In a grand estate far from the soot-stained air of the capital, there stood a manor of ancient stone—the ancestral seat of a Great Duke, passed down through many generations. Beyond its wrought-iron gates, the hallways were lined with dark mahogany and gold leaf, the air smelling of beeswax and heavy drapes. But beneath this veneer of aristocratic splendor, a cold secret was woven into the very fabric of the house.
In a dark, cramped corner of the servants’ quarters, a single oil lamp flickered dimly, lighting the humble room. There, a middle-aged woman lay facedown, clad in plain grey cotton. She was Gaby, the estate’s aging maid. Her lower body was exposed, and her skin was covered in red, swollen welts—the unmistakable marks of a recent beating.
“Mother, what on earth has happened!”
Gaby’s twenty-year-old daughter, Dahlia, sat by her groaning mother. Her youthful face was filled with tears, and her trembling hands touched the edges of the fresh wounds. Her voice was thick with resentment.
“Alice! How dare that little brat do this? How could she have the nerve to lash my mother—the very woman who suckled her from infancy—until she’s bloody like this!”
“Hush, what if someone hears you? It is not as if a maid living under the Duke’s roof suffering such hardships is a new occurrence.”
The one who had reduced Gaby’s body to this state was Lady Alice, the Duke’s daughter, who was the same age as Dahlia. That fact only made Dahlia’s fury burn hotter.
“Even if we are servants, she has no right to treat you so recklessly,” Dahlia sobbed. “What could you possibly have done to deserve this? I cannot endure it any longer. I won’t accept this!”
At her daughter’s sorrowful cry, Gaby’s tear-veiled eyes drifted into the void beyond the flickering candlelight. What could she have possibly done wrong? What sin had she committed to deserve this? Yet, despite her daughter’s protests, Gaby offered no denial. Her gaze, fixed silently on nothingness, made her look as if she were truly burdened by a monumental crime.
No, Dahlia. Your mother—no, this foul bitch—has committed a grave sin. A sin that can never be forgiven.
It was a truth she could never reveal to her daughter, one that could not be spoken to anyone at all. And that payment had been exacted once more today; it happened just a few hours ago, behind the closed door of Lady Alice’s private study.
***
“My Lady, it is Gaby.”
“Nanny? Come in.”
As the heavy oak door opened, the scent of lavender and fine tea filled the air. Lady Alice, the precious daughter of the Duke, paused her embroidery and looked upon Gaby with a graceful, gentle smile.
“You went to the village market today, didn’t you? Did you find anything interesting?”
“Yes, My Lady. The autumn harvest is plenty, but I found nothing grand enough for your eyes.”
“Ah, so you went there for me again? I’m sorry you made the trip for nothing.”
“Not at all, My Lady. Serving you is the only joy I have in this world.”
Despite saying there was nothing special, Gaby reached into her apron and offered a small parcel of honey biscuits. Alice accepted them with a light laugh. For a while, a soft and peaceful conversation flowed between them. To any observer, they were the picture of a devoted nanny and a benevolent mistress.
In truth, the relationship between Alice and Gaby was more than that of mistress and servant. Twenty years ago, when the Duchess’s milk had run dry, it was Gaby who had taken the infant Alice to her breast. Having raised the highborn babe alongside her own daughter, Dahlia, Gaby shared a bond that transcended mere service. To Gaby, Alice was precious; to Alice, the feeling was mutual.
However, a special ‘ritual’ had recently begun between them, and the atmosphere in the room soon shifted.
“But tell me, Nanny.” Alice’s voice dropped as she looked at Gaby. “Surely you didn’t come all this way just to bring me these biscuits. Could it be that you are here for that again?”
At those words, Gaby bowed her head low and replied reverently.
“You gave me your word, My Lady. The Duke has departed for the Imperial Palace, and the servants have all returned from their leave. It is the perfect opportunity for you to show your true authority.”
At the mention of authority, a trace of hesitation flickered in Alice’s eyes. She leaned forward, her voice hushed.
“Nanny, it hasn’t been that long. Are you certain you are alright?”
