As I sat in the sunlit garden waiting to meet my younger brother and cousin, I mentally prepared myself.
I didn’t have to wait long. Soon enough, a whirlwind of energy bounded into the garden—a boy, probably around ten years old, with bright eyes that sparkled with curiosity. This had to be Simon, my little brother. Just behind him, a girl with a mischievous grin and an assessing gaze strolled in. Margot, my cousin. She looked about my age—likely a teenager as well—and seemed to find all of this as amusing as I found it surreal.
“Sister Liana!” Simon’s voice was cheerful but slightly hesitant, as if he wasn’t quite sure who this new, unfamiliar sister was supposed to be.
“That’s me!” I said, trying to sound like the big sister I now apparently was. “And how are you two?”
Simon nodded eagerly. “Are you really my sister? They said you were just sick? What happened sister?” He spoke with the sort of unfiltered honesty that only a ten-year-old could manage.
“Yes, I was unwell for a while,” I answered, glossing over the details for obvious reasons. “But I’m totally fine now—and I’m not going anywhere.”
Margot raised an eyebrow, clearly less trusting. “Well, glad to have you back, cousin,” she said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I’ve been hearing interesting things. Apparently, you’ve taken a sudden interest in, um… cleanliness?”
She said it as if I’d suddenly developed a fascination with clouds shaped like dragons. I had to laugh.
“Let’s just say I think we could all benefit from a little more… sparkle around here,” I replied, unable to resist adding a bit of drama to my words.
Simon looked between us with wide eyes, not entirely sure what was going on. “Why do we need more sparkle?” he asked, clearly intrigued.
“Well,” I began, launching into what I hoped would be an easy-to-digest version of basic hygiene. “Did you know that tiny, invisible creatures can live on our hands and in the dirt? And if we don’t wash them off, they can make us sick.”
Simon’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “Invisible creatures? Like little monsters?”
I chuckled. “Kind of. They’re called germs. They’re so tiny you can’t see them, but they’re there. And if we wash our hands regularly, we can get rid of most of them.”
Margot tilted her head, amused and skeptical. “So, we’re fighting invisible monsters now, are we?”
“Absolutely,” I replied, grinning. “Think of it as a kind of battle. A battle for health.”
Simon’s face was alight with excitement. “I want to fight the invisible monsters too!”
“Great!” I said, laughing. “It’s really simple. All you need is water and something like soap.”
“Soap?” Margot looked mildly horrified. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” I replied. “And it can smell like flowers too,” I added, seeing her wrinkled nose.
As we continued our little “lesson,” Margot gave me that same bemused, teasing smile, clearly finding all of this both baffling and entertaining. But as I shared more, I noticed she was actually listening closely. Maybe I had allies in these two after all.
Just as I was finally starting to feel a bit more at ease, Sara burst into the room with an expression that told me my peace was about to be shattered.
“Lady Liana, there’s to be a ball tomorrow night!” she announced, practically glowing with excitement.
My heart did a little leap—and not the good kind. A ball? Where I was supposed to attend for a whole crowd of nobles? This sounded like something out of a historical drama, except I wasn’t ready for my big debut.
“Tomorrow?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was about to faint.
Sara nodded, clearly thrilled, while I attempted to cover my rising panic with a very forced smile. I barely knew which fork to use for dinner, let alone how to carry myself in a room full of royals and lords. Give me a break!
The morning of the ball came all too soon. After Sara’s reminder that this was a “momentous occasion,” my stomach refused breakfast. And the preparations! Three maids led me to the bathing room, where I found a large tub filled with lukewarm, cloudy water. No fancy bath bombs or bubbly showers here—just buckets and a team effort.
The maids helped me undress, each one busy with her own task: one scrubbed my back, another rinsed my hair with flower-scented water, and a third rubbed some sort of oil into my skin. I was pretty sure the oil was supposed to smell like roses, but it also vaguely reminded me of the soap my grandma used to keep in her bathroom. Despite myself, I felt my nerves calm a bit from the pampering, even if it was wildly embarrassing. I wasn’t used to this level of hands-on help, and it was both relaxing and… well, very strange.
