Chapter 62

  Chelsea’s days started very differently than they did before. Even as she roused in the coziness of her bed, she did so out of a habit that she wasn’t accustomed to. It was far too early for her liking and while she was prone to oversleep or to doze off again, she was alert enough to fling off her blanket with the resignation of being punctual.

  Such respectable times for waking up were a new thing for Chelsea. She sat up, dragging her feet across the edge of the bed, her toes grasping to find her slippers. Once more, she was tempted to fall back into the mattress, but managed to resist.

  With a protesting groan, she put weight on her feet, feeling somehow older than she ever did. There was a weariness, an ache to waking up before wanting to because of an obligation. Heavy-lidded, her foggy mind incoherently wondered if this was how everyone felt at the start of their workday. How her mother and father felt when they woke up every morning.

  Half-asleep, she made for the bathroom attached to her room. Sighing that it was another chore that she had to undertake so early; getting ready and presentable as soon as she woke up. Usually, she would have slept till she wanted, or when her mother had had enough of her hibernation and scolded her to better her habits.

  It took twice as long as it should have, but eventually Chelsea completed her ablutions, the bath rejuvenating her to the land of the living. Grateful as she was for the warm bath that had been prepared for her, she had come to appreciate something that she had taken for granted. She shivered at the thought of a cold bath, or the inconvenience were there to be no plumbing. It was a fading memory from when she was very young, but she remembered the hassle of drawing water manually when her home didn’t have the virtue of piping.

  In her contemplation, she promised to thank Poppy more often. The maid would have risen even earlier to get the bath prepared and hot for her. And that was before taking to the kitchen for cooking their meals.

  The past few days had been quite the eye opener for Chelsea. Her outlook had been challenged and she was humbled to find herself not knowing as much as she thought she had.

  Knowledge had come at the cost of introspection, but it still didn’t stop Chelsea from finding it annoying to get dressed properly so early in the morning.

  Still, she had made strides as she opted for comfortable attire. It had been an embarrassing and painful lesson when she had arrived on her first day in a frilly frock and high heels. Her neck reddened just remembering it. By the end of that day, her feet and back had ben killing her.

  Her current selection was of a full sleeve blouse with a knee-length skirt over calf-length pantaloons. Footwear was respectfully sensible as well, raised sandals with flat soles. A light touch of makeup completed the ensemble, projecting the confidence of an educated, mannered and serious woman.

  She was going to work, not a ball.

  The clock showing just past eight left Chelsea undecided for a moment. She wasn’t running late, but nor would she be early even if she hurried.

  Nonetheless, she moved with quicker feet towards the kitchen. She could just as easily have broken her fast at the fort, but her mother would make a fuss were she to leave without eating.

  At the dining table, Chelsea only found Poppy peaking in to find who had come for breakfast. Even as Chelsea took her seat, Poppy was emerging from the kitchen with a tray of food.

  “Morning, Poppy,” Chelsea greeted. “Thank you for the bath.”

  Poppy replied with a smile. The woman had the curious habit of being nearly mute in the mornings, before transforming into a chatterbox as the day went on. Chelsea sympathized, not being a morning person herself.

  Chelsea inquired as to her family to learn that bar her brother, her parents had taken breakfast, with Theodore leaving the house on mayoral matters while Lauren had gone to the markets for some fresh goods.

  While not unexpected, Chelsea was slightly disappointed to find them gone. She liked seeing their prideful faces as she went to work.

  The first couple of days, Lauren had behaved as if Chelsea was going off to fight in a war somewhere far away. She had been such mothering hen about it and Chelsea couldn’t help the smile at the antics of her loveable mother. Just a few days later and her mother had abruptly turned sensible again and was encouraging of her daughter’s new vocation instead.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Upon finishing her meal, Chelsea faced a choice. She could tend to some of the work she had brought home and delay till noon. Or she could just get on with it and report for duty.

  The choice wasn’t exactly a choice, not when Chelsea knew that she would most likely procrastinate and end up piling her work.

  Making the detour to fetch her satchel, which had been left untouched since she returned from work yesterday, she left the house.

  As ever, the diligent butler that he was, Mister Brown was ready with her mare Sugartop upon her exit. Ensuing a small exchange of greetings and thanks, Chelsea mounted up and rode out at a trot.

  In the beginning, the subject of her transport had been quite the palaver. So much fuss had been made with the Count insisting on an assigned escort or a chaperoned carriage. Even her mother had backed the option of a taxi carriage. Chelsea had found it all so unnecessary when her commute, if she were to call it that, only took her fifteen minutes on horseback at a lazy canter.

  Suffice to say, Chelsea had gotten her way. Though it irked her that the Count had only agreed after her father had given permission.

