The vast and expansive chamber exudes opulence, with its stylish furnishings radiating an air of elegance and grandeur. Adorned in soothing cream hues, the walls cloak the space in a tranquil aura.
Nestled in the heart of the chamber, a large king-sized bed entices with its velvety white sheets and embroidered. Seated on the bed's edge, a quiet figure sits, emanating an ambiance of hushed stillness.
Enveloped in a satin chemise nightgown, its smoothness tenderly embracing her fatigued form, her pallid countenance bears the weight of distress.
It seems as though the will to live has abandoned her, her gaze drifting upward, barely acknowledging the presence of the maidservant dressed in all black, with black cloth draped over her head pushing in the cart holding the morning tea and pastries.
There's lots of strict rules in the Beaumanoir Manor, All maids must wear black and conceal her identity and never say a word unless required, any disobedience would result in severe consequences.
"Madame, The Duke wishes to see you after breakfast. His Grace would be very pleased if you wear the gown he has chosen for you this afternoon." She says placing the trays onto a low table by the bedside.
"I will return to assist in your preparations later. " With that she bows respectfully before exiting the room. Her footsteps fade away as the door closes behind her.
Her gazed lingers on the trays of food on the bedside table, She recognizes some of the treats there's Millefeuille, Gâteau au Chocolat, Panna Cotta, Scones in variety of flavors such as raspberry, chocolate, and there's a bowl of white strawberries everything else she can't name but it all looks very delicious.
She hesitates, her fingers reaching out slowly towards the small and delicate millefeuille. As she lifts it, the layers of buttery pastry and luscious cream effortlessly collapse under her touch.
With unexpected surprise, Inès finds herself unable to resist and succumbs to devouring the pastry until her cheeks swell, a guilty pleasure in every bite.
But as she reaches for a yellow sponge cake, her joy immediately freezes as something unexpected interrupts her indulgence.
A cough escapes her lips as she realizes they have the audacity to serve her an actual sponge, a tool used to scrub the dirt.
Glancing at the dessert tray, her eyes widen in horror as she spots an unwelcomed guest - a lifeless cockroach camouflaged amidst the chocolate.
The bell above her bed rang, and to Inès surprise, the headmaid, Mary, entered along with a group of maidservants, all dressed in black with dark cloth draped over their head except Mary who's face is fully shown.
Mary wasted no time in barking orders at the maids to clear away the trays of food.
Still reeling from the shock of discovering a cockroach in her dessert and sponge, Inès finally gathered herself and found her voice.
"Hold on," she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and disgust. "I demand an explanation. How could you serve me such filth? And who would dare to put a cockroach in my food?"
Mary raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with this outburst. "Madame, I assure you, this is an unfortunate mistake. It will be fixed immediately."
With a sigh, Mary adjusted her glasses, knowing that finding bugs in food is not uncommon around here. Any normal person would have simply removed the bug and continued eating.
Nonetheless, Mary decided to take action.
She instructed Charlotte, a maid who had recently been brought to the manor, to fetch the gown.
Charlotte, slightly trembling, nodded, her eyes avoiding any direct contact with Inès. She quickly left the room, returning moments later with a beautifully embroidered gown, fit for a lady of Inès's stature.
*
Inside the study of the Beaumanoir Manor, sits a thin, tall but imposing figure sitting at there as the papers scatter about his bony hand and reaches for his pen. The figure is none other than the Duke of Beaumanoir, a man known for his ruthless cold nature and insatiable thirst for power.
Cast out and forced into exile, he now finds himself forced to marry and govern over barren lands.
The people suffer, burdened by sickness, death, and the terror of monstrous creatures that roam the land. Yet, high in his estate, the Duke watches, seemingly unaffected by their plight, likely harboring no intentions of making an effort to save the peasants.
Just as the weight of his negligence weighs heavily on his shoulders, the sound of footsteps interrupts his thoughts. The door creaks open, revealing a servant with a timid disposition.
"Your Grace, I apologize for the interruption. Madame requests your presence in her chambers," the servant stammers, avoiding eye contact.
The Duke's piercing gaze narrows, suspicion tainting his expression. "What does she want now? Tell her I am busy."
"But, Your Grace, she insists it's urgent," the servant insists, shifting nervously on his feet.
Sighing heavily, the Duke sets aside the scattered papers and rises from his seat. "Very well, tell her I'll be there in a minute."
And as an afterthought, he adds, "Remove every painting from the third floor and consign them to flames." For in a world where good wood is scarce, such paintings are a needless indulgence.
The servant left scurrying out the room to execute the orders he was given.