Chapter 5: The Viscount’s Banquet
It took an hour for Ruth to tell Emily everything, and by the time the latter finished, Emily was in complete disbelief. Her head ached, the thumping pain penetrating her temples like sharpened knives created to make her suffer.
"Agatha… Were you listening?" Ruth worriedly called, slipping her hand in between the steel railings to hold Emily's palm. She thought that it might calm the latter, but that seemed to dwell everything further down the rabbit hole of shock and self-destruction.
"It's 1822, and I'm a servant of the Berrycloths. I never met my parents because I was an orphan and sold to our masters at a very young age. My life revolved around serving Lady Victoria, the woman who whipped me and detained me here, and the only daughter of Lord Berrycloth, a nobleman known for his winery…" Emily repeated, her eyes enchanted with fear and her lips parted by stupor. "What have I gotten into?" she added and proceeded to cry again, enduring the pain of her bruises caused by Victoria's violent reaction earlier. It suddenly stung, and neither her tears nor her screams could ease that.
If she was in the present, she would personally not allow this level of disrespect. She would've reported this to the authorities, sued, and retire because she'll definitely get rich.
But according to Ruth, Victoria has the right to order such actions because this is how things work for lower classes like them. So, everything seemed clearer.
'I have… traveled to the past?'
These six words repeated in Emily's mind like a broken disc, taunting her deeply.
How she got here? She still had no idea.
What more if we're talking about escape?
Emily was still wallowing in self-pity and regret when the echoing brooch of the heavy door took over the empty halls. The prison-like underground room was filled with the sounds of deriding footsteps, capable of making one's skin crawl.
Emily looked over and saw Ruth standing up with panicked eyes. Judging by her reaction, the person arriving is none other than…
"Have you surmised what's wrong with this pig?"
Victoria's tone bounced from cell to cell until she reached Emily's front. She looked down with a disgusted expression, looking scarier than ever. Her toned face booming with thick cosmetics supposedly made from disturbing ingredients created this opaque effect that seemed rather unlikable.
Still, there was no denying that Lady Victoria is one of the most beautiful women in this town. Her flawless skin, beautiful clothes, and ragged perfume are all purchased with great cost, considering her societal status. Compared to all the women in this district, this 17-year-old lass is known to be the most desirable. On the contrary, she's also the most feared upon.
"Uhm… Yes, my lady." Ruth bowed her head and side-eyed Emily, creasing her brows to signal for the latter to do the same. "She's just a little in over her head. Great apologies, but I can attest that she has… conform regret. I beg of you, spare her life."
Ruth's words were threats to Emily's ears. She had no idea why Ruth is being such a wuss before, but now that she figured Victoria had the authority to end her life in this timeline, she ought to bow down to survive.
'I'll get back at you later in this life, bitch,' Emily thought on the inside, but her words differed from that.
Emily weakly kneeled on the pavement covered with hay, pulled her palms below her, and offered a meek bow, chanting the words, "Apologies, Lady Victoria. I have made a grave mistake. It won't happen again, please, spare—"
Her words were cut off when Victoria yanked her hair from outside the cell. "Ugh!" Emily moaned when the metal bars hit the side of her face. The wound she had on that spot was clanged to the rows, but Victoria's resentful grip on her luscious, curly hair hurt more.
"Run that dirty mouth of yours again and I'll throw your body to the Aegan sea. Do you understand?"
Emily bit her lip, meeting Victoria's eyes. Her jaw trembled and her nose heaved. Woefully, she uttered, "I understand…"
Then, Victoria harshly let go, brushing her palm as if disgusted whilst maintaining eye contact. "Behave yourself. I'm bringing you to the Viscount's banquet as my aide."
Victoria walked away while one of her guards remained. He then opened the cell to Emily's dungeon, "Get tidied up. We're going in an hour."
…
The wind blew, causing the pine trees to thrash. By the time the fog arrived, the heavy downpour in uptown Osborn began.
It was a perilous night for the street people who had no homes, but their situation is the least of the worries of the egotistical nobles.
They couldn't care less. As of this moment, they're having the time of their lives at a small banquet prepared by the richest Viscount known across the country of Bassetamme. The mellow music stopped a while ago. So, the classical musicians held their heads low as they wait for the dinner to start.
About ten people were present with two things in common.
Money and youth.
They are the heirs to the generational wealth that their parents would be leaving for them. Gullible, prideful, insecure… these are traits such young nobilities possess.
"The scums of Balinderry must be dying as of now," mockingly commented Lord Henry, heir to a carriage company.
"Good for us. With the economic status of Glasgow county, we can sell their dead bodies to the Vanderuns. I heard a rumor that one of them survived and is terrorizing our city," Lady Rebecca seconded, the only daughter of Osborn's patriarch.
A slight cackle followed her comment, and it was Count Levi. "It's only a rumor. I bet the Duke is the one to blame for it. He's trying to steer investors away from Osborn."
"And that's why the spoiled Marquess is nowhere to be found tonight! I can't believe he'd turn down Viscount Clyde!" Baron Cyrus worded, making everyone snort in laughter. The topic of the Marquess never failed to make them amused. Among every youngster, that boy sits on top of the chain.
