Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 30: The slaves having a name

Chapter 30: The slaves having a name

Cold Dusk

Theodore Mansion, Critic Arley.

Lydia woke up early today, her raven black hair tangled in her sleep she restrained a groan, she turned to her side and found her husband sleeping on his back, his face peaceful and serene, then there came an uncontrollable urge to trace the contours of his face that she had to curb in other not to wake him up, her ocean blue eyes landed on his lips drawing a girly giggle from her as she was reminded of their kiss last night, she went red as she remembered how almost desperate she had gotten, as she kept of starring at him the realisation that he still looked as though he never turn in his sleep and his hair was still near perfect made her eyes widen.

He can’t see me like this, she thought prompting her to gingerly get out of bed, her linen sleeping gown dropping to her ankle, she went into the bathroom, washed her face and rinsed her mouth before picking up her husband’s wool coat to cover herself, she walked back to the edge of the bed, gazed at Theodore before leaving the room.

Her step was precisely strong yet calm as she walked the hallway reaching for the staircase she sighed before beginning her journey down the path, having a clear mind to think, she remembered the handmaids Theodore had brought home, they were slaves he’d said and she’d felt horrible but that was the truth their reaction or knowledge to things would differ from the norm, or perhaps this one’s would be different, she would have to find out. With the intention to reach the employed quarter and have a little meeting with them, she tightened her coat around her only to find the three young girls standing in the mansion hall as she reached the end of the stairs. Lydia’s eyes narrowed wondering if they had slept at all or they had simply waken up early just as she had, her thoughts spiralled to the possibility that they had been standing there throughout the night and she blurted

"Did any of you sleep the night before?"

They stared, three of the young maids, two with chestnut locks and brown orbs, the other with dark gold and black orbs, she waited patiently for their reply, her hands held together in front of her belly.

"Yes, Lady Theodore" two of them answered in unison their heads taking a deep bow that the last one followed late, Lydia’s eyes narrowed at that, the slave with gold hair was not acting, she stood with her gaze hard and to the floor.

"So you woke up early then?" Her question didn’t take seconds before it was answered this time.

"We did, Lady Theodore"

With the way they already knew how to address her, and where to wait for her before she came downstairs, she presumed Conan must have had a talk with them to guide them through the simple but odd ways of the mansion

"When did Conan have a talk with you?"

Lydia noticed them resisting the urge to glance at each other before they replied "He did alongside Hound last night, Lady Theodore" Their voice quivering at the end made her look at the silent girl who thought it right to simply ignore her, she then said "Follow me"

She turned to begin her walk to the parlour where she sat on the couch, wrapping herself better in the coat before looking up at the girls, the girls had their heads bent downwards until she cleared her throat

"Good morning all of you, it would be a rightly nice if I was introduced to your names"

Their eyes widen at their mistake of not acknowledging the lady of the house earlier, despite her asking them a question first.

"Good morning Lady Theodore" Two of the girls that had been active all morning pledged in unison, their voices loud and frightened but Lydia’s eyes were set on the silent maid, she didn’t seem timid but more ignorant and careless.

Lydia relaxed on her seat before pointing at the maid, making the other girls glance her way the puzzled look on their faces not escaping her sight, the girl raised her bent head to gaze at Lydia, her black eyes empty, her sole attention on the lady of the house, she was beautiful.

"Are you mute?" Lydia asked, genuinely curious.

A very strange silence stretched between the maid and the lady after Lydia’s question making her slightly irritated. Theodore wouldn’t forget to tell her if one of the maids was mute.

"That was a question" she reminded the still cold employed.

"No Lady Theodore, I can talk" her voice anything but meek as she eventually replied.

Lydia nodded her brows furrowed "Then I advise you to use your words when needed, keep your reactions in check and don’t overdo yourself" They looked around her age, but she was the lady of the mansion, that is her home and she would have to set somethings straight.

"As you must all know, I’m the wife of the Lord of Critic Arley" she started, sitting straight on the couch she intends to soon change "That in itself makes me the Lady of the city" she continued.

"You are now employed of the Lord’s mansion and as you can see, we are a few here with much more to do, so I would appreciate efficiency more than worship, the mansion would get busy soon and so will everyone in it, we would start today with introduction" she concluded her voice steady and beautiful. "What are your names?" she inquired of what they were to be called.

"We have no name, Lady Theodore" one of the maids supplied an answer.

"Nonsense, why... what names have you wished you were called? You can now name yourselves" She cut herself off when she remembered most slaves indeed never have names.

"Lady Theodore..." she cut the sentence of the emotionally overwhelmed maid.

"Do not waste my wife’s time, give your answers" The Lord’s voice permits the space making Lydia turn.

"Theodore..." she whispered, her face lit up making Theodore’s eye smile.

He purred "Gooseberry" and the way Lydia’s body tightened, her pulse rising made her drop her shy gaze from her charming husband, her reaction wholly different from the tall confident lady from moments ago, Theodore moved closer to her and dropped a kiss on her head, he then sits next to her, pulling her closer to him before turning to the maids.

"Names, slaves" he snapped his fingers, then took her palm interlacing their fingers.

"I would like to be called ’Joyous’" Her voice was cheery and smile-filled, she was the shortest amongst the slaves, her chestnut brown hair tangled and almost as long as Lydia’s.

"Joyous you shall be called" the lady of the city confirmed

"Dorothy!, I shall be called Dorathy" Dorathy pipes in almost squealing making Lydia chuckle while Theodore watches her intently, she looks so happy and in her element

"Of course, Dorothy" She confirmed. Dorothy had short curly black hair and was the same height as Lydia who wasn’t a short woman and her brown eyes were warmer than the rest.

"What about you?" Lydia asked the blank-faced slave who appeared to crave to be outside the gathering already.

"I do not wish to have a name" she announced her voice rough and almost manly

"Then you might wish to be dead" A cold persuasion slipped out of Theodore’s mouth, and the slave gazed at him for a while before nodding

"I am Mira" she stated

Lydia’s head whipped towards her "What?"

"I shall be called Mira" she clarified

"You shall not!" Lydia’s voice rose involuntarily as did her chest but her palm grew cold

The slave insisted "That is the only name I..."

"Silence!" Theodore interrupted the now even more suspicious slave "Gooseberry?" He took his wife’s cold palm into his.

"I don’t want Mira" she shook her head "My family won’t follow me here" she whispered her eyes holding his, in pleading.

"They won’t, she is not your family" he reminded dropping a kiss on their entwined fingers.

"I know..."

"And you’ve made a promise, to call them whatever they wanted" Theodore was in all his coldness, a man of his words

"You shall be called Mira" she declared, her voice now a calmer tone

She turned to her husband and her eyebrows shut up "And you shall stay back or find somewhere else to be"

"Always so quick to leave me" he accused looking as serious as a tutor for ladies of Critic Arley.

He left the room first, his lips twitching, Lydia was brighter than he’d assumed.

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