The sun had barely peeked over the horizon when Mara stirred from her fitful sleep. Despite the lingering unease from her encounter with Gustavo the night before, she forced herself out of bed. As one of Mistress Matilda's personal maids, her day started earlier than most in the mansion.
Mara dressed quickly in her crisp uniform, smoothing out any wrinkles with practiced hands. She pulled her hair back into a neat bun, not a strand out of place. Appearance was everything in Mistress Matilda's eyes, and Mara had learned early on to present herself impeccably.
With swift, quiet steps, she made her way to the kitchen. The cook, already hard at work, nodded a silent greeting as Mara began preparing Mistress Matilda's morning tea. It was a delicate blend of Earl Grey and lavender, steeped for exactly three and a half minutes – no more, no less. Mara arranged an assortment of delicate pastries on a silver tray, each placed with precision.
Next, she headed to the conservatory. Here, she carefully selected a bouquet of fresh flowers for the Mistress's room. Today, she chose a mix of pale pink roses and sprigs of baby's breath, arranging them artfully in a crystal vase.
With the tea tray balanced in one hand and the vase in the other, Mara navigated the grand staircase, her steps so practiced she hardly needed to look where she was going. She passed by windows being cleaned by other maids, nodding quick hellos as she went.
At the door to Mistress Matilda's private sitting room, Mara paused. She set down the vase, freeing a hand to knock softly. Upon hearing no response, she used her master key to enter, as was the routine.
Inside, she moved with quiet efficiency. She placed the fresh flowers on a side table, their sweet scent filling the air. The tea tray went on the ornate coffee table, each item positioned just so. Mara opened the heavy velvet curtains, allowing the morning light to flood the room.
She then moved to the adjoining dressing room. Here, she laid out Mistress Matilda's outfit for the day – a deep burgundy dress with intricate lace detailing, paired with matching shoes and jewelry. Each item was inspected thoroughly for any imperfections.
Back in the sitting room, Mara dusted and straightened, though there was little to do. The room was always immaculate, but Mistress Matilda expected nothing less than perfection.
As she worked, Mara's mind wandered to Zafron, wondering how he was faring in his isolation. She pushed the thought away quickly, painfully aware of how dangerous such musings could be, especially after last night's encounter.
Finally, with everything in its place, Mara stood back to survey her work. The room was a picture of elegance and order, ready for Mistress Matilda to begin her day.
But something was amiss. Mara frowned, her eyes drawn to Mistress Matilda's writing desk. There, partially hidden under a stack of papers, was a corner of an envelope. The seal caught Mara's attention – it bore the same crest she had seen on Lord Blackthorn's correspondence.
For a moment, Mara hesitated. It wasn't her place to pry into the Mistress's private affairs. But curiosity, mixed with a growing sense of unease about the recent events in the mansion, got the better of her. She took a step towards the desk.
Just then, the door to Mistress Matilda's bedroom opened. Mara froze, her heart leaping into her throat.
"Ah, Mara," Matilda said, her voice still husky with sleep. "Would you be a dear and do my hair as usual?"
"Of course...of course my lady," Mara said with a stutter. Ever since the encounter with Gustavo, everything made her jump a little. Not to mention, with the truth about where she went yesterday still hovering in her mind, it felt like everyone was onto her.
Matilda moved gracefully across the room, her long legs carrying her to the ornate vanity. With practiced ease, she secured a plush towel around her chest, tucking it neatly to ensure it stayed in place. Lowering herself onto the cushioned stool, she allowed her damp golden locks to cascade down her back.
Mara approached, brush in hand, and began her familiar routine. The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the scene. Matilda sat perfectly still, her posture impeccable even in this intimate setting, as Mara stood behind her, gently working the brush through her hair.
"You have such beautiful hair, Matilda," Mara commented, her fingers deftly separating strands for braiding. "Like spun gold in the sunlight."
Matilda smiled at the compliment, her blue eyes meeting Mara's in the mirror. "Thank you, Mara. You always know how to make it look its best." She paused, her expression turning curious. "By the way, where were you all day yesterday? I didn't see you around the manor at all."
Mara's hands faltered for a moment, the brush pausing mid-stroke. Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. "Oh, I... I took my leave for the month," she stammered, her usual composure wavering. "To visit my mother."
Matilda's keen eyes caught the subtle shift in Mara's demeanor, the slight tension in her shoulders, but she chose not to comment on it directly. Instead, she furrowed her brow in concern. "Your mother? Is everything alright? You've never mentioned any family issues before."
Mara resumed brushing, her movements a tad more hurried than before. "Everything's fine," she said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Just a routine visit, you know. Keeping in touch and all that."
Matilda nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Mara's reflection. "I see. But if you took your leave for the month, why did you return so soon? Surely you'd want to spend more time with your family if you made the trip."
The brush clattered to the vanity table, slipping from Mara's suddenly trembling fingers. "I... well..." she began, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. "It turns out my mother had other engagements. So I thought it best to return to my duties here."
Matilda turned in her seat, facing Mara directly. She reached out, gently taking Mara's hand in hers. "Mara, you know you can talk to me if something's wrong, don't you? We've known each other for years now. You're more than just my maid; you're my friend."
Mara's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a mix of emotions playing across her face - gratitude, fear, and something deeper that Matilda couldn't quite place. "I know, my lady, and thank you. It's just... complicated. Family matters often are, aren't they?"
Matilda squeezed Mara's hand reassuringly. "They certainly can be. Well, whenever you're ready to talk about it, I'm here to listen."
Mara nodded, composing herself with visible effort. She picked up the brush again, returning to the task of styling Matilda's hair. As she worked, Matilda couldn't help but notice the slight tremor in Mara's hands, the distant look in her eyes reflected in the mirror.
Something had happened during Mara's absence, Matilda was certain of it. But what? And why did she feel such a strong need to hide it?
Mara continued to weave braids into her hair, Matilda resolved to keep a closer eye on her friend. Whatever secret Mara was keeping, Matilda was determined to uncover it.
As Mara continued her delicate work on Matilda's hair, the blonde woman's gaze grew distant, her mind wandering.
'Zafron,' Matilda thought, a small, secret smile playing at the corners of her lips. 'Hidden away in that house on the outskirts of town.'
Her blue eyes took on a dreamy quality, unnoticed by Mara who was focused on her task.
'I long to see him again,' Matilda mused. 'To feel his presence, his strength. Perhaps one of these days. But not today.'
Her expression hardened almost imperceptibly as her thoughts shifted.
'Today, Blackthorn has... arrangements.'
The word echoed in her mind, laden with implications. Matilda's jaw set with determination, her thoughts racing behind a calm exterior.
'Another move in this endless game. Another piece on the chessboard.'
As Mara put the finishing touches on her elaborate hairstyle, Matilda mentally prepared herself for the day ahead.
'Play the part. Charm and beauty on the surface. But always thinking, always planning.'
"There, all finished," Mara announced, stepping back to admire her handiwork.
Matilda turned her head, examining the intricate braids and curls in the mirror. "It's perfect, Mara. Thank you," she said, her voice warm but her mind already elsewhere.
As she stood, smoothing down her dress, Matilda's thoughts returned once more to Zafron.
'Soon,' she promised herself. 'But for now, duty calls.'
With that, she squared her shoulders, ready to face whatever challenges Lord Blackthorn's "arrangements" might bring.