"Has it only been a week...?"
Arabella sighed to herself, staring longingly out of the carriage window at the passing scenery. Every morning that she woke up and faced her young self in the mirror made her entire situation feel less and less plausible. Part of her was waiting to wake up from a strange dream. But this was real.
"Yes, milady. It has been exactly a week since the funeral."
Arabella's eyes snapped towards Aubrey who sat across from her in surprise. She had almost forgotten she had company. Aubrey was straightforward as usual, she must not have realised Arabella was speaking to herself. Arabella gave a soft nod of acknowledgement before becoming lost in her thoughts once more.
As hopeless as it seemed, Arabella had dedicated her past few days to travelling into the earldom to speak to as many people as she could in a fruitless search for Alistair. She had convinced herself that he couldn't be far, but the reality was making itself clear that she may have been overambitious in her initial plans. The anticipation of revenge may have overridden her logic in finding someone within the large kingdom of Aurumia; in short, it was a long shot. But she could not give up on the slight possibility Alistair was here.
It was not long before the sights became familiar from outside the window and the trees became replaced by homes and shops of different kinds. She had moved on to searching nearer to the coast.
The earldom was located in the east and the port was a hotspot for importing, travel, and fishing. It was the closest entry point for those from the neighbouring Kingdom, Nyotari, Aurumia's closest and oldest ally. The Lockhart family historically controlled and protected the border, gaining titles through an old war against Nyotari in which her ancestors had aided the royal family. They were given control of the earldom in exchange. War was no longer something they had to worry about. The war happened centuries ago and ended in peace when Nyotari surrendered. It was all so long ago, but as far as she knew relations had remained amicable between Aurumia and Nyotari since. But most importantly, history gave her family control of the most famous border resulting in their firm grip on the business of importing goods through the most popular point of entry.
Once the carriage had come to a stop in the road, Aubrey let herself out and promptly offered Arabella a hand to do the same. As soon as she stepped foot on solid ground, she took a deep breath of the salty sea air. If she had a favourite place in the world, it would have to be the coast where the people were the most active and busy. People here always moved with ease, lost in their own worlds.
Regardless, Arabella moved on, methodically tracing her steps through town, Aubrey following behind her. Her heeled boots carried her down the cobblestone streets and entered shop after shop, making friendly conversation with the many characters in each place. If her past few days of searching had made her aware of anything, it was that her infamy extended beyond the noble circles. People had already built the idea that she was an uncontrollable, rampaging demon... Which, well, it wasn't entirely wrong for anyone to assume that. She was never an angel, far from it. This perception of her had become clear in the unease that surrounded every place she entered. She couldn't let that continue.
It was burdensome to have people hesitate to relay any information to her when she walked into a room. As such, her search for Alistair served a double purpose. Improving her image among the people with some savoir-faire. So far it had been going quite smoothly but relied on a little white lie of hers.
"Earl Lockhart sent you to check on the local businesses, you say?"
Arabella smiled demurely at the seamstress from behind the counter. Each time she used this line, Aubrey would send her a subtle look of suspicion that did not go unnoticed. Arabella brushed a loose curl behind her ear and spoke sweetly, "Yes. My brother has been so occupied with his work that he could not find the time to do so himself. I'm simply aiding him with his obligations, I'm sure you can understand."
The shop owner seemed cautious but slowly wrung her hands together, "Ah... Yes, of course, Milady. His Lordship must be busy."
The same song and dance ensued. Arabella made her way around the shop inspecting the wares. The fabrics on the shelves were indeed beautiful and caught her eye, but she did not disregard how the shop seemed to be in slight disrepair. Satisfied she turned back to the young woman who hadn't removed her uneasy gaze from her form, "Your materials are very unique. Do you have any examples of your work to show me?"
"Well, there is an order for a gown that has not yet been collected, Milady..." As she spoke, she reached beneath the counter and pulled out a plain-looking box that failed to catch the eye. But once it opened, Arabella felt her jaw drop at the intricate detailing of the gown within. The lace, the beading, and even the sewn-in patterns were something she had not seen before. How had she never visited this store?