When they were done, I was led into a room full of dresses, like a makeshift boutique. Sara smiled and handed me a sapphire-blue gown that looked like it belonged to a fairytale princess. My jaw dropped just touching it—soft silk and tulle, embroidered with silver threads and little pearls. I barely recognized myself in it when I glanced in the mirror. The off-the-shoulder sleeves framed my neck, the bodice hugged my waist, and the skirt fanned out in gentle waves, like something out of a fantasy novel. I looked every inch the noble lady.
The maids added a sapphire pendant, a bracelet, and tiny sparkling pins in my hair. I took a deep breath, staring at this elegant woman in the mirror. She looked poised, refined, and completely foreign. As stunning as this version of myself was, the anxiety still bubbled beneath the surface. How on earth was I supposed to act at this ball? What if I tripped, or worse, said something embarrassingly modern? But then, as I stared at my reflection, a small, defiant thought formed. I could still be me. I might not know all the right moves, but I knew I could bring something unique to this life. I could blend my knowledge of the old with my curiosity about this strange, new world.
Finally, the maids finished and Sara led me out, beaming with pride. “Your father awaits you in the grand hall,” she said, a touch of awe in her voice.
As I entered the hall, I felt all eyes on me. Conversations paused, and people whispered to each other as I walked in. The room was grander than I’d imagined, with glittering chandeliers and tables draped in velvet. My father, Lord Aldric, stood at the center of the hall, looking every bit the proud, intimidating duke. Seeing him made my stomach twist.
“Liana,” he greeted, his voice warm but formal. “You look well, my child.”
I managed a small nod and forced my voice to stay steady. “Thank you, Father.” Inside, my heart was racing.
People started approaching, introducing themselves with all these elaborate titles. I felt like I was meeting a parade of dukes, marquesses, and barons. Every face blurred together, and I was so focused on remembering to smile and nod that their names practically bounced off my brain. Some were polite, others looked a bit skeptical, like they were sizing me up. A few of the younger noblewomen flashed polite smiles, but there was a glint in their eyes that made me feel like they were assessing me, maybe as competition.
I did my best to return their smiles, though inside I felt as stiff as a statue. Some older men glanced my way with interest, but they spoke in low, murmuring tones, probably discussing whether I’d make a good addition to their noble network. It was all so strange and uncomfortable, but underneath it all, I felt a little spark of determination. These people didn’t know me, or what I wanted to achieve here. I had no intention of just being a quiet, agreeable noblewoman.
The music picked up, and couples began to gather on the dance floor. I watched, mesmerized by their graceful movements, until I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.
“Edith told me you might need a reminder of your steps,” my father said, a slight smile softening his stern expression. He extended his hand, guiding me to the dance floor.
“I’ll lead,” he said. “Just follow as best you can.”
My cheeks flushed, but I took his hand and tried to focus on my steps. One, two, three—one, two, three. I counted under my breath, doing my best not to step on his toes. My father’s gaze stayed on me, and it was hard to tell if he was pleased or just relieved I hadn’t toppled over yet.
The evening was a blur of nods, polite smiles, and snippets of conversations about politics and winter plans. But what really caught my attention were the little details—the faint sourness clinging to some clothes, the slightly sticky goblet I held, the dust in the corners of this grand hall. For all its splendor, the place wasn’t exactly clean by modern standards. Even with all their wealth and influence, the nobility didn’t seem to know much about basic hygiene.
Finally, as the night wore down, I found a quiet moment by a window, looking out over the castle grounds. I took in the village lights flickering in the distance and felt a strange sense of purpose settle over me. Sure, I’d landed in a life far different from the one I’d planned, but maybe that was a good thing. I could make a difference here. Yes, it was partly because I couldn’t stand anything dirty to be honest.
Comments (0)
See all