Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 106: Hound Transforming & The Scared Courier.

Chapter 106: Hound Transforming & The Scared Courier.

Morning.

Hound’s Cottage, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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The soft morning light filtered through the lace curtains, casting a gentle glow over Hound’s quaint cottage.

He is dressed in crisp, white attire as he moves methodically around his room, his sleeves are rolled up revealing muscular forearms.

His attire is a stark contrast to the dust and grime that had settled over every surface, but today because his mind is muddled with thoughts of Shi’Enz he has finally decided to clean the cottage.

He became determined to transform the cottage into a glories form, he had stayed in it when it looked old, dusty and cold because he felt that kept him grounded and he wished to feel like nobody, he refused to embrace his new comfort, he wanted to feel all that he had gone through without remembering them.

The luxury he had once was stripped off him and he ended up wanting nothing when Theodore tried to bring him back up he accepted it but refused to embrace it, he leaves his place rusty and unwelcoming so he will not hunger for more, but Shi’Enz makes him want more, she grounds him now, not the disorientation of his house.

So with a steady hand, he lifted delicate porcelain figurines that he owned from their mantelpiece, and carefully he removed the dust that disturbed the intricate patterns of the item. Each item he lovingly wiped clean with a soft cloth, his brows furrowed in concentration as he meticulously worked to remove every speck of dirt.

As Hound moved from room to room, his movements were purposeful yet unhurried like they always are in whatever area, his white shirt and trousers now tinged with the faintest hint of grey from his work.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows, they illuminated the particles of dust that danced in the air like tiny fireflies, stirred up by his cleaning.

In the kitchen when he got there, he let out a small scoff, he had been really neglectful he mused.

He started to scrub vigorously at the stove, the metal gleaming beneath his ministrations as years of grime were scrubbed away.

The smell of lemon-scented soap mingled with the faint smell of dust, creating an atmosphere of cleanliness and warmth. Shi’Enz had recommended lemon-scented soap to him when she saw him washing his hands without soap after gardening the last time. He had merely glanced at her before he continued.

Outside, the sounds of birdsong filled the air, because the mansion had a large space the amount of nature presence was high and there was a symphony of nature.

Through the open window, Hound heard the distant clip-clop of horses’ hooves as a carriage came into the mansion, he frowned but lacked the determination to check now.

There was a world beyond the confines of his cottage.

But for now, his world consisted of nothing more than the task at hand, he wished to transform this dusty, creepy humble abode into an inviting splendour, one careful stroke at a time.

And as he worked, a sense of satisfaction filled him, knowing that he was breathing new life into a place that had long been forgotten.

He finished, changed out of his clothes and headed to see who it had been.

*

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Morning.

Library, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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After breakfast this morning, Lydia found solace amidst the towering shelves of her library in the gloriousness of her mansion.

Today she is dressed in a flowing gown that whispers against the polished marble floors, she moves with purpose among the rows of leather-bound volumes of books and gilt-edged manuscripts.

The soft glow of the noon sun filtered through the lace curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room.

She had decided to clean the library this afternoon so she took her hair in a bun and started.

As she reached up to dust to the topmost shelves, her fingers traced the spines of the books with a tender reverence, each title a cherished memory of times past.

But beneath her facade of calm composure, a sense of longing gnawed at her heart, a yearning for the presence of her absent husband.

For Theodore and a strange feeling of lightheadedness for days now.

There were distant sounds of the maids bustling about the mansion, it echoed faintly in the background, their footsteps muffled by the thick walls that lined the halls.

But despite the activity outside the library doors, Lydia felt strangely isolated within the walls of her own home, the absence of her husband casting a shadow over her every thought.

She shook her head and with a sigh, she started rearranging her books on the shelves, their weight was familiar and strangely comforting in the midst of her turmoil.

Each time she placed was carefully according to her whims, the act of reshaping her surroundings providing a brief respite from the ache in her body, somewhere she couldn’t pinpoint and the absence of Theodore.

