Chapter Fourteen: Knives

Previously: Consequences

 

"How was midday meal?" Edith asked, as soon as Mireille returned to her chambers.

 

"Enough to make me want to skip supper," the Viscountess grumbled, shedding her furs.

 

Edith's blue eyes widened. "Was it that bad?" she asked, taking the furs and placing them in a wardrobe.

 

Exasperated, Mireille tossed her hands in the air. "Apparently, my former ladies all resent me for some reason or other, and have since the beginning."

 

Her maid smiled knowingly and nodded. Mireille stared at her. "You knew?"

 

The redhead chuckled. "Servants have a saying: the lords and ladies who smile to your face are sharpening knives behind your back."

 

Mireille was appalled. "I was only ever kind to them! I fed them, clothed them, gave them generous gifts—"

 

"And they had nothing to give you in return," Edith pointed out. "Did you ever stop to think how helpless that made them feel? Not to mention... you were living their dream. You're the exotic beauty from Valeronne. You have a wardrobe to die for. And you have more money than all the nobles in Westervale combined. Back in Ravensbridge, you had everything they ever wanted and they had nothing without you."

 

Mireille shifted uncomfortably. "You could've warned me," she mumbled.

 

Edith was patient. "Would you have listened, my lady?"

 

"No," the Viscountess admitted, eyes downcast.

 

"And let's not forget the real reason you wanted Rowena around," Edith added, her eyebrow raised.

 

Mireille suddenly felt nauseous. She wished there was a way she could get all these nosy characters out of her business. She didn't like the thought of people smirking and gossiping behind her back about Sir Adrian.

 

Maybe there's a mod where nobody notices when you like a guy, she wondered.

 

"So what's next?" her maid asked.

 

"I want to go home," Mireille sighed.

 

Edith winced. "The Princess will take offense."

 

"I know," Mireille said, nodding. "But we have no friends here, Edith. And I want to be out before the snow falls."

 

Her maid nodded understandingly. "First light then?"

 

"Before, if possible."

***

 

Mireille declined to attend supper and left early the next morning, when the skies were still dark and the air was brutally cold. She fast-forwarded her trip home. It was sunset in Ravensbridge when they arrived. The skies were beautiful above the idyllic town, and yet when her carriage rolled into the familiar courtyard of Roseward Manor, and she felt the warm southern wind on her skin... Mireille still wasn't happy.

 

Edith exited the carriage first and instead of following her out, Mireille hit her pause bracelet.

 

"I don't belong here, do I?" she asked, not knowing if she was talking to herself or the computer.

 

The computer didn't seem to know either. "Please elaborate."

 

She paused, thinking before replying, "Everything I've read about this character indicates that coming to Westervale was a mistake. Mireille du Maurier doesn't belong here. Nobody actually likes her. They want her money. Same with human players. They don't take on the role of this character. They just kill her for the money." She paused. "Mireille doesn't belong in Westervale."

 

"Players generally do not concern themselves with the fate of the Vicomtesse du Maurier."

 

She nodded, tired of fighting. "If that's the case, no one will miss her if she goes home." She paused. "Does Mireille ever go home?"

 

"In some very rare randomized endings, the Vicomtesse returns to Auremer. She's usually penniless by then, of course."

 

Mireille rubbed her temples. "Of course." She yawned deeply before commanding, "Resume game."

 

She finally entered her house. Marguerite was in the sitting room alone, embroidering something. When she saw Mireille, she started to rise but the Viscountess stopped her.

 

"You returned early," Marguerite observed.

 

"Better to do so than brave the winter," Mireille replied. She looked around herself. "Where is my cousin?"

 

"In the library."

 

Mireille nodded. "I'm going to retire early this evening."

 

"My lady."

 

She stopped by Godwin's study before going to her chambers. He seemed different, cheerful, with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

"Good evening, my lady," he greeted. "It pleases me to see you returned safe and sound."

 

"I heeded your warning," she told him. "Besides, there was no reason for me to linger in the north anyway."

