Something Immortal

☤Prologue-Strange Dreams☤

1880.

You sighed, looking out of your window. Smoke coming out of chimneys, sounds of machinery working nonstop. Boredom got the best of you as you waited for your father. The big industry of paper. Some people would laugh at that, but you knew better. Your family was very wealthy thanks to that. Your father turned a little family business your grandfather started into an empire. Hundreds of workers in multiple factories, in this age, paper is used everywhere. Documents, newspapers, for schools, envelopes, so many types. And your father made them all.

Even though your family is rich, they never pampered you. You had to work hard for every single thing you wanted. A new dress? Excellent grades. Go out somewhere? Labour. The other girls from your status were more spoiled, they reeked more than spoiled milk. You never really found a friend, so you mostly kept to your self, reading books or painting, hanging out in the gardens or riding horses. You were glad you had a privileged life.

Your father came through the door. You got up from the armchair next to the window. You hugged your father's waist, glad you could finally go home. You asked about his day as you made your way to the carriage waiting for you. He didn't go much into detail and as soon as you asked more about the economical side, he got angry, saying it's none of your business.

He always treated you like this. You had high education, so you understood most of the terms about business, yet he treated you like you were not intelligent enough to understand. Most of the trip back home was silent, only sounds of hoofs and the wheels clicking. The rhythm of the constant rocking lulled you to sleep.

The shaking of your shoulder awoke you. Your father held out his hand to you, helping you out of the carriage. The sun was setting, meaning it was almost time for supper. You headed to the dining room, where your mother sat, having some tea while waiting for the cooks to finish.

"Good evening mother." you greeted while giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hello, sweetheart," she said back.

Your mother wasn't as strict as your father regarding the etiquette. She cared how you acted in front of guests or at formal parties, but at home she let you be more carefree. The maids came out with dinner plates and you sat down next to father who sat at the head of the table, your mother on the right and you on the left.

Today's servings: Mashed potatoes and steak with red wine.

You all ate in silence, sometimes the glasses clinking or the utensils screeching against the plate. You were halfway done when your father raised his brow at your meal.

"Are you not going to finish?" he inquired.

You weren't feeling that hungry anymore, the portion was more than filling.

You shook your head, feeling full. Your father snapped his fingers and the servants took away your dish. You excused yourself and went to your room, where a maid was waiting for you. She helped you out of your tight dress and into your nightgown, letting your hair free, brushing it while you sat at the toilette.

"How was your day Miss (Y/N)?" your maid, Margaret, asked.

"Boring. Waiting for father at the factory is exhausting." she laughed as she started braiding your hair.

"What did you do Margaret?" you asked, wondering about her adventures.

"Same old, same old. Woke up and started working. Cleaned the windows and then headed to the garden to tend to some plants. After that, prepared lunch for your mother and cleaned the halls." she sighed, probably tired.

You saw that she averted her gaze, smiling in thought.

"And what about that new butler? What was his name? James?" you looked at her through the mirror.