Lenox's first night at Emerelda passed with a deep, dreamless sleep. His mind and body were exhausted by the long flight to Bayside and the experience of such an alien place.

The sonorous chimes of the grandfather clock next to his bed pierced through the veil of slumber, its rich tones echoing in the spacious bedroom. Lenox's eyes snapped open, pupils dilating in the dim light. The red glow of his digital alarm clock read 5:00 AM. He groaned, feeling the stubborn tendrils of exhaustion still clinging to him. Wrapping himself tighter in the luxurious sheets, Lenox willed himself back to sleep, but something about the clock's reverberations had rattled him awake.

Reluctantly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his feet finding a pair of slippers that hadn't been there the night before. Puzzled but too groggy to question it, Lenox slipped them on. They were of exceptional make, each step feeling like he was treading on clouds - as if he'd wandered into the domain of folklore giants. The fit was so perfect, he wondered if they'd been tailored for him while he slept.

Padding across the thick oriental carpet, a sea of intricate patterns beneath his feet, Lenox ventured into the hall. Each footfall on the dark hardwood elicited a groan that echoed down the long corridors, as if he were an alarm rousing the Emerelda from its own slumber.

A tantalizing aroma wafted through the air - sizzling bacon mingled with the earthy scent of freshly-brewed coffee, exciting his tired mind and awakening his stomach. Following his nose, Lenox descended the grand staircase, his hand gliding along the immaculately polished banister. He navigated the twisting, maze-like corridors, each adorned with portraits of long-dead strangers and unfamiliar landscapes. After getting lost twice, he surrendered to using the map Reginald had given him, the sheer scale of the mansion striking him anew. Who needs this much space just to reach their own kitchen? he thought.

Maurice, the chef he'd met yesterday, had prepared a veritable feast. As Lenox entered, Maurice slid the last golden-brown pancake onto a towering stack. Beside it sat a mound of decadent scrambled eggs, still steaming, and a small mountain of crispy bacon. At the counter, a plate waited with a perfect portion of each, flanked by syrup, orange juice, coffee, and water.

Maurice bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Good morning, young master. Please, have a seat. I've prepared a plate for you.

"Morning, Maurice," Lenox mumbled, still half-asleep. "Please, call me Lenox." He stared at the spread before him, his tired brain struggling to form a coherent question. "How...?"

Maurice's belly laugh filled the kitchen. "How indeed, Master Lenox. How indeed." His eyes twinkled with amusement. "I do hope the meal is to your liking."

Lenox looked at him askance. "It's... it's my favorite. How did you know?"

Maurice's smile morphed into a frown, his voice taking on a brusque tone. "A magician never reveals his secrets, Master Lenox. Now drink your coffee - two creams, three sugars, just as you like it. I'm tired of stupid questions."

Startled by Maurice's sudden shift in demeanor, Lenox obeyed without thinking. As the caffeine worked its magic, clearing the fog from his mind, he found his voice again. "Why so much food? The staff and I couldn't eat this in a month."

Maurice's expression softened. "Now that's a good question. Much better, Master Lenox." As he began packing the excess food into containers, he launched into a story. "After the first owner died, Emerelda was purchased by a coal mining magnate. Bit of a moron, really. On one of his mine visits, he met a girl - daughter of a miner killed in a shaft collapse. Opened his eyes to the awful conditions. As a sort of penance, he established an orphanage on this island, put all his money in a trust to maintain it in perpetuity."

Maurice delivered this history lesson as casually as if he were discussing yesterday's weather. Noticing Lenox had finished eating, he raised an eyebrow. "I'm delivering this to the staff for breakfast, then heading into town. You coming?"

Lenox glanced down at his pajamas and noted his bedhead. "What, now?"

Maurice's eyebrow arched higher. "You should see Bayside before the student rush. Plus, you've got responsibilities to learn about. Go get presentable. Fifteen minutes should do it. Reginald will have laid out clothes. Now, hop to it."

Realizing he was on a deadline, Lenox jogged back to his room. He showered quickly, fighting against the shower's insistence on a leisurely experience. Emerging, he found an outfit laid out - a fancy getup complete with vest, top hat, and cane. A quick check of the wardrobe revealed no trace of jeans, t-shirts, or anything remotely normal. Internally cursing Reginald, Lenox donned the shirt, slacks, and blazer, leaving the more ostentatious pieces behind.

Back in the kitchen, Maurice consulted a golden pocket watch. "Two minutes late," he remarked, tucking it away. In one fluid motion, he produced an embossed brass cigarette holder, placing a white stick between his lips before offering the case to Lenox.

"Want one?"

"I don't smoke."

Maurice grinned. "Neither do I. Kicked the habit a decade ago. This," he tapped the 'cigarette', "is just mint. Dissolvable wrapper. Useless in rain, but fresher than any gum you'll find."

Lenox couldn't help but smile at the chef's ingenuity. "In that case, I'll try one." He mimicked Maurice's earlier gesture, the mint dissolving on his tongue and chasing away the last traces of breakfast.