Possibly, the Duke's family can take the seat at the national juncture, making them the royals governing the whole country. Everyone wants that position, but not everyone is lucky enough…
The demeaning union of sniggers blared Emily's sensitive ears. Indeed, she had a hard time comprehending, but she knew that these people were off to no good. At this moment, she stood on the sidelines, next to the classical band, and right at the servant's corner.
Other peasants like her are in a line, heads lowered and fingers tucked to the hem of their dresses while they wait for this dinner to end. They ought to keep their ears plugged as if they can't hear anything. So, Emily heaved to distract herself.
The young lady with bright red lips and rose corset partnered with white bustles sitting on the far-left corner of the vast dining table remained silent in indifference. Lady Victoria's arrogance glowed even brighter in the face of other noble kids like herself. She just listens to their antics, but you can tell how she's wordlessly enjoying this uncivilized talk. She's crude herself, and Emily knew this much at this point.
When a sudden knock came on the wooden door leading to the dining area, the ongoing talks of the noble kids stopped, and a parade of feasts was brought in after a mangling announcement.
The loud cheering of the nobles came about, complimenting the course that was being served as of the moment. "Finally! However, where's Viscount Clyde?"
"He's still in the study for a lesson. He'll come down in a minute, my lord," answered the head server.
Emily took a peek by side-eyeing the scene. She could practically taste the air just by the lingering smell. Roasted ducks, marinated lambs, shellfish, sweet pastries, she would kill for all of these. She hasn't eaten ever since she arrived in this timeline, so the grumbling of her stomach could practically be heard by the servants standing on her side.
Whilst chatting, the nobles began to share the feast, chewing loudly with their utensils clanging as they belittled the citizens of the county. Emily thought it was distasteful, but she figured that the history lessons she learned in school finally made sense.
By the time the masters finished eating, they were all pretty much restless, asking the house servants for the Viscount's presence.
"Duncy," the sound of disdainful call alerted Emily. It was Victoria, so she hovered towards the woman. "Water," Victoria commanded. Since Emily had a quick lesson with Ruth, the majordomo of the servants, she practically knew what Victoria was talking about.
Emily opened the bottle of rose water she's been holding the entire time. Rose water is the only type of liquid the sophisticated daughter of the Berrycloths drinks, apparently.
Cutting to the chase, Emily's hands shook slightly as she poured on the woman's wine glass.
Perhaps, the reason for that is the silent stare everyone around the table gave her. Most of the time, people with green eyes are mistaken for tinkers or runaway nobles. So, their reactions are plausible enough, but Emily didn't know that.
Nonetheless, the sudden silence and piercing gaze of the young nobles on the table felt like it was burning Emily's face; she cannot help but wander her eyes. In the heat of the moment, she looked over.
It turned out to be a big mistake.
"What have you done again?!" Lady Victoria stood up with obvious resentment, gaping her mouth at the now stained gown of hers. The satin dress was quick to soak any kind of liquid, especially pink-hued ones. Because Emily's hands were shaking uncontrollably, she accidentally poured the rose water over the edge of the cup when she tried to look at their piercing regard.
Emily had a look of fear, life flashing before her eyes. "I'm sorry!" She held out her hands, shaking and not knowing what to do.
The other nobles watched in amusement. Commotion is one of the many things they're here for. All of them bore the same interest, belittling the people deemed lower than them, and seeing the beautiful servant being put in her place made the youngsters excited.
Lady Victoria grits her teeth as she raises her hand.
Then, a crisp thwack, music to their ears, but hellbent for the one at fault, echoed.
Emily clenched her teeth upon feeling Lady Victoria's palm by her cheek; it bore a red mark and everyone made comments out of amusement.
Standing straight and suppressing the urge to sob or lose control, Emily remained on her spot with a calm countenance, accepting the words her supposed master would throw at her. "You slow-witted cunt! This cost more than your life!" Lady Victoria yelled with a treacherous frown.
"I know. Sorry," Emily murmured.
"I'm afraid your apology wouldn't do anything. A dress made by the Keckleys cost a good wheel of fortune; you might as well just be my harlot. Is that possible, Lady Victoria?" Lord Henry tried to imply his interest. He found Emily's eyes and stance quite charming. That beauty isn't deserving of a lowly title.
The rest of the young men agreed and even made jokes about bidding, while the women in present rolled their eyes, feeling a tad insecure of a lowborn.
Emily's skin crawled in disgust. As a feminist, men like this 18th-century douchebag are people she hates so much. From where Emily came from, Lord Henry would've been obliterated by the internet. She was about to disregard and offer assistance to Lady Victoria when another voice boomed.
"Are you certain about that, Lord Henry?"
Everyone quickly gazed by the now open wooden porch.
They came to a halt and stood up slowly with obvious admiration. The usual talk of the town walks across the room before them. His red sleeve and black vest accentuated his figure, standing buff, handsome, and tall. His ivory cravat hangs loose before his solid and veiny neck. It was enough to even fascinate the men in his presence. The dominant aura filled the room as he took refined steps, pinning for the stunned Lady Victoria's location.
Indeed, he deserved the title Casanova of Glasgow. The charisma he had is one-of-a-kind. Anyone would fall in love.
He then eyed everyone in the room with a subtle smile, passed by Lady Victoria, and halted right in front of Emily, who is surprised to see him herself. 'Dang! He's so hot...'
"Sleeping with a lowborn might cause you an ill-fated death."