New chapter!

And happy Easter!

I hope you enjoy reading it!


Chapter Eleven:

The Lady, Invited


"For special circumstances, even people who locked themselves up return to the world."


Countryside, England, United Kingdom ‒ February 1840


With a bright grin, I entered the Phantomhive Manor after returning from a fencing tournament with Barrington.

Almost four years ago, Barrington had come to the manor and told me about a special aspect in Father's will ‒ the aspect which said that I had to learn fencing at the age of six. Ever since that day, my life, which had become dull and miserable after Father's funeral, had turned enjoyable again. Besides, Barrington had also started taking me to fencing schools or tournaments, so I could gain practical skills, after teaching me the basics. In the disguise of a boy, I fenced against boys my age and older. It made me happy to fence ‒ and it made me happy to win.

Today, I had also won. The "mysterious ward of Sir Barrington Weaselton" had appeared again, only to smash the hopes and dreams of some boys.

I nearly danced through the entrance door and hugged every passing servant, but I was a Lady, so I behaved myself and just smiled joyfully.


"Welcome back, Young Lady," Theodore Clifford greeted Cloudia and Barrington. Once, he had been the butler of Simon Phantomhive, but after the death of his master, he had begun to serve his only daughter. Clifford was quite old ‒ fifty-five years old to be exact ‒ and his once light brown hair had already completed its change to grey. His body slowly became weary, and the sudden death of his master and friend had seemingly accelerated this process.

Cloudia had always liked Clifford. As a little child, she had already been very fond of him. But after Simon's death and the fact that Penelope, Cloudia's mother, had locked herself up in her chambers after his funeral, their relationship had deepened as Cloudia had suddenly been all alone in the gigantic manor. In the years between Simon's funeral and her first fencing lesson, Cloudia only had Clifford as company. Clifford had been the one who had cared for her while she had been trapped in her own home, and advisers and teachers had done their best to make her life horrible. Her cousins and the rest of her family had been banned from the manor ‒ and they still were. And she could only see them after sending a request to the Royal family first.

During these years, Clifford had always been there for her. No matter if she couldn't sleep, or if she was feeling ill, of if she skipped Agatha's classes again, he had always been by her side.

And for everything he had done for her, even though he was also still grieving, Cloudia would love Clifford forever. Would always be grateful for it.

Cloudia curtsied in front of Clifford. She didn't curtsy in front of any other servant, she didn't even do it in front of Barrington, but Clifford was special, thus he received a special treatment. "Good afternoon, Clifford! I won the tournament again!" With a grin, she showed him her little trophy.

Clifford laughed. "We should consider moving all your prices to a different room, Young Lady."

Her grin widened. "I guess so?" Cloudia handed the trophy to a nervous Jonalyn, her maid, and told her to carefully place it alongside the others. Nodding, Jonalyn left the entrance hall.

"I suggest building a shack in the garden," Barrington said with a smile. "A room won't be enough after all." He patted Cloudia's head.

She chuckled. "Very well. If the cupboard where I store my prices collapses one day, you will single-handedly build a shack in the manor's garden, Barrington. Everyone who agrees says 'Aye.'" Then, Cloudia said "Aye" as loudly as she could. "As I am the landlady, my word counts as at least ten in the Phantomhive Manor, therefore, you're overruled and have to build this shack, Barrington."

The former knight laughed and she grinned while heading towards the stairs. "I will go and change now. I think you should do it too, Barrington. Clifford? What was prepared for dinner? No, I changed my mind. Don't tell me it. I want to be surprised." Cloudia was about to go upstairs and into her room when Clifford spoke up.

"Before you go to your private chambers, Young Lady," Clifford said. "I want to give you something."

She turned around and frowned at the old butler. "What do you want to give me, Clifford?"

He walked to her and handed her a letter, which he had taken from an inner pocket of his tailcoat. Before Cloudia could take it, Barrington flinched, making her turn her attention towards him. "What's the matter, Barrington?" she asked curiously.

He stared at the letter. "No way," he mumbled and looked at Clifford. "She's still too young. What are they thinking?" He clenched his fists.

"What's wrong?" Cloudia couldn't understand his behaviour.

"I am certain that this isn't the content of the letter," Clifford replied calmly.

"Hey!" she yelled. "Don't ignore me! What are you talking about?"

"You shouldn't yell, Dia. That's improper for ladies," Barrington said, and she scowled. "I wouldn't have yelled if you hadn't ignored me, Barrington. Now tell me. What's the matter with the letter?"


Did I just rhyme? Never-mind.


"It's a letter from the Royal family," Barrington explained, pointing at the wax seal. "I'm sorry for losing my composure, but your father got at least a million of these in his life. And ultimately, they were the reason why he died." He pressed his lips together and she blinked at him.

"But I am not even the Watchdog yet," Cloudia said. "I have six years left before I become it. So, why should they write me a letter containing a task? That doesn't make any sense."

He inhaled deeply. "I was just being paranoiac. I am sorry, Dia."

She frowned at him and took the letter from Clifford. "Does someone have a paper knife by chance?"

Clifford took one out of one of his tailcoat pockets and handed it to her. "Thanks," she said, and opened the envelope. Cloudia took out the letter and read it quickly.

"What does it say?" Barrington wanted to know.

"It says that I am invited to Queen Victoria's wedding to Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha," Cloudia told him.


I couldn't believe it! I had received an invitation from the Queen! And I wasn't even the Watchdog yet!

