Chapter 1 #2
"Well, if you really must know then to me it feels as though I am stepping into someone else's life," she said, "and I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but in a way it is also true.
I do not remember anything of this life that I had left behind, and it feels quite opposite to the one that I am used to. "
"You should not worry about feelings at this stage," Felicity said to her. "It has been twenty-three years. That counts for most of your life."
Alethea could only nod.
Twenty-three years ago, she had been separated from her family, at the tender age of three. She had spent her entire life being raised in a nunnery, growing up in an environment that was starkly different from the one that her sisters had seen. A whole lifetime had passed between them.
"I remember nothing of it," she admitted. "Of this life that I was supposed to lead."
"That's all right," Daphne said, once again the calmest of them all, "but there should be no doubt that this had been your life. It's just... been waiting for you to return to it."
The words gave Alethea a pause. If someone had told her this for most of her life, she would have never believed them.
In her time at the nunnery, it felt like there was no more life outside of it.
She had been shut in, and kept there for so long that the idea of life existing at a normal pace elsewhere seemed like a dream or a morbid reality that she could never experience.
"We always thought…" Joyce hesitated. "We were told you died.
In the river, do you remember? They said you must've fallen in and then there were no signs of you.
I believe that our parents tried to search for you, afterwards.
But there was no progress on that front.
Eventually, they had to give up their search as well. "
"I was told the same," Alethea replied, without emotion.
It occurred to her that the lack of emotion in her voice surprised her sisters. She could not blame them, but it was the only reaction she could give.
In her nunnery, she had been trained not to react much to emotions. Repressing them had been what was natural to her.
"Oh, we do not wish to overwhelm you," Daphne said to her, "you do not need to speak about it now."
"Yes, well, I would rather not," Alethea nodded, grateful at the small allowance.
If this was supposed to be a new beginning for her, then she hoped to leave all the stories of the life she had left unspoken.
"You need rest," Daphne interjected and then lead her down to the end of the hall, where a room awaited her with the door slightly ajar. "This is your room. We had this prepared for you. It's not exactly how it was, of course, but we hoped it might feel like yours again."
"My room?"
"Yes, your room," Daphne replied as though it was not a big deal in the least. But Alethea could only stare at her with her mouth slightly agape.
Slowly, she trailed her gaze across the room in front of her. It was a large sized bedroom, in fact many times larger than what she had at the nunnery. The bed was large too, occupying all of the center space. It was perfectly made.
It felt a bit disorienting, really.
""Is it to your liking?" Daphne asked, mistaking her astonishment for displeasure.
"Yes, it appears perfectly suited," Alethea replied instantly. "If anything, it appears quite excessive. A space this large should not be occupied by one person alone."
"You the only one who will be expected to live her," Daphne assured her.
"Well, I have never had a room to myself before," she admitted.
"You do now," Felicity was the one to speak next. There seemed to be a hint of impatience in her tone but Alethea decided not to read up on it too deeply.
Instead, she turned toward them, hands folding in front of her without thinking. It was a habit, and quite normal in the world she knew. But she caught the way that they flinched slightly at the action.
"We'll leave you to rest," Daphne said, stepping back. "You'll find your night things in the wardrobe. If you need anything, you may call for the house help at any time."
Alethea said nothing.
"And one more thing," Daphne paused, "it would be lovely if you could join us for dinner later in the evening. It would give you a chance to meet our husbands as well. And of course, the chance to speak in more detail after you are more rested."
"I do not think it is polite to speak during a meal," Alethea replied, shrugging her shoulders. "We were highly discouraged from doing so at the nunnery."
Daphne clicked her tongue, and exchanged a glance with Felicity.
"Well, I suppose that might have been true at the nunnery, but not here," Daphne said. "But here we tend to talk over meals. Not always of serious things, sometimes just the weather or nonsense, really."
Alethea didn't answer right away. For her, silence was safer than saying the wrong thing and she did not wish to offend them.
"I can learn," she said.
That was a safe answer, in her mind.
"You can take your time," Daphne said immediately, "Truly. Just rest for now. That's all that matters."
