Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 75: Lydia Is Disappointed And Moody.

Chapter 75: Lydia Is Disappointed And Moody.

Morning

Bedroom, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

In the soft glow of morning light, their bedroom was filled with a tranquil hush. The gentle rustle of bedsheets accompanied the rhythmic breathing of the peacefully sleeping couple, and soon Theodore woke up and because he knew Lydia loved to wake up early but never did he tenderly nudged her, she stirred briefly, her eyelashes fluttering like delicate butterflies.

Yet, the allure of sleep was too enticing, it pulled her back into its embrace.

Her features softened, and a subtle smile played on her lips, then she frowned when Theodore nudged her again.

"Good morning Gooseberry" he whispered.

"it is morning" he added when she clenched her eyes tight.

"Who beats drums this early" she groaned, her head pounded so strongly she assumed a drum was being played.

"It’s not early and there’s no beating drums wife," he told her, he could let her sleep but she would scold herself and him later.

She opened her eyes and immediately shut it back "Oh? My head hurts" she confessed.

Theodore nodded. "You were disencumbered last night," he said.

She appeared lost. "Disencumbered?" her ocean-blue eyes open again.

"Free, Gooseberry, You never read that in your books?" he teased as he watched her struggle to keep her eyes open.

"Are you aspiring to wound your wife?" she asked him with a glare.

"I dare not," he said with a smile as he watched her delicate face try to stay awake.

"Why are you waking me?"

She suddenly asked with a frown now.

He shook his head "I did because you-"

She cut him off "It’s too early Theodore, let me go back to sleep" she claimed.

"Okay, I shall be here" she heard his whisper as she drifted back to sleep.

***********

Lydia found herself in the woods under a haunting moonlight, a shadowy figure emerged from the depths of the unknown, its ominous presence casting a chilling spell over the dreamlike landscape.

Her heart raced as she navigated through the area trying to escape the figure.

Each hurried step echoed in the silent corridors of her mind, of the woods, and the air itself seemed thick with an intangible tension.

The dark figure, an enigmatic silhouette cloaked in mystery, pursued her relentlessly, its movements synchronized with Lydia’s every desperate stride.

Her escalating fear made the area appear to be a labyrinth, she couldn’t get out.

Wisps of darkness seemed to reach out, threatening to entangle her in its web.

She didn’t understand what was happening, who the figure was and when she had begun running.

Lydia’s breaths quickened, and beads of sweat materialized on her forehead, a testament to the palpable fear gripping her.

She tripped on a branch and as she started to fall to the ground she gasped and awoke.

Her back pressed to the bed, her eyes wide open she gazed at her bedroom ceiling.

It was a nightmare.

And she was alone despite Theodore saying he would be there, she frowned at the thought.

*********

Noon.

Dining Hall, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

**********

Theodore saw Lydia coming down the stairs, she was in a black dress, and he refused to dwell on how haunting it looked.

She needed to eat first. "Come, we are having your late breakfast now," he said.

"You left me" her mumble met him.

He froze.

He appeared to have thoughts of his own as he met her frightened eyes.

"Why did you say you would wait and then did not?"

Her question sounded so heartbroken, his heart broke.

"Gooseberry" he started, his eyes apologetic.

"I’m sorry, I shall never promise and fail you again" he promised.

She shuddered. "Do not promise me" she pleaded.

"Yes, Gooseberry" he agreed.

She watched him for a while, her eyes held a hint of regret.

Regret for acting the way she had, he was only human and could fail his promise. But she would prefer he never promise.

He sat with her through her dining.

"Good day, Lady Theodore, the furniture has works to show you.

"Alright I shall be there"

"Theodore please go to your office"

He ignored her and just silently continued to trail after her.

They reached the parlour and there stood Solomon with a smile, he quickly acknowledged them "My lady" he said.

"Solomon" Theodore growled.

"Sorry Lord Theodore, I was overly excited to show my work"

"Pray Lydia likes it"

"I do," she said breathlessly as she watched the artwork.

It is a resplendent couch and it took center stage. Upholstered in sumptuous velvet of a deep, regal burgundy hue, the intricate woodwork boasts ornate carvings that tell a tale of craftsmanship and sophistication. She smiled

The curvaceous legs, adorned with golden accents, elevate the piece, while the scrolled arms bear the weight of a bygone elegance. Tufted buttons create a plush quilted pattern on the backrest, and fringe detailing adds a touch of whimsy to the edges.