My father had been the Watchdog of King George IV until his death in June 1830. After King George's death, he had become the Watchdog of King William IV. When Father had died in 1834, King William IV hadn't have a Watchdog anymore until he had passed away in June 1837. Only having illegitimate children from his relationship with the actress, Dorothea Jordan, ‒ with his wife, William had had five children, but three of them had been stillborn and the other two had died shortly after their birth –, the King's niece, Princess Alexandrina Victoria of Kent, daughter of Prince Edward, Duke of Kent and Strathearn and Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, had succeeded him as ruler of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

King William IV had many, many children with Dorothea Jordan – ten to be exact – even before his marriage to Princess Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen whom he had married on July 11, 1818 in a double wedding with Prince Edward and Princess Victoria – the parents of Queen Victoria. William and Adelaide had met on July 4, 1818 for the first time, and William had been twenty-seven years older than Adelaide. Poor, poor Adelaide was such a kind woman, and beloved by the British people for her modesty and charity. This made the fact that she had lost all her five children even worse. Also, Adelaide loved Queen Victoria like a daughter, and wanted to be closer to her, but Victoria's mother didn't allow Adelaide to interact with her daughter, and basically separated them.

Besides, while having had relationships with many women with whom he had a lot of children, William never had had mistresses while being married to Adelaide. He had loved her, and she had loved him. They had a very happy marriage which had lasted for nearly twenty years.

The lovely Adelaide, who had even enthusiastically welcomed William's children from his various affairs, never had any surviving children by herself – and probably would never have. Her story was such a sad one.

Why could Dorothea Jordan, a woman who had seemingly had an affair with everything moving, have more children than she could even count, while Adelaide, a lovely, kind-hearted person, could not even have one?

Around a year ago, I had done a bit of research after Barrington had forbidden me to look into King William's background. Probably, he hadn't wanted me to find out anything about the "bastard children," but in the end, he had failed horribly.

Whatever... Queen Victoria had proposed to Prince Albert on October 15, 1839, and they were to be married on February 10, 1840. And I was invited! Me! Lady Cloudia Phantomhive!

During dinner, I was too excited to start a conversation with Barrington. The wedding would be the very first time for me to get in touch with the Royal family. The wedding was ten days away, but I already knew that this day would a very special one – not only for the bride and groom, or the kingdom, but for me too.

On that day, me, little Cloudia Phantomhive, the unwanted female Watchdog, could finally present herself in all her dignity in front of the royalty and the Queen's advisers. They knew about my fencing talent, but they still weren't convinced that I could handle the duty as the Watchdog.

But at Victoria's wedding, I would finally be able to prove them wrong.


The following day, Cloudia had been freed from Agatha's lessons as a tailor would come to measure her. Also, many other preparations had to be done before Cloudia could attend Queen Victoria's wedding in nine days. For example, her manners were perfect, flawless – but still not enough for court. In nine days, Cloudia had to maximize her good characteristics.

Yesterday, Cloudia had sent an answer to the Queen in which she had said that she was honoured to be invited to her wedding, and would happily attend the festivities. Besides, she had written to her aunt Eleanor, telling her about the invitation and asking her to be her escort. The invitation had said that Cloudia could come with someone – as long as this person was part of her family. Barrington had grumpily told Cloudia that this addition only existed to prevent him to accompany her. Eleanor's letter had arrived today morning, saying that she was willing to be her niece's escort.

For today, all Cloudia had to do was playing chess with Barrington in the parlour, and waiting for the dressmaker to come. She was just about to move her horse when Clifford suddenly entered the drawing room.

"Young Lady," he said, heavily breathing. His face looked pale, and his appearance alarmed Cloudia.

"What's the matter, Clifford?" she asked, forgetting all about the chess game.

"The Mistress...," Clifford began, and Cloudia jumped down from her chair. "What is with Mother?" Her heart in her chest started to race.

"The Mistress... she is..."

The old butler couldn't complete his sentence, because he was harshly interrupted.

"The Mistress is right here," said Penelope Phantomhive, Countess of Phantomhive, from the doorsill.


After Father's funeral, I had only seen Mother on very few occasions. Sometimes, I was called to her chambers once a month. Sometimes, many months passed before I was called again.

Mother's presence was so faint in the manor that I sometimes caught myself thinking of me as an orphan – completely forgetting the fact that my mother was still alive.

Father was almost six years dead now – and Mother had locked herself up for almost six years now, never going out, never walking through the manor.

And now, after years of nearly complete isolation, Mother was standing in front of me again.

All I could do, was staring at her.


Penelope Phantomhive wore the black clothes of a mourning widow. Her black dress was wonderful and plain, a hat graced her head, and a dark veil shadowed her face. An absolutely surprised and shocked Cloudia stared into a pair of large blue eyes behind the veil, which were the same as her own. Penelope's hair was blonde and kept in a tight bun, but her long cowlick, an untamable strand of hair, with the slight curl hanged in front of her face.

Dignified and with a straight back, Penelope stood in the doorsill and looked at her daughter. She didn't seem to notice Barrington. And for a moment ‒ for the faintest of seconds – Cloudia could have believed that Penelope had never locked herself up. That Penelope had been there for her in the last six years, instead of keeping herself aloof of her own daughter – her own flesh and blood.

Cloudia wanted to say something, but her tongue suddenly felt enormously heavy, and her mind wasn't able to find any fitting words. She just stood there – frozen. She didn't tremble. She didn't burst into tears. She didn't say anything. She just stared into her mother's eyes which didn't shine anymore.

