NOVEL NEXT Chapter 59: Alicia Lindow
"Alicia, my dear," Viscount Lindow said, seemingly oblivious to the charged silence that had fallen between his daughter and myself. "Allow me to present Harold, Lady Isadora's protégé. He will be joining our household staff while attending the Royal Academy."
Lady Alicia—for clearly she deserved such formal address—stepped forward with fluid grace, her movements carrying the unconscious elegance of someone born to privilege but not spoiled by it. When she spoke, her voice carried the cultured tones of excellent education tempered by what seemed to be genuine warmth.
"Welcome to Lindow House, Harold," she said, offering me a smile that transformed her already lovely features into something approaching radiance. "I hope you will find your time with us both educational and pleasant."
"The honor is entirely mine, Lady Alicia," I said, allowing a warm smile to spread across my features as I spoke. The words came naturally, accompanied by the kind of genuine expression that Isadora had taught me was far more effective than mere formal courtesy.
The effect was immediate and unexpected.
Lady Alicia's composed demeanor wavered as my smile seemed to capture her complete attention. Those remarkable green eyes widened slightly, studying my face with an intensity that suggested she was cataloging every detail. For several heartbeats, she remained perfectly still, as if my expression had cast some sort of enchantment over her.
Then, like sunrise breaking over a mountain peak, color bloomed across her pale cheeks. The blush started as a faint pink and deepened to rose, spreading from her cheekbones down to the graceful column of her neck. She blinked rapidly, as if trying to break free from whatever spell had momentarily captured her.
"Oh..."
"Please, Lady Isadora, let us continue our conversation inside," Viscount Lindow interjected smoothly, his tone suggesting he had witnessed his daughter's reaction with paternal amusement rather than concern. "The evening air grows cool, and I'm certain you both would appreciate some refreshment after your long journey."
He gestured toward the mansion's entrance with the practiced grace of a seasoned host, leading our small party across the threshold and into a world that exceeded even my elevated expectations.
The interior of Lindow House was a masterpiece of refined elegance that spoke to generations of accumulated wealth and impeccable taste. The entry hall soared two stories high, its walls adorned with oil paintings that depicted everything from pastoral landscapes to formal portraits of stern-faced ancestors. Crystal chandeliers cast warm, golden light across polished marble floors inlaid with intricate patterns of darker stone. Fresh flowers—white lilies and pale roses—filled massive porcelain vases, their perfume mingling with the subtle scents of beeswax and aged wood.
What truly captured my attention, however, were the servants moving throughout the space with quiet efficiency. Real maids, dressed in the traditional black and white uniforms I had only seen in illustrations, went about their duties with practiced grace. They offered respectful curtseys as we passed, their movements synchronized in a way that spoke to excellent training and clear hierarchy.
In my previous life—my life as James Trevill—I had employed household staff, but they had been simple workers in practical clothing. This was something altogether different: a living tableau of aristocratic lifestyle that I was now, somehow, meant to become part of.
We proceeded through a series of interconnected rooms, each more impressive than the last, until we reached what was clearly the formal sitting room. The space was designed for intimate conversation among equals—or at least among those who wished to appear as equals. Plush sofas upholstered in deep burgundy velvet faced each other across a low table of polished mahogany, while tall windows draped in silk offered views of the mansion's private gardens.
Isadora and I settled onto one sofa, the cushions soft enough to be comfortable yet firm enough to maintain proper posture. Across from us, Viscount Lindow took his place beside his daughter, though I noted that Alicia seemed to choose her seat with unusual care, positioning herself where she could observe me without appearing to stare.
"Alicia," the Viscount began, "Harold will be accompanying you to tomorrow's entrance examination, and should you both prove successful, he will continue to serve you at the Academy as well."
The reaction was immediate and telling. Lady Alicia's eyes widened in what appeared to be genuine bewilderment, her carefully maintained composure cracking to reveal the quick-thinking young woman beneath.
"S…Serving me?" she stammered, her voice carrying a note of distress that seemed entirely disproportionate to the announcement. "But Father... at the Academy, that would be..." She paused, clearly struggling to articulate her concerns without causing offense.
I found myself studying her reaction with growing curiosity. Was she embarrassed by the prospect of appearing at the Academy with a personal servant, concerned about the social implications of such an arrangement? Or was there something more personal at work—perhaps the same inexplicable tension that had sparked between us during our introduction?
"Father," she continued, gathering her composure with visible effort, "I understand the practical benefits of such an arrangement, but surely Harold has more important concerns than attending to my trivial needs. If we both succeed in gaining admission, won't we have quite enough to occupy our time with studies and Academy responsibilities?"
Her words carried the ring of genuine consideration for my welfare, a quality I hadn't expected to find in someone of her elevated station.
"Do not trouble yourself over such matters," the Viscount replied with an indulgent chuckle. "This arrangement serves Harold's interests as much as your own. He is, after all, a commoner entering an institution populated primarily by nobility. As someone of your station, you have a duty to provide guidance should he encounter difficulties or have questions about proper conduct."
"I understand my obligations, Father," Alicia said carefully, "and I am perfectly willing to provide whatever assistance Harold might require. But I worry about burdening him with responsibilities that might interfere with his own academic pursuits. Surely his success at the Academy must take precedence over my comfort?"
