked Lucy, her eyes swimming in curiosity.
“You are too presumptuous Christy,” Leah said to Christy as her face distorted in a frown.
“Save your tears of apology, Mclears. You forget, you are not even nobility. Your father is just a tad too ambitious.” Christy declared.
“Have you heard of the luncheon coming soon? I hear some lords will be in attendance.” Leah turned to Methrede, who looked deep in thought and ignored Christy’s taunt.
“Only you would care. But I guess it matters as your family needs you to lead them to nobility in the form of marriage.” Christy said in a haha demure. Leah rose abruptly with her face red and fist clenched, then stormed off with her maid in tow.
“Does that mean that if two blondes marry, their child will have your hair or if the blonde blood in the family is long enough, one day their child will have your hair?” Methrede asked Lucy, oblivious of the fight on the table. Lucy smiled at her question as she has never had such an amusing dinner