"Didn't I teach you that a proper lady should never stare at anyone, Cloudia?" Penelope said, and almost, only almost, Cloudia had started to cry.


This wasn't a hallucination.

This wasn't some nasty joke.

This was real.

I couldn't believe it.


Cloudia blinked and stepped back, nearly falling over her chair. "I am sorry, Mother," she whispered, hoarsely. Her headaches returned and made her head be filled with pain.


No. I wouldn't allow myself to succumb to my headaches.


Barrington stood up from his chair, walking towards Cloudia and steadying her, after seeing her pained expression. "Are you okay, Dia?" he asked with a gentle voice, and she nodded despite the fact that she started to see blurry.

He looked at her, this lips pressed together, before turning his gaze towards Penelope.

"Penny," he said, taking a deep breath. "It is good to see you again. You are as lovely as always."

Penelope scowled at him. "How often do I have to tell you that you are not allowed to call me 'Penny'?"

Barrington grinned and helped Cloudia sit down on her chair. "I am sorry. Many things have happened in the last six years. I think I've grown old and forgetful."

She looked at him with an annoyed expression. Before anyone could say anything, Clifford returned to the drawing room.


Strange, I thought. I couldn't remember seeing him going out.


Clifford handed her a cup of hot milk and honey. "Here you are, Young Lady." Cloudia took the cup in her slightly shaking hands and nodded.


Bad, Cloudia, bad. If you weren't even able to control your attacks in your own home, how would you manage it during the festivities for the Queen's wedding?

There, I wouldn't get any hot milk with honey.


Cloudia took a sip and the hot, sweet milk ran down her throat. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before opening them again and facing her mother with a firm expression.

"Mother," she said, her voice calm and steady as if everything was okay, as if Penelope hadn't come out of her chambers for the first time in six years. "Why are you honouring us with your presence, dear Mother?"

Penelope gazed at her daughter for a few minutes before answering her question. "I've heard that you received an invitation to the Queen's wedding."

Cloudia flinched.


Control yourself, Cloudia! You shouldn't flinch!


"What is so wrong about receiving an invitation from the Queen, Mother?" Cloudia asked, and quickly took another sip of the healing milk.

"Penelope," Barrington chipped in. "She has already accepted it. You know that there is no way back anymore."

"Then I will accompany her," Penelope said without hesitation. Cloudia's eyes widened. "But I've already asked Aunt Eleanor if..."

"Eleanor is not your mother," she interrupted, her eyes flashing up for a second. "I am. Thus, I have every right to accompany you."

Penelope stepped through the doorsill and entered the hallway. "Many preparations have to be done until the wedding, Cloudia. We shouldn't waste any time." With these words, she left.


The nine days passed quite quickly. Barrington had put my fencing training on hold, so I had more time to optimize my manners. I reread every book I had about etiquette and manners. I practiced with Barrington and Clifford, even with Jonalyn, to have a friendly and light chat. I practiced with Barrington every important dance, and danced with him until our feet hurt. I walked around with a lot of books on my head to walk as straight as humanly possible. I learned to walk like a true noble lady, full of grace, elegance and dignity. I was taught to smile and be polite all the time, even though I was internally scowling. I practiced and practiced everything normal girls my age learned. From flower language to the right way to use a fan. I studied the guest list for the wedding and did some research on everyone. I memorised their faces, their names, their relations, so I could talk to them more easily.

I would be the perfect lady. I would show everyone that I was worthy of my inheritance.

And no one would stop me.


Jonalyn finished helping Cloudia into her dress. "The... the dress suits you very well, Young Lady," the maid said, her voice shaky. Cloudia rolled her eyes, something which she couldn't do at the wedding festivities, and went to the large mirror to look at herself. She wore a dress of ivory-coloured linen and borders in red satin and black lace. Faint flower patterns were printed on the dress. It went just a bit over her knees and had a slightly far-reaching skirt which was supported by a crinoline.

The dress matched Cloudia's pale skin without letting it appear like there was no transition from the dress to her skin. This happened sometimes when she was trying out some dresses with a paler colour. However, this one prevented this to happen as it was a few shades darker than Cloudia's skin. Besides, her already pale skin didn't appear even paler in the dress ‒ something which also happened to her from time to time. After all, she was going to a wedding, and thus couldn't look like a ghost.

The black lace and the red satin harmonised perfectly with her dark hair and her blue eyes. The flowers which were printed on the dress were gardenias ‒ flowers which stood for purity and joy ‒ and lilies of the valley which symbolized happiness. It wasn't Cloudia's wedding, but wearing a dress with wedding flower patterns wasn't a taboo. Also, Cloudia had a preference for flower themes.

When she was done marveling at the beauty of her dress, Cloudia sat down on a chair, so Jonalyn could start coiffing her hair. Cloudia's black hair reached down to her buttocks, and most of the time, she wore it either down or in a simple braid or ponytail. If she fenced with others, she braided her hair into a wreath at the backside of her head, so it could fit underneath her mask.

Girls her age usually wore their hair down, or tried out fancier hairstyles to mirror grown-up women. However, if a girl turned fifteen or sixteen, she was obliged to wear her hair up, especially when they belonged to aristocracy or at least to the upper classes.

Jonalyn parted Cloudia's hair in the middle, before she curled her hair and neatly tied it back in a complex bun. Then, she curled the sides of Cloudia's hair and decorated her young lady's hair with light pink-coloured gladioli. When Jonalyn was done, Cloudia stood up and walked towards the mirror again.


