Chapter 276: Shana's Misunderstanding [2]

After dinner, the sisters left the dining hall together. Shana followed a little later, waiting until the servants had begun clearing the table before she rose from her chair.

Ulrich had given her a room within the estate. She still found that difficult to believe, though she suspected he had chosen it for practical reasons rather than generosity. Having her live elsewhere would mean arranging an escort, deciding how she was to travel, and ensuring she could arrive whenever the girls needed a lesson. Keeping her in the house avoided all of that. He did not seem like a man who would make extra work for himself merely to remind her that she had once been his prisoner.

Whatever his reasons, the room was hers to use.

When she entered it that evening, its comfort weirded her more than it reassured her. The chamber was spacious, with heavy furniture that had clearly been made to last: a broad bed, a wardrobe, a dressing table, and a padded chair beside the window. Curtains hung in generous folds, and a rug softened the floor beneath her feet. Nothing about the room suggested temporary accommodation for someone who might be sent away the following morning.

After two years underground, Shana still noticed such things. She could close a door without hearing a lock turn on the other side. She could go to the window, sit in a chair, or open the wardrobe without asking permission. There was even a bathing room adjoining the chamber.

Ulrich had provided all of it.

The thought strengthened the uneasy conclusion she had reached during dinner. He was giving her so much that she felt she had to offer something in return. Teaching the sisters had gone well, but surely one afternoon of lessons could not account for a room like this, proper meals, clean clothes, and freedom from the cell.

If she failed to please him after receiving such treatment, she feared he would consider her ungrateful. She could already imagine herself trying to explain that she had misunderstood his expectations, and him looking at her with the impatience she found so difficult to bear.

Shana went into the bathing room before she could think herself into remaining where she was.

She began filling the bath, then returned to the corridor to find someone who could help her obtain what she needed. Her first thought was Monika. The maid had been patient with her since she came above ground, and asking her would have been far easier than approaching someone unfamiliar.

But Monika had already spent much of the day looking after her as well as the sisters. Shana did not want to trouble her again, especially over requests she was too embarrassed to explain properly. She would ask one of the other maids instead.

That proved easier than she expected.

The servants no longer reacted to a witch in the corridor as they might once have done. Airam, Hermione, and Esther had lived in the estate for two years, and whatever fear or prejudice the household had carried at the beginning had lost much of its force through daily familiarity. The girls were the young ladies of House Rubenhart. Serving them had made witches less mysterious to the people who saw them argue over lessons, hurry to meals, and require clean linen like anyone else.

Shana benefited from that change.

When the maids learned that she was to teach the sisters, they were willing to help her settle into the household. No one recoiled when she approached. No one made her explain why she needed soap or whether she had permission to bathe.

At first, her requests were ordinary enough.

She asked for scented soap suitable for washing her hair and for something she could use in the bath. A maid brought her a few choices, explaining which scents were strongest and which would linger only lightly afterward. Shana listened with greater seriousness than the question seemed to warrant.

Then she asked about underclothes.

Her voice became so quiet that the maid had to ask her to repeat herself. Shana did, her cheeks flushed, and tried to make clear that she wanted something finer than the plain garments she had been given. It took more than one conversation to find what she meant, and each conversation left her more embarrassed than the last.

The women answered without openly questioning her purpose. Yet Shana noticed their looks changing as her requests became more particular. They glanced at one another, then back at her, evidently wondering why the new tutor needed such things that evening.

Eventually, she had everything she had asked for.

She thanked them hurriedly and returned to her room with the bundle held close against her gown. Her face was so red that she could feel the heat of it long after she closed the door.

In the corridor, the maids exchanged another look.

They knew she had been summoned to the Count’s office as Shana had hinted at that. They also knew their lord well enough that the possibility suggested by her preparations seemed difficult to reconcile with him. None was willing to make an accusation from so little, particularly when Shana had said nothing about his wishes. Nevertheless, she had given them something to wonder about.

Shana was unaware of the doubts she had left behind. She was occupied with getting ready before Ulrich decided she had kept him waiting.

The bath was filled when she returned. She put the borrowed things aside and tested the water before stepping in. Its warmth eased some of the stiffness left by sitting in the yard all afternoon, but it did little to comfort her thoughts.

She took longer than necessary.

First she washed her hair, working the scented soap through the curls and rinsing it carefully. Then she washed herself with the same anxious thoroughness, pausing whenever she remembered another detail she feared she might overlook. She wanted to arrive clean and presentable. That was something she could control, even if she had no idea how to conduct herself once she stood before him.

By the time she finished, the water had begun to cool.

Shana dried herself, wrapped her hair for a few moments to draw out the remaining water, and went back into the bedroom. She brushed thoroughly through her curly hair. She sat at the dressing table and worked through them patiently, beginning at the ends so she would not pull the knots tighter.

When she looked up at the mirror, she hardly recognised how carefully she had prepared herself.

Her hair lay neatly around her face, and the bath had taken some of the weariness from her expression. She put on the white undergarments the maids had found for her, then stood before the mirror again. They were finer than anything she usually wore, with lace she would ordinarily have regarded as unnecessary.

She thought she looked prettier than usual.

For a moment, that pleased her. Then she remembered whom she was going to see, and the small comfort disappeared.

Ulrich was a count. Shana had seen enough of the estate to understand what wealth surrounded him, and enough of its visitors to suspect that beauty was hardly something unfamiliar to him. She could not imagine what standards he might hold or whether her efforts would seem inadequate.

There was no way to make herself more beautiful merely by wishing for it. She had already spent too long before the mirror, adjusting things that did not need adjustment. All she could do now was be attentive and try not to disappoint him.

The thought brought back the fear that had accompanied her through dinner.

She chose a white gown and slipped it on, fixing the loose fabric at her shoulders. It was easy to put on and required little fastening. She checked the neckline, smoothed the folds, and then caught herself doing both again.

Enough.

Shana took a deep breath. Her heart was beating so hard that she could feel it while standing still, but remaining in her room would not make the summons disappear.

She opened the door and stepped into the corridor.

The estate had grown quieter since dinner. Servants still moved through the halls, attending to the last tasks of the evening, but the sisters had gone upstairs and there was little conversation. Shana walked carefully, as though making less noise might help her feel less conspicuous.

At the stairs, she paused to remember which way she had been told to go.

She could not.

There were too many corridors she had seen only once, and her thoughts were too unsettled to distinguish them. Rather than risk arriving at the wrong room, she stopped a maid carrying folded linen and asked where the Count’s office was.

The maid looked at her, briefly surprised, then gave clear directions.

“Upstairs, along the corridor, and to the right. You will see the doors at the end…” she replied giving a very suspcious stare at Shana.

“Thank you.”

Shana climbed the stairs in silence. Each step brought another rise in her heartbeat. Nothing had happened yet, and still her face felt hot enough that she was grateful the lamps were not brighter.

She followed the long corridor as instructed, turned right, and found the office doors.

Ulrich should be inside.

For several moments, she stood before them without moving. She could hear nothing from the other side. Her hand rose slowly, hovered an inch from the wood, and trembled before she finally knocked.

“I—It’s Shana, my lord.”

Silence followed for a couple of seconds.

“Enter.”

She reached for the handle, turned it, and pushed the door open.

The office was spacious, serving as a study as well as the place from which Ulrich managed the estate. Shelves, documents, and furniture occupied it in orderly abundance, but Shana barely took in any of them.

Ulrich sat behind his desk, composed as usual, his gaze lowered to the page before him. He was writing something, and his pen continued across the paper as she entered.