The Appalling Strangeness of the Mercy of God [M - Hannelorian x DuchessLivilla]

[Hannelorian]

Several days had passed, largely without further incident. The Ducal couple had broken their fast and returned to regular meals though they were perhaps a bit meager at times. At least the Duchess was eating something and not simply wasting away in such dramatic a fashion as she had been. Alice, for all of her thoughts had been given the Duchess' letters of the day, one so fateful in the small stack, largely responses to the party which now lay only a few days away. Alice most carefully laid the letters out on a pristine silver tray, so highly polished it was better than a mirror. Further she placed a slim gold letter opener and set to work, equipment in hand. In the mid day hours the Duchess found herself retiring to the gold drawing room. Often her Ladyship would be found there as well. Largely engaged in mundane tasks to busy themselves as good ladies did.

Alice moved through the halls with a relative degree of comfort, knowing exactly where her mistress was, meant there was no possibility of running into her. The servants dreaded the notion of these chance encounters as often their fate simply depended on the Duchess' mood. Some days were calm, other days were riddled with physical or verbal abuse. Things tended to be calmer when the Duke was present, but that alone didn't change the mood in a significant way. As she went she locked eyes with some of the portraits of people she'd never know, and didn't care to know. Occasionally sneaking in a funny face or two. These little acts of rebellion were the remnants of her personality, long buried as she dare not offend God in house of a most pious family. With each passing day, Alice learned to play the game just a little bit better.

It was not everyone, however, who felt this joy or relief. There were after all, those like Hetty who was recovering now from the brutal lashing she had received as punishment. Punishment for a slight that her mistress perpetrated against the Duchess. Such was the cruelty of their world, and it likely would never change. Servants were but pawns in the games that the wealthy played. They were all expendable and they should never forget such things. Reaching the drawing room she knocked just loud enough to be heard and waited for her mistress to reply. "Come." Arabella beckoned and without delay the heavy doors were opened and the young maid entered, bowing her head and remaining absolutely silent.

"Blessed day, Sutton." Arabella said, a broad smile on her face. The Duchess was seated in an ornate chair with legs crossed at the ankles. She wore a pale blue dress with matching gloves of silk. Her attention turned as Alice approached with the tray. "Blessed day your Grace. I come with your letters." Alice resisted the strong temptation to roll her eyes, instead she simply moved in closer and bent down, holding the tray before the Duchess who hurriedly collected them. "Excellent." Arabella remarked now looking through the small stack, immediately one caught her eye a reply from the Marquess of Bath. The only letter she was really waiting on. With a few swift swipes of the blade, the Duchess had the envelope opened and contents withdrawn.

Arabella cast her eyes quickly down the letter, turning the pages when she was done before setting it onto her lap, a most with a rather wicked smile on her face. "Sutton, darling." Arabella began, speaking in a tone and with language that Alice found most distressing. Whenever the phrase darling was not used in relation to her husband, it generally meant great caution should be exercised. Something bad was going to happen. "Yes ma'am?" Alice replied without hesitation or pause. "Would you be so kind as to fetch my dear Alexandra? And then leave this letter with John for Hos Grace." Arabella issued her commands, having returned the letter to it's envelope and handing it off to her maid. Her sister was finally going to be made into an honest woman. The Marquess was thrilled and of course accepted.

Alice nodded and took the letter in hand, turning to leave the room. "One more thing." Arabella had managed to interrupt before she could make her escape. "Ma'am?" Alice asked. "What do you think of John?" Arabella was always putting her nose where it didn't belong, but perhaps she too would push things and hope for the best. "I don't understand." Alice was hesitant now, now rightly nervous.

"Silly girl." Arabella wagged her finger and shook her head. She did grow tired of these little displays. Alice knew perfectly well what the Duchess meant, she just didn't want to answer. "Out. With. It." Arabella was commanding now, stopping after each word to emphasize how serious she was. "He is a God fearing man. He serves your Graces well. His noble breeding shows, your Grace." Alice didn't really know what else she would be expected to say. So she waited in a near stunned silence. "And you find him attractive, do you not?" Arabella minced no words, fully aware this wasn't the most appropriate question, as one's piety mattered above looks. "I suppose, ma'am." Alice's face had flushed red. "Very well, you may go."

Alice left with the silver tray beneath her arm as quickly as she could. Walking backward to keep her gaze on the Duchess she was so out of sorts she walked straight into the door before scrambling to open it. Alice would now hunt down Hetty, and relay the message that the Duchess was calling, right now.

[DuchessLivilla]

Alexandra had past the last few days being as pious and as conformable to her sister as was humanly possibly; including attending the salvaging, and before she was asked, making the comment that it was a shame no burnings had occurred recently, as they always stirred the crowd to piety. She felt sick after she had said it, but it served its purpose.

She knew, deep down, none of this was fooling Arabella but the game had saved Hetty from being down there so frankly, she felt as though it was, however small, a win. Likely it would not last! But in this life, one had to take what one could.

As for other activities, they were rather few in number…Embroidery, which she was skilled at but drew little pleasure from and soon grew bored with; especially when working on pieces for her sister or the chapel. She was allowed to write to certain, approved ladies -approved because they passed on the contents to her sister- so she rarely bothered and if she did, Alexandra took the precaution to show the letters to the latter first to avoid any rumours. Religious devotions, which again was hardly stimulating but something that had to be done to avoid unpleasantness. She was also allowed to make visits to other ladies but being unmarried, had to be accompanied by her sister, rather than just her maid, and so the visits normally consisted of Arabella and whichever one of her spiteful friends they had come to see, making cruel and hurtful comments about her for an hour or so before they excused themselves.