“My Lady, the state of my body does not matter. No, this humble servant craves it. So, please,” Gaby replied, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Proceed as you promised.”
Seeing the nanny’s intense longing, Alice let out a long, resigned breath.
“If that’s what you really want, I can’t help it. Go and fetch it.”
The atmosphere was undeniably strange. And then, there was that command—to fetch it. A deep flush bloomed across Gaby’s cheeks. She rose and moved toward a hidden cabinet in the corner of the room, her movements stiff with a quiet, feverish anticipation. From the shadows, she retrieved a bundle wrapped in thick, luxurious cloth.
And yet, the object she brought to Alice—to one’s surprise—it was a set of canes.
Alice’s fingers trembled slightly. She savored the smooth texture of the wood for a moment before selecting the longest, thinnest rod.
“Then, assume the position, Nanny.”
As the words left her lips, a chilling composure settled over Alice. The earlier hesitation vanished, replaced by the cold, commanding aura of a true Mistress. Gaby, too, adapted to this shift in the air, showing her submission without any hesitation.
Gaby moved toward Alice’s heavy desk. As if performing a well-practiced ritual, she leaned deep over the desk, pressing her upper body against the polished wood. She then gathered her thick, grey skirts and petticoats, hitching them high until they were bunched at her waist. Her mature hips were thrust upward, her pale flesh fully exposed under the flickering amber glow of the fireplace.
The sound of Alice’s footsteps approached from behind, and the tip of the cane touched Gaby’s aged hips.
(Tap. Tap.)
“Fine. Since you wish it, I shall. But remember, I told you this time would be different. It will be more severe than anything you have known. Prepare yourself.”
“Your will be done, My Lady,” Gaby gasped against the wood. “Please, teach this servant the majesty of your station.”
This was the truth Dahlia could never know; the horrific welts that marked Gaby’s body were not the result of disobedience, nor of fault, but had been inflicted at her own request.
Alice took a breath, her eyes hardening as she raised her arm. A moment later, the heavy stillness of the study was shattered.
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Aaaaahhh—!”
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Hnnnngh—!”
The whistling of the cane and Gaby’s muffled groans filled the room. With every stroke, scarlet lines bloomed across her exposed flesh.
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Haaaa—!”
“How is it, Nanny? Are you satisfied?”
Alice asked. Her voice was calm, but her eyes held a strange, awakening light. Gaby’s body convulsed, yet she urged her young mistress on.
“Y-yes, My Lady, you did well,” Gaby gasped. “But you must strike harder! Strike so that every servant in the hallway can hear the sound of your authority!”
“Fine! Then scream louder for them, and beg for my forgiveness!”
Alice commanded, her voice ringing with newfound power.
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Aaaaahh—! Forgive my sins! Please, correct me!”
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Aaaaahh—! Please forgive this servant! Correct me!”
Once again, that word ‘sin’ echoed. The study filled with Gaby’s painful cries and the relentless rhythm of the cane. It was a bizarre scene—the servant demanding her own punishment, and the gentle mistress wielding the rod with a terrifying, growing poise.
This ritual had begun only recently, ever since Lady Alice had come of age.
***
Two month ago…
“My Lady, Dahlia is not your peer. Even with a maid like Martha, you should not be so familiar. It is not befitting of your station.”
“But Nanny, Dahlia and I grew up together from the cradle. I thought you, of all people, would understand our bond.”
Lady Alice was, by nature, a soul of gentle warmth. Timid and kind, she was far removed from the cold arrogance of other noblewomen. It was rare for a Duke’s daughter to treat servants with such boundary-less sincerity.
“No, My Lady. You are a Somerset. You must show majesty to those below you, not such familiarity.”
Gaby could not abide this soft side of Alice. Though she was a lowborn servant herself, perhaps due to the long years of nursing Alice from infancy, she had developed an unnaturally excessive obsession with the strict order of rank and noble authority. Regardless, Gaby had counseled Alice countless times that she must not act this way, urging her to embrace her status. Yet, Alice remained stubbornly unchanged.
Then, a sudden idea flashed through Gaby’s mind as a way to resolve the impasse. A symbol of rank and power in the world of noblewomen—it was ‘caning.’
