The morning lay soft over the gardens of House Caerwysg,


    the air tinged with the fragrance of roses as sunlight slipped through a faint mist,


    casting a warm, muted glow on the world awakening beneath it.


    Beatrice Amelia Isabeau Caerwysg sat quietly amidst this lush array,


    her posture composed but her gaze bright with anticipation,


    the way she held herself betraying a restless excitement she tried to contain.


    Red and white roses, like echoes of her family''s emblem,


    filled the garden beds around her, their petals gleaming with morning dew.


    Beatrice''s green eyes flitted across the blooms,


    occasionally catching on the flicker of light as it refracted through droplets on the rose leaves.


    Her smile—soft yet constantly reappearing—added warmth to her already radiant features.


    Just beneath her mouth was a small black mole,


    a singular touch of charm that made her smile all the more endearing.


    Today was no ordinary day for Beatrice.


    It was her first day attending a school beyond the estate''s walls.


    Until now, her education had been handled privately by the Caerwysg tutors,


    isolated from the world except for the occasional study session with family relatives.


    Her childhood had been filled with moments of daring curiosity, sometimes to her own peril.


    One such instance had left her with two close friends she might never have met otherwise.


    But those were memories she held privately, like treasures tucked away in a hidden drawer.


    Today, she felt a thrill at the thought of stepping beyond the familiar,


    of meeting others her age, of tasting a kind of freedom she had only imagined.


    As she let her thoughts drift, she felt someone approach.


    A maid stepped lightly across the cobbled path,


    the heels of her shoes barely sounding against the stones.


    She was a young woman, perhaps Beatrice''s age,


    with a refined yet unapproachable air that seemed to settle around her as naturally as the morning mist settled on the roses.


    Her hair, a deep reddish-brown, was styled neatly into a crown braid and bun.


    Her slender frame was graceful, and her sharp brown eyes gave her a presence both alluring and guarded,


    as though a wall of unspoken thoughts kept her somewhat distant.


    The maid''s voice was calm and steady. "Are you finished, my lady? Or is there something more you''d like?"


    For a moment, Beatrice didn''t respond, lost in her own world as she smiled at some passing thought.


    The maid watched her, and after a pause, she added in a tone touched with dry humor,


    "If you keep daydreaming with that smile, my lady, you might frighten your potential new friends before they even have a chance to meet you."


    Beatrice blinked, startled out of her reverie.


    "Ah! Ann!" Her laughter was soft, like the morning breeze stirring the roses.


    "Thank you, Ann. I''m quite finished."


    With a nod, Ann began clearing away Beatrice''s breakfast dishes,


    moving efficiently yet with a grace that made each action appear choreographed.


    She poured a fresh cup of tea and set it before her lady,


    who smiled as she took it, though a faint shadow of worry crossed her expression.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Do you think I''ll be alright on my own, Ann?" she asked, her voice suddenly small, almost like a child seeking reassurance.


    "Will I... find friends?"


    Ann''s calm eyes softened just a little.


    "My lady will be just fine. Her smile will charm anyone she speaks with."


    Beatrice flushed, her cheeks coloring as she returned the smile,


    though it grew somewhat silly in her eagerness.


    "Not with that silly smile," Ann added, her voice as steady as ever,


    though a hint of amusement glinted in her eyes.


    Beatrice quickly shifted to a more practiced, elegant expression,


    and Ann couldn''t help but watch with suppressed fondness as Beatrice seemed to rehearse her smile,


    changing from delighted to dignified to something in between.


    Finally, satisfied, she took a sip of her tea, only for the warmth and sweetness to soften her expression back into a silly grin.


    Ann suppressed a laugh, the corners of her mouth barely twitching,


    though a subtle tremor of amusement betrayed her.


    Just then, a voice called out with an authoritative tone, carrying across the garden.


    "Ann!"


    Ann''s expression snapped back to its neutral calm as she swiftly gathered the dishes,


    nodding farewell to Beatrice and pushing her cart back toward the house.


    Beatrice glanced toward the source of the voice and smiled, recognizing the woman approaching her with that same composed, measured stride.


    Amelia, dressed in her formal butler''s attire, approached with her usual dignified bearing.


    She was around late twenties, with dark hair cut short, just shy of a man''s cut,


    which framed her tanned face in a way that only seemed to add to her understated beauty.


    Her features were plain yet captivating, and her posture—always perfect—gave her an elegance beyond physical appearance.


    There was a strength in her that came not only from her exotic charm but also from her skills,


    particularly her renowned talent in the culinary arts.


    Her sweets, often requested for noble gatherings, had gained something of a reputation in high society,


    though Beatrice liked to think they were made just for her.


    "Amelia~! Where have you been? It''s been three days!" Beatrice''s smile brightened as Amelia approached.


    Amelia stopped before her and gave a polite bow.


    "My apologies, my lady. I was called to the Northam residence; they requested my assistance for a gathering."


    Beatrice leaned forward, eyes sparkling.


    "Let me guess—it must have been your sweets! I bet they couldn''t resist asking for a taste of your work."


    Amelia''s lips quirked up in a modest smile.


    "Perhaps, my lady. I like to think my services are appreciated."


    Beatrice gave an approving nod.


    "Of course they are! Though I wish they''d let me know ahead of time when they want you. It''s hard to share such talent."


    Amelia let out a small laugh and reached into her pocket, producing a delicate box.


    She opened it to reveal a brooch with a deep amber hue, emblazoned with the Caerwysg insignia—


    three roses intertwined, red on either side and a single white rose in the center.


    She carefully handed it to Beatrice.


    "For your school uniform, my lady," Amelia explained.


    "Please wear it as a token of your heritage."


    Beatrice took the brooch, her eyes lingering on its intricate design, and nodded, fastening it onto her dress.


    They fell into easy conversation after that, the familiarity between them creating a comforting rhythm


    that seemed to ease any lingering anxiety Beatrice held.


    Not far away, hidden just out of view, another figure observed them from within the house.


    Through an open window with lace curtains that blurred the world beyond,


    a silhouette held a teacup to their lips, eyes narrowed in faint disapproval.


    "Damn Amelia," the watcher muttered, almost under their breath.


    There was a subtle bitterness in the tone, as if the sight of Amelia so easily earning Beatrice''s trust and affection was a personal affront.