"Right then," Maurice said, hefting a stack of containers. "Grab that pile. We're off to the van."

They loaded the food into a van that looked ready to cater a society wedding, then set off as dawn painted the sky in soft azure and gold, casting long shadows across the landscape.

"Now, Master Lenox," Maurice began, not waiting for a response, "a word about the orphanage. As you know: coal magnate, moron, met a girl." He ticked off each point on his fingers. "Gentle soul, all things considered. Without him, this island might not have enough children to justify a school system."

As they turned onto the main road toward Bayside, Maurice continued. "We get a fair number of orphans from workplace accidents. Means we have more kids than you'd expect. Some old coots complain about the orphanage 'not contributing to the local economy.'" He spat the words out like they left a bad taste.

"But there's a reason Belleview's education program is so well-regarded. Bayside was incorporated before the Revolution. Has some unique laws. Lets college students get real teaching experience in the schools."

As Maurice spoke, Lenox spotted a lacquered wooden sign by the roadside:

"Bayside Town"

POP. 7364

"Now why does this matter to you?" Maurice asked, his eyes fixed on the road. "Well, remember when I mentioned that coal magnate incorporated the orphanage through the Emerelda..."

Realization dawned on Lenox, the pieces finally clicking into place. He finished Maurice's sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's my responsibility."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Bingo." Maurice's smile was equal parts pride and concern. "And the owner of the orphanage is expected to give a speech at Belleview's commencement."

The van pulled through a cast iron fence adorned with brass lettering that gleamed in the morning light: "Emerelda's Grace". They drove into a large cobblestone courtyard, flanked by two imposing four-story dormitories. At the far end stood the central building, its Georgian style architecture crowned by a majestic clock tower.

"Here we are," Maurice announced, his tone softer than before.

Lenox's mouth went dry, his mint cigarette falling forgotten to the van's floor. "I... own this?" he croaked, eyes wide and unblinking. "Speech... commencement?" The words tumbled out, barely coherent.

Maurice moved with surprising grace for his size. He opened the passenger door, deftly unbuckled Lenox's seatbelt, and gently but firmly guided the stunned young man out of the van. Before Lenox could fully regain his composure, he found himself with arms full of warm food containers.

Gathering his wits, Lenox finally managed to ask, "Maurice, why wasn't I told about any of this earlier?"

Maurice's sigh was heavy with years of disappointment. "No clue, Master Lenox. I know for a fact that Reginald informed your parents before the estate purchase. It's not a detail one leaves out." He paused, then added, "Your parents are arriving later this week. You might want to ask them directly."

Another sigh escaped the chef. "Most previous owners have overlooked the orphanage, leaving everything to Headmistress Dubois. But you're already on the commencement itinerary." A glimmer of hope flickered in Maurice's eyes. "It was nice to think, even for a moment, that one of Emerelda's owners might actually care."

Lenox's mind raced back to his parents' lectures about college responsibilities. He'd naively assumed they meant classes and essays, not... this. Anger flashed through him as he realized the extent of their plans, their 'testing' following him even here. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he confronted his own naiveté.

But then, something shifted. Lenox straightened, his resolve hardening. He turned to Maurice, food containers stacked precariously to his chin, and spoke with newfound determination. "Well, I may not have known about this, but if it's my responsibility, I fully intend to do it right."

Maurice froze, clearly taken aback. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a genuine smile. "It's good to hear that," he said softly, some of the tension visibly leaving his broad shoulders.

They made their way through the main doors and down to a staff room filled with men and women dressed for Sunday service. Maurice directed Lenox in arranging the food, and soon the appreciative staff were serving themselves.

As Maurice turned to leave, a commanding voice cut through the room. "Maury!" The bellow came from a diminutive woman, her face a map of deep wrinkles etched into light brown skin. A giant of a man in an aide's uniform guided her forward. Despite her frail appearance and the white-and-red cane in her left hand, her voice cracked like a whip. "Don't you dare leave without saying hello!"

Maurice winced, spinning to face her. "Madame Dubois, it's a pleasure," he said, bowing deeply.

"Don't 'Madame Dubois' me, young man. Let me see you," she demanded, her hand shooting out with surprising speed to grasp his ear. Maurice, cowed, leaned in obediently.

"Fine, fine. Mama Patience," he conceded as her fingers explored his face, tsking at his goatee.

Lenox stared at Maurice, who easily tore Lenox down just an hour before, as he was cowed in an instant.

"Now Maury, stop being rude and introduce me to your new friend."

Maurice mustered the most professional voice he could in the moment. "Mama Patience, this is the new owner of the Emerelda Estate and the new overseer of the orphanage. The Young Master, Lenox Aspect."

Upon hearing this, Patience Dubois, who was so casual and endearing a moment before stood tall. As she straightened her crooked back, the groan of old, rusted hinges and the crack of a thousand pieces of celery issued from her form in an instant. She transitioned into a practiced curtsy, which caused an entire room to scrunch their faces with sympathy.

