Mending

It was an exhausting carriage ride home, but Dove hadn’t yet considered how exhausting the coming night would also be. She arrived to the estate ahead of most of the other lady’s maids with the Sterling lords and lady. Once the carriage had stopped, she slipped out before the rest of the party and slunk away to her chambers. Her black dress had begun to dry at the edges, but most of her was still sopping wet and freezing. She took out the contents of her pockets, pockets she had painstakingly altered so she could carry more beneath her petticoats than anyone would suspect. Needles, thread, various small vials and pouches with mixtures for eliminating dyes, nearly all ruined by the brackish seawater… That seawater that lapped around her torso when she waded toward Glenn and Dominic. And then, suddenly, it seemed as though hands were on her mouth again, colder even than the sea...
 
 
…and she was pulled under the water. She realized with horror that these hands were not kelpie tendrils, but human hands. Strong and large and impossibly cold, over her nostrils and mouth. A bitter ache burst into her head as shards of ice shoved their way into her nasal cavities. Invisible fingers pushed past her lips, pressing against her teeth. Dove tried to bite down on them, but before she could, a blast of pain shot through her entire body, born from the ice filling the space around her tongue, down her throat. It was too late to scream. Expending the last breath held in her lungs to yell was, terrifyingly, impossible. She would die here, alone…
 
 
…and alone she was, but comfortingly, in her room. Not in the sea. Not in the deathly grip of the man whose presence had loomed over her since she was a child. She continued to empty out her pockets, more quickly now, and then ripped off her clothes, leaving them in a soggy heap in the floor. Goosebumps rose on her flesh as she searched for a suitable replacement. She pulled on a gray, unremarkable dress and tied her second favorite apron (her favorite apron now presumably lost to the waters earlier that day). Once she was fully clothed, she dared a peek in the mirror. She looked battered and ghastly. Like she had seen a ghost.
 
 
The wails of the newly dead flew over her once more, filling her mind, her ears, and down the rest of her body, bringing attention to the life it held there. She felt a new ghostly hand, almost warm this time in comparison to the frigid water and her captor’s touch, caress hers. It then seemed to reach inside her chest and touch the convulsing muscles around her lungs. The feeling was bizarre, but not entirely unpleasant. Moreover, the desperate need to suck in a breath was gone. Her body relaxed. She wasn’t dead, she didn’t think, but somehow, she no longer needed air. The frozen hands clamped harder over her mouth and nose, and she decided to let her assailant think her stillness was brought on by unconsciousness. She saw the dark silhouette of Lord Dominic swimming up to her with his sword drawn. A stabbing motion, and blood began to fill the water above her right temple. She could feel the warmth of it in her hair. Red was the last color she saw before she allowed her eyes to close.
 
 
She examined her hair, concluding that a quick fix was impossible. Only one or two chunks of seaweed came out of her hair pins without a fight. She gave up on the rest and wrapped a bonnet over the tangled mess, tucking bits of salty hair back underneath the edge of the cap. With a shaky breath, she steeled herself to resume her lady’s maid duties. Lady Elinor was blessedly simple to look after, but she still had items that needed unpacking, and the house will surely be in an uproar. Glenn will be needing help, and Mrs. Todd was already rousing some of the other girls to brew some healing soup. As much as Dove wanted to stay in her room and hide, the group in the carriage had decided that she carry on as usual. So carry on she went.
 
It was two and a half hours before Dove finally returned to her bedroom and collapsed into the bed. She didn’t always sleep well, but tonight she didn’t even have time to remove her boots before unconsciousness overtook her.
 
 
And she was under the sea again, walking this time. Walking along the bottom of the ocean. She had never learned how to swim, but as it turns out, she didn't really need to swim if she wasn't afraid of drowning. It took ages, but she finally emerged on the north side of the beach. A rocky outcropping blocked her view of the tents and people… the bodies and blood… the man who tried to kill her. Nimbly, and numbly, she darted along the rocks up toward the carriages, as Lord Oliver had directed. Lord Dominic, fighting her unseen attacker. Lord Oliver, offering her his entire carriage. When did Lords do such things for lady's maids? Would they still have done them if they knew who she was?
 
They’ll know soon enough, she supposed.
 
 
Dove’s eyes cracked open, crusty from the unwashed seawater. She felt fully rested, but parts of her body ached. What time was it? The sky was still a disorienting shade of black outside her window. Had she slept a full 24 hours? Why had no one woken her up?
 
She reached for a small pocket watch that had somehow survived the water. It read 3:00… in the morning? She must have only slept a couple of hours somehow.
 
Either way, she was fully awake. She decided that first things first – she needed a wash.
 
In another hour, Dove had re-pinned her freshly washed hair and donned another dull gray dress. She held in her hands her least favorite apron – the one with the pocket that always developed a hole, no matter how she mended it – and examined it closely. Suddenly, a new stitch that she could try came into her mind. She had the time now, it seemed, so she sat on her bed in a very unladylike manner and threaded her needle. She soon found that the careful monotony of the stitching allowed her mind to wander back to the carriage ride last night.
 
 
“We could adopt her.”
 
“What? How?” Lady Elinor’s voice sounded incredulous, and rightly so.
 
“Alice or I could adopt her into the family. She’d be a real Sterling, then, and no one would be allowed to lay a hand on her.” Lord Oliver leaned back, hands behind his head, as if it was no small matter to adopt her. Not one middle or lower class family who visited the orphanage had thought she was good enough for them – so she couldn’t fathom why His Lordship was suggesting bringing her into a wealthy, gentrified, noble House of Regencia.
 