I was quite tall for my age. My grandmother wasn't very pleased about my height as girls should be small and petite, and not taller than other boys of the same age. But then, Grandmother Hortense was never pleased about me.

With my height and my hair up, I looked older. I smiled at my reflection. This was just what I wanted.


There was a knock on the door.

"You may enter," Cloudia said politely and turned towards the door. It was opened, and Barrington stepped inside.

"Dia, you look wonderful," he said, approaching her with a soft smile on his lips. "Your father would have locked you away in the basement if he saw you like this, so no one could see you this beautiful and steal you away from him."

Cloudia smirked. "He would have needed to tie me up, and let me be watched by some shady henchmen, if he had wanted me not to escape. If he had just locked me away in the basement, I would have easily escaped."

Barrington laughed. "Miss Jonalyn," he said, addressing the maid who flinched at his words. "Please be so kind and leave Lady Cloudia and me alone." Jonalyn bowed hastily before quickly leaving the dressing room. When she was gone, Barrington put his arms around Cloudia and hugged her lightly, so her dress and hair-do wouldn't get damaged.

"Simon would be so proud of you," he mumbled. Cloudia didn't say anything, just closed her eyes and returned the hug.


"I cannot await coming back, and finally being able to continue my fencing training," Cloudia said to Barrington, while they were walking downstairs moments later.

"This absurdly girlish stuff I had to practice in the last days was just boring. I want to defeat little boys and see them cry."

Barrington chuckled. "Dia, you are a girl. Also, it's definitely not healthy to want to see the tears of innocent little boys."

She glared up at him. "I thought that you also cannot await continuing our fencing training. Then, you won't have to dance with me anymore after all."

He sighed. "My feet still hurt from it. Next time, ask someone else if you want to practice dancing."

"And whom? Clifford? He's fifty-five years old. I cannot let him be my dancing partner if even you have problems keeping up with me."

"Some other servant, for example? Or your cousin."

Cloudia raised an eyebrow. "And which cousin?"

"The male one, of course. What was his name again? I forgot."

"Keegan," she answered him. "Keegan Morrow. And no, I cannot ask him to dance with me. He's the worst dancer in the universe. He would shatter my feet like he has done it with the ones of other girls. It's quite the tragedy."

"Perhaps I could persuade one of the boys of the fencing training school."

Cloudia rolled with her eyes. "And what do you want to tell them? That your 'ward' is actually a pretty feminine boy? And only covers his face, so nobody would laugh at him for his feminine features? You can't be serious. No boy would openly agree on training to dance with another boy. Also, if you said such a thing, nobody would take me seriously anymore. They wouldn't fear me anymore."

They put the conclusion of their conversation on hold when they arrived in the entrance hall where Clifford, Jonalyn and Agatha were waiting for them. Agatha looked like she wanted to hiss at Cloudia and tell her "not to 'bugger everything up,'" but the governess pressed her lips together when she saw Barrington. A smile appeared on Cloudia's lips when she noticed this.

"Clifford, could you please tell me where my mother is?" Cloudia asked the old butler who bowed in front of her.

"The Mistress is waiting in the carriage," he told her, and a thin smile sneaked onto his lips. "May I tell you that you look wonderful today, Young Lady?"

Cloudia giggled. "You're flattering me, Clifford!"


If Barrington wasn't here, I would have never spoken with Clifford like this in front of Agatha, because she would have definitely punished me for it.


"Are you really sure that you don't even want to accompany me during the carriage ride?" Cloudia asked, turning towards Barrington.

"I am sorry, Dia," he said, sounding sad. "The court people said that you could only bring along a relative because they didn't want me to come with you. They would probably put me into police custody or get me hanged if I still showed up. Even if I'm just sitting in a carriage and not going out."

"I still cannot understand why they hate you so much," Cloudia replied. "But we don't have time to talk about that now."

Barrington carefully patted her head. "Even if I won't be with you, I know that you will do great. You will impress everyone and shine at least so bright as the Queen herself."

Cloudia smiled at him. "Thank you, Barrington, for your kind words, and let us hope that they will become reality."

Then, she headed towards the entrance door, Clifford following her. "Don't blow up the manor while I'm gone!" Cloudia waved at Barrington and her servants before Clifford and she left the manor's building. She could hear Barrington laughing behind her.

Because it was raining outside, Clifford held an umbrella over Cloudia and himself while leading her to the most beautiful carriage which was in possession of the Phantomhive family. It was a white carriage with the family crest engraved on the two doors, and the engraving was framed in gold. The rest of the carriage was engraved with gorgeous flower patterns, which had overjoyed Cloudia when seeing it for the first time. It had four wheels and a solid canopy top, and was drawn by two lovely white horses named Xanthos and Balios.

The carriage looked like stolen from a fairy tale, and Cloudia couldn't stop marveling at its stunning beauty. Most of the Phantomhive carriages were dark and plain, but when she found this one on accident a while ago, she had been utterly surprised. She had no clue where this strange carriage had come from, but if she had time, she would definitely try to find it out.


Mysteries existed for the purpose to be solved, was my device.


Clifford helped Cloudia enter the carriage which had seats of gold satin and the softest cushions in the world. The curtains, which were currently covering the flawless windows of the carriage, also were golden, but the shade was significantly darker. Also, unlike the seats, the curtains possessed lovely embroidery and borders of fine white lace.