"We'll see you later, but only if you feel up to it," Joyce added in.
"And what if I don't?" Alethea asked. "What sort of punishments would await me? I would like to know in advance. I am not too familiar with the rules around here."
Joyce's eyes widened slightly, and Felicity gasped.
"There are no punishments here," Daphne was the one to speak.
Alethea blinked.
"None at all?" she asked, surprise written all over her features. Daphne shook her head, smiling now. "So then what happens when I do something I ought not to?"
"Well," Daphne smoothed out the front of her dress. "I suppose we might look at you a little sternly but that would be the extent of it."
Alethea wasn't sure yet if she believed it. Not because she thought them cruel, but more so she found the idea difficult to wrap her head around.
"I see. I shall rest now," she announced, suddenly feeling the urge to be left alone. She expected them to put up some resistance, but all three sisters complied.
"Very well. Rest well, and we hope to see you at dinner," Daphne said, "we shall like you to introduce you to the rest of the family."
There were more?
"Right. Very well."
"We'll leave you now."
The three sisters stepped out, and the door closed with a soft click behind them. Alethea remained still for a moment, listening to the quiet, as if the room itself might speak to her now that no one else was watching.
This was her room. Or so they said. She had no recollection of this life.
When Alethea finally made her way downstairs for dinner – which she was kindly reminded by a maid more than once, she found a new set of faces waiting for her that she had not seen before.
Everyone was already seated. Her three sisters sat at the long table, two of them accompanied by well-dressed men who rose at once upon seeing her. Joyce, by contrast, sat alone.
Alethea's gaze lingered on her, the only sister without a man beside her. It was something that they had in common this evening, and it made her more curious than she cared to admit.
Even seeing the gentlemen seated at the same table as her was a new experience. At the nunnery, her interactions with men had been limited, at best. And not ones that she would recall fondly.
"Please," Daphne said, gesturing to the chair set out for her. "Sit with us."
Alethea obeyed, smoothing her skirts as she sank into the chair. All the while, she kept her eyes low, unsure where to look.
"Allow me to make some introductions," Daphne started in her usual cheerful manner of speaking, "This is my husband, Ambrose Linwood, the Duke of Greymont."
"That makes you a duchess?" Alethea asked, raising an eyebrow. Though her life at the nunnery had been sheltered, even she knew the status such a title held in society.
"Yes," Daphne smiled, as though it was a natural thing.
Alethea glanced between them.
"At the convent, the only titles that mattered were 'Sister' and 'Mother.' All were equal in obedience," she said finally.
"The world outside the convent is less egalitarian, I'm afraid," It was Ambrose who answered, chuckling quietly. Alethea made sure not to look in his direction as he spoke.
One must never make direct eye contact with men, she had been taught. And that modest women must avoid speaking excessively with those whom she has no direct relationship with. She wondered if that applied here. This was her family, after all. Even though they felt like strangers in practicality.
"Society has its own… expectations," Felicity offered gently. "Though you needn't worry about them all at once. Let me introduce my husband, as well. Charles Voss, the Earl of Glavingale."
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the Earl replied. "Felicity has told me about the circumstances of your life, and I must say that I find the story quite remarkable."
"I am not sure if remarkable is the word I would use," Alethea let slip before she could stop herself.
She noticed the slight unease on her sisters' faces at the comment, and so instead decided to divert her attention to the third sister, who was yet to speak, as a way to avoid probing too deeply on her 'circumstances'.
"And what of you?" she said to Joyce, "I could not help but notice that you sit alone."
"I was married to the Viscount of Alborne," she said in a flat voice, "Edward Reeves. But I am his widow, as he passed three years ago from a terrible lung disease."
Alethea gasped loudly, clamping her mouth with her hands. And then immediately, bowed her head, folding her hands as though in prayer.
"May his soul find peace," she said solemnly, "Three years in purgatory, if not already called to rest, is mercy enough. I shall remember him in my evening prayers."
There was a brief, stunned silence at the table and some looks were exchanged.
"Thank you," she managed, a bit awkwardly. "That's… very kind of you."