Irishka did not remember the wedding ceremony well. Tired and agitated, she perceived what was happening somewhat fragmentarily. The admiring glances of those present, the words of ancient oaths that she mechanically repeated after the Great Priestess, solemn chants, smokes of burning incense, rising like bluish snakes to the very dome of the temple, as if soaring in the sky, a man's palm confidently squeezing her palm, the strict faces of the mentors, - everything seemed somehow unreal, unimportant and distant.

Only the eyes of the Great Mother were alive and real. They inseparably watched the newlywed, as if the goddess was deciding whether a simple girl from a strange world was worthy of the ancient names assigned to her. It seemed that the Great heard every word, every prayer. And Ira prayed sincerely and fervently.

“You let me live, so give me some happiness. I want to love and be loved, give birth and raise children. Hear. Don't leave. You are my only help, protection and support! Who else should I ask if not you, Mother of All Good.

And at some point, it seemed to the girl that a quiet voice promised: "Don't despair and believe, baby. Just believe.

" Angry Karga, interrupting the flow of parting words and congratulations, took Irishka out of the temple.

“No time to listen to all this nonsense. The Most Serene One is waiting,” Sister Martha grumbled quietly under her breath. Following on her heels, the girl thought that she was afraid to leave the reliable walls of the boarding house. Here everything was familiar and understandable, cozy, like a favorite bathrobe and soft slippers. The future was frightening with its uncertainty.

There was a delicious meat spirit in the office, Irishka looked in amazement at the table laden with all sorts of food.

“Change your clothes and have dinner, you missed breakfast,” the brightest woman nodded at the screen in the corner. -- Hurry up.

Putting on a rather boring uniform dress, the newly-minted marquise proceeded to dinner in the company of mentors. It turns out she was very hungry.

“Departure could not be postponed,” the headmistress threw a warning glance at the hot-tempered Karga. “Your things are already packed, don’t worry.

“Is it really a matter of going into the night,” Martha did not give up.

- A couple of hours to the stationary portal, the transition to the capital, and there is a stone's throw, - the Serene Highness counted. You will spend the night in the Ridaan mansion.

Aola could only nod in frustration.

“Everything will get better with time, my girl, but for now, look around, don’t push people away, but don’t believe them right away either. You'll be fine.

“Oddly enough, but I completely agree with you, Most Serene,” Sister Martha furiously chopped up the most tender chop, as if taking revenge on her for all today's troubles.

Dinner ended somehow too quickly, and everyone immediately hurried. Irishka barely had time to ask her tutors to say goodbye to Marie for her and promise to write more often herself, when she already found herself in the courtyard, next to a carriage adorned with the coats of arms of Cavini's ri, drawn by four blacks. Chevalier di Martin gave her his hand to help her into the carriage and was about to get into the carriage himself, when he was stopped by the restless sister Martha.

"Chevalier, aren't you on horseback?"

“Alas, sister, I must confess to my shame, but I always travel in a carriage.

"I'm sorry, Monsieur di Martin, but this time the carriage ride is cancelled," Karga's mood improved right before our eyes.

- Well, purely a troll of the eightieth lvl, - the newly minted marquise giggled, watching the unfolding scandal with curiosity.

“May I ask why, Honorable Sister?” The redhead's smile faded somewhat.

“O my good brother in faith, have you forgotten that by remaining alone with the Marquise ri Cavigny, you will compromise her and yourself. Although... - she looked around as if looking for someone, - maybe I just don't see, and you brought a companion for the lady? Not? Then just ride!

- But excuse me, my complexion ...

- Then ask the coachman to move over and sit on the box! - the mentor said with the most severe look and suddenly winked mischievously at Irishka. In response, she waved her hand in farewell and brushed away an uninvited tear, the wind is not otherwise ...

With a creak, the heavy doors of the gate swung open, the horses snorted, urged on by the mustachioed coachman, the chevalier ri Martin groaned loudly, the carriage set off gradually picking up speed. Marquise ri Cavigny, nee Countess ru Moreau, left the boarding house of the Quietest Brigid.

Chapter six,

Sitting comfortably on a soft seat, Irishka, who never left the reliable walls of the monastery, at first looked with interest at the fields and copses passing by the carriage window, but the fatigue that had accumulated during the day quickly took its toll, and the girl dozed off. She slept safely all the way to his lordship's house, waking only because the carriage had stopped.