In short, life was exceeding tedious and lacking in anything close to enjoyment, let alone fun. The highlight of her free time -when it was allowed which was rare- was a drive around the parks in the carriage, accompanied by Hetty and Mrs Lyle -as a spy- for an hour or so at a time. A doctor had said it might help her constitution to be out in the fresh air sometimes and so the Duke had ordered that, when Arabella agreed, she might take the air in the carriage.

She was half tempted to ask for such today but changed her mind when she spied -from her place at the window of the east gallery- a messenger arriving with letters. There were never any for her, and even if there were, Arabella read them all first, but it did mean responses from society about the party and therefore the chances of her being summoned were high.

-

Hetty, who had endeavoured to avoid all of the ‘upstairs’ as often as she could in case, she was subject to another punishment, did not take the news well that she was to fetch her Ladyship but, naturally, she agreed and went to find her. This took rather longer than she had planned but eventually, after running through several of Lady Alexandra’s regular haunts, she found her in the eastern gallery. She paused at the end of said gallery and watched for a few seconds.

Her Ladyship was staring out of the window, surrounded by old portraits and marble busts of worthy persons, people like her…

“No. Not like her. Never like her. She’s…I don’t know, but…” Hetty bit her lip. Her Ladyship was a mystery, that was what she was. One got a sense that there was far more under that small smile than met the eye, but it never came to the surface. “I wonder what would happen if it does…”

Suddenly she felt very scared. Arabella was cruel and cold and lashed out for her own amusement or simply because she was bored. You knew where you were with her, most of the time, and you knew what to avoid and what was acceptable. Lady Alexandra was far harder to read…And for one used to cruelty, it was rather unsettling to be faced with, what on the surface anyway, looked like kindness.

Still, she had a job to do. She approached and curtsied.

Alexandra turned and smiled faintly, feeling a stabbing in her heart for the poor girl. “Hetty? I hope you are recovered…”

Her maid flushed and looked at the expensive carpet under her feet. “Y-yes, your Ladyship.” She couldn’t bring herself to say what she should; that it had been just, and she deserved it.

“Good, I’m glad…” she trailed off. Both girls seemed suddenly unsure in each other’s presence. Alexandra decided it was best to stick to business, as it were. “Did you have a message for me?”

“Oh…Oh! Yes,” Hetty nodded, “Her Grace wishes to see you. At once. In the golden study, Ladyship.”

“Ah, Alex sighed. “I see…Thank you, Hetty. You can go, no need to come as well,” she added, sparing the girl the risk of running into the Duchess.

“Thank you, Ladyship,” Hetty whispered before she scurried off, eyes cast down.

Alexandra watched her go, her eyes full of pain before she sighed, and the mask slipped back into place. She walked slowly towards the study, her feet feeling like lead with each step closer. Thoughts of why she was being summoned ran through her mind…It was unlikely that her sister had sent for her just to ask her view on the party planning, and besides, Arabella jealously guarded that right of the hostess like a miser with gold. She would never ask Alexandra’s view. She rarely even asked the Duke on such matters unless it was prudent to do so.

It might be as simple as wishing to decide when to go and buy new dresses, which would be needed. While most ladies loved shopping, Alexandra hated it, with a passion. Sure, they shopped in the best outfitters with seamstresses and tailors who designed for the Queen, and she wore silks and satins, embroidered brocade, and the softest cottons, in vivid and new styles and prints…but Alexandra was never permitted to choose the cut, colour, style, print or even the size of the gowns she wore.

A slight problem, she knew, given what some endured and she felt like a whining child for even thinking of her own problems…but that was not what she hated about it; it was the abuse. For the entire session with the seamstress she would stand, staring at the far wall and listen to her sister and the woman discuss her as if she wasn’t there, making comments such as ‘Really, I do not know how you will find enough fabric!’ and ‘Oh no, do not waste such beauty on her.’

Still, it was nothing. People were starving, being tortured, and killed…

Alexandra sighed, feeling worse now. She had no right to complain; for all she suffered, she suspected Hetty or Alice or any of the maids would give up their right arm to be in her place as a Lady rather than a maid. At least she had some laws protecting her…Well, her body, at least, and from a few people. Not including any future husband, she might have, sadly.

Alexandra knocked on the study door, waited for the call, and entered when she heard it. “Sister,” she said, smiling gently, her voice genuinely warm, which surprised her. Sometimes she wondered if the Arabella she remembered had ever existed. Maybe she had made her up.

[Hannelorian]

"Alex, darling!" Arabella called as her sister entered the room. The Duchess rose to her feet for such a joyous occasion. The woman could hardly contain herself, she was almost giddy like a school girl. "Come, come, sit." Arabella motioned toward the sofa which she now found herself moving to, indicating that her dear sister she could come sit along side her. The young woman would wait for sister to seat herself before she too sat down on the sofa, angling herself slightly to ensure she could keep eye contact. This was after all, one of the most important moments of her sister's life. The faint traces of humanity that still remained within her were beaming with pride, pride that she could be here to share this moment with her only sister.

Marriage was an institution. High born marriage, a noble marriage was a privilege. To be a wife was the one thing all girls were to dream of and strive for, second only to reverence for the almighty himself. Arabella, thinking upon her own wedding day felt her heart warm. It was everything she dreamed of, largely because no one in their right mind would dare say 'no' to the Duchess-to-be. Such was the fear she instilled in the hearts of those around her. OF course, the early days of the Duchess marriage were difficult. She was resistant to the man, the man who in time would grow to consume her, the man who she would kill to please. The man she could not make happy, not in the way he demanded of her.

