Page 2

"You don't have to speak of it," Daphne said gently.

"I'd rather not," Alethea admitted, exhaustion weighing down on her. The last thing that she wished to do was rehash the past. 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?" Alethea repeated, as though Daphne had just said something that was difficult to believe.

Daphne exchanged a look with the other two.

Alethea stepped across the threshold slowly, her gaze sweeping over the room as if she feared disturbing it.

The bed was wide and neatly made, twice the size of what she had been accustomed to sleeping in.

There was a canister of water kept by the side-table, and there was a large window to the side with silk curtains draping it.

It felt a bit disorienting, really.

"I've never had a room to myself," she said suddenly, more to the space than to her sisters.

There was a silence behind her, and then Felicity spoke, "You do now."

Alethea 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.

"Join us for dinner later in the evening," Daphne announced. "We hope that you will get some rest by then, and that we may be able to talk in more detail over a meal."

"It is impolite to speak when you're eating," Alethea shrugged.

Her sisters exchanged a brief glance but Alethea caught it all the same. She wasn't sure if it was surprise or discomfort, only that it reminded her, again, how far apart their worlds had been.

"In the convent, perhaps," Daphne said gently. "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. She had learned long ago that silence was safer than saying the wrong thing.

"I suppose I'll have to learn." It was the safest response that she could think of, considering that she really did not know what the rules of this world were.

"There's no rush," Daphne replied, stepping lightly around the moment. "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. Even though her life at the nunnery had been sheltered, even she knew the status such a title holds 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."

Alethea gave a small nod, as if the matter were settled.

To her, death required acknowledgment. In the nunnery, even the smallest passing was marked with reverent observance and a prayer for the deceased.

But her sisters' reaction seemed to indicate that things were different around here.

It made her realize once again that her ways did not match theirs.

"I have been gracious to have the full support of my sisters during this process of grieving," Joyce said after a moment. "And I find myself healed in their presence. I hope that you can find the same with us."

The footmen moved silently around the table, lifting domed silver covers to reveal the food. Platters of roasted meats, delicate vegetables in buttered sauces, and baskets of fresh rolls were laid out. For a moment, Alethea could only stare at the expanse of options available for her.

"Is there anything you prefer? We've a bit of everything tonight," Daphne turned to her, smiling.

"Yes, we were not sure what you would like," Felicity chimed in.

"I don't have a preference," Alethea said plainly. "At the nunnery, we ate what was available."

She folded her hands in her lap, unsure if she should reach for anything without being told. A feast like this would have fed the entire nunnery for a week.

"Well, then. You must try a little of everything," Daphne suggested, "That's what we usually do when we can't decide."

"I cannot imagine being so wasteful."

"It is not being wasteful," Daphne said, her lips curving downwards into a frown for the briefest second before recovering.

"Is it not?" Alethea asked. "We are not that many people at the table, and I think we could have done with much less."

"I daresay the cook would be rather offended if she heard you," Ambrose remarked lightly. "She considers it a personal failing if there aren't at least three courses too many."

"I meant no insult," Alethea said immediately.

"I know," he replied, offering her a half-smile. "But I think you'll find that in houses like these, excess is sometimes mistaken for comfort. A bad habit, perhaps, but not always ill-intended."

Alethea considered that for a moment. "Where I come from, comfort was considered dangerous to the soul."

"Well, as I said before," Daphne replied, "things are a bit different around here. But do not worry, you will get used to it rather quickly. Let us begin eating now."