In the Empire’s current legal system, such acts were strictly forbidden. However, the reality within noble households was different. Under the guise of family tradition or house rules, noblewomen secretly practiced private punishment to assert authority, relieve stress, or satisfy certain desires.
The late Dowager Duchess was no different; nay, she was obsessed with punishment more than anyone. She never spared the rod on her maids. Although such things disappeared under the gentle rule of the current Duchess Catherine, the Dowager had regularly performed what she called ‘The Exemplar’—a public display of discipline used to engrave her majesty onto the servants.
That punishment, the Exemplar…
To Gaby, there seemed no better way to harden the soft-hearted Alice and demonstrate the Lady’s authority to the other servants. And the sacrifice she chose was none other than herself.
“Nanny, what are you saying? You want me to use you for that exemplary punishment? To strike you?”
“The late Dowager Duchess always set the standard, My Lady. If a mistress cannot rule her house, how can she be deemed its rightful leader?”
“I can’t do it,” Alice stammered, her voice thin. “How can I do such a thing for no reason? More than anything, I cannot bring myself to hurt you, Nanny.”
“A reason? Your Ladyship’s noble blood is reason enough!”
Never before had Gaby spoken with such searing firmness. Alice was stunned by the sharp authority in her milk-mother’s voice. However, beyond the cruelty of the act, the idea of raising a hand against the woman who had nursed her for twenty years was unthinkable.
But Gaby also knew Alice’s weakness—Alice had always been willing to grant her Nanny’s request, especially when it would be presented as her heart’s deepest longing.
“Since I first held you as an infant, this servant has had but one wish. I long to see my Lady become a noble mistress of iron will, and to feel your cane upon my own flesh.”
Gaby paused, a faint, inscrutable smile playing on her lips. “Besides, in truth, I have always found a certain pleasure in the rod.”
Alice’s eyes widened in disbelief, her face flushing with a mix of shock and confusion. She leaned forward, her voice a trembling whisper.
“Is that—is that really true, Nanny?”
“Yes, My Lady,” Gaby replied with a low, reverent bow. “Shameful as it may be, it is the truth. Now that you have come of age, I offer you this confession—a secret I have kept hidden for a very long time. To be struck by a cane wielded by a noblewoman as highborn and beautiful as yourself, it brings me a profound, illicit excitement. Therefore, I implore you, My Lady. Please grant your servant this one wish.”
Bound by the secret of her milk-mother and her persistent entreaties, Alice found she could no longer refuse. Thus began the secret ritual, which would be repeated many times thereafter. From that day on, Gaby would offer her bared bottom for the cane as soon as the previous bruises had barely begun to fade.
Yet, that is not to say Gaby bore the lashes with ease.
***
Back in the study, the scene was one of raw, unfiltered agony.
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Aaahh—! Hh-ugh! I have been wicked! P-please, forgive me!”
Gaby’s voice was no longer that of a composed, dignified nanny; it was a fractured, sobbing mess.
“Keep your body still, Nanny. Are you weakening already?” Alice’s voice was gaining a new, sharper edge.
As the count passed ten strokes, Gaby’s whimpering and writhing grew frantic. Her legs twisted under the unrelenting pressure, and her mature skin was already swollen a dark, angry crimson.
(Whish—Thwack!)
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Hnnn-gh—! P-please, My Lady. I am so sorry.”
Finally, unable to endure more, she clutched at her burning flesh and collapsed, slumping beneath the desk. Sobbing and overcome with pain, she looked utterly piteous and wretched.
“Are—are you alright?” Alice asked, her voice trembling with instinctive concern.
“Lower—lower your voice, My Lady! Hh-ugh! The servants in the hall, they will hear you!” Gaby choked out through her sobs, her stoic pride as a devoted servant flaring even through the tears.
“But you are in such pain. Every time you cry like this, I truly wonder if you enjoy this.”
“My Lady, it is true that the pain is unbearable. But as I have told you many times, I love to weep under your lashing. I love this itself. To be handled so sternly by your hand—I am, in truth, feeling quite wonderful right now,” Gaby replied hoarsely, forcing the words through her sobs. “So, please do not stay your hand. Instead, you must learn to find pleasure in breaking me.”