"Sister, today is a happy day. One of the happiest you'll have." Normally, this would be some kind of threat, Arabella would have a brutal sting in her tone, but not today, not now. Arabella's voice carried a genuine warmth. There was nothing but sincerity in her words, for she truly meant them. It didn't matter that today's news would mean a lifetime of misery and oppression for her sister. She welcomed that. She longed for her sister to suffer. If Arabella couldn't kill the girl, she'd like her new husband do it. Crush her into nothing but dust for the ungrateful, ungodly ant that she was. "I have tremendous news. I only hope you'll be as overjoyed as I am for you." Arabella again was not lying, she would be happy for her, happy for her demise.

"The time has finally come. Richard and I have arranged your marriage." Arabella would watch every detail of the girls' face. Watching the light go out of her eyes, the color drain from her flesh. At least, that is what she hoped for. "I know this is overwhelming. The Marquess of Bath is to be your husband." Arabella would pause long enough to wait for a reaction. "He is widowed, poor thing. He already has several children which will be good practice for when you have your own." Arabella knew the children well, they were as militant as their father, rather cold, cruel little things. "There is no better option than the Marquess. Edward is a good man, a devout man. A man of God." She continued nodding her head ever so slightly.

"I remember when Daddy came to tell me of my marriage. I was so angry. I didn't want a thing to do with Richard. But look at me now. I love him more than I've loved anyone or any thing in my entire life." That much was true, all of it. "He'll be at the party in a few days to meet you, but it's all just formalities at this point. We'll get you a dress for the party as well. The Duke will spare no expense to give you everything. This is our gift to you." Gift, curse, same thing. Arabella waited curiously for a reply.

[DuchessLivilla]

Alexandra face, perhaps too well schooled due to her sister’s cruelty, gave nothing away, or at least nothing in terms of what her sister wanted. In fact, the smile that graced her features was almost real, a small, shy smile. Maybe it was the thought that, despite who she was to wed and her likely depressive future, she would be away from Arabella and as a married woman could, to some tiny, tiny, degree, control her own life.

Even if that only ran to choosing her own gowns. In life, she had learned, it was better to have small goals.

“Oh,” she breathed out, still smiling, “Oh, sister. You do too much for me, as always…And his Grace too. I…I never expected to have such in my life, nor do I deserve it.” That was true at least. No one deserved Edward. Not even her sister. She rose, as if giddy, “Should…should I write to him? Or would that be too forward…” She blushed -or seemed to, by holding her breath a time to make the blood come- and looked to Arabella, “I have so little experience in such matters, I would be grateful for your guidance. I so want to please you and my future husband.”

Inwardly she cringed. Ugh. The Marquess of Bath was repellent in every way; she had heard such tales she didn’t dare think of them…And it was said he had gout and walked like a crab! No wonder her sister smiled so prettily. She had, it seemed, won this match with a royal flush. Alex had no idea what cards she herself still held; they had never been overly good cards in the first place.

Maybe he would die early…and she could be widowed. She seemed to recall, dimly, that their father had set aside small sums to allow them to live comfortably as widows if needed…That was an equally grim fate, to be a widow when she was not yet even two-and twenty. Edward already had children, and sons besides, so even if he lived and she had her own children…they would inherit nothing, and his eldest son would have her out of the house quick sharp…

Tricky. Very tricky.

[Hannelorian]

Arabella was, to put it mildly, not pleased by her sister's reaction. Surely even news of this magnitude about that particular man would warrant more of a response. "This is wonderful. I was so terribly afraid you'd be upset!" Arabella was smiling and lying through her teeth. With each passing moment she more and more longed to reach out and slap the girl as she had done a few days prior. What divine pleasure that would be, and divine justice. Smack the smile off of that pretty little face.

"Richard and I only do what any good god fearing people would do for their family." She stood now, behind her sister just watching as she often did. Wondering what was really happening inside that thick head of hers. "Of course I will help you, but there is so much to do, and such precious little time to do it in." Arabella nodded somewhat sympathetically before letting out a small sigh. "Right now you're more a cow than a Marchioness to be. More overburdened sack of potatoes rather than a lady fit for court." Approaching her sister from behind Arabella placed her hands on Alex's waist, and then withdrew them as though perfectly gaging the size of her waist.

"If you work hard and reduce some, you may even get down another corset size. May... though it seems hopelessly unlikely." Arabella's main complaint about Alexandra had been and likely always would be her weight. At least she could fix that, there wasn't much to be done about that face. "Write him? Whatever for my dear?" Arabella had processed the comment and new that was out of the question. One, it simply would not be appropriate. Two, she wanted the Marquess to know as little as possible for as long as possible at least until the two were married. "It is not the place of a good woman to solicit a man. If he wishes you to speak or to write he will instruct you to do so." Marriage could be viewed by some as an actual trap. A prison. Every single aspect of your life was regulated by your husband. There was no freedom.

Even the Duchess, she ran the estate because her husband allows her to do so. She speaks freely because he allows her to. His love affords her those privileges. Arabella hated to think what a rebellious young thing like her sister might do. She'd end up locked away in rags. What a cheerful thought. "You have so much to learn... you should be more concerned with preparing yourself for the joy of motherhood." Arabella almost cringed on the word. "But not to worry, I'll make sure you are good and ready to be his wife." That was a threat. No, that was more than a threat, that was a promise.

"You may go... just one more thing." Arabella always had to have the last dig. "I'll be taking your Hetty into my service until the party. You may take Sutton in her place. I fear you've been too lenient with the girl and now she's gone soft. Mrs Lyle tells me she can barely bring herself upstairs... I plan to break her of that hesitation. There's no room for it in this house or any other." Arabella smiled contently. "We'll meet with the dress maker tomorrow morning before Prayer, so you'll need to be up early."