Hopefully, it wasn't improper to drive to a wedding in such a pompous carriage. Especially, if the bride and the groom weren't the ones being driven in one.

I had consulted Barrington, Clifford and all my servants and teachers except Agatha with this question, and everyone had told me that it wasn't improper. However, I still wasn't absolutely sure about it. And I hated not being absolutely sure about anything.


Cloudia with her ivory-coloured dress and her mature hair-do fit nicely together with the carriage, Penelope, however, didn't. Like always, she wore her mourning clothes and her face was hidden behind the dark veil. With a straight back, Penelope sat in the carriage and watched her daughter gracefully entering the carriage. When Cloudia was seated, Clifford closed the door and sat down next to the coachman who spurred Balios and Xanthos to start moving.

For almost six years, Cloudia hadn't been alone with her mother, therefore she felt uneasy now being stuck with her in the carriage for a few hours until they arrived at the Chapel Royal of St James's Palace in London.


Don't behave like some Zounderkite, Cloudia! This was your mother, not Agatha or some stranger. Even though a stranger was certainly more pleasant than Agatha.


Cloudia took a deep breath before raising her voice. "Could you do me a favour, Mother?"

Penelope eyed her. "If it's a reasonable favour, I shall."

"Then, if it doesn't bother you, may you be so kind and put at least the veil down for today? We are attending a wedding, and you already wore your mourning clothes for a much longer period than socially required. Besides, it's quite confusing to look at you with this veil over your face." Cloudia gulped.

Penelope looked at her daughter for a very long time, and Cloudia was afraid that she had said something absolutely unutterable and hurt her mother's already broken feelings.

"I am sorry, Mother," she quickly said. "I am sorry for asking such a thing of you. I am so sorry."

Then, to Cloudia's complete surprise, Penelope shook her head. "No," she said. "It's alright, Cloudia. For today, I shall put down my hat with the veil as your favour was fairly reasonable, and I would not be a true lady if I didn't keep my word."

Penelope took off her hat and put it next to her on the golden seat. Finally, Cloudia could clearly see her mother's face. She almost looked like she remembered her ‒ extraordinarily fair with high cheekbones, flawless pale skin, big dark blue eyes and neatly coiffed blonde hair. But simultaneously, Penelope looked incredibly tired and exhausted, and her blue eyes now reflected sadness rather than liveliness. It broke Cloudia's heart to see her mother like this.

"Thank you, Mother. I greatly appreciate your kindness to accept my favour," Cloudia said, tears glittering in her eyes.


No, no, you couldn't cry right now, Cloudia! What would the people at the wedding think of you if you entered the church with red, swollen eyes?

Perhaps that you were a crybaby!


"Cloudie," Penelope said in the same soft voice, which she had used when Cloudia had still been little and the world had seemed brighter and lovelier than it seemed now.


I really had to fight back the growing urge to burst into tears when Mother called me by my old nickname again.

The nickname which I hadn't heard for almost six years now.

The nickname he had predominately used.


"Cloudie, dear, you shouldn't cry now. You cannot show weakness when meeting the Royal family," Penelope told her daughter. "Especially if you are a Phantomhive."

"'And Phantomhives fight until the very end'," Cloudia added. "Barrington told me that when my fencing lessons with him started."

Her mother raised one of her eyebrows. "Well, did he? It's good that you remember these words, Cloudia. You should never forget them. The moment you stop fighting, it will be your downfall."

Then, Penelope reached out to something behind her.

"I actually wanted to give you this on the day you are decorated and we switch titles," she admitted, giving a little black box to Cloudia. "Because I wanted you to have it when you have to face the Queen for the first time. But now you are already meeting her in a few hours, so I give it to you now."

Cloudia stared down at the little box. Her family crest had been printed on the box's lid in gold. She traced it with her index finger before looking up to her mother.

"Open it, Cloudia. You cannot spend the whole day staring at the box," Penelope scolded her, and Cloudia carefully lifted the lid. Seated on a small blood red cushion was an oval-shaped locket made of gold and silver. The picture of a bird hovering over water lilies had been engraved on the locket's front.

"It's beautiful," Cloudia whispered and took the locket out of the box, revealing the peach-coloured ribbon it was the pendant of. "Thank you very much, Mother."

"I help you put it on," Penelope said. "It will certainly fit with your dress."

It was a bit difficult for Cloudia to turn around, so her mother could fix the necklace on the back of her neck, but in the end, they managed it.


Somehow, my outfit finally felt like it's whole. And it certainly was.


"Thank you, Mother," Cloudia said again. For the rest of the carriage drive, they didn't say anything anymore.


It wasn't easy to get to St James's Palace as a huge crowd had assembled in St James's Park which cheered very enthusiastically. The crowd didn't seem to mind that it was raining quite heavily.


For someone who rarely got outside, that were a lot of people.

And in a few minutes, the carriage would stop in front of St James's Palace. Mother and I would step out of the carriage and walk over the prepared red carpet to the Chapel Royal of the Palace.

While the crowd waited, of course, for Queen Victoria and her groom, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, they would definitely not miss to take at least a glimpse of the guests. Well, actually, they would probably stare at them like they would stare at the bride and the groom. Or probably just not as intense.

Fortunately, I had never been a shy girl.

I straightened up when we almost reached St James's Palace.


The carriage stopped, and Clifford went to open the door. The crowd seemed to be bewitched by the beautiful white carriage. And the ones in the crowd, who recognised the family crest engraved on the two doors, looked confused as Phantomhives usually appeared in darker carriages.

