Charlotte Ashby had always believed the early morning hours were kinder to dreamers. Before the household stirred, when the sun barely kissed the windows of Fairwell Manor and dust motes drifted lazily in golden strands of light, she could imagine herself as someone else. Someone not bound to a maid's uniform or the endless list of chores pinned to the kitchen door. Someone free.
But the moment she tied her apron, the fantasy ended.
"Charlotte! The tea is boiling over again!" Mrs. Whitby, the housekeeper, barked from the corridor.
Charlotte jolted from her thoughts and rushed to the stove, lifting the kettle before it spilled. A thin hiss of steam brushed her cheek. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Whitby!"
The older woman clicked her tongue. "Sorry won't stop Lady Agnes from having my head if her morning tea tastes like burnt rainwater."
Charlotte stifled a smile. Lady Agnes Farewell was far too kind to threaten anyone's head. The worst she would do was forget why she was upset halfway through complaining.
As Charlotte arranged the tray — lavender tea, sugar bowl, lemon slices cut into perfect moons — the dull ache of familiarity settled in her chest. Every day was the same: polish the silver, mend torn hems, fetch water, avoid scandal, breathe quietly.
She had long accepted that this was the life she inherited.
But some days… some days the walls of the manor felt too tight.
She carried the tea up the grand staircase, the plush carpet softening her footsteps. Lady Agnes's door was cracked open, as usual, a trail of stockings and ribbons marking her slow path to dressing.
"Your tea, my lady," Charlotte announced softly.
"Oh, wonderful! Place it anywhere, dear—no, not there, that's where I meant to put the flowers. Or… was it the letters?" Lady Agnes blinked at the cluttered vanity, looking hopelessly lost.
Charlotte hid a gentle laugh. "I'll manage it, my lady."
As she cleared space, Lady Agnes hummed thoughtfully. "Charlotte, have you heard? A grand masked ball at Buckingham Palace!"
Charlotte froze, porcelain cup in hand. A ball? At the palace?
"That must be exciting for you, my lady," she said quickly.
"For me?" Lady Agnes scoffed. "Oh, heavens, no. Too many people. Too many loud voices. Someone always steps on my dress. I much prefer staying home with my novels."
Charlotte suppressed a sigh of longing. She could picture it — chandeliers like constellations, silk gowns swirling, violins singing, masked strangers brushing past in a sea of opulence. A place where everyone looked magical, where a girl like her might pretend to be someone else… even if only for one night.
"Well, someone must attend in my stead," Lady Agnes said, tapping her chin. "Perhaps I'll send my cousin. Or my cat."
Charlotte nearly choked. "Your… cat, my lady?"
"Mr. Whiskerfield would look adorable in a mask."
Before Charlotte could respond, a loud knock interrupted them.
A footman delivered a sealed envelope bearing the royal crest.
Lady Agnes gasped dramatically. "Oh dear. They're expecting me. I suppose I must go after all!"
She turned in a swirl of ribbons — and immediately stepped on them, nearly tumbling.
Charlotte caught her. "Careful, my lady!"
"See? This is why balls are dangerous," Lady Agnes sighed. "I'll need a new gown. And someone capable to help me. You'll assist me, of course."
"Of course, my lady."
As Charlotte guided her to sit, Lady Agnes suddenly clasped Charlotte's hands with rare seriousness.
"Charlotte, darling… have you ever wished for something more?"
Charlotte's throat tightened. "Every day," she whispered before she could stop herself.
Lady Agnes smiled softly, as if she understood more than she let on.
"Well then," she said, patting Charlotte's hand, "let's make this ball memorable — one way or another."
Charlotte blinked. "My lady?"
"Oh, nothing! Fetch the blue fabrics. Or the green. Or both. Yes, both!"
But as Charlotte hurried off, one thought echoed in her mind:
A royal ball. A night of masks. A chance to be someone else.
If only for a moment.
And she had no idea that this single night — one she should never attend — was about to change everything.