Whenever Alice hesitated with the rod, Gaby spoke to her in this manner. To dispel the Lady’s pity, hesitation, and lingering doubt, the caning had to be framed as pure pleasure for Gaby—just as she had confessed.
To achieve this, it was necessary above all to relieve Alice of her guilt. In her pursuit of that goal, Gaby committed an act she never should have. It happened one day immediately after a session of punishment. Gaby was standing in the corner for penance, her arms folded behind her back as she faced the wall to reflect on her ‘sins.’ Her lashed bottom and thighs remained exposed to the cold air. Of course, this too had been Gaby’s own request to bolster Alice’s authority. Yet on that day, Gaby began to masturbate right behind Alice’s back. It was entirely intentional. She parted her legs slightly and let out audible moans, ensuring her Mistress saw exactly what she was doing.
She had not planned it from the start. However, when the young Lady asked, “Nanny, I have a question. Is this excitement you speak of… is it sexual?” Gaby found herself driven to provide that shocking confirmation.
Regardless, it was a true and undeniable sin in Alice’s eyes, and Gaby could never forget the icy glare Alice had directed at her that day.
“I see. Then return to your position. I shall give you a penalty for moving without my permission.”
“Yes, My Lady. Punish me so that I never dare move again.”
Ever since that day, a certain change had taken over Alice. She no longer spared the rod, and at least during these rituals of punishment, much of the reverence she once held for Gaby as her ‘milk-mother’ had vanished. Especially when Gaby begged for the lashes with such frantic desperation, Alice responded with deliberate severity.
She tapped the cane lightly against Gaby’s trembling buttocks and spoke.
“You know, Nanny. When we first began this, I found it quite uncomfortable. But lately, I find myself looking forward to these hours. I have begun to enjoy this time as well.”
“As you should, My Lady. For you are the mistress of this house. I also love seeing you wield the rod with such authority.”
At Gaby’s words, a spark of inspiration flashed through Alice’s mind—a dark impulse to grant the servant exactly what she craved. A wicked idea took root, and Alice leaned in close, a chilling smile carving its way onto her lips.
“Then I shall give you what you want. You want to see me strike you, don’t you? In fact, I once caught your reflection in the mirror. You were watching me with a strange look while I struck you. It seemed as if you were truly obsessed with the sight of me. As it happens, I also have something I want to see now. Lie on your back on the desk, Nanny, and pull your knees to your chest.”
Gaby’s face paled, then flushed a deep crimson. But she did as commanded, lying back on the cold wood and exposing the most intimate parts of her mature body. To her horror, she couldn’t hide it; the linen revealed through the split in her drawers was glistening and wet.
“Oh, God,” Gaby whimpered.
“My, my, Nanny.” Alice let out a low laugh. “Your tongue may hide it, but your body speaks the truth. I shall give you a lesson for such lewdness.”
Gaby wanted to scream that it was merely the incontinence of her age or the shock of the lashes, but she made no excuses.
“Hh-ngh! Forgive me, My Lady! This wretched wench has dared to offend you! Please, correct this sin as well, with all your severity!”
(Tap. Tap.)
“Of course I shall,” Alice whispered, her voice dark and velvety. “But don’t you dare look away. Look me in the eyes and watch me enjoy every stroke I give you.”
“Yes! Hngh, yes, My Lady!” Gaby sobbed. “Please, enjoy it. Enjoy my pain as much as you wish, My Lady!”
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Aaaaaagh—!”
Alice felt a sharp, electric jolt of excitement. Seeing her nanny’s tear-streaked face, pleading for her mistress’s pleasure, made Alice’s heart race with dark ecstasy.
“Hold your mature legs tight, Nanny. If you let go, it will be worse.”
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Keep them still, you lewd Nanny! How dare you find such shame and joy in this? I said hold them!”
Alice’s voice strained with dark excitement, her breath hitching as she delivered another punishing blow.
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Aaaaaaaaagh—!”
(Whish—Thwack!)
“Hngggh! Aaah!”
