By the time dinner had concluded, His Grace could barely hold his head up. All he could manage was a listless stare at the wine bottle, propped up by his chin. It had been emptied by him alone, yet he clung to it anyways.

“Are you sure... y-you DON’T want any?” he asked, suddenly turning his attention to me. I raised an eyebrow at him and grimaced, certain I didn’t want any. As the attendants are collecting our plates, I notice they are unwilling to pry the wine from His Grace. I remain courteous in spite of his disastrous display, trying to save face for us both. Along with them arrives a butler, an older, slender gentleman who was immediately recognized by the future Grand Duke.

“Robert!” he exclaimed excitedly with widened eyes, throwing his hands out as if the aid was a friend he hadn’t seen in ages. However, given Robert’s expression, this seemed less like a reunion and more so a recurrence of events. His Grace abruptly bolted from his chair to embrace him but the alcohol quickly overtakes him and his center of gravity tipped forward. The butler caught him in his arms as His Grace staggered to prop himself upright.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” he says considerately to the young duke before glancing at me. “My Lady, I am here to guide you both back to your rooms, for I shall be acting as your escort this evening.” Oh thank heavens.

“Oh, thank you,” I say, smiling relieved to find I won’t be tending to His Grace’s drunkenness, “I truly appreciate it.”

“That’s quite unnecessary, My Lady,” he assured me as he hoisted up His Grace. “It is merely,” he says groaning, shouldering his weight, “within my service to do so.” Watching as he helps the young duke, I contemplated the repeated behavior that would have warranted this to be customary of his duties working under His Grace.

The butler guided us back through the familiar green hall, much brighter than before. The oil lamps adorning the walls must have been relit, making our path much easier to navigate. While His Grace remained in a drunken haze as we walked, Robert informed me that he will be showing me to a different room than the one I had initially borrowed. As the fianceé of His Grace, I would be staying in a much grander residence befitting of my status. Upon our arrival, I would also be introduced to a set of maids that would be tending to my needs from here on out. I thanked him for the insight, allowing him to lead us down another hall.

Making our way past several alternate corridors, I considered the vastness of the estate and concluded there must be a library. Preferably grander than the nook I had become acquainted with, I merely required a route to it. Once I had found the place, I could resume my escape operation with some quiet study. Peering over at Robert, I feel tempted to ask about its potential whereabouts. However, my eyes gravitated towards the menace slouched over his shoulder, giving me pause. If I was to avoid the interference of His Grace, perhaps such work was to be done under the guise of night. Thus, I put my ambitions on hold and continued proceeding towards my room.

As we approach the sleeping quarters, I notice a pair of petite figures standing beside my bedroom entrance. One appeared older than the other, with her auburn hair pinned up into a neat bun, sporting a more sophisticated uniform. Her apron’s shoulder wings distinguish her higher rank, leading me to recognize her as the head maid. Robert walked ahead of me to greet them, both.

“Good evening, Beatrice,” he said, nodding to the elder woman before acknowledging the other, “And who might this be?”

“Ah,” Beatrice replied, motioning to her associate, “This is Adela, she shall be Her Lady’s handmaid.” Adela peers up at me past her bonnet.

“My Lady,” she said meekly with a curtsey. She revealed her face to possess a youthful glow, and I noticed strands of blonde hair peek out from under her dainty hood.

“Good evening, Adela, Beatrice,” I replied, curtseying to them both, “I look forward to seeing more of you in the future.”

“As do we, My Lady,” Beatrice said on their behalf, “Allow us to help with a change of clothes.”

“Certainly,” I said, parting from my escort as Beatrice opened the door to my bedroom.

“WAIT!” A familiar male voice cried from behind us.

I whirled my attention back to the source of the cry, recognizing his tone. I narrow my eyes at His Grace, who appears disoriented. “You are all… forgetting,” he drones, struggling to recall, “that Ava… NEEDS her tea.” So much for social etiquette. I rolled my eyes at his conceited counsel before setting my gaze on my attendants.

“Don’t mind, Lord Nikkolas,” I said in a quieter voice, mindful of his presence, “He’s simply had too much to drink.”