And for such an expensive-looking dress to come out of an otherwise hidden away place...This was something only a noble could afford, but who would possibly know about this hole in the wall? The gown was something that stood out to her and for some reason, she had the sense that she had seen it before. The memory was faded, but something this beautiful could not be forgotten so easily. She stopped ogling the dress and looked at the dressmaker, "This is amazing work. Would you mind telling me who it was that ordered this?"
She grew meek, frowning deeply, "I'm afraid not, Milady. I must preserve the confidentiality of my customers. I don't have many after all..."
With work this good, she should have people travelling from afar to wear her creations. And this mystery customer of hers intrigued Arabella. No typical noblewoman would have her gowns made by someone unknown. For nobles it was all about reputation and association, being able to name the maker and have others perk up at the mention, all rushing to be pushed up on the waiting list. This woman's potential was not being reached. Her mind wandered back to the disrepair of the store and how the beautiful expensive fabrics stood out like a sore thumb. She smiled and turned to her, "How long ago did you open shop?"
She seemed confused but the young woman answered promptly, "Only a couple of months back, Milady. It's only me working here at the moment, I came here from Nyotari."
Ah, suddenly it made sense. A foreigner wouldn't be as knowledgeable about the most profitable places to open a dress shop. The country was most definitely not one of those places. She would have been better off in the Hawthorne march where most artisans set up shop, not the Lockhart earldom where nobles hardly set foot aside from business matters. But she wasn't a lost cause and an idea was brewing in Arabella's head. Arabella placed a curled finger to her chin, "Madame. You don't make much profit here. Do you?"
The seamstress' brown eyes widened in surprise, "What-"
"I have some ideas," She cut her off, smiling at her confused expression. "I think that your business could be saved, but you're being held back. It wouldn't be anything too difficult for you to change, either. In exchange..." She tapped her chin and grinned. "I want a list of the customers who have been ordering from you until now."
It seemed like something inconsequential, but the more Arabella thought about it, this mystery shopper raised questions. Whoever they were, they had uncovered a hidden gem and were keeping it to themselves. Furthermore, the itch in her brain on where she had seen this gown was knawing at her from within.
The woman stared silently, trying to gauge where the young girl was aiming at. Ultimately, the seamstress stared apologetically, "Milady, pardon me for being rude. But, as much as I appreciate your help... I think I would prefer to wait until his Lordship is available until I make any changes." Arabella felt her eye twitch in irritation, forgetting the fact that she was indeed in the body of her 14-year-old self at the moment. It would be insane to take financial advice from a child. "You see, I've already applied for a loan and am waiting for a response. So I'm certain it won't be long before my business makes money..!"
She seemed excited, but Arabella sighed quietly at her naivety. Arabella crossed her arms, raising a brow, "You'll be long put out of business before you can be approved for any kind of loan." Aubrey's eyes widened at Arabella's blunt attitude, regardless Arabella continued in her scolding tone. "Not only are you young, but you're opening a dress shop in the country, among the countless plethora of dress shops out there. You barely have a loyal customer base and you're foreign. As you are, no one would lend you anything. Even so, you would end up drowning in debt."
It seemed the young woman had come to Aurumia with nothing but a dream and most likely some cash to splash on expensive materials. The hit of reality seemed to shake her from within and the seamstress began to sweat, realising that Arabella's words held some truth. She must have been the first to tell her this.
Arabella continued, "Frankly, I was not lying when I said I saw potential in your work. But you aren't the only tailor in Aurumia." Sensing that she was shaken enough, Arabella shrugged and slowly began to walk away and spoke with an exaggerated drawl. "I suppose that's all then... I'll take my leave-"
"Ah, wait! Milady!" The rushed cry made her spin around on the spot with a knowing smile. The young seamstress had reached out from over the counter with her brows upturned. Arabella walked back and tilted her head in a motion as if to say 'what is it?'. In response the shop owner mulled over her thoughts, debating with herself until she finally gave in and reached for a piece of paper and pen. It took her less than a moment of scribbling until she thrust the paper in her direction. "Here. I don't have many customers, but these are the ones who have ordered from me consistently."
