The manors on the moors had been empty since two years ago, ever since the Duke of Hangley passed away a year ago. The Asterlys, who held the dukedom, had removed themselves to London following the direction of James, the eldest Asterly son and the heir apparent. Since then, the Asterlys had maintained residence in London to respect the hundred days of mourning, respectfully following the rules of society, even though they were not particularly close to the Duke. However, the appearance of these two ladies on the moor meant that one of the estates was open again. Picking up her things and stepping into her slippers, the young lady ducked under the low boroughs of random trees and made her way back into the small stopover town where she worked and lived.

Ignoring the stares she attracted due to her wet hemlines, she marched her way to the local inn, barged in through the back door, threw her book onto the counter and whacked the pan on hand onto the counter. The result was a resounding, sharp, and rather annoying clang. The result of the clang was of course her intended effect, which had everyone looking at her.

“ The estates are open again”

Her spoken words were met with cheers, as the estates being open again, and just at the start of the fall grousing season meant that country parties were almost starting and that in turn attracted business for the small traveling town. Smiling, she left the pan where she had grabbed it. And left the Inn, going walking back out onto the street, and going a few shops down until she got to a seamstress’ shop.

“ Aunt Julia!” She called into the shop, a bell jingling somewhere in the small but cozy modiste’s office. For as long as she remembered, she had been living with her Aunt Julia, her mother’s sister, who opened her own dress shop after both her sister and herself were left abandoned at the age of seventeen when the family’s estate was left to a stupid cousin. Julia’s sister, who was older by a three years, had hurriedly gotten married to a old man of local gentry and was able to give Julia enough money to set up shop in the town. Whilst most would be unappreciative of the little that a sibling could do, Julia was happy with her simple life, surrounded by her designs and her masterpieces, and was only more then happy to take in her young niece- who was not particularly welcomed in the new squire’s household. Unfortunately for the young girl- named Charity by her aunt, the reason why she was not quite accepted was due to the fact that dear Charity was not quite legal.

“ Aunt Julia! The estates are open again!” she said, tucking her book under the front counter. An older woman came bustling out the back of the shop, carrying a huge armload of assorted velvets, presumably in preparation of the gown orders for the coming Christmas season.

However, at the words of her niece, she blanched, her eyes glazing over. “ Goodness Aunt. You look like you’ve swallowed a ream of paper. Do tell me that our good stationery is still in the desk.” Charity said dryly, her nimble fingers binding up her hair in a loose bun with a simple comb. Nodding numbly, Julia turned on her feet and went up the stairs to the apartments she shared with Charity and headed straight to the small office she kept. Once she shut the door firmly behind her, she leaped for the desk and for the bottom drawer. And under box of stationary that Charity previously mentioned, she lifted up the base of the drawer, revealing a heavy envelope, and addressed on it- Amelia Pritchard, Lady Clair.

There were secrets that Julia Pritchard kept to herself. And one of that would be the relations she had. But never mind that. It was past her time to shine. But it could be Charity’s. Slitting the parchment sheet open, she penned a short note on another slip of paper-

Lady Regina,
I hope this note finds you well.
Attached is a letter that you might find informative- I realize that it comes late, but I was not able to forward it on to the respective addressees without proper direction. I received it 2 months after her Grace’s death. I await your instructions for a proper time to call on you, if at all possible. I fear this is not as simple as shown.

Your servant,
Julia Pritchard

She sealed the note with a drop of wax and left the shop, not stopping in her steps until she found a boy to run up to the estates with her heavy note. Inwardly she prayed for favor from the heavens, for speed for the young boy, and for kindness from the family she was about to approach. In all sense, her request was a futile one, but she hoped for luck.