“Dove… How old are you?” Dominic asked.
 
“I’m thirty one,” her quiet voice replied, sounding distant to her ears. “I know I’m little, but I’m not a child.”
 
Dominic looked back at his uncle and cousin. “She’s older than me and Elinor. Is it even possible to adopt a full grown adult?”
 
“We could look into it,” Lady Elinor mused. “I may have some connections I could ask about –” she murmured at the same time as Dominic said, "I know some people in government --"
 
“We could marry her off to Aunt Alice!” Oliver interjected cheerfully, before the two could begin a squabble.
 
Dominic scoffed. “Mother would never hear of it.”
 
“Then we could marry her off to you, Dominic. Your mother wouldn’t give a rat’s ass who you marry.” A wry tone leaked into Elinor's voice.
 
Dove sank even lower down in her seat.
 
 
So somehow, upon hearing that Dove had lied about her resume and tricked her way onto their staff, these three members of the Sterling family had decided to try and protect her, instead of dismissing her summarily. Her mind reeled at the thought of it. It simply wasn’t the way of things. The upper class relied on the lower class to run their homes smoothly, and the lower class relied on the upper to provide housing and wages. If your work is not sufficient, you do not receive your end of the bargain. And Dove had not only been dishonest, but also dangerous to the family. By all accounts, she should be imprisoned, or at the very least, turned out onto the streets. It had happened before and it was always going to happen again. She'd just been biding her time.
 
But it wasn’t happening again. Instead, the upper class was being… kind? It made sense for the Sterling family, she supposed. They were all kind, even Dominic in his own way. But never had she guessed they would risk their reputations -- and possibly their lives? -- for... for her? She knew the whole situation was much larger than that, but it felt impossible to accept this new upside down way of thinking. Her instinct was to run. There had to be some way they were taking advantage of her.
 
And maybe they were. Talking about her future while she was sitting right there, as if she were a doll to be auctioned off. They hadn’t asked her once what she wanted. Who she’d prefer to marry or what station in life she’d like to occupy. She was, still at the core of it all, a servant. A member of the staff. Not family, even if they said otherwise.
 
She would go to Dominic. They had always been straight with each other. Although she used a different name, she was always authentically herself with Dominic, and she believed he was the same with her. So, he would be straight with her. They both knew he'd be ruined if he were forced to marry a lady’s maid. His ambitions wouldn’t allow it. Same with Aunt Alice. And Dominic would surely tell Dove if her presence was too much of a risk to the family. He would tell her it would be best if she left.
 
She’d never asked permission from an employer to leave them before.
 
She’d never had a friend like Dominic before, though, either.
 
“Are you a danger to the family?” That had been his first question. And it had been the right one. He was the only one seeing any sense in this situation, and she would thank him for his friendship, and she would leave.
 
 
You didn't leave before, though. You stayed behind for Glenn.
 
 
It was a voice, but it wasn’t a voice. Much like the idea of the new stitch for her apron, which was nearly done now, this voice came in her head like a thought, but a thought from without. From someone else, probably someone here in this room that she refused to look at. She didn’t want to see anyone like them anymore, not since she unwittingly followed that spectral lady into Lord Frost’s chambers. That was when all the trouble had began. She would carry on avoiding trouble from these ghosts.
 
But the voice was right. She nearly abandoned the beach when the kelpie showed up, but she had gone back for Glenn. And it felt… good? To stay with the people she knew and to try and help them. It had gone abysmally… she still owed so much to poor Glenn. But it had resulted in three members of House Sterling pledging to keep her safe. She would never have known they felt that way about her if she had run off when she had the chance.
 
She tied the last thread on her apron, and then picked up the musty black dress from the floor where she had left it the previous night. It was still damp in places, and bore several holes from the previous night’s events. It desperately needed laundering, but since she had her needle and thread out already, she figured she might as well locate some of the smaller rips in the fabric and mend them now.
 
As Dove’s little hands secured a section of the dress into a mending hoop, Lady Elinor came to mind. Her Lady. Being lady's maid to Elinor Sterling was the best job she’d ever had, in station as well as in experience. Elinor was generous, and reliable, and good. She’d never known anyone as admirable as her. Dove was convinced that if she ever met the Queen, Her Royal Majesty wouldn’t be half as honorable as the character that Elinor carried.
 
Dove knew she had distanced herself from Elinor purposefully. She could feel Elinor’s loneliness like a gaping chasm since her brother and father’s deaths. There were many moments where Dove recognized that Elinor needed a friend more than a maid, but Dove had been too protective of her secrets to bridge that gap. It had been a constant wrestle between self preservation and connection, but as usual, self preservation won out.
 
And now that the truth is known, Dove wondered if she could already feel a sense of betrayal coming from Elinor. The thought of adding more to her Lady's sorrow hurt, much like Lord Frost’s boots pounding her into the ground under the water. If Dove chose not to leave right away, perhaps she could… What – say sorry? Make it up to her somehow? Become best friends with her ladyship and everyone would forget that Dove has lied to her for her entire employment here?
 
But again, Elinor hadn’t dismissed her right away, much to Dove’s amazement. That spoke more about Elinor’s trust in her lady’s maid than Dove wanted to think about. Maybe all it would take is a little trust back in Elinor's direction. Maybe.
 
Well. At the very least, she could talk to Elinor to make sure no one actually had any intentions of marrying her off to the first available Sterling. Her Ladyship would hear her, and understand.
 
Dove finished mending the first tear, and she felt, from that same place that the thoughts came, a comforting hand squeeze her shoulder. She closed her eyes, and leaned into it.