Arabella stared at the piece of paper being offered to her before gently taking it and inspecting the list with a careful eye. She wasn't lying when she said she didn't have many customers, there were only 4 people named. But one name caused her eyes to widen in shock. Suddenly, this whole thing had been worth every moment. This woman must not have been aware of what a renowned client she had been serving... Smiling Arabella carefully folded the list away and put it into her dress pocket for later.
"Now, please," The seamstress looked towards her desperately, admitting defeat. "I'm struggling to stay afloat, that is true. Please... give me some advice."
With a satisfied smile, Arabella put all her attention on her once more, "First and foremost... " She quickly took out the folded list and pointed towards it. "Of your loyal customers, only one of them is noble. So why is it that your only materials are things that only nobles could afford." She placed the folded paper back into her pocket and gestured to the shop window where the view was not even of the main street. "This is the country. If you want to sell only to nobles then move to the capital. In your situation, wouldn't it make more sense to aim for the locals with simpler and cheaper designs? What you should be doing is matching your supplies to your clientele. The majority of your budget should leave little space for luxurious silks until you gain customers that can afford such silks."
The woman winced at her honesty, realising that she was right, "Indeed... "
Arabella nodded in agreement, "Though it's commendable that you even managed to attract nobility with how disguised this place is... A testament to your handiwork, I assume." Arabella let her eyes fall on the gown again and reached to inspect it, she let the fabric run through her fingers. Even discounting the material used, the dress was made with amazing technique. The stitching is subtle, yet solid. She had known a fair share of dressmakers, but this woman had a skilled hand for sure. "Your talent isn't something that can be hidden by even the shabbiest of fabrics. So you should be able to attract more customers based on your skill alone. Establish your own brand that way. Create a sign that stands out, improve the look of your store, and use a signature on your clothing and packaging. Anything to distinguish yourself from others. That way, you'll be memorised much easier."
The woman stood still for a moment, soaking in Arabella's words with her brows knitted together in thought. Finally, she sighed and relented a small smile of gratitude, "Milady, I am thankful for your advice. I will take it into consideration immediately!"
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Arabella smiled and bowed in acknowledgement, about to leave until she suddenly remembered the aim of her outing, "Oh, one more thing...!" It had completely slipped her mind with the debacle surrounding the gown and she silently berated herself for almost leaving without asking. "You see, I am also searching for someone..."
The seamstress looked apologetic, "Ah, I have not been here for long, Milady... Not to mention most of my time has been spent in my store..."
"Even so, I implore you to scour your memory," Arabella urged. "I'm looking for a boy. Around my age with white hair and violet eyes."
The seamstress squinted ever so slightly. White hair was a rarity in Aurumia, however, it was less so in Nyotari. Though Arabella had never seen the late king, in portraits he shared the same blonde as Prince Cecil. So, Alistair's white hair had to be inherited from his mother. However, the combination of his jewel-like violet eyes which were a staple of the Aurumian royals made him stand out even more. Arabella waited with bated breath as the seamstress dug through her memories.
Suddenly, the woman's eyes perked up, "I'm unsure if this will be helpful, Milady, but recently I returned to Nyotari briefly about a week ago. There was a commotion back in my hometown near the docks. I didn't see it, but others mentioned a boy that matched that description..."
Arabella's eyes widened in surprise. This was the first slight lead she had received. Even if it was a dead end, she felt her entire body become energised with excitement at the mere prospect of getting closer to her goals. Nyotari... So she was wrong, to begin with. But God must have been smiling down on her to have sent her this lead to correct her path.
Aubrey sent a confused look Arabella's way, after a moment too long of stunned silence which was enough to drag Arabella out of her exhilarated state. She took a deep breath, evening out her tone and hiding her hands shaking in excitement. Finally, Arabella composed herself and smiled at the seamstress,
"That will be all then. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavour."