[DuchessLivilla]

Alexandra listened to and watched her sister as she moved around and spoke, spitting her usual amount of poison with each word. Really, Arabella was rather tedious…it was always the same script, as if she had run out of anything new to say. Part of her was desperate to tell her so. “Can’t you at least come up with a new insult?”

Naturally, she said no such thing, but oh how she wanted to. How she wanted to give her sister a piece of her mind, tell her all she thought of her, hell, she would very much like to slap her, hard, as hard as she could…

She pushed down that darker side of her and took a calming breath. It was there, just under the surface, threatening to come out but she couldn’t let it. She had seen what had happened when her sister unleashed her desires; she had no interest in following her example, even if it seemed to have given her largely what she wanted from life.

For all that poison, she still loved her sister. She hated her, yes, but she loved her. Alex had learnt early, from her parents, that liking, and loving were very different things.

“Of course, I would not be upset,” she replied, smiling sweetly. Maybe they were alike after all; seeing her sister smiling, through gritted teeth, gave her a rush of pleasure. It was something to find a little delight in her irritation anyway. “Mother raised us to know our places, sister,” she smiled again and adjusted the cuff of her gown, “Marriage and children are what we are here for. I am so happy to know my future is being settled, however unworthy I am for such gifts. I have been a burden on you and his Grace for too long. I see that now.”

She turned and gently took her sister’s gloved hand, “I so want to make you proud of me, sister. I want to be a credit to you and our family. I will do whatever it takes to achieve this. I am eager to learn from you what marriage is and should be…You and the Duke are models that anyone would wish to emulate.”

Alexandra blinked. Why on earth did Arabella want to give up Sutton? She enjoyed tormenting her. Ah. A spy maybe. Alice was hard to read but perhaps she was more devout than she seemed, and Bella wanted to place her with her sister to report back. Or maybe Alice’s reactions were not as amusing now, maybe she did not flinch enough or cry easily enough…If Arabella was a tiger and Alice a tree, maybe it was the case that her bark had been clawed off and Bella wished for a new, fresh tree on with to sharpen her claws.

“Are you sure sister?” She asked, “I would not wish to deprive you of Sutton, she is so attentive to your needs. Hetty is still new to being a maid for ladies, I would hate to feel I had taken from you,” she smiled, “But I am grateful if you are sure,” she added, making no attempt to fight it. Hetty was so docile, she at least had that on her side. Hopefully Bella would be bored of her soon and release her. “Sutton is a good girl, I think, and having learned from you, I am sure she shall be a great help to me in my hopes to be like you.”

-

John was in the midst of helping the butler, Mr Carson, polish the best silver when one of the footmen appeared. He worked quickly and skilfully, taking pride in ensuring that each candlestick, each tray, and eggcup sparkled like diamonds.

“John, there’s a messenger come from the Court, with a letter for His Grace.”

Mr Carson looked up and frowned then glanced at John. “Well, John, you had best go and fetch it. Like is not to be left to just anyone.”

“Yes, of course,” John set down the candlestick he had been polishing, removed one pair of gloves, and replaced them with a fresh, white pair. He left just as Mr Carson was ordering the footman to take over where he had left off, and to be, “Careful! That silver there is worth more than you are.”

John walked briskly and smartly to the entrance hall and blinked to find not a plainly dressed footman or such from court, but a servant in full livery of dark blue and white, bearing the arms of the Prince of Wales over his left breast. Despite the man being a servant, like himself, he was a Royal servant, an extension of the Crown, and so John gave a small bow as he approached.

“Sir, you have a letter for the Duke?”

The man nodded and held out the thick envelope, made of the finest paper and bearing a beautiful script upon the front, addressed to His Grace, The Duke of Suffolk. “I am to wait here to take back a response. His Royal Highness does not like to be kept waiting.”

“Of course,” John replied, wondering if his master would wish to speak with the man himself too, pass on a confidential message in person, not in writing. “Would you care to wait in the reception room, I can have refreshments brought.”

“That would be most welcome,” the man smiled as he spoke and followed John across the marble floored entrance hall to a dark door that led to one of the several reception rooms. This one was decorated in the Duke’s favourite style of dark wood panelling, and heavy, antique furnishings that had been ‘gently’ used.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” John stated. He walked to the fireplace and rang the bell, alerting the kitchens there was a guest and to send food and drink for said guest. He rang the bell a second time to indicate the guest was a man, alone, and so to send a footman, not a maid. It was all very ingenious in design, and helped the house run smoothly.

John departed, closing the door softly, and making his way directly to the Duke’s study, where he was likely at work at this time of day. He knocked and waited for permission, which came swiftly. He entered and bowed. “Your Grace, forgive me,” he began, coming closer with the letter, “A letter from His Royal Highness. His man is downstairs, awaiting a reply as soon as possible.”

The Duke, who was reading a very dull tome on a military campaign, that he, for some reason, found fascinating, looked up and frowned as John spoke. He stood however, at the mention of the Prince of Wales. “Really?” He took the letter and went to his desk to break the elaborate wax seal, bearing the royal crest.

He unfolded the letter and began to read, leaving John standing waiting on the carpet.

To His Grace, The Duke of Suffolk,

I trust this letter finds you and your good lady in fine health. I myself am much invigorated from my time on my tour; I found it most thrilling. Now I am returned, my illustrious father has seen fit to allow me to share his burdens of ruling. Word of your wife’s skills has reached me, and I am told she is a hostess like no other.
You must forgive my impertinence but having also heard that you plan a party for the coming days, I would be most delighted to be invited. I wish to socialise with those great men, including, of course, yourself whom I shall one day rely on to support my own rule, though I trust it shall be a long time off yet before my father is called to heaven. Praise be.

I await, with eagerness, your response.

Arthur, Prince of Wales.

