Noon.
Library, Theodore Mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
***************
Sunlight streams through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room, as the gentle hum of afternoon activity fills the air.
The lady of the house and her two maids are in the library after taking the papers from the frightened courier, Lydia places them on the shelf while taking a couch.
"Tell about yourselves, how did you end up at the slave establishnt?"
Lydia asked the girls as the thought had been in her head for a while now.
Her dress since morning which is adorned with delicate lace insets and embellished with pearls and satin ribbons, still rests on her shoulders featuring epitomizing regal elegance and sophistication.
"Lady Theodore we should be working" joyous countered looking slightly uncomfortable. Perhaps from the question or perhaps from the lack of work.
"Nonsense Joyous today is a free day for everyone and I am spending it with you three don’t make regret it," Lydia said, the third person being Red.
Joyous sighed exasperatingly. "Where is the Lord when you need him?"
"The lord has a job outside the mansion and I am here all alone and all you girls-" And Dorothy cut her off with a sad sentence.
"I was fifteen when my parents sold to the slave establishnt" she said and everywhere fell silent.
Lydia felt her heart shatter. "Oh Lord! I’m so sorry" she whispered.
Dorothy shrugged. "It’s okay, I survived and now I am slowly becoming rich".
Joyous shifted before she started after a mont of silence. "I was kidnapped, and I believe no one looked for since I heard from the marketplace last ti that my family are now in Critic Citadel" she said and Lydia couldn’t say a word now.
"Why do you believe no one looked for you? And you also do not doubt them being the ones to sell you off" Dorothy asked the series.
Joyous smiled bitterly, "I was the black sheep, I knew they never wanted around but they would never sell off, I was supposed to marry a rich noble to help them because in their words I was pretty"
"You are pretty and I am sorry that happened to you" Lydia comnted with an apology in the process and then she reached for her palm.
"Thank you lady Theodore like Dorothy said we are becoming rich and without families to bring us down we shall be stronger," she said and they both started to giggle, Lydia would’ve giggled too if she hadn’t felt a sudden wave of nausea.
The maids don’t notice that and slowly she asked. "What happened to Mira?"
"Mira joined us only weeks ago, she has always been quiet and she looked sophisticated in the beginning" Joyous replied calmly as she watched Lydia pick a cup of water.
"She still acts high and mighty now, maybe she was noble" Dorothy suggested.
"Oh shut it, nobles never end up there, but I do believe she seems confident in herself and a bit bitter too" Joyce comnted.
"The girl must have been kidnapped too, let us wait for her," Lydia said softly.
The library felt cosy and there was a topic but there was no fun. So Joyous pouted.
"I find stories about ourselves utterly boring lady Theodore, let us do sothing different," she said getting comfortable. She continued to ask. "We shall clean the library lady, Theodore, please where do you wish to be before we prepare lunch?"
"I know a ga" Dorothy whispered.
With a raised brow Joyous regarded. "Okay, Dorothy please what ga is it?"
With reddened cheeks, Dorothy mumbled. "Read-by-turn"
Joyous narrowed her eyes. "Is that the na of the ga, Dorothy?"
Dorothy bit the inside of her lips while she picked up the cat that just jumped onto her thighs. "I do not know, I just ca up with the title," she said rubbing Red’s fur.
They all burst out in laughter at Dorothy’s silliness.
"I, however, know what it is called" Lydia alerted with a smile.
The maid looks at her expectantly.
"It is called Round-robin-reading, girls," she said.
Dorothy fawned. "Wow, Lady Theodore you read a lot so you know a lot"
"I indeed do read a lot" she smiled cheekily.
Reading and knowing too much was frowned upon for won in Critic Arley because it is incomprehensible if a girl can argue it win an argunt with a man, so it is expected for her to stay lesser so he can be bigger and brighter but Lydia loved to shine while she has beco lucky because Theodore loved to flaunt her and didn’t at all mind being behind the scenes because he was a loner.
