Chapter Text
Ling did not remain long after the arrangement had been concluded, she came back into the room again as if she had forgotten something.
Having delivered her directions with that composed exactness which seemed natural to her, she stand from the door and look to the table, and said, “You will remain at rest for three days. I expect you to recover properly.”
Norawan inclined her head.
“And finish what is before you,” Ling added, her glance resting briefly. “It would be wasteful to do otherwise.”
With this, she left the room.
Norawan, who had not anticipated such particular concern for what remained upon her plate, looked down at it for a moment, and then, with a quiet resignation, resumed eating; for though she might object to many things, she found little advantage in objecting to food.
She had not long been alone before the door opened again, and the head maid entered, attended by a miad.
“Her Grace has given instructions for your care,” said the head maid, with composed civility. “You are not to walk without assistance.”
“I am capable of walking,” said Norawan.
“That is not the question,” the head maid replied.
The maid, who had remained just behind, now stepped forward; and Norawan perceived, with some surprise, it is Prigkhing, what she brought with her is a wooden chair set upon wheels.
Norawan regarded it with evident doubt.
“That will not be necessary.”
“It has been requested,” said the head maid.
There was, in this answer, very little encouragement for refusal.
“The Duchess prefers that injuries be properly healed,” she continued. “You are therefore not to walk more than is required.”
Prigkhing smiled. “It will be easier,” she said, “and you will recover faster.”
Norawan considered this, and, finding no argument likely to succeed, allowed herself to be assisted into the chair, though not without a certain reluctance.
“It is fortunate,” said the head maid, “that you and Prigkhing are already acquainted.”
Prigkhing nodded readily. “Yes, we have met.”
“Then we shall not waste time on introductions,” the head maid replied. “We will take you to your quarters after you have finished your share of food.”
"It is done"
Norawan did not entirely approve of being conveyed rather than walking, but she found that her approval was not required.
They passed through the corridors of the manor with little interruption. Servants moved aside as they approached, and doors were opened with such readiness that it appeared no delay was ever permitted within those walls. Everything was conducted with an order so complete that it scarcely seemed to require effort.
It was only when they emerged into the open air that Norawan’s attention was more fully engaged.
The estate extended farther than she had supposed.
The gardens were laid out with great care, though without excess; the paths were broad and well-kept, the trees arranged with intention, and the flowerbeds tended with a diligence that suggested not necessity, but expectation. Several servants were at work, moving quietly among the greenery, each occupied in a manner that seemed both regular and well understood.
Norawan observed all this without remark.
It was not the beauty of the place that struck her most, but its extent.
They continued for some time; long enough that the manor behind them ceased to command the view, until another building came gradually into sight.
“That,” said the head maid, “is where you will be staying.”
The structure was large, though plainly built, and possessed none of the ornament of the main house. Its strength lay in its order and solidity; the walls were of excellent brick, the windows regular, and the whole carried the appearance of being both durable and well maintained.
It was, Norawan thought, a better dwelling than many who laboured in the city might reasonably expect.
“They are well kept,” she said.
“Of course, they are expected to be,” replied the head maid. “Those who serve here are not neglected.”
Norawan made no answer.
“The stables are further along that road,” the head maid continued, indicating a path to the right. “You will be shown them when you are fit to walk without assistance.”
“It is not far,” Prigkhing added. “Only a few minutes.”
Norawan inclined her head slightly, committing the direction to memory.
They proceeded inside.
The interior was simple, but well ordered. A large common room opened before them, furnished with several tables and benches, likely intended for meals or rest. The space was clean, and the air free from the closeness Norawan had often known elsewhere.
It was not grand but it was a very comfortable sight.
They passed through rooms and along a corridor, until at last the head maid stopped before a door.
“This will be yours.”
Prigkhing opened it.
Norawan, who had prepared herself for something modest, found her expectations again exceeded.
The room is not richly furnished, but it was spacious, clean, and entirely private. There is a proper bed, a table, a chair, and space enough to move without inconvenience. Light entered easily through the window, and the air was fresh.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Very surprised? Yes.
“This is sufficient,” she said at last.
Prigkhing and the head maid exchanged a brief glance, and then, with an ease that suggested either long habit or shared understanding, said together,
“All servants here are given private rooms.”
Norawan looked at them.
“I see.”
She did not add that it was more than she had expected.
They assisted her from the chair to the bed with careful attention.
“You will remain here for now,” said the head maid. “The physician will attend you within two hours.”
Norawan inclined her head.
“If you require anything, you may call,” Prigkhing added, with a small smile.
“I will manage.”
“We do not doubt it,” said the head maid. “But you are not required to.”
"These are for servants for men and us women are down the road"
With that, they withdrew.
The door closed quietly behind them.
Norawan remained where she was for some time, her gaze moving slowly about the room, as though to assure herself that it was indeed hers.
It was quiet good for her peace of mind. After a while, she leaned back slightly, allowing herself a moment’s stillness.
This, she thought, had not been her intention.
She had intended very little beyond what was necessary from one day to the next. To earn, to avoid notice, and to continue. Yet in a single day, she had acquired a position, a place to live, and a degree of security which many would have thought worth seeking.
It was, by all reasonable measures, an advantage.
Service in a noble household was not lightly regarded. It offered wages, food, and shelter with benefits are not easily secured elsewhere.
She understood this perfectly.
“Temporary,” she said, after a moment.
It was a sensible arrangement. She would recover, perform her duties, and save what she could and when she had sufficient means, she would leave. Another city would serve as well as this one. Another beginning could be made. There was no reason to remain longer than necessary.
Having settled this to her own satisfaction, she lay back and closed her eyes.
The room remained quiet.
And for the present, that was enough.