Richard sat down, holding the letter in his hand as if it was solid gold and he was scared to lose it. The Prince of Wales…His Royal Highness wished to attend their party! It was a gift from God, it had to be. Though the King was in fine health, it always paid to be friendly to the heir too…To ensure continuation of good fortunes.

This was perfect. His darling Arabella would faint, he was sure of it! The Prince, in their home! Oh, my, the plans would have to change to be more elaborate!

He looked up, remembering John, “Ah, has the messenger been supplied with food and drink, John?”

“Yes, Your Grace, I arranged all before I came here.”

“Good…Good…Ring the bell will you,” he gestured to a golden rope behind him, that would ring in Arabella’s bedroom, sitting room, dressing room and the like, and would summon her to her husband’s study.

John did as he was bid and then moved to stand beside the wall, hands behind his back, upright and awaiting further orders.

“The Prince…” The Duke shook his head, grinning to himself. Really, he could not have asked for more this week. He would soon be rid of Lady Alexandra, and now he had a chance to impress the future King.

[Hannelorian]

Life had gotten a little sweeter for Alice Sutton, finding herself now temporarily serving her Ladyship. Though she had to admit, there was still a bit of distrust. Was this some sort of test? The kind of thing where if she showed too much joy, or strayed from her training at the hands of the Duchess, the lady would turn her in? It was hard to tell. Nothing was ever quite how it seemed in the ducal household. There was danger lurking just around every corner. Especially when quiet fell over the household. Someone was always listening, waiting.

Paying it little more mind, Alice continued to do her duties. It wasn't until she found herself passing through the entry hall that something caught her eye. A man stood waiting, the mark of the Prince of Wales emblazoned on his coat. Alice found herself now stopping in her tracks, standing off to the side, rather out of view. It wasn't more than a moment later that John had shone himself. This was most curious, what could the Prince want with the Duke? Of course His Grace served the King on the council, and surely was personally acquainted with the heir to the throne. Usually the nobility went to the royalty, the inverse almost never happened.

What kind of chaos would this bring? Alice remembered the last royal visit, it had been just days after she started working for the Duchess. King Christian himself came to the house with full retinue for a week. What an event it had been! Alice didn't quite know how her mistress had survived that one. Arabella, while grateful for the honor hated the whole thing. The amount of money and resources it took to host royalty was absurd. The pressure to outdo, outperform literally everything in creation, and to do it all with a smile. There was no one better equipped for such a situation than the Duchess. Her entertaining skills were second to none. Everyone knew that. Arabella had even been the one to introduce the King to his new Queen. He had also made it no small secret that he would have taken the Duchess herself had he not so much respect for the Duke. It was the sort of thing that was only appropriate because he was the King, God's representative on earth.

John had whisked the royal footman away, likely to one of the reception rooms. Alice breathed a sigh of relief and quickly made her way to find her Ladyship. Alice knocked rather excitedly on the door and awaited the call for her entrance. The Duchess meanwhile remained unaware of the developing situation. Instead, she sat in a large chair in her chambers waiting rather impatiently for her afternoon tea. Hetty wasn't exactly the fastest when it came to service. Arabella kept her eyes on the clock on the wall, watching as the minutes passed. Eventually the door opened and Hetty entered carrying a silver serving tray with a tea pot, cup and saucer, as well as its accompaniments. The fear was clear as day. Hetty was not equipped for this kind of work, or rather, was not equipped for someone like the Duchess.

"You seem nervous. Do I make you nervous?" Arabella asked, stinging tone and all. It was as though she were mocking the poor girl, and she was. Her implacable gaze rested on the maid, her face carried a neutral expression that somehow still read as mildly irritated. Hetty now focused on pouring the tea with trembling hands perhaps didn't know how to answer the question, or didn't hear it. "When I ask a question, I expect an answer." Arabella spoke in a stern tone, now visibly annoyed. "N..no...no your Grace." Hetty could barely get a complete sentence out.

"An idiot and a liar. Well isn't that quite the combination." Arabella did not mince words and Hetty had stopped clear in her tracks, truly not knowing how to respond. "Do go on, pick up the cup." Arabella extended a hand toward the tea service, watching carefully as Hetty picked up the cup and saucer, hands trembling, the sound of the china clattering was enough to induce a deep sigh from Arabella. "Do you know what they're saying about you?" Arabella was not genuinely asking, she had every intention of sharing her thoughts regardless of how the maid replied. "They say you're afraid of me. They say that you can barely bring yourself out of quarters out of fear that you'll run into me." Arabella smiled, not a positive sign.

"Can you imagine my shock?" Arabella was like a time bomb. Tick, tick, tick, boom. "That one of my own servants would be so fearful of me? I was most certainly offended." Arabella stood up and made her way slowly to Hetty. Resting a gloved hand on the girls own to steady it, she took the cup of tea with her free hand. Holding it perfectly steady she raised it to her lips and took a sip. "You shouldn't be afraid of little old me. What could I possibly do?" Arabella asked in a saccharine tone. "This?" Arabella raised the tea up, and slowly turned the cup over, pouring the hot liquid over Hetty's head. Arabella of course had removed her hand from the girl by this point. Hetty let out a scream of pain and the Duchess simply raised her hand to cover the girl's mouth. "Now now. No need for hysterics. You can handle the pain. God loves those who are strong in character." It was amazing how easily Arabella found it to be cruel. She made it seem effortless.

"You really should show more gratitude." Arabella slowly made her way to the fireplace and with a gloved hand she delicately retrieved the iron poker. Returning to Hetty, whose eyes looked as though they were about to explode into tears, Arabella deliver a swift blow to the back of the girls' knees. Not hard enough to cause serious injury, but enough to hurt and send the servant down to her knees. "Better." The scream of pain was like music to her ears. "Do you know how many young girls would love to work in a house like this?" More rhetorical questions. "Think of the honour, the privilege, and here you sit a mess on the floor about to sob." It was too late, Hetty was now officially in tears.

