Lily was convinced her lady had a very active imagination.
Between the dramatic sighs, the cryptic mutterings about plot developments, and the way she occasionally stared at people like she was waiting for them to deliver a dramatic monologue... Beatrice Da Ville was, without a doubt, a little odd.
But Lily had long since accepted that her lady was just like that.
Which was why, when she walked into Beatrice's room that morning and found her hunched over a notebook, scribbling furiously with an intense, almost deranged expression, she didn't even blink.
Instead, she set down the breakfast tray and sighed. "My lady, you look possessed."
Beatrice, without looking up, muttered, "Not now, Lily. I'm documenting history."
Lily glanced at the notebook. "History?"
Beatrice nodded gravely. "Yes. The most important text of our time."
Lily stepped closer, peering at the page. From what she could see, it was a chaotic mess of scribbles, crossed-out words, and dramatic underlining.