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After exiting the shop, Arabella walked in completely focused silence back to the carriage with Aubrey following behind. In her hands was the list given to her by the seamstress which she couldn't tear her gaze away from. Specifically, her squinted eyes remained glued to the name at the bottom. It was only a forename, unlike all the others, but with her memories, it wasn't difficult to figure out who it was.
'Yvette'
In other words, Yvette Salvatore: The eldest daughter of the Salvator Duchy and the girl that Cecil had actually intended to marry from the beginning. Their engagement was announced not long into Arabella's imprisonment, though even to her love-sick younger self, it was no surprise. She had always deluded herself into thinking that Cecil truly loved her alone, but the reality was Yvette would always be the final choice. She was the type of woman to have eyes turn on her when she entered a room, able to hush all chatter with a flick of her candy-coloured locks, the centre of all conversation and a true trendsetter. The gown that she had just seen stuck out because it was Yvette's.
Arabella was being opportunistic, she wouldn't deny that fact. At that realisation, she let out an airy bitter laugh at her own expense. But she would follow that information at a later time. The setting sun signalled that it was time for her to return home but her aching feet said otherwise. Spotting a bench overlooking the port, Arabella gave a large stretch and groaned towards Aubrey, "Hey, let us take a break."
Aubrey didn't object, as usual, and simply followed. Arabella sprawled herself on the bench with a sigh of satisfaction from finally getting off her feet. The sounds of the ocean lulled her muscles into a relaxed state. With the beautiful view of the setting sun sinking into the water's horizon, Arabella could already feel the hectic day fading into the past and nothing could bother her. Her eyes flitted from the sunset to Aubrey who had remained standing beside her, with perfect posture. A frown tugged at Arabella's lips, "When I said rest, I meant the both of us, Aubrey. I'm not evil."
Aubrey's silver eyes widened a sliver but returned to their perpetual half-lidded state in less than a second, "...That would be improper of me, Milady."
"But I told you to rest. So shouldn't you do as I say?" Aubrey couldn't argue with that. Yet, when she took a hesitant seat beside her, Arabella couldn't help but feel like that came off more like a bratty order. Well, it got the job done. Aubrey had always been so stiff. Her eyes wandered to Aubrey who sat straight as a board. A thought had been mulling in the back of her mind that she needed to let out, "Do you think anything of me asking about a boy all day?"
Aubrey's silver eyes flitted from staring straight ahead to meeting Arabella's pointed gaze, "...Not particularly, Milady."
A sly smile crossed Arabella's lips, "Good. I like you, Aubrey," She crossed her arms and leaned back into the bench. "You don't ask questions."
"I am not paid to ask questions, Milady." Aubrey's monotone words came out with a hint of snark. It caused Arabella to snort in amusement at having picked it up.
Arabella smiled and rested her chin in her palm in thought, an idea brewing in her mind. She and Aubrey were not friends, how could they be when Arabella essentially controlled her paycheck? There is no such thing as friendship with your boss. But, even so, they had been together for a long time, since Arabella was 10. As much as Aubrey knew her, Arabella had come to know Aubrey in turn: From her mannerisms as slight as they may be to the order in which she preferred to do her routine. Aubrey was insanely perceptive and even if she would never be 'loyal' to her, it was a skill that Arabella could benefit from. They weren't friends after all, so wouldn't it make sense to approach this as an employer? Her smile never faltered as she turned to face Aubrey, "What if you were?" Aubrey perked up but subtly squinted in a mixture of confusion and suspicion. Arabella continued. "I mean, what if I paid you to ask questions? Not necessarily to me per se... rather for me."
Aubrey surprisingly enough seemed to catch on and her eyes returned to being half-lidded. After a moment of contemplation, she folded her hand in her lap and spoke with caution, "...I see... Milady, if I were to agree to this... May I speak my mind?"
"I don't see why not," Arabella shrugged, though she slowly grew curious. "If you're doing me this favour, then I can grant you that much."