This couch, a symphony of luxury, invites one to recline in the lap of the carpenter’s splendour.

Lydia was happy the work was brilliant and she told him just that.

He agreed to continue to make more of the couches for her, and then she left to watch her favourite places again.

*************

The red room, Library, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

**************

She knew he was behind her, she felt him.

Theodore wanted to do anything to make her feel better as he had betrayed her trust it appeared.

Perhaps she had a bad sleep, Theodore mused, wishing she would just talk to him.

"Can we go out today, it has been postponed for too long by my wife I no longer wish to delay it Gooseberry" he said, she paused in her arrangement of the books she owned that suddenly looked small because of the massiveness of the library.

She turned to him. "Theodore honey I have wanted to tell you that I am ready to leave my slowly becoming a former eerie mansion to follow you to wherever you may take me" he

"Brilliant, come here" and in a swift motion he attempted to draw her into his arms, she dodged the attempt and left the library.

Leaving a very dark Theodore behind.

What is he to do? He thought.

**************

Bedroom.

Theodore Mansion.

**************

The couple got back into the room and did the ritual of dressing with the simplicity of a peasant.

Theodore, clad in worn but meticulously patched trousers and a faded waistcoat, carefully fastened the mismatched buttons. His shirt, a testament to years of hard labour, bore the traces of stains acquired in the pursuit of an honest living. The haphazard knot of his necktie spoke of practicality over fashion, a utilitarian touch to complete his ensemble, he dressed with a frown marring his face.

Meanwhile, Lydia, with a frugal selection of garments, donned a plain cotton dress that had weathered both time and toil.

Its faded floral pattern hinted at former vibrancy, now subdued by countless washings. With nimble fingers, she secured a modest apron around her waist, a shield against the inevitable wear and tear of domestic chores.

And then she wore a well-worn shawl, and draped it across her shoulders, it offered her a touch of warmth in lieu of extravagant adornments.

The couple, with faces etched with varying negative emotions, laced up sturdy leather boots, worn but reliable companions on the daily journey.

Lydia almost snickered where did he get these from?

As they gazed at the mirror, it reflected a portrait of resilience, where practicality triumphed over opulence.

The couple’s attire portrayed their intended look, a testament to the enduring spirit of those navigating the challenges of a lower class through his dressing. where each garment bore the imprints of a life marked by labour and modest means.

Their eyes met in the mirror before they left without a word.

Her ocean-blue eyes are bright and happy about the journey.

His sky-blue eyes hoped this trip would help her mood.

*

* *

*

Morning.

Conan’s Bungalow.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

Helena woke up early today, she had slept too fast and with sad energy that she couldn’t have slept for long, she cleaned the house while Conan cooked.

They are in silence, Conan telling himself to apologise and Helena wanting to be left alone.

Conan did not leave the house early today, he spent it lazing around and then cooking.

"Are you going out today?" Conan asked as he met her in the parlour after lunch, he hadn’t gone out since morning.

"Why should I answer such a private question?" she asked with a lifted brow.

He narrowed his eyes at that logic "Private?"

His question is met with her firm "Yes"

He sighed.

"I only intend to tell you I shall be home late today," he said.

She nodded "You shall not be missed" she countered.

Conan scoffed "And you shall be hungry" he retorted.

She raised her eyes to meet his "What are you insinuating?"

She asked and with all of her might tried not to smile at his confused face.

"You shall need to get food for yourself" he clarified softly.

He felt horrible for subjecting her to that, but he is not her husband, he thought

She pouted as she asked. "Why do you even prohibit me from cooking?"

She waited calmly and then he asked a question that made her grit her teeth. "Do you know how to cook?"

"Not as noble as you but yes" she replied with a proud smile.

He shook his head."Just please, get food for yourself" he said.

She remained silent.

"I shall make dinner when I return" he promised and her gaze finally dropped.

"Alright," she agreed with a nod.

"Have a nice day ahead" he wished reaching for his after coat.

"You too," she whispered back.

She turned to the bedroom to avoid looking at him as he dressed up in his Knight attire.

She liked it too much.

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