C4 A tale of rebellion

As Laurel gracefully emerged from the soothing bath, small droplets of water cascaded down her skin, forming delicate patterns on the floor below. The attentive maid by her side approached, tenderly offering a plush gray towel. With a gentle touch, she skillfully absorbed the moisture from Laurel's body, leaving her skin refreshed and invigorated. Finally, she carefully enveloped Laurel's exquisite, slender form in the luxurious embrace of the towel, creating a comforting cocoon of warmth and elegance

"Has the duchess return?"Laurel inquired inquisitively as they crossed the threshold into the grandeur of the main room, her elegant figure gracefully making its way towards the intricately carved, plush chair situated before the ornate dressing table.

"Indeed, milady," the young maid whispered, her voice filled with concern. "And the young miss has sought solace in the Duchess' chamber, where she seeks solace and vents her grievances."the little maid revealed with undeniable loyalty seeping through her words. Having dutifully attended to the young mistress as her personal maid for a remarkable span of six prosperous years,their bond had prospered into sisterhoodHowever, the little maid was not the lady's first personal maid. Rumor had it that the previous maid had eloped with a male servant from the Duke's manor one night.

"Nothing less than this should be expected from our beloved innocent Maggie," Laurel said with a mischievous grin. She had anticipated such an incident and was certain that eventually her supposed mother, the Duchess, would reprimand her. Let the anticipation linger, for Laurel was prepared for it.

The diligent maid carefully dried and styled Laurel's luscious, awe-inspiring mane of long, flowing, shimmering, and absolutely resplendent golden locks, which cascaded down her back like a majestic waterfall of purest silk. With gentle strokes, the maid imbued every strand with undeniable radiance, turning them into a living testament to unparalleled beauty.

As the maid faithfully attended to her mistress, she couldn't help but express her ever-growing apprehension. With tender concern etched across her worried face, she delicately inquired, "Pardon me, mi lady, but do you not harbor any trepidation that the formidable Duchess,may force you to stay locked in the dark room A punishment, perhaps, befitting no ordinary transgression."

Filled with an unwavering loyalty only a true servant possesses, the maid lamented the potential plight her beloved mistress might endure, her heart heavy with a mixture of compassion and genuine fear.

Laurel grinned as she reached for a jar of soothing lotion to gently massage into her delicate skin. The enigmatic room lived up to its name, draped in impenetrable darkness that seemed to embrace the chillness reminiscent of a snow-covered land. Its narrow proportions allowed for only a solitary figure to effortlessly navigate its confinements, the absence of any seating arrangements necessitating a standing posture. Laurel recalled her previous encounter with this space, a momentous occasion marked by her resolute declination of a proposed matrimonial alliance.

Due to Laurel's humble background, the Duke had never shown her favoritism. Although she lived in the Duke's manor as one of his daughters, she was still considered a commoner. When Laurel turned sixteen, she attracted numerous wealthy suitors eager to marry her. However, as soon as they discovered her lowly status, they promptly withdrew their interest and pursued the other daughters instead. Additionally, Laurel herself rejected most of the suitors, each given some reason for her disinterest. While she watched her sisters find love and marry noble elites chosen by their parents, Laurel remained unwed and unconcerned. Even the youngest legitimate daughter, Lady Maggie, had secured an engagement with the Viscount's son, leaving Laurel without a partner and unbothered. Three years ago, the Duchess personally arranged a marriage for Laurel with a noble from a lower class. However, for seemingly unjustifiable reasons, Laurel rejected the match even before meeting the groom's family. Enraged by her refusal, the Duchess slapped Laurel harshly and confined her to a dark room for four days without food.

As Laurel reminisced about that memory, a warm smile spread across her face. Despite having celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday just a few months ago, her youthful appearance still resembled that of an eighteen-year-old. With her captivating round face and mesmerizing large black eyes, it felt as though her gaze could penetrate the depths of one's soul. Her petite lips, so delicately proportioned, always caught people's attention when she spoke, leaving them searching for the source of such an enchanting voice. Without a doubt, Laurel was a breathtaking beauty, absolutely without equal.

"I've matured to the point where a simple reprimand would give me quite a scare," Laurel remarked in her nightgown. She was preparing for a family supper, a prospect she wasn't particularly enthusiastic about, but at the same time, it was an escapable event she couldn't evade.

"My dearest lady, I am deeply saddened on your behalf. The Duchess, I dare say, always unjustly punished you, without a shred of reason. And the treatment she bestowed upon Maggie, oh dear, it has reduced her to a state of complete senselessness. She has become nothing but an empty vessel."

These poignant words were spoken by none other than Molly, the maid of distinguished character. Molly's loyalty towards Laurel can never be questioned, for her origins differ greatly from her predecessor. Unlike the previous maid who was trained under the Duchess's watchful gaze, Molly was acquired from the slave market. Indeed, Laurel became her very first master. The slave market had its own peculiar way of instilling unwavering loyalty within its slaves, a loyalty that drove them to protect their master's secrets even at the cost of their own lives. Molly was no exception to this rule, for she remained ever loyal.

Having resided within the confines of the Duke's manor for quite some time, Molly had developed a profound disdain for the other ladies who inhabited the premises. Whenever she engaged in hushed conversations with her mistress, Laurel, Molly refused to utter the name of those she deemed to be nothing more than nuisances – the ladies she found utterly worthless and negligible.

"Molly, at times one must actively embrace pleasure in one's own suffering. I would simply endure my penance, whilst Maggie would eternally dwell in the depths of shame for her actions," Laurel uttered whilst gazing at her reflection in the looking glass. A smug smile of contentment graced her visage. "I shall descend to partake in the evening repast with the 'kin'," Laurel emphasized the word 'kin' in a manner impossible to miss.