"What I mean is, Milady...Do you swear that there will be no repercussions if I ask questions of my own in exchange," Aubrey spoke eagerly, as though she was itching for an answer.
Arabella had not expected this and was left staring with raised brows. Was this the most emotion she had seen Aubrey express? Possibly. "...I swear."
"Lady Arabella, you've been acting strange," Aubrey rushed straight to the point, her blunt attitude shocking Arabella. "I know it is not my place to say, but it is almost as though you are a different person altogether."
Maybe Aubrey was more perceptive than she thought. Arabella felt a bead of nervous sweat collect on her brow as she forced a smile, "I'm growing, Aubrey. You can't expect me to stay a child forever, can you?"
"Even so..." Aubrey pursed her pink lips and paused, mulling over her next words carefully. "The way you act, Lady Arabella. Even other ladies your age don't peruse such advanced books, not to mention you had previously shown a strong distaste for education in general to the detriment of your poor tutors. And that isn't even mentioning the Carol incident," Aubrey's emphasis instantly let Arabella know the gig was up. She smiled incredulously as Aubrey finished. "I said nothing when I noticed your scheming. But, scheming is very unlike you in the first place, Lady Arabella. And whatever you did to that girl, somehow made her meek... And everything returned too. What did you do to Carol? What was it that made you change?"
Aubrey's eyes widened at the end of her rant and she quickly placed her fingers over her lips in the realisation of her words. She bowed her head slightly, "I apologise for my impertinence, Milady..."
"I did say you could speak your mind without consequence, so lift your head," Arabella's hand waved away Aubrey's apology and the woman composed herself, returning to normal but waiting in anticipation for Arabella's response. It wasn't like Arabella could just tell Aubrey that she died and returned to the past and really she was 18 years old inside. Not necessarily for the absurdity of it, but the fact that she couldn't fully trust Aubrey just yet. Just because she didn't suspect her of taking part in her untimely demise, didn't make Aubrey an ally. Again, they were employee and employer, not friends. She huffed and rested her cheek in her fist, "...Aubrey before I can answer that. You knew about Carol's thievery for a long time, didn't you?" Aubrey's shifting eyes were the answer she needed. Arabella smiled, amused. "I thought so. If you could notice that, surely you know that I couldn't care less about some pieces of jewellery going missing. What I care about isn't a perfume I never wear being drained by a sticky-fingered maid..." The shine in Arabella's blue eyes darkened to a dangerous glint as she clenched her fist, causing a shiver to run down Aubrey's spine. "What I care about... Is what that sticky-fingered maid can go on to do without appropriate supervision..."
It did not go unnoticed by Aubrey that Arabella had avoided answering her questions with full clarity, but she opted not to pursue the issue. Instead, she focused on the cold look in the young girl's eyes and swallowed nervously, sensing that her words also acted as a warning. Aubrey simply nodded with caution, "I see, Milady..." Her gaze grew softer. "So long as you are not putting yourself in a dangerous position, what you plan is none of my concern."
The sliver of empathy in Aubrey's tone suddenly caught Arabella off guard, she frowned hard in an attempt to disguise her touched expression. A cough left Arabella's lips, moving right along to the next order of business to distract herself. She dismissively waved her hand in an attempt to lighten the mood, "...Anyway, back to my original enquiry. I'm sure you've asked enough questions," She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the object she had been saving for this. In a swift moment, Arabella grabbed Aubrey's hand and placed it in the centre of her palm.
Aubrey's eyes widened in recognition at the emerald ring resting in her palm and she looked at Arabella in confusion, "This had been under your bed for some time now. I presume it was part of another scheme?"
"It was,' Arabella started, combing back her hair in a confident motion. "But this morning, I found it on my desk instead." Aubrey nodded understanding the situation as expected. Arabella had made sure to leave the task of cleaning her room solely to Carol since the incident. It didn't take long for it to be removed from its original position under the bed, making her assume her harrowing threat hadn't quite stricken Carol with enough fear. But instead, she found it resting on her bedside table as though making a statement. Needless to say, Arabella was quite pleased with the development. She smiled at Aubrey, "The ring has served its purpose, so consider it a complementary gift and assignment on my behalf."