 

"And Adela? How is she adapting to royal life?"

 

"Miserably," Mireille answered honestly.

 

Godwin chuckled. "A curse I wouldn't wish on anyone."

 

There was something different about him, but she couldn't put her finger on it. His skin seemed a bit more tanned than usual, and he was happy in a way she'd never seen before.

 

The simulation paused suddenly, with a frozen Godwin eerily grinning at her from across his desk.

 

Mireille blinked, alarmed. "Computer, is this a glitch?"

 

"Negative," the computer responded. "It merely seemed appropriate to notify you at this juncture that the character Godwin Whitlock has been stealing from you."

 

***

 

Even after saving and closing the game, her heart was still pounding. She couldn't forget the sight of Godwin's grin, nor the impact of the computer's chilling revelation.

 

Staring into the vast white emptiness of the simulation chamber, the gamer demanded, "Computer, explain."

 

"When you first hinted to him about the true nature of your wealth, Godwin began withdrawing a few extra crowns for every transaction needed to run your household."

 

It was like she was having trouble breathing. "But why? I never did anything to him."

 

"On the contrary, Player, you presented him with temptation. From his perspective, your wealth appears limitless, and you have never been afraid to share."

 

"So... he betrayed me instead of just asking?"

 

"It is likely he did not want to risk the possibility of rejection."

 

She clutched her mid-section. Everything was hurting all at once. "I just got my lady's maid to stop drinking herself into an early grave, and now you're telling me my seneschal has been stealing from me?"

 

"Correct."

 

The gamer squeezed her eyes shut. How was it the antics of holograms could affect her so? The money wasn't even real. None of it was. So why did the treachery feel real?

 

She opened her eyes. "I know I haven't made the best decisions. But with the exception of Adela, I haven't been cruel to these people, and I am tired of being punished for my generosity."

 

"Do you require additional guidance?"

 

"No," she stated bluntly. "Humans have a saying, computer. 'There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it'. Resume game." 

 

"Are you certain? You haven't rested between sessions."

 

"Oh, I'm sure," the gamer said determinedly. "Resume fucking game. And fast-forward past that creepy grinning shit Godwin was just doing. I need to speak with my cousin privately."

 

***

 

The simulation resumed in the gardens, away from the manor. The air was refreshingly cool without being cold, and above, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. Mireille closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

 

"Cousine?" 

 

She turned to see Thibault walking towards her, his brow slightly furrowed. She didn't know who he really was, or what he was meant to represent. She no longer cared that he was a hologram. He was her hologram, made to match her, programmed to understand her. 

 

Regardless of time period, family is extremely important for a person's survival, the computer had once said. And in this era, people relied on family more than anything else.

 

In the context of the game, Thibault was her family. Whether he was a gift or prank from the computer, her instincts told her to trust him.

 

"When the war ends," she announced, "we are going home."

 

He raised an eyebrow. "We?"

 

"I don't belong here," she said. The grittiness of her own voice surprised her, but she got over it quickly. "I never should have come. Taking my father's money, fleeing to Westervale—that was wrong. I was wrong."

 

Thibault stared at her, too surprised to speak. I bet she's never apologized in canon, Mireille mused. He doesn't know what to do with that.

 

"You wish to return to Auremer?" He looked concerned. "Cousine, what happened in Wintervale?"

 

"You were right," she admitted. "One cannot buy the love and loyalty of these people. Or any people, for that matter. So when it is safe, we shall go home. You will be Duke of Orvienne. We will rebuild our family and take back everything we lost."

 

His breath quickened, and likely his heartbeat as well. Thibault nodded, even though she knew he didn't fully understand what was going on.

 

Mireille's eyes narrowed suddenly. "And Thibault, from now until we leave, we trust no one."

 

His concern deepened. "You have enemies, Mireille?"

 

She scowled. "Anyone who isn't us is an enemy, cousin."

 

Next: Les du Maurier