Not immediately realizing where she was, the newly-made marquise looked out of the window with curiosity and met her gaze with di Martin, who had lost most of his usual gaiety, who, grunting and holding his lower back, was giving some orders to the servants. One of them opened the door of the carriage and, with a bow, gave the young hostess his hand to help her down. Sleepy Irishka stepped onto the gravel driveway and looked around. However, it was not possible to see much in the ensuing darkness. "Tomorrow, I'll take a good look at everything," the girl promised herself as she climbed the wide steps of the marble staircase, accompanied by a limping steward.

A long line of servants lined up in the brightly lit spacious vestibule, examining the young mistress with eager curiosity. An important butler stepped forward.

"Welcome to Custer's Hall, Your Excellency." He bowed with truly royal dignity. - Let me introduce myself - Alan Crevy, head butler.

Serious uncle, thorough," thought Irishka languidly, not even trying to remember the names and positions of the servants, which Krevy solemnly listed. She absentmindedly shifted her gaze from one unfamiliar face to another and felt completely broken. Nodding and smiling in response to respectful curtsies and low bows of those whose names and positions were called by the butler, Aola dreamed of quickly finding herself in silence and solitude.

“Your quarters are ready, milady. Martha will see you off, - the last words made the girl cheer up and pay attention to the pretty blonde, a little plump and ruddy, like a bun.

As she followed the maid, she noted the excellent taste of the owner and could not help but admit that she felt surprisingly comfortable in Custer's Hall, as if this huge house was waiting for her, and now quietly rejoices, winking lamps and creaking paneled, lavishly carved doors .

"Pink Rooms, Your Excellency!" Ask.

“Only not pink ones, I can’t stand it ...” however, all the words of protest disappeared from my head, as soon as I entered the room. Roses. They were everywhere: alive and painted, embroidered with silk and forged from metal, carved from carnelian and jade. Irishka stretched out her slightly chilled hands to the fireplace, lined with precious Parlama marble, the screen in front of it was painted with a pattern of tea roses, and the handles of the fireplace set were made in the form of half-blown buds, walked with pleasure along the snow-white carpet, decorated with garlands of roses, rejoiced, that the color of baked milk silk upholstery of walls and upholstered furniture is devoid of pattern.

-- Beautiful...

- Oh, it's good that you like it! We've been getting ready for Your Grace's arrival. Uncle personally taught me everything, so that you are listed as satisfied.

-- I am satisfied. Here I will take a bath, have supper and be happy,” Aola smiled.

"Don't worry, your excellency, go into the bedroom," Martha bustled about quickly. - Now let's undress, swim and bainki.

The weary Marquise allowed herself to be undressed and, throwing on a dressing gown, went into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. The chatter of the maid was soothing, driving away unpleasant thoughts. Irishka plunged into the fragrant foam, surprised to herself that it smelled of vanilla and almonds, and not the ubiquitous roses.

- Go now, but hurry up, you want to eat.

Without lying in warm water, the girl quickly washed herself and was already rinsing her hair, when out of breath Martha brought a tray laden with plates hidden under silver caps.

- Oh, how is it? Why are you on your own? What am I for? She deftly wrapped her hostess in a fluffy towel. - Here, put on a robe. And your hair, mistress, is pure silk, - the efficient maid managed to seat her young mistress in an easy chair near the dressing table and, grabbing a tortoiseshell comb, began to comb her wet curls. - What a beauty you are ...

- Martha, don't chatter. What's with dinner?

“Here, have a bite,” the maid readily moved the serving table, solemnly lifted the silver lids of the cloche, and poured some kind of drink into the glass. On one of the snow-white plates of bone china were stacked slices of pineapple, thin to the point of transparency, on another unappetizing puddle, oatmeal with prunes spilled, and on the third sprouted seeds, similar to thin white worms.

- Is it?.. Is it?.. - Irishka hardly broke away from the unexpected spectacle and interrupted her indignant glance at the maid.

- So after all ... To eat up at night ... Yes, and ordered ...

- Ordered? Who is it? - drowsy relaxation vanished as if by hand.

“Mistress Bianca, she…” Marta nervously crumpled her apron and looked pitifully, and then blurted out, as if making up her mind, “she’s a governess!” Our master has a niece, Lady Miranda, of his brother's cousin's daughter. That's how the poor girl was orphaned, and the lord marquis took her to him, Gods do not leave him with your mercy. And he hired a governess for her, this same Madame Bianca. Now she is in command...

- And you are listening, - the newlywed nervously drummed her fingers on the armrest.

- You won’t listen to her, how can it be ... This is not a woman, but a purely field marshal general. He says to me: 'Where are you, village girl, and Madame Marquise to serve! ' Like, I should twist the tails of cows, and not be found in the master's half. And now she has decided to lose weight, she does not eat herself and does not give us.

"And you mean you're losing weight?"