Aubrey's eyes glimmered at the expensive jewel lying in her palm, entrancing her with its shine but upon taking in Arabella's words, she raised a brow, "Assignment...?"
Arabella shook her head and brushed back a loose curl that had fallen into her line of sight from the strengthening ocean breeze, "Nevermind that for now. We'll discuss that later. " She stood up from the bench and stretched wide, feeling her back crack much to her pleasure. A satisfied smile made its way onto her face as she watched the open sea and setting sun. Her eyes perked up on the horizon, noticing a merchant ship approaching from far off in the distance. It seemed to be a Lockhart ship returning with goods from Nyotari. A melancholic smile made its way to her lips; it was probably the last ship sent out by her father before he died... In a roundabout way, it was sort of like a sign from him. She wouldn't allow herself to lose all of this under the thumb of Cecil. Never again.
Brushing the thought from her head, Arabella gestured for Aubrey to follow her, "Let's fetch the carriage. Any longer out here and it will be dark."
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"Boy!"
The young frizzy-haired deckhand, looked up, frustrated and exhausted as he finished his work cleaning the deck of the ship. Internally he groaned as he noticed the surly cook approach him with a tray in hand and a cigar hanging from his lips. He put down the mop, "Yes sir!"
"Take this down to the stowaway. Quick, before we reach land."
Before he could even respond, the cook had placed the tray in his hands. He gulped, grimacing at the job that had been tossed on to him daily by that lazy cook. But it wasn't like he could object anyway, he was only a deckhand... Reluctantly, he carried the tray down with him, wobbling on the steps to the lower floor of the ship. Past the drunken sailors who really should have been on duty and finally to the door holding their little stowaway. He shivered as he reached for the handle. There was something unsettling about the kid they had taken in. He was too calm for his situation and it freaked the deckhand out. He swallowed his nerves and opened the creaking door.
"Good morning! Or is it afternoon?" The white-haired boy sat comfortably from his position on the floor and greeted the deckhand as usual with his jovial smile. "I wouldn't know you see, I've been trapped in this dark room for days... Perhaps good evening?"
God, he was a weird kid. The deckhand only raised a brow, sliding the tray over the kid who could not be a day over 14. He hesitated to respond but eventually gave in as he always did with the kid, "...It's late afternoon actually..."
"Then good afternoon," The boy started, reaching for the tray and taking a chunk out of the bread offered to him. Wiping crumbs from his lips, his violet eyes met the deckhand with a serious gaze. "Are we close to land?"
The deckhand rubbed the back of his head and sighed, "Yeah. Probably in a little under an hour. But you..." He pointed an accusatory finger and raised a brow. "You're not going anywhere. I already told you, stowaways are to be dealt with by the law so you'll still be locked up in here. First Earl Lockhart is going to assess the situation and it's likely you'll be tossed in prison. I hear Layton Lockhart is not as forgiving as the previous Earl. Your timing for this stunt had to be the worst possible..."
"Hah. it's not like I had much of a choice regarding the timing of this..." The boy sighed, though it was evident he still wasn't too bothered by his predicament. His curly white hair flopped to the side with him as he tilted his head and grinned. "But so long as I can meet Layton Lockhart then I guess it isn't such a loss."
Disbelief crossed the deckhand's features at the boy's nonchalance, "Can't you hear? You're meeting him to arrested-" He stopped himself and groaned. It always ended up like this when he came down to feed the little stowaway. It was like he couldn't be convinced of anything, just trapped in his own little word with nary a thought behind those unusual violet eyes. How much bravado could this kid have? It was almost like he wanted to get caught. He sighed, "Did you even plan this stunt of yours-"
"Not at all," His lips pulled into a calm smile though his violet eyes held a confident fire behind them. Before he continued, he leaned forward and smirked. "I don't need anything else. As long as I can meet her, then I'm fine."