Clifford helped Cloudia outside, and she made sure to look as dignified and mature as she could while being careful that she didn't slip or that her dress got stuck. A footman held an umbrella over Cloudia while Clifford helped Penelope getting out of the carriage.

The moment, the Countess of Phantomhive stood on the carpet, the crowd started to become even more restless.


My mother may not be the Queen, but once she had been a very famous actress. She had primarily worked for the Royal Opera House, but had also enchanted people in various other theatres in Great Britain. After her marriage to Father, Mother had not stopped being an actress. She had only stopped after Father's death.

The Opera House had been incredibly sad when Mother had quit her job. Barrington had told me that some people had said "that the world of theatres had lost a significant member" as if Mother had died.

Surely, at least some people in the crowd were big fans of Mother, who had been shocked after finding out that she had ceased from acting. Probably, they were now silently fainting over the sight of my mother who hadn't showed herself to the public ‒ or more or less to anyone – in the last six years.

Tomorrow, the newspapers would be full of articles regarding the wedding – but they would also be full of articles regarding the "Great Return of Penelope Phantomhive." I was certain of it.

But the fact that my mother was very famous, probably wasn't the only reason why people stared at her: Even if Mother hadn't been outside for six years now, she was still stunningly beautiful. And with her veil gone, nothing was there anymore to cover her breathtaking beauty. Barrington had told me that many men had run after Mother to marry her, but in the end, she had chosen Earl Simon Phantomhive – the plainest of all. If she hadn't started to lock herself up, Mother could probably not save herself from marriage proposals.

Side by side, we walked into the Chapel Royal. Mother and daughter. Countess and Lady.

When we entered the chapel, we silently greeted the other guests who eyed us in puzzlement. We didn't mind them and gracefully sat down on our seats in the last row.


At eleven o'clock, when Queen Adelaide, wearing a dress of English lace with flounces over white satin, and a train of rich violet velvet, entered the chapel, all guests stood up as a mark of respect to the Queen Dowager. Adelaide herself curtsied before sitting to the right of the State Chair.

One hour later, I could faintly hear the twenty-one gunshot Royal Salute as they were so loud that I could hear them even though it happened at Buckingham Palace. As I knew it, this was the signal that Queen Victoria had entered her carriage and was heading towards St James's Palace.

And another hour and a half later, the Bridal Procession finally arrived at the Chapel Royal. Actually, it didn't take so much time to get from Buckingham Palace to St James's Palace, but probably they took extra long for the crowds?

I was informed about the whole procedure of the wedding, so I knew that Queen Victoria was now quickly heading to the Privvy Council Chambers where she would wait until her procession had been formed in front of the Throne.

The first one of the procession to move towards the Throne was the groom ‒ Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. He wore a red Field Marshal's uniform with two rows of golden buttons in front of his chest, and a black collar with a golden pattern on it. On the shoulders were large rosettes of white satin, and the ends of the uniform's sleeves also featured golden patterns, and a silver brooch had been pinned on his chest. Together with the red uniform, Prince Albert wore black trousers and a white cloth wound around his hip.

When Prince Albert reached the altar and his seat, he went to the Queen Dowager, Queen Adelaide, first and kissed her hand before turning to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the other Church Dignitaries. Queen Adelaide told Prince Albert to take his seat on the left side of the altar which he did. While waiting for his bride to arrive, he talked with the Queen Dowager.

And then, after a bit of time, the Queen, the bride, finally entered the church.

I had always dreamed of marrying in white. Most women chose silver dresses for their weddings, but I had decided as a little child that white was to be the colour of my choice. And this hadn't changed until now, and it never would.

So, when Queen Victoria arrived and was led to the altar by Prince Augustus Frederick, Duke of Sussex, one of her paternal uncles, I almost forgot how to breathe.

The Queen's wedding dress was made of rich satin which was trimmed with orange blossoms. The dress' bodice had a low round neck, full sleeves and short gathered in at the elbows, and a sharply pointed waist. Also, the dress was covered in Honiton Lace ‒ Fun Fact: This Honition Lace had actually been manufactured in Beers, a village around sixteen kilometres away from Honiton – with a unique pattern on it, and as I had heard it, the pattern had been exclusively designed for Queen Victoria, but to me it looked like a bit of an imitation of an old design which I had seen somewhere before.

Together with the dress, Victoria, of course, wore jewellery. One piece of jewellery which she wore today was an amulet with the motto of the Most Noble Order of the Garter on it: "Honi soit qui mai y pense" ‒ "Shame on him who thinks evil of it." The Queen also wore the Star of the Order of the Garter, pinned to the left breast. Around her neck hung a necklace with Turkish diamonds, and on her ears shone beautiful earrings. Together with the Order's Star, a sapphire brooch was pinned on the bodice.

Victoria's head was graced by an orange blossom flower wreath. Over it was a lovely veil made out of Honiton Lace which shadowed her face. The veil had the same design as the lace used for the dress, and was estimated five and a half metres long and had to be carried by a total of twelve bridesmaids.

But the truly most stunning thing was that Victoria's dress was purely white ‒ just like I had dreamed my dress would be.

After Victoria had arrived by the altar, the Duke of Sussex gave her away to Prince Albert who led his bride to the right-hand-side of the altar. And after the Archbishop of Canterbury had moved towards the altar rails, the actual wedding ceremony finally began.