"Master Lenox, this is Headmistress Patience Dubois. She has overseen this place since its founding almost in 19-"

"No need to give him a history lesson" She cut him off, and raised the back of her left hand toward Lenox. He saw a ring on her finger, a large diamond surrounded by a circle of rubies that reminded him of the Emerelda itself.

Lenox knew that this action was meant to provoke some response from him. Guessing, he took her hand and gave her ring a gentle kiss.

Mollified, her clear voice took on a different tone, tempered by a century of age. "It has been so long since an owner visited this place, and Maurice even got you to carry us food."

Mama Patience's voice cracked with emotion.

"Please, Young Man, allow me to see you." Her weathered hand played across Lenox's face, its touch as light as a butterfly's wings. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, she returned to her captain's demeanor.

1. "It would be my honor to host you in my office. We have some matters to discuss."

Lenox nodded before realizing his mistake and speaking. "Of course, Headmistress Dubois."

Patience set off, her aide providing silent support as her cane tapped out a metronomic tempo on the polished floors. Before leaving the room, Lenox glanced at Maurice, expecting him to follow. The chef met his gaze with a faint shake of the head, already turning to the staff to orchestrate the morning's meal.

Lenox hurried to catch up, surprised by the old woman's brisk pace. The speed she set left no room for idle chatter as they navigated the halls. The orphanage slumbered around them, the corridors eerily silent save for the echoes of their footsteps.

The old building exuded a scent of fresh polish, its dark wood paneling a stark contrast to the light red wallpaper. Lenox felt a familiar weight of expectation, reminiscent of Reginald's piercing gaze. The very walls seemed to urge him forward, his mind racing with questions about his role in this place.

Finally, they reached a heavy wooden door adorned with a brass nameplate: "Patience Dubois, Headmistress." The aide swung it open, and Headmistress Dubois swept in, Lenox following in her wake. He closed the door softly behind him, the subtle click of the latch echoing in the suddenly quiet space.

Patience Dubois settled into a regal chair behind a massive teak desk. To her left, a neat stack of papers stood sentry beside a golden scale. One wall of the office was a fortress of books on every conceivable subject, while the opposite told a visual history - hundreds of photographs of Patience with generations of children, their faces a tapestry of hope and resilience.

As Lenox drifted towards the photos, drawn by the stories they seemed to whisper, a sharp voice cut through his reverie.

"Sit down, Young Master Aspect," Patience commanded, gesturing vaguely towards the space in front of her desk. She took off her shades, and placed them in her desk. Her milky eyes, though unseeing, seemed to hold a wisdom that transcended sight. "We have much to discuss, and precious little time before the day truly begins."

Lenox obliged, sinking into the chair that seemed to have been designed for discomfort. Patience's head was tilted slightly, as if listening intently to his every movement.

"Let me first assuage any concerns," she began, her words clipped and efficient, much like the woman herself. "You are in no way going to be involved in the day-to-day operation of the orphanage. Neither do I expect you to throw money at us. We have plenty." She paused, her unseeing eyes seeming to look through Lenox. "I am simply too old now to run around to events like Belleview's commencement. It's a lot of effort, and I would much rather spend my time with the children. I would prefer that you were a good role model, but simply giving speeches every once in a while would suffice."

Lenox considered her words, relief washing over him. "That, I can do," he said, a small chuckle escaping him as tension left his shoulders. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to hand me the keys and give me this office." His eyes swept the room once more, taking in its gravitas. "I would like to be a good role model, but I cannot guarantee that I will be able to meet the expectations the Emerelda sets."

At this, Patience scoffed, a sound that seemed to carry decades of experience. "You've been speaking with Reginald, haven't you? I can hear it in your voice. I can already tell you that you'd be an improvement to almost all of the permanent owners. Emerelda has a habit of attracting incompetents and idiots." She leaned forward slightly, her cataract-ridden eyes somehow conveying intensity. "You... you're just young."

Lenox considered this, his mind latching onto a particular phrase. "What do you mean by 'permanent owners'?"

"Many owners in the past have found the Emerelda does not suit them," Patience replied, her voice taking on a distant quality. "I could never stay there. It makes me feel small."

At that moment, the large aide leaned in, whispering something into her ear. Patience's demeanor shifted instantly.

"I have some business to attend to. Thank you for your time," she announced. In a whirlwind of motion that belied her age, she stood and was out the door in an instant, her cane tapping a swift rhythm, leaving Lenox alone with the aide.

The silence stretched, heavy and expectant. "So..." Lenox ventured, "What's your name?"

"Brutus Strong," came the reply, a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate the very floor. His words carried such finality that they shut down any further attempts at conversation.

Sensing he was unwanted, Lenox bid farewell and left the office, his mind swirling with new questions about Emerelda, its owners, and his place in this intricate dance of power and responsibility.

He found Maurice waiting for him in the hallway. "She wasn't too hard on you, right?" the chef asked, scratching the back of his head with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Headmistress Dubois was perfectly pleasant," Lenox replied, his tone carefully neutral. "Where are we headed now?"