"A lashing isn't that what you got for your insubordination?" Arabella knew she had, for she had been the one to order it. "Such a small punishment." Arabella was now circling the maid, like a vulture still holding the poker. "Did you know that initially I sent you to the salvage? Petty treason doesn't seem so petty when when staring at the jaws of ravenous wolves just waiting to rip you limb from limb." Another sigh. "Alexandra convinced me to spare you. So I did. You should be grateful." Arabella almost commanded this. It was then she was interrupted by the sound of a bell within the chamber. It almost caught her by surprise.

The bell seldom rang, but when it did, it was her only priority. Richard was summoning her. "Get off the floor. We'll finish this discussion later. I have more pressing matters to attend to." Arabella shook her head as if in defeat. She quietly left the room, making her way to her husband's study and knocking on the door. She would always drop everything for her love. Once he bid her entry, she opened the door with a smile and stepped inside. "Hello darling, you rang for me?" She asked sweetly.

[DuchessLivilla]

Richard looked up and beamed, beckoning her over, “Ah, my dearest heart, come, come,” he said, his voice almost giddy. “Forgive me for interrupting your day, I know you have precious time to yourself with all you do to make sure the running of the house is smooth…but, I had to call you. You shall, I am sure, see why…”

He handed over the letter and sat, watching her read, a smile spread across his gaunt face. He glanced to John and chuckled, “Ah, dear John, as the bearer of this news, you shall be richly rewarded I can assure you.”

John flushed. “Your Grace, I ask for, nor do I deserve anything. I only do my duty, to you and yours.”

“Ah, so modest and humble. Truly, I think it is I who do not deserve such a loyal man as you. Do you agree, dearest? I think, when John weds, he must do so in our chapel. I know it is not normally done, but for one so loyal and God-fearing, I think it is fitting.”

-

Meanwhile

“Come,” Alexandra called, knowing it would be Alice, coming to see if she wanted anything, as her new girl. Arabella never knocked, just marched in, and the Duke never came to her rooms, thank God.

She smiled at Alice kindly, though she was unsure of her. It was rather ironic that both were concerned the other was a spy for a woman both loathed. “I am sorry you have had to give up my sister’s company for mine…There is not much to like, I am told, in my character or looks but I hope you shall be content anyway.”

Alex paused then said softly, “I at least do not delight in petty cruelty.” She turned to the window and looked out, the profile view of her face showing off her beauty; a beauty that was not cold and gaunt as her sister’s was, but a beauty glowed with life and health…and for all that was called ugliness. “I am to be married Sutton, sooner rather than later I imagine. To a beast of a man who rules with an iron fist and killed his first wife with endless pregnancies and vileness.”

Part of her knew this was a risk, but then again, Arabella abused her no matter what and it might even please her to hear -if Sutton ran and told- that she was unhappy at the prospect. She just needed to voice it suddenly. “I doubt I shall live a year in that house…I am to exchange one hell for another it seems, though this new one shall be over quickly at least. Duty is cruel to women,” she sighed and sat down on her bed, pulling off her gloves as she did so. “I just hope I die before I bear that man a child. I do not wish to go to my maker and leave an infant to his uncertain care…especially if it’s a girl.”

Alexandra bit her lip and studied the floor. She had never spoken so honestly, not aloud anyway. She and Hetty had spoken sometimes but, knowing the girl’s nervous temperament, she had stayed her voice from saying too much for fear of overtaxing her. Alice was stronger, one only had to look to see that.

Like recognised like, her mother had always said…

“You may speak freely in this room Alice,” she said, looking up at her. “I hope we both can, but I am not so foolish to expect it. You need not answer, I doubt I would in your place, but you should know…I had no say in this and have no intention of voicing anything about you to my sister. She removed Hetty from me because I am…” she rolled her eyes, “Too lenient with inferiors. You may think of this time as a little holiday if you wish. I imagine soon enough Arabella shall tire of Hetty, for she is too easy to break, and you shall be called back to the Duchess. And she shall ask all I said and for details…I will not blame you if you tell her, or even invent things I said. I know how she treats you.”

She smiled. “And I know you shall say that she is a saint and treats you perfectly well. I can play that game as well as anyone. But if you wish, you can speak honestly, if not, I shall hold nothing against you.”

[Hannelorian]

Arabella's smile softened as her husband offered his sincerest apologies for interrupting her day. "You never need to apologize to me. I am your wife, my place is at your side. Call on me day or night and I will be there." Arabella meant every word of it, she was always going to be there. At least until she suddenly wasn't. By her own death or her dismissal, she supposed it mattered little. The Duke did call on her frequently, night after night. The Duchess performed her duties, often feeling guilty for committing the sin of enjoying the act rather than viewing it as nothing more than ritual conducted for the sole purpose of reproduction, no more, no less. Perhaps these little sins were the reason God held her in such contempt and refused to grant her a child.

As she read the letter she could feel the Duke's eyes on her, normally something she rather welcomed. Though in this moment she wished she would not have to force the smile for his sake, or the beaming eyes. He had spoken to John of loyalty and rewards as she read. "You deserve the world my darling, and every beautiful thing in it." Arabella remarked in response to his un-deservingness of such loyalty. "Of course. Nothing but the best for our John." Naturally, she would prefer it if servants were not married in the family chapel, but if this is what her husband wanted, it was what he would get.

