Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 108: The Muckrakers Scary Papers.

Chapter 108: The Muckrakers Scary Papers.

Afternoon.

Library, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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Miss Fera touched every subject, from mathematics to literature, science to philosophy, she guided her young girls with wisdom and patience, nurturing their curiosity and igniting the flames of intellect within their souls.

But Miss Fera’s mission extended beyond the walls of her home; she was a beacon of hope in a world shrouded in darkness. With the support of like-minded individuals in the community, she could tirelessly campaign for the rights of girls to receive an education, challenging the status quo and advocating for change.

Now, Lady Lydia Theodore of Critic Arley is beginning to have an investment or support idea as she sits in her library. Despite the whispered scepticism and the murmurs of disapproval that echoed through the city and empire even, Miss Fera remained steadfast in her belief that every girl deserved the chance to learn, grow, and carve out her own destiny.

And though her journey was fraught with obstacles and challenges, her legacy endured, a testament to the indomitable spirit of one woman who dared to defy the odds and illuminate the path for generations to come.

Lydia is soon to join that woman.

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Lydia finished reading both the papers of the Muckraker with a frown. The maid too read along so they understood why she had suddenly frozen and with a frown

"Lady Theodore do not worry, I do not believe the monthly rituals are that sacred" Dorothy said softly.

Lydia sighed. "I hope not, the Muckraker is scaring me and I have always believed her words" She did not want to be the one to bring bad news to her home because of negligence.

"Ahh not to worry about it, everything is fine" Joyous breathed looking equally sceptical.

Lydia blinked, hoping that was true and seeing the irony of it because she hadn’t been feeling good since the second day of the month. She shook her head as she thought about the second paper.

"Do you think Shi’Enz is alright?" she whispered.

Joyous looked at the lady who had sheens of sweat on her forehead. "She is at home, she shall be fine" she comforted Lydia.

Lydia smiled bitterly.

’Home is not always home’. she mused.

Dorothy faced Lydia properly. "And my lady that is not true, you are the prettiest of them all, not some lady we do not know"

Lydia giggled. "Well, I know her and she indeed is pretty" she retorted.

"But not the prettiest, the Muckraker is slowly becoming a guest," Dorothy said with a pout.

"The Muckraker never gests, only gives nicknames" Lydia teased with a smile.

Slowly she stood up and walked up to the shelves, she dropped the books back into them and

"Please escort her to the dining hall" Joyous ordered.

"Yes, Joyous" Dorothy sing-songed as she went along with the lady of the house to the dining.

Lydia refused lunch because she became sleepy and Instead went to sleep as she sniffed the bedsheets for every scent of Theodore.

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Late Afternoon

Conan’s Bungalow.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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Helena slept till the afternoon today, she woke up and continued to lie down. It was only when Ebony hopped on the bed that she gained an adrenaline rush to join the cat.

What is it doing outside, she thought.

Because if she needed to keep it safe from Conan then it needed to cooperate with her and hide, she left the bed took Ebony in her arms and guided it to a small cartoon in the front yard where she kept it.

Then she moved back inside and through her fine bungalow with an air of quiet contemplation.

She narrowed her eyes at that thought. ’Her bungalow’ is not bad she thought but the place is still very much Conan’s.

She is still dressed in her delicate nightdress, her movements were graceful yet weighed down by the burden of uncertainty that clouded her mind.

The luxurious surroundings of the house seemed to mock her inner turmoil, the elegant furnishings and polished surfaces reflecting a life of privilege and comfort that felt increasingly suffocating.

But she needed work to get her mind set and house chores always helped so she started.

With a feather duster in hand, she drifted from room to room, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and doubt.

Each delicate ornament and piece of furniture she touched seemed to mock her with its perfection, a stark reminder of the facade she maintained for the outside world.

What is she doing, she mused.

As she polished silver candlesticks and straightened embroidered cushions, her mind wandered to matters far beyond the confines of her opulent surroundings. She pondered the intricacies of love and life, her heart heavy with the weight of unanswered questions and her unfulfilled dreams.

Where is her nobleman? She sighed.

Outside, the world carried on with its usual bustle, oblivious to the inner turmoil of the Muckraker within.

The distant howling of dogs and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze provided a contrasting backdrop to her restless thoughts.

What is it she could do?

But amidst the chaos of her mind, one thing remained clear. The need for change.

She needed a new plan.

Whether it was in her personal/love life or her surroundings, she knew that she could no longer continue on the path she had been treading.

And as she continued her solitary task of cleaning her temporal home, a sense of determination began to take root within her, a resolve to break free from the constraints of expectation and forge her own path forward, no matter how uncertain the journey may be.

She shall let go of Conan and her growing illusion about him.

*

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Late Afternoon.

Library, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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As the maids helped Lydia into a nap dress because she looked distressed, they both headed back down to the library to tidy it up.

The two young maids moved with practised efficiency through Lydia’s library.

Their crisp white aprons contrasted with the rich tones of the mahogany furniture as they worked diligently to restore order to the room after their Lady rearranged the books and their cheery afternoon.

They had feather dusters in hand, one they used to delicately brush away the remnants of dust that lingered on the shelves, their movements were synchronized in a silent dance of industry.

As they went on about their task, the maids exchanged whispered conversations, their voices hushed in deference to the sanctity of the space they inhabited.

’To say Lady Vera is soon to be on the streets’ they giggled.

’She was nasty when she had been here, I think she deserves more’ Dorothy said.

’We are not one to judge but I agree’ Joyous whispered.

’Lady Theodore is so detailed and well-read’ ’And she could be a librarian if she was not the lord’s wife’ They marvelled at the lady’s attention to detail, admiring the new arrangement of the books with quiet appreciation.

With the cleaning complete, the maids went different ways before evening.

As they headed out, Dorothy went to look for Red, she assumed it would be in the courtyard.

"Excuse me, Dorothy" a voice stopped her in her tracks.