Once it was finished, the wedding guests, Mother and me included, took our original positions in the procession and left the church. Now, it was time to return to Buckingham Palace for the Wedding Breakfast.

While going outside, my heart was beating loudly in my chest, and I was afraid that somebody could hear it.

The church, the procession, the ceremony, the dress... everything had been so, so wonderful. Like taken right out of a fairy tale. And the beauty of this day almost let the people forget about the everlasting rain over London.


The people at Queen Victoria's and Prince Albert's Wedding Breakfast were cheerful and lively. The wedding cake, a monstrosity covered in white sugar icing and graced by a figure showing Britannia blessing the bride and the groom who were all dressed in Ancient Greek clothing, had been sliced over half an hour ago, but Cloudia still hadn't finished her piece up.


The cake had a circumference of almost three metres which meant that the diameter was about ninety centimetres. It also had a height of thirty to forty centimetres. And what did that all mean? A twenty-one month-old baby could easily hide in such a large cake!

I had to tell Kamden about this! Surely, he would be delighted over this fact!


Not that it wasn't delicious ‒ it was absolutely delicious –, but Cloudia was just distracted by the scene in front of her eyes: Having been more or less locked up in her own house, had made her curious about the outside world and human interaction. However, as it would seem rude and immature to just stare at the wedding guests with an opened mouth, Cloudia watched them discreetly while slowly eating her cake.


I could see Georgiana Howard, the Countess of Carlisle, wife of George Howard, sixth Earl of Carlisle, in a wonderful velvet dress in the colour of blue sapphires, and on her head was a toque of velvet. One of her daughters, Harriet Sutherland-Leveson-Gower, the Duchess of Sutherland, didn't only have an extremely long name but also was a close friend of Queen Victoria even though she was thirteen years older. Unfortunately, I hadn't got a glimpse of the Duchess until now, but I really wanted to change that. The poor thing had been married to the twenty-years-older Duke of Sutherland shortly after she had turned seventeen. Well, they had eight children now, and also had quite a lot of affection to each other, but I thought it was still horrible that she had been married at such a young age. I would never marry with seventeen.

Whatever. I hoped that I would be able to talk to the Duchess about her philanthropic work.

And there was the Duchess of Kent, Queen Victoria's mother, in a dreamy dress of white satin which was brocaded with silver, trimmed with three flounces of blonde, and a train of sky-blue velvet! Her head dress which was partially made of feathers was also an eyeful! I could watch the wedding guests all day!


"I know what you are doing, and I want you to stop," Penelope whispered to her daughter. "Eating your cake so slowly, so you would have something of a cover-up for your shameless observation. I expected more of you, Cloudia."

Cloudia swallowed down a piece of cake which she had put into her mouth right before her mother had started speaking. "I am deeply sorry, Mother."

"I know what is going on with you, but if someone notices that you seemingly can't even finish such a small piece of cake in over half an hour, they will get suspicious and find out about you are actually observing them. Them finding out won't benefit you, Cloudia."

"You're right, Mother. I'm sorry."


What I didn't immediately notice was the fact that Mother didn't mean to scold me ‒ her words were more of a confirmation for my misery, for the fact that I did not know much of the outside world even though I read so much about it.

That's why she hadn't sounded angry or furious, but... sorry. As if my lack of knowledge was entirely her fault.


I finished eating my cake, and when I had, I politely asked Mother if I could stand up and greet the other guests. After a very long while, she allowed me it, but with the condition that I wouldn't go that far away and would stay in her field of vision. I happily agreed on that and walked off.

After all, if I didn't talk to anyone, I couldn't prove myself. Also, they could fatally start thinking that I was a mother's girl and couldn't do anything on my own. I smoothed my dress.

It was showtime.


Walking steadily with her back straight, Cloudia approached Lady Wilhelmina Stanhope, one of Queen Victoria's twelve bridesmaids. Like all the bridesmaids, she wore a white dress with white roses in her hair, on her bodice and skirt. Politely, Cloudia curtsied in front of her.

"Good afternoon, Lady Stanhope," Cloudia greeted her with a friendly smile on her face.

"Good afternoon," Lady Wilhelmina Stanhope replied with a smile on her lips. She was immensely beautiful with her thick, braided-up black hair and her shining pale eyes. "You must be Lady Phantomhive! I remember when I was younger, twelve to be exact, that I attended one of your mother's theatrical performances. She played Juliet Capulet from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare and was truly marvelous! You look exactly like her, so I was able to recognise you, Lady Phantomhive. Surely, you look like the image of your dear mother when she was your age."

Cloudia lowered her head. "Thank you for your kind words, Lady Stanhope."

"Please raise your head, child," Lady Stanhope said and Cloudia did it. "It is wonderful that your dear mother and you are here. I've heard about the far too early passing of the Earl of Phantomhive, and the misery it brought to you. Therefore, it is good to see that the Countess and you finally started showing yourselves in public again."

"Thank you, Lady Stanhope. But to be honest, I am not sure if my dear mother had come at all, had it been for an occasion other than Her Majesty's wedding."

Cloudia took a quick glance towards her mother. Some nobleman had approached Penelope and was now having a friendly conversation with her, although Cloudia would bet that her mother was actually scowling on the inside.

"If we had never received an invitation for Her Majesty's wedding ‒ which is fairly the greatest honour someone had ever bestowed us – my dear mother would have never left our manor for another six years. Thus, I always will be grateful that Her Majesty bestowed us this immense honour, and gave my mother a reason to finally go outside and see the sun again – even though it is still raining outside."