Arabella turned her attention back to Richard. "I cannot believe it! Truly such wonderful news. The Prince of Wales here at our house! God's love is rewarding you for all of your work." Yes, the invitation had mentioned her and her hospitality, but great men like the Prince did not go to great houses for the sake of a woman. Outwardly the Duchess beamed with pride, inwardly her heart sank. She detested royal visits. They were expensive, they were filled with stress and pressure to perform. Certainly this would be less exhausting than hosting the King as they had done, but still quite a bit of work in its own. "We must accept. Certainly." Arabella suggested, still smiling. "This does change quite a bit. No matter, I'll work on the adjustments straight away."

Arabella moved to the chord which summoned the servants and pulled on it lightly, as she waited for the Duke to write, and wax seal his reply. Even if she wasn't necessarily pleased about the invitation, she was pleased for her husband. This was a tremendous success for him. While the King generally enjoyed good health, he wouldn't live for ever. Richard would need to keep the Prince pleased to ensure he remained on the council. Then of course, there was Alexandra to manage. Now she really had to make sure she kept the girl on a tight leash. Heaven forbid she embarrass the family.

The Duchess took the letter of reply from Richard as he completed it. "I will deliver this to the royal footman myself. With Lyle of course. We mustn't keep the Prince waiting any longer than he has to." She smiled brightly. "I will see you in a bit, my love." Arabella opened the door just as Mrs. Lyle was about to knock on it. "You always have the best timing Mrs. Lyle. God bless you. Come with me please." The Duchess was kinder to the housekeeper than she was to other servants. Mrs. Lyle was her chief spy, she kept everyone in line. When the pair arrived at the reception room, Mrs. Lyle knocked on the door gently before opening it, stepping inside and then aside herself to allow the Duchess take center stage.

Women could not be alone with men they were not married to. However, a group of women could. As though a man could not do bad things to more than one woman at a time. Arabella followed every social rule to the letter. Mrs. Lyle who carried the reply on a silver tray was there to act as witness, to verify that nothing improper had happened between a Duchess and a footman. The footman who had been sitting and quietly eating a tea sandwich startled to attention and stood quickly to bow before the Duchess. "Blessed day. Ah, no need to get up on my account. Please, you may sit." The Duchess motioned back to his chair, as she stood a great respectable distance from the man. Lyle approached the footman and extended the tray with the Duke's sealed response. "Please tell His Royal Highness that His Grace and I would be more than honoured to receive him. Such a gift could only be a blessing from God. We prayed for His Royal Highness' safety every day as he toured." Arabella's tone was sincere, her voice was soft, calm. She looks the vision of beauty, if not a bit thin. Her posture was absolutely perfect and her gloved hands were folded neatly before her. "Finish your meal, and when you are ready to depart just pull the chord by the fireplace. One of the footmen will come to show you out." Arabella bowed her head and turned, making her way out of the room followed quickly by the housekeeper who sealed the doors behind her. As soon as she received word of the footman's departure she returned to see Hetty, exactly where she left her.

Elsewhere

Alice found herself in the company of the Lady Alexandra. In a surprising turn of events, Alexandra had chosen to speak her mind. To do so in front of a maid she didn't really know and couldn't possibly trust. Alice felt perhaps out of sorts. This was the second such an occasion where Her Ladyship carried herself in a manner that society said she should not. There was something in this act that Alice found rather admirable. Alexandra was brave. Perhaps she too should be brave and trust that this was genuine kindness, and that Alexandra meant every word she spoke. After all, she was nothing like the Duchess. It was hard to imagine that the two women came from the same home.

"Thank you, your Ladyship. I appreciate your honesty and kind words." Alice felt sad to see Alexandra so unhappy. Though she could not say she was surprised. If she knew one thing about Arabella, it was that she was determined to destroy her sister at any cost. The reasons why were beyond her. Working in a noble house was a dream for many. People looked at all the lords and ladies in their great homes and always wondered what happened behind those walls. Wouldn't they be surprised if they only knew.

"I...think..." Alice began to question herself before opting to continue. "I think that Her Grace is just acting out." Alice moved to cover her mouth with her hand, hardly able to believe what she had just said, and to a family member no less. "God has yet to grace her with a child. I cannot begin to imagine what that does to a woman in her position." If the Duchess ever discovered what she had just said, she would be killed, Alice knew that but was choosing now simply to trust. "I am sorry to hear that you are displeased with your match." Alice knew nothing of other lords and ladies, only those whom she served. She could not imagine a household more crushing than this one could exist. "I think... if you can just do your duty... You'll survive just fine. After all, you're still here aren't you?" Alice in her question implied that Alexandra was still strong, still alive. That all of her years of dealing with the Duchess had strengthened her.

"And yes... Her Grace is very hard on me. Though I try not to take it personally." Alice would still tread something of a fine line here. "Though I do not believe Hetty will be able to cope with it. Particularly on a bad day." The Duchess had good days and bad days. Today was a bad day. Anything was liable to trigger a shift in mood for the Duchess, even a gust of wind. "I won't tell her what we've discussed. I also would never make something up that would risk harm to you." Alice meant it, Arabella did enough damage without anything she did. "There is a bit of rather interesting news... A footman in royal livery arrived today. One of the Prince of Wales' men. I can't imagine what that could be about... I really know very little about how all of this...works." Alice was smiled, standing almost relaxed.

[DuchessLivilla]

Alexandra smiled kindly, “Arabella is hard on everyone, herself included, but do not mistake her hardness for a warped kindness. She may believe, wholeheartedly, that what she does is for our good and benefit…but she delights in causing pain and suffering. She has not been blessed with her greatest desire and rather than turning her suffering into something good, to help others…She concentrated it into pure vitriol. You need not take it personally,” she chuckled, without any real humour in it. “She treats everyone but a select few the same. She does not hate anyone, except perhaps me, we are all pawns for her pleasure.”