Lydia who now feels that she has a favourite armchair in her library sits elegantly and poised in it, she is flanked by her two maids, who sit attentively on stools nearby.
With a smile she stood up and picked a book from the shelf, her fingers tracing the spine of a cherished book, she suggested, "Shall we indulge in so round-robin reading today, ladies?"
Joyous and Dorothy exchanged eager glances before they nodded in agreent. "Yes, lady Theodore, that sounds delightful," they chi in unison.
"Though it suggests we read short stories" Dorothy Said and Joyous shook her head at her laziness.
Lydia didn’t very much like it when people touched her books so she stood up again fighting dizziness she selected a collection of short stories from the shelf, and then she opened the book to the first page, her voice rich with anticipation. "Let us begin with this tale," she said, inviting Joyous to read the opening paragraphs.
Joyous’s voice is soft yet steady as she breathes life into the words on the page, painting vivid images of distant lands and daring adventures.
As she concluded her passage, Dorothy eagerly took her turn, her voice carrying the next section of the story with equal grace and enthusiasm.
Lydia read her turn but the girls were too eager making them take over completely whilst she listened intently, her eyes sparkling with appreciation as each woman took her turn, weaving a tapestry of storytelling that filled the room with magic and wonder.
With the final words of the story lingering in the air, Lydia closed the book gently, a contented smile gracing her lips.
"Thank you, ladies, for a delightful afternoon," she said, her voice tinged with warmth.
The maids felt warm.
As the three won exchange knowing glances, a sense of camaraderie and shared joy envelops them, their bond strengthened by the simple pleasure of storytelling.
"My lady, when are you reading your muckrake?" Dorothy asked eagerly.
Lydia’s brows rose. "Oh you are right, I cannot believe she has two papers already" she said.
"I should read it now, I was intending to delay the excitent of the new papers" she added.
Eagerly Dorothy asked. "What does it say?"
Lydia narrowed her eyes. "I just thought about it, how can you read?" she asked.
Joyous shrugged. "I had a decent family in Critic-Ishelm" she relayed.
Slaves got transported from cities to cities especially if they were kidnapped.
"I was amongst the stubborn kids who gathered at Miss Fera’s" Dorothy said with a blush.
"Mmmm" Lydia mumbled thoughtfully as she continued to open the papers, she had heard of this woman and would like to et her.
She is also a mystery like a muckraker because it is said that nestled amidst rolling hills and whispering forests of east Critic Arley, there lived a woman whose na echoed through the narrow cobblestone streets: Moss Fera.
Though her origins are still wrapped in mystery, her presence commanded respect and curiosity alike.
Tall and elegant she was described, with piercing hazel with green flecks eyes that seed to hold the secrets of the universe.
Miss Fera was a figure of intrigue and admiration among the townsfolk.
In an era where societal norms dictated that young girls should be confined to dostic duties and their education was deed unnecessary or, worse yet, a luxury only the wealthy could afford, Miss Fera defied convention with unwavering determination.
She believed in the transformative power of knowledge and she saw untapped potential in the minds of the city’s daughters, yearning to break free from the confines of tradition.
With unwavering resolve, Miss Fera opened the doors of her modest ho to the eager young girls of the city, offering them a sanctuary for learning amidst a world that sought to silence their voices.
Here, within the cosy confines of her humble abode, she gathered them like precious gems, each one like a gem in the rough, waiting to be polished to brilliance.
Miss Fera’s ho was one of enchantnt and wonder. A large oak table served as the centrepiece of their classroom, where worn parchnt and quill pens awaited eager hands. Sunlight would filter through her lace curtains, casting a warm glow upon the eager faces of her students as they hung on her every word, soaking in knowledge like parched earth drinking in rain. Dorothy had too.
Miss Fera’s lessons were not confined to the pages of textbooks and papers like Lydia’s had; rather, they encompassed the breadth of human experience, sothing Lydia had to start enjoying after getting married too.
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