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Of course we are.
FOUR
Ivy
I stare at the threatening shadow of the castle in the darkening night.
All right, I might have exaggerated. It’s, like, a mile away, uphill, and through a huge fence which is likely guarded and electrified.
Besides, it’s natural for it to be lit; even if the family isn’t visiting, there’s always a staff in most noble residences. I know the duke also allows private tours of certain properties when no family members are in, for schools, historians, or even curious tourists.
I force myself to breathe as our driver drags my case and bags to the front door.
“I see you have some wood,” the driver says after my sister opens the door. “Would you like me to start a fire, miss?”
It’s likely his way of saying we’re freezing our butts off here.
Thankfully, Mom sent detailed instructions about turning on the heating, so that won’t last.
“You’re too kind, Alberto,” Bella tells him. “But I know how to do it. I quite like it, too.”
I always found it awkward, to have those people wait on me hand and foot, but Bella’s perfectly at ease.
“You don’t havemuch,” he notes disapprovingly, although there are at least twenty logs in the wicker bin next to the fireplace. “Is there some in the shed?”
“Mom says she’s ordered some to be delivered tomorrow,” Bella tells him. “As there was no one in the house to sign for it. Say hi to Laura for me, please?”
“Of course, Miss Fort. Need anything, you call the main house, yes?”
I have to resist the urge to tip. My only real experience with people helping me is in the hospitality business, where a fiver or a tenner is appreciated, but I remember enough from my teenage days to know better. Offering a duke’s driver a tip is like looking down on him—suggesting he doesn’t make enough money to support himself. Which is utter bull, but the memory of the look on the butler’s face when I offered him some cash for showing me to my room on my first visit to the main house as a guest is branded into my retinas.
Money is bad. Money iscommon.
Gosh, this world is exhausting and ridiculous. I like money.
Likely because I am common.
Bella rushes to the fireplace and starts to pile up four logs into a tent shape before adding kindling and lighting it up. She blows when the tiny branches spark to life, and a fire starts to crackle in no time.
“I’m impressed,” I admit.
She rolls her eyes. “You know how the winters get here. Of course I can make a fire.”
It’s not that obvious to me: sure, our winters get pretty terrible in Anderia, similar to Austrian weather, but she’s the princess of the house. Manual labor isn’t really her thing. I figured Mom and Dad would be the ones doing it.
I don’t want to be rude, so I don’t point that out. “Do you know where the utility cupboard is? Mom told me how to start up the heating.”
She takes me to a small room adjacent to a large, cottagecore kitchen.
“This place is adorable. It’s a miracle Dad hasn’t convinced Mom to live here permanently.”
I can see him painting on the porch as it rages and storms. They haven’t even spent any time here yet and it feels like my parent’s place. Probably because of the art around the house.
“Like he could take her away from her gallery.” Bella snorts. “Though, I think it’s their retirement plan. Coming here. It’s lovely all year. They can gather mushrooms and go fishing in the autumn, bundle in front of the fire in winter, garden in the spring, hike in the summer.”
All that would bore either of us to death, but it suits our parents.
I prefer cities; I like to go to the theater, people watch with a hot drink, have a cocktail. Sure, I spend most of my time at home, but the one time a week where I dosomething, it’s the kind of activity only to be found in densely populated areas. As for Bella, she’s a social butterfly. Both of us can appreciate this calm, simple life for a break, but we couldn’t live here.