She sighed. “I’ve never spoken these things aloud before, Sutton…Alice, if I may call you that. Hetty, bless her heart, is as kind and sweet as one could be, but as you say, she is not a strong character. It was why I chose her; I wanted to keep her from Arabella. It seems in that I have failed. I can only hope she soon tires of her…”

“Really?” She frowned at the mention of the royal footman. The King sometimes sent messengers, after all the Duke of Suffolk was a key member of the council, but what on earth did the Prince of Wales want with him? The Prince was a rather unknown figure in society; he had been here to the house only once, for some grand party but Alexandra, who was in disgrace for some offense, was not permitted to attend and only saw him briefly when she peeked over a gallery rail and saw him talking with one of his men. He’d looked up, at some noise perhaps, and saw her, causing her to duck back and hastily repair to her room…just in case she brought more trouble on herself.

After that he had never been again. Arabella, in one of her more pleasant -and rare- moods had been reading the society papers while they sat in the garden and mentioned that the Prince was leaving that week for his grand tour and would be gone nearly a year. He was to visit many countries in his preparation for Kingship. The grand tour was a well established royal and society tradition; men of a certain rank, when they came of age and before they married, would go off for months, if not a full year, and see Italy for the art and culture and religious succour, France for the wine and food, Spain for the history and so on…

Alexandra had always wished ladies were allowed to do similar…All they go was the London season and their coming out ball. Something Alex had not even been allowed to have, though Arabella had. She had never found out why, but she could guess.

Now the Prince’s man was here, with a letter…He must be back from his tour, she guessed and perhaps wished to take notice of those he would have to consult when he came to his throne. That must be it. “I am sure His Grace shall be overjoyed at the chance to ingratiate himself with His Royal Highness-“

Before she could finish the sentence both she and Alice heard a terrible scream and the slam of a door. They shared a look before Alexandra leapt to her feet and darted to the door, followed closely by Alice…

-

Hetty stood, frozen from fear and emotional shut down, on the rug where she had been when Arabella departed. She might have crumpled to the floor and stayed there but despite her wide eyed, helpless state, something in built to serve remained and she had struggled back into a standing position to await her mistress.

The tea having been scalding hot -to prevent it from arriving chilled to the Duchess it was always served hotter than it might normally be as it had to make it from kitchen to study- had already caused several small blisters to erupt on her scalp. Where it had trickled down her face and neck, burning red lines could be seen, standing out starkly against her pale skin.

She was feeling very unwell, both from the scald and the blow to the back of her legs. She swayed lightly as she stood, her brain fogging up as she tried to focus. It was telling that when the Duchess marched back into the room, Hetty didn’t even flinch, and it appeared she had not noticed until the woman was in front of her.

The poor maid certainly noticed when the Duchess slapped her, hard, having realised she had not reacted when she entered. But it was a muted whimper that she emitted, not a scream, and her eyes remained glazed. It was painfully clear that Hetty had entirely shut down and nothing the Duchess said was having an effect if she could even hear her.

For a bully, which was what her Grace was, this was rather a let-down. It was hardly any fun to torment someone who did not react! Much like the cat who soon tired of a mouse when it was dead. The Duchess was not to be dissuaded though and picked up the poker once more, left discarded in the grate and now bearing a red hot, glowing tip.

No one would ever know what the Duchess had planned to do with the weapon for Hetty, suddenly breaking free of her trance, took a step back, eyes wide as her mistress slowly approached her. “No!” She screamed, her voice desperate, “You’re a monster! No wonder you are barren! God hates you as much as we all do!” She shouted, voicing what every servant, aside from perhaps John, Mrs Lyle and Mr Carson thought of her. She turned and fled, wrenching the door open and letting it slam off the wall behind her with such force the panel was dented.

The girl, her mind entirely unhinged, tore down the corridor, screaming like she was possessed, maybe she was. So focussed or unfocussed it may be, was she that she did not even notice when a door opened -the occupant having heard the screaming- and Alexandra and Alice came out to see what on earth was going on. Screaming was not unheard of in the house, but it was normally muted, behind the door of whatever room Arabella was in. This was so loud the entire house could hear it.

Hetty ran past her Ladyship and Alice, not even seeing them and stumbled around the corner, glancing back to see Arabella, enraged beyond belief, giving chase. It might have been amusing had it not been so serious, to see the Duchess, in all her finery, chasing a maidservant, while Alexandra and Alice watched, both stunned and confused. After a moment they too gave chase; her Ladyship wishing to try and save her maid, though that seemed fruitless now, Arabella would kill her if she caught her, and Alice because it was her duty. And maybe a little bit of perverted interest in the scene, not about poor Hetty, but rather when again would she get to see the Duchess running down the corridor like a lunatic, screaming at her maid! It was like being in Bedlam!

All three rounded the corner in time to watch, in horror -for the two with a heart at least- as Hetty, sobbing now, reached the balcony of the gallery, that looked down over the first floor and the ground floor, climbed over it, her back to the drop, holding on to the carved wooden balustrade as she looked over to her mistress and hissed, “Monster…I curse you…” This last curse echoed around the gallery and halls like a harpy’s cry to torment the damned with.

Hetty let go and time seemed to slow as they saw her fall backwards out of sight. Alexandra ran forward, as did Alice, and they watched as she descended, her arms out, almost like an angel falling to earth…Before she struck the marble floor below with a sickening crunch and was still.

Alexandra covered her mouth and stared, shocked and heartbroken. Not even a day with her sister and the poor child…She turned and looked at her, her hand -still bare- falling from her mouth as she did so. It was a strange look she gave her, accusing, yes, but also something deeper. It wasn’t fear or even hatred, but it was unsettling that was for sure.