  To her vindication, she approached the fort in a timely fashion and none worse for wear. Besides being a regular visitor for more than a week and with everyone knowing her since long before they knew the Count and the other foreigners, none barred her entry.

  The fort still felt strange to her. Like a mismatching cup to a saucer, the fort didn’t seem to pair with the Roheim Chelsea had known all her life. Altered just enough that it felt both new and nostalgic somehow. Meanwhile, Roheim hadn’t changed. Her home and the town, the people were still the same. It was only the foreigners and the refurbished fort that seemed to been plucked from elsewhere and imposed over the older one.

  A stable hand was present to take her mare, giving Chelsea a chance to discreetly correct any wrinkles from the ride over.

  She entered the keep, nodding and sharing a greeting here and there as she made for the first floor with a familiarity.

  Soon enough, she found herself at the newly converted office and study of Miss Lloyds. She knocked and was allowed entry.

  Chelsea entered to the familiar scene of finding Miss Lloyds behind her main desk in her high chair. Standing beside her, holding some paperwork, was Jamie who had paused whatever he was doing at her entry.

  It was coming close to two weeks since Chelsea had become a secretary for Miss Lloyds. So early on in her career, her tasks had mostly revolved around shadowing and observing Miss Lloyds, self-study on subjects assigned by Miss Lloyds, and reviewing and filing the most menial of paperwork.

  Her slow induction was both appreciated and frustrating. On one side, Chelsea was immensely grateful for Miss Lloyds holding her hand during her novice days on the job. Being the Mayor’s daughter had come with great deal of latitude, something that Chelsea both appreciated and abused more often than she cared to admit.

  On the other hand, she was eager to do more. She had come round to the idea of serving her hometown and her people. Governance was daunting a task as she found it intoxicating, Chelsea wanted to be more involved in the process, to be trusted with more serious work than she had been so far.

  Impatient though she was, Chelsea wasn’t the fool to question the methods of her senior. For Miss Lloyds didn’t suffer fools.

  And then there was Jamie. Her colleague. The competition.

  Where she was the Mayor’s daughter, he’s the chum of the Count. Both of them aides to Miss Lloyds.

  “Good of you to grace us with your presence in the morning, Miss Williams,” Marolyn spoke casually without looking up from her work, her tone disguising the reprimand.

  Not at all used to be being spoken like that by anyone other than her mother, Chelsea was quick to retort, “If you would have told me, Miss Lloyds, I would have been here all the sooner.”

  Marolyn paused to raise her eyes and stare at the cheek of the youngster. There was begrudging approval at the spine shown, but more so a rebuke at Chelsea not picking up on the obvious lesson of discipline and punctuality. She had seen people lose jobs for far less. But like everything to do Roheim, Marolyn was expected to take a more lenient approach.

  “Shape up, Miss Williams. Jamie here is not resting on his laurels. Despite not having your education. Despite growing up an orphan,” Marolyn stated conversationally, no inflection in her voice at the harsh facts, “he is outshining you in every way that matters to me. Regardless of his friendship with the Count, he has proven to be a competent, hardworking young man. A willingness to learn and initiative will always remain attractive aspects and Jamie has them in spades. I find him a pleasure to work with.

  “And I suppose it is unfair to expect you to match his drive. Not when Jamie has had to fight every single day of his life to be where he is today. Nothing was given to him. He had to earn everything. Faults of being poor and an orphan, you see,” spoke Marolyn, turning over a sheet of parchment after signing it as Jamie reflexively placed another document down for her as soon as she was done with the previous one.

  “Then there is yourself, Miss Williams, who are coaxing. There is potential, yes. Unfortunately, I have seen it all too often. Not unlike the children of the rich and entitled, you are a big fish in a small pond. Na?ve, spoiled, born to privilege and an easy life. Soft and late bloomers, the lot of them. But fret not, Miss Williams. If I can make use of the advantages I was born to, so can you.

  “Besides, you face the challenge of being the Mayor’s daughter. You will be judged against your father before anyone else. And I mean it as the highest compliment to Mayor Williams that you have big shoes to fill.

  “So, will you impress, Miss Williams? Or will you crumble?” Marolyn challenged, hoping to light a fire under her subordinate to be the best that she could be.

  Marolyn had so far kept a loose leash with Chelsea, hoping the girl would figure things on her own, which would have meant less effort on her part. Unfortunately, it was proving too slow and unlikely to happen. Now, she would take a firmer hand in making Miss Williams a contributing member of society.

  And if Marolyn was reading things right, then Chelsea had the tenacity of a scrapper in her. So, she would give the girl something to fight and prove herself.