She never thought she would miss him this much to the point she felt physical pain, her frown came to place as loneliness threatened to consume her.

As she worked, a faint heat began to bloom beneath her skin, a physical manifestation of the discomfort roiling within her.

She brushed a stray lock of hair from her flushed cheeks, the slight discomfort only serving to heighten her awareness of her husband’s absence.

Despite her best efforts to distract herself from the task at hand, the lady couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that settled over her like a shroud.

And as the early noon waned into afternoon, she found herself longing for the familiar presence of her husband more than ever, the emptiness of the mansion that was metaphorical echoed the emptiness in her heart.

She finished rearranging her library before calling the maids in.

"Today..., I have declared today a break day, sit with me," she said with a smile, her throat parched. The maids looked baffled, and sceptical, as the mansion is enormous there’s always a lot of work to do daily.

"Come with water and snacks" she ordered.

"Yes, lady Theodore," the maids said simultaneously before leaving her again.

She got comfortable on a couch placing her feet on the library ottoman.

*

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Afternoon.

Fronts, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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A lone courier approached the imposing gates of the dark mansion. Clutching a bundle of papers tightly to his chest, he hesitated, the wrought iron gates creaking ominously as he pushed them open.

Pebbles crunched beneath his boots as he made his way up the mansion path, the mansion loomed before him like a silent sentinel. He caught the darkness in the windows casting eerie shadows across the grounds.

As the courier reached the entrance, he paused, his heart pounding in his chest as he glanced nervously over his shoulder, half expecting to see scary figures lurking in the darkness.

But there was only the sound of his own ragged breaths echoing in the stillness of the night.

So he summoned his courage.

The courier rapped sharply on the heavy wooden door, the sound reverberating through the silent halls of the mansion.

He stood trembling on the threshold, his senses heightened as he waited for a response.

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Inside the mansion.

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A sound came from the front, and the three women who were in the library froze, there had been no announcement of a guest.

Lydia stood up but the maids were quicker they were by the front soon, before she reached them in her gentle yet curious steps, Dorothy met her again in her steps, she had her hair still up in a bun.

"Who is it?"

She immediately asked the maid, the maid who was quick to answer. "A courier, lady Theodore" her steps prim.

Lydia’s eyes lit up. "They come here now?"

"Yes, it appears" Dorothy replied gingerly her eyes caught Red diving in from one door to another making her wonder what was wrong with it.

Lydia didn’t notice the cat, she merely nodded at Dorothy’s reply as they both strutted out.

Outside, Minutes passed like hours as the courier stood outside, he felt the silence oppressive and weighing heavily upon him.

And then, finally, the door creaked open, revealing the figure of a woman, Lady Theodore, his mind gasped. Her eyes gleamed like the oceans, he was enchanted while she regarded him with an inscrutable expression.

"Who are you?"

He shook his head to get his head straight, it does not matter that she is pretty, that is a way to lure outsiders, he thought.

"I am a courier," he said quickly.

"What do you want?"

He looked brave and confident but he was shivering despite the heat and his intestine squeezing. With a trembling hand, the courier extended the papers towards her, "I brought the muckrake, Lady Theodore, Sir Conan paid for it before time" his voice barely above a whisper as he explained the purpose of his visit.

"He did? Thank you" Lydia’s face brightened, surprising the courier.

"Please," he said as Lydia had yet to take the papers.

Lydia took it quickly from him and the man was turning.

"I... Shall-"

He was already on his carriage and riding away before they could finish their sentence.

The ladies laughed out loud before they shook their heads and turned inside. Some people’s fear was funny.

As the courier hastily retreated from the mansion, the echoes of his footsteps faded with the sounds of the breeze, leaving rustles and the lake rippling.

He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that clung to him like a cloak. And as he disappeared into the street, the mansion stood silent and brooding, its secrets locked away behind closed doors.