Again, I found myself impressed by her consideration. This was not the reaction I had anticipated from a young noblewoman accustomed to having her every whim catered to by an army of servants.
"There is no need for concern, Lady Alicia," I interjected, offering her a reassuring smile. "I am quite capable of managing multiple responsibilities simultaneously. Your father's arrangement is both practical and generous."
She turned those remarkable green eyes toward me, and I caught a flicker of something that might have been relief, or perhaps gratitude. "If you are certain you won't find the arrangement too burdensome..." she said slowly, though her tone suggested she remained unconvinced.
"I wouldn't dream of considering service to your household a burden," I replied, meaning every word despite my earlier reservations about the butler position.
"Very well then," she said with a small nod, though she continued to regard me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
A practical question occurred to me, one that had been nagging at the edges of my consciousness since the arrangement had been explained. "Will I be expected to perform actual butler duties here in the house as well?" I asked, directing the question toward Viscount Lindow.
The older man's chuckle was warm and conspiratorial. "Only for the sake of appearances, my boy. When guests are present or formal occasions require it, you may need to play the part. But when we are among family, please consider yourself more of a honored guest than a servant. I have already prepared suitable quarters for you—a guest room rather than servants' quarters—and you are free to live as you please within reason."
He paused, his expression growing slightly more serious. "However, I must ask that you exercise discretion and avoid any behavior that might attract unwanted attention. This is the capital, after all, and even the most innocent activities can be misconstrued by those with malicious intent."
The warning was clear, and I appreciated its directness. "Of course, my lord. I have no intention of bringing embarrassment or difficulty upon your household."
"Excellent," Viscount Lindow said, settling back into his chair with evident satisfaction. "Then I believe we have covered the essential points. Tomorrow will bring new challenges for both of you, but I have every confidence that you will represent the Lindow name with distinction."
What followed was perhaps an hour of polite conversation that flowed like a gentle stream through the elegant room. Viscount Lindow and Isadora discussed the latest happenings in the capital with the easy familiarity of old acquaintances.
I found myself content to remain silent during these exchanges, partly out of respect for conversations that clearly touched on matters beyond my current station, but mostly because the opportunity allowed me to study my new surroundings with the calculating eye I had inherited from James Trevill's memories.
The sitting room alone represented wealth that most commoners would never see in their lifetimes. The carpet beneath our feet was woven with such intricate detail that each thread seemed to tell part of a larger story, while the crystal decanters on the sideboard caught and refracted the lamplight into dancing rainbows. Oil paintings in gilt frames depicted pastoral scenes and noble portraits with a skill that suggested they were originals rather than copies, each worth more than most families earned in a year.
This was the world I intended to claim for myself someday—not merely to visit as a guest or serve as a subordinate, but to possess as my birthright. The mansion was impressive, certainly, but my ambitions stretched far beyond a single viscount's estate. I envisioned something grander: a sprawling complex that could house not just myself but all the women who would eventually claim places in my life. .
As the conversation continued around me, I caught Lady Alicia stealing occasional glances in my direction. Each time our eyes met, she would quickly look away, that same delicate blush coloring her cheeks.
"—quite remarkable what they've done with the new wing," Viscount Lindow was saying, his words drawing my attention back to the present conversation. "The architectural innovations alone represent a significant advance in both form and function."
"Indeed," Isadora replied with genuine interest. "I understand they've incorporated several design elements from the eastern kingdoms. The fusion of styles should prove most striking."
The evening light filtering through the tall windows had begun to take on the golden quality that preceded sunset when Isadora finally stirred from her comfortable position on the sofa. The subtle shift in her posture communicated her intention as clearly as words might have done.
"I believe the hour grows late," she said. "Harold needs his rest before tomorrow's examination, and I have my own preparations to complete before returning home."
Viscount Lindow rose immediately. "Of course, my dear lady. Thank you for gracing our home with your presence this evening. Your company has been, as always, a genuine pleasure."
I stood as well, following Isadora's lead.
"Allow me to escort you to your carriage," I offered.
"That would be most gracious," she replied, laughing at me using formal words.
Now, I am just repeating what you have taught me.
"Remember everything I have taught you, Harold," Isadora said once we were beyond easy earshot of the mansion's windows. Her voice carried the serious tone she reserved for her most important instructions. "And whatever you do, avoid unnecessary trouble."
"I am not a child, Isadora," I replied.
Her laugh was warm and genuine, the sound of someone who had come to know me perhaps too well during our time together. "No, you certainly are not a child. But I do know you, Harold Eindoral, perhaps better than you know yourself. The young nobles you will encounter at the Academy are often foolish and prideful, but they possess power that can destroy you if handled carelessly. I trust you will deal with them intelligently rather than allowing your own pride to lead you into dangerous waters."
"I will exercise appropriate caution," I promised. "You need not worry about my conduct."
"Good."
"Keep watch over my sister and mother when you can by the way," I said.
"I will," she nodded smiling.
Then, she climbed into the carriage with practiced ease, settling herself among the cushions as the coachman prepared for departure.
"Now focus entirely on the Academy and the great goals you once described to me," she said, chuckling. "I have no doubt you will achieve everything you set your mind to accomplish."
The carriage began to move, wheels turning slowly against stone as the horses found their rhythm. But even as the vehicle pulled away, Isadora's voice carried clearly through the air.
"I will be watching you, Harold."