Lady Stanhope nodded. "Well-spoken, Lady Phantomhive. Powerful words for a girl of your age."

Cloudia lowered her head again. "Thank you, Lady Stanhope," she said before raising her head again.

"Can I tell you a secret, Lady Phantomhive?" Lady Stanhope wanted to know, and Cloudia immediately pricked up her ears.


A secret! I couldn't await finding out what it would be!


"Surely, Mylady," Cloudia answered without sounding too excited. Lady Stanhope would have thought of her as childish if she hadn't banned her excitement from her voice like she had been taught.


And someone thinking that I was childish was the worst thing which could happen to me.


Lady Wilhelmina Stanhope leaned a bit closer to Cloudia. "To be honest, child, I would have preferred it if Her Majesty had held her wedding on a Friday rather than a Monday. Then, all guests would have had a weekend to recover from these festivities and look presentable for the social gatherings in the next week."

"But do you not know, Mylady Stanhope, of this old rhyme?" Cloudia whispered back. "'Marry on Monday for health,/Tuesday for wealth,/Wednesday the best day of all,/Thursday for crosses,/Friday for losses, and/Saturday for no luck at all.' It would have been disastrous for Her Majesty to be wed on a Friday!"

A soft chuckle escaped Lady Stanhope's lips. "You surely are a unique girl, Lady Phantomhive."


Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? I had no clue. I smiled nevertheless.


Cloudia took a step away from Lady Stanhope when she heard someone approaching them, and she quickly fell into a flawless curtsy when she noticed who it was.

"Your Majesty."

A big, happy smile was plastered over Queen Victoria's face ‒ a smile which had appeared on her face while walking down the aisle and towards the altar, and which had been basically engraved on her face ever since Prince Albert and she had vowed never to have secrets from each other.

"Wilhelmina, could you be so kind and let me and the young Lady Phantomhive be on our own for a while?"

Lady Stanhope curtsied in front of the Queen. "Sure, Your Majesty," she replied and walked away.


And for the second time today, I forgot everything I knew about breathing.

The Queen had actually come to me!

Me! Humble Cloudia Phantomhive!

Well... perhaps I wasn't that humble or humble at all, but never-mind...


"I hope I am right in my assumption that you are Lady Cloudia Phantomhive?" the newly-wed bride asked Cloudia who lowered her head. "You are, Your Majesty."


I had never met the Queen before, and had only seen her in the church from far away, so I was quite stunned when I realised that she was only a few centimetres taller than me. I had always thought that such great people were even great in their height.

And no, Napoleon Bonaparte had not been necessarily short ‒ while some people thought he had been about 157cm tall, others guessed that he had actually been around ten centimetres taller, which would mean that he had had an average height for a Frenchman.


"I am thankful that you found the time to attend my wedding," Queen Victoria meant, and involuntarily, Cloudia's eyes widened.

"Oh, no, Your Majesty! I should be thankful for having been invited."

The Queen chuckled softly. "Very well, Lady Cloudia. I invited you here because I thought that you were now old enough to meet me. You are going to be my Watchdog after all, and I am as inexperience as you are when it comes to it. So, I had hoped that you and I could finally talk about our future collaboration."

Cloudia beamed, although she actually shouldn't express her emotions so freely in public, and definitely not in front of the Queen! "It would be a pleasure, Your Ma..."

Unfortunately, she couldn't go any further as suddenly Penelope Phantomhive appeared next to her, took hold of Cloudia's right hand and gently but firmly whirled her around, so Penelope stood like a shield between her and the Queen. Penelope's back was facing the Queen which was highly inappropriate, but she didn't seem to mind it at all.

"Are you fine, Cloudie?" Penelope asked her daughter with a low but surprisingly soft voice.

Confused and puzzled, Cloudia simply nodded.

And then, Penelope quickly led her outside the palace, without letting it appear that she was hurling her out even though she was. They approached the beautiful white carriage which had been waiting for them as if everyone but Cloudia had known that something like that would eventually happen.

Clifford helped them wordlessly inside the carriage, and the moment they started moving, Cloudia was horribly hit by the fact that her long-awaited chance to prove herself had been horribly destroyed right in front of everyone's eyes.


No, no, you couldn't cry right now, Cloudia!


But, surely, she had wanted to.


Puh. Writing this chapter had taken awfully long because of the amount of research I had to do for it. I was almost about to just write "Cloudia and Penelope in church. Albert and Victoria married. Everyone cheered. Wedding Breakfast. Bit of Drama. The End." Especially because the page where I the wedding procedure was told was "crazily written." They apparently never heard of "chronological writing." It was more like

Page: "Albert entered the church. Took his seat." (something about this clothes)

Me: Ah, okay, then I write this. *writes*

Page: *a thousand years later* "By the way, he didn't just take his seat after entering the church. A million other things happened in-between it."

Me: . *rewrites*

It drove me crazy.

Also, while doing my research I found a lot of few other things regarding this wedding and my brain was all like "INCLUDE THIS." Good that Cloudia's a little nerd when it comes to such things, so I could include them without letting it seem weird. (i.e. the measures of the cake (and the silly thing about the babies), Britannia, the weather, Lady Stanhope, Honiton Lace, the described dresses, especially Victoria's, the history of William IV and Adelaide, the wedding rhyme, Napoleon, the vow, blablabla... all these things weren't fabricated.)

Whatever, I hoped you liked this chapter!