Alethea blinked.
She had never been bowed to before. Or at least, she could not recall if she ever had. In the nunnery, there had been no servants. Rather, there had been chores to do and strict obedience that was expected of you. The idea of someone being paid to wait on her felt strange and it dawned on her that life here was much different than the one that she had been accustomed to.
Daphne seemed to notice her way that her shoulders had tensed up at the scene.
"They're used to keeping the house running. Think nothing of it," she whispered to her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
"Would you like to rest first?" Joyce asked, her eyes darting between Daphne and then Alethea. "I imagine it must have been no easy journey here."
"Yes," Alethea said after contemplating on the matter for a moment. "I think I would, thank you."
Joyce gave a quick nod, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
"It must have been a long ride. I always get terribly restless after more than an hour in the carriage."
Alethea offered a polite smile, though the journey had felt much longer for reasons other than distance. If anything, that felt like the easiest part of it all. Now it felt like things were going to get difficult.
Though, of course, she realized that it might also be her mind making things worse for herself. It was something that it had a knack of doing. Often, she conjured up the worst possible version of events playing out in her head. It did not do her good, yes. But in a sense, it prepared her as well.
So then in her mind, it was a practical measure of things. It was something that Alethea had gotten rather adept in. She was someone who took things at face value, and then tried to conjure up a darker side to it. In her life, she had known that most things have a dark side.
"I'm more tired from everything else, I think," she said, baring out her thoughts with honesty.
It took her a moment to realize that perhaps her thoughts had been too honest. But it was another habit she had. She was used to speaking her mind. The nuns had always told her that lying was a terrible sin, and must never be done. It was ingrained in her now as an ethos.
She had only really lied once, she remembered, wincing at the memory. And then quickly shut out the thought from her mind.
Felicity glanced at her, a flicker of concern crossing her features. Maybe she had not expected her to be so candid, so soon. Alethea could hardly blame her, either.
"It's a great deal to take in," she said. "You've come home to a family you barely know. I can't imagine how strange it must feel. How does it feel?"
Alethea hesitated. She did not wish to offend them with her honesty, which she knew was always a possibility. But then again, lying to them seemed like a worse option.
They were kind. She could feel it. And yet, kindness felt almost as difficult to bear as coldness.
"It feels like I've stepped into someone else's life," she admitted, once again honest in a way that might seem startling to others."I don't mean that ungratefully. Only… everything is so different from what I'm used to."
"It has been twenty-three years," Felicity spoke, her voice tinged with an emotion much heavier than what she was displaying. "Naturally, this is to be expected. You should not worry about feelings at this stage."
Alethea nodded.
Twenty-three years ago, she had been separated from her family, at the tender age of three. She had spent her entire life being raised in a nunnery, growing up in an environment that was starkly different from the one that her sisters had seen. A whole lifetime had passed between them.
"I remember nothing of it," she admitted. "Of this life that I was supposed to lead."
"That's all right," Daphne said, once again the calmest of them all, "but there should be no doubt that this had been your life. It's just... been waiting for you to return to it."
The words gave Alethea a pause. If someone had told her this for most of her life, she would have never believed them. In her time at the nunnery, it felt like there was no more life outside of it. She had been shut in, and kept there for so long that the idea of life existing at a normal pace elsewhere seemed like a dream or a morbid reality that she could never experience.
"We always thought…" Joyce hesitated. "We were told you died. In the river, do you remember? They said you must've fallen in and then there were no signs of you. I believe that our parents tried to search for you, afterwards. But there was no progress on that front. Eventually, they had to give up their search as well."
"I was told the same," Alethea replied, without emotion. Surprising, given the nature of the topic. But she had a different way of reacting to things, based on her own life experiences. Her sisters exchanged a glance, seeming a bit uneasy.
"You don't have to speak of it," Daphne said gently.
"I'd rather not," Alethea admitted, exhaustion weighing down on her. The last thing that she wished to do was rehash the past. If this was supposed to be a new beginning for her, then she hoped to leave all the stories of the life she had left unspoken.
"You need rest," Daphne interjected and then lead her down to the end of the hall, where a room awaited her with the door slightly ajar. "This is your room. We had this prepared for you. It's not exactly how it was, of course, but we hoped it might feel like yours again."