“Only because it's our engagement NIGHT!” he retorted in a playful tone, “WOO!” His butler worked to restrain His Grace from collapsing onto the carpet. Although it seemed the young duke had forgotten we’ve only just announced our plans to be engaged, I still resented his capacity to not merely remain lucid in his intoxication, but to do as much as hold a conversation.

“Please,” I said, holding my tongue, “Excuse us.”

“Of course,” Robert replied as I stepped into my bedroom, giving me the benefit of the doubt, “I bid you goodnight.”

“As do I, Robert,” I said politely, with a smile, allowing Beatrice to hold the door open for me. As she released her grasp to let the door swing back, I hear the faint voice of His Grace muttering.

“Is someone… going to bring her tea?” he asked meekly, likely referring to Robert. My ears burned at the remark, as my expression distorted into a frown. His condescension knows no bounds and is regrettably invigorated by the alcohol.

The door fortunately shuts out anymore of His Grace’s banter, and I’m alone with my supportive pair of maids. I behold a room as grand as Robert had promised: ornate wallpaper, an elegant window lined with fringe curtains, and a magnificent candelabra to tie it all together. In the corner, a tufted sofa beckons me, preying on my growing fatigue.

I initially slip off my gloves, wishing to rid myself of any reminder of the young duke. Beatrice instructs Adela to begin unfastening my corset, which I acquiesce to. I breathe a sigh of relief upon my release from the constricting garment, haphazardly hobbling out of my ball gown. Adela then helps me out of my heels, and replaces them with blue slippers adorned with embellishments. Meanwhile, Beatrice swings open the doors of my armoire to search for sleepwear. As she begins to procure an almost translucent powder blue nightgown from my assortment of clothes, I voice an appeal for something more modest. Though slightly thrown off by this request, she relents and gathers the opaque fabric of a satin nightdress in its stead.

With Adela’s help, I slip comfortably into the pale blue nightgown, feeling the cool touch of the material draped over my skin. I looked back at myself in the mirror of my vanity, content with the change of clothes.

“The gown suits you well, My Lady,” Adela said, complimenting me.

“Thank you, Adela,” I replied graciously, with a smile. “I love the color,” I added, marveling at the fabric.

“Likewise, My Lady,” she replied, gazing at my dress. I look over at Beatrice, who is nearly finished tending to my bedding.

“Alright, My Lady,” the head maid declared, patting down her apron, “If that is all, we shall be taking our leave and allow you to rest.”

“Of course, thank you for all that you have done, this evening,” I commended them, watching as she shuffled past the side of the bed. She then turned to a nearby desk and grabbed a hold of an oil lamp, lighting it for their departure.

With my approval, Beatrice then made her way towards the doorway, motioning for Adela to accompany her. The handmaid perked up at the request and followed suit.

As I watched them file out of my room, I felt anxious, as though I might have forgotten something. The sensation pesters me, insisting I reassess. The library!

“Pardon me, Adela!” I exclaimed, almost shouting. They both suddenly glance back at me.

“Yes, My Lady?” Adela responded, bewildered by my outburst.

“Oh,” I replied meekly, clasping my fidgeting hands, “I was hoping you could direct me to the library.” The handmaid tilts her head, before looking to her superior for advice.

Beatrice steps ahead of her to answer my query. “My Lady, we are more than willing to help you, but–forgive my saying,” she paused, clearly anxious not to offend me, “might it be a bit late to be wandering the estate?”

“Yes, My Lady,” Adela chimed in, more certain in her tone, “Please, allow me to retrieve some books on your behalf.”

“Ah, no, that won’t be necessary,” I replied kindly, quick to wave off their worry. “I certainly have no intention to go out at this hour,” I lied, “I merely had plans to visit sometime in the morning.”

“Oh, my apologies, My Lady,” Beatrice interjected, curtseying, “The library is fairly close, simply down the right hall.”

“Oh, thank you, Beatrice!” I smiled before bidding them goodnight.

“Of course, My Lady,” Beatrice answered, ushering Adela out, taking their leave together. I watched as the door closed, resigning myself to sit in wait for the echoes of their footsteps to trail off.