“Nanny, I’ve just had a marvelous idea. Like Grandmother did, I shall use you for my tea parties with the other ladies—in this very position!”
(Whish—Thwack!)
“GYAAAAAAH—!”
.
.
And so, Alice had finally become the authoritative mistress Gaby had so longed for. No longer did a trace of the tender, warm Lady she once was remain. Though this change might, for now, be reserved for Gaby alone, her former doubt had been entirely replaced by a dark, blooming pleasure. She had finally learned not only to wield her power but to crave the very ecstasy it brought.
Furthermore, on this day of severe caning, Alice was to witness yet another sight regarding Gaby.
A short while later, the lashing ended. Gaby was a broken heap of exhaustion. She could only cling to her own legs, sobbing as her tears pooled upon the desk.
“Oh my god, Nanny. Look at this.”
But it was not the tears that had drawn Alice’s attention. Gaby felt Alice’s gaze, looking between her legs with an almost curious intensity.
“You have defiled my desk. Is this how a ‘devoted’ maid treats her mistress’s private chamber?” Her voice was calm, edged with fascination. “By drenching my writing desk with your own wanton filth?”
Only then did Gaby realize what had happened. For reasons she could scarcely comprehend, as the lashes fell, a torrent had spilled from her, soaking the polished wood beneath her.
The smile playing on the young Lady’s lips was something Gaby had never seen before—a look of pure, dark awakening.
“M-My Lady, please!” Gaby, lying back on the desk, buried her face deep between her pulled-up knees. She gasped for air, trying in vain to hide the shameful evidence exposed to the light. “It’s—it’s not! I am so sorry!”
“Not? You’re leaking it even onto the floor,” Alice’s voice rose with a terrifying, dark delight. “Today, I have become even more certain of your true nature—that the woman who raised me is nothing more than a shameless, dripping vessel. Looking at you like this, I’ve decided, Gaby. You deserve a truly special gift today. Look at me, Gaby.”
Gaby lifted her head, her face slick with sweat and tears. Her eyes flickered with primal fear at the word ‘gift.’
“Mmph!”
Gaby’s eyes widened in shock as Alice suddenly pressed her lips against hers. Alice had occasionally kissed her on the cheek before, but never like this. It was because Alice’s tongue was now forcing its way into her mouth.
“Mnh—chu—slurrrp! N-no, My Lady! We must not!” Gaby jerked her head away, stammering.
Alice only smiled, a cold and beautiful expression. “You often forget your place, Nanny, acting as if you are my mother. But you’re the one who taught me the pleasure of this discipline. And you know how much I adore my Nanny’s embrace, don’t you? So, open your mouth. It is a command from the noble Mistress you desire so much.”
At those words, Gaby’s resistance snapped. A shuddering sigh of surrender escaped her as she let her head fall back in complete submission. She opened her mouth wide, obedient as an animal answering its master, and soon Alice’s tongue pressed deep inside her.
She did not know why the title ‘the noble Mistress’ sent such a frantic surge of arousal through her.
Before long, Gaby’s initial trembling gave way to a wet, needy moan. As a nameless emotion erupted from within, her submission soon turned into a feverish response. She began to suck on Alice’s tongue with desperate hunger. Rather, in the suffocating heat of this ‘gift,’ Gaby was dazed; she released the arms that had been holding her own legs and reached out to pull Alice deep toward her, her body still splayed open on the desk she had soaked with her own lust.
But Alice would not let her indulge. Without warning, she seized Gaby’s head—as if by the hair—and yanked it back, breaking the kiss with a messy, wet pop.
“How was it? Did you like it, Nanny?” Alice asked, her eyes glittering with a predatory light.
“Yes, My Lady,” Gaby managed to nod, her voice thick with lingering heat. In her dazed mind, she thought that at least, in this way, everything had finally ended. But it was merely her delusion. Alice’s gift was not the kiss.
“Now, I shall give you the real gift I prepared. My lovely Nanny is going to adore this one too.”
Gaby stared up at her, dazed and uncomprehending. But the words that followed struck her like a sharp blow from a cane.
“Nanny, you adore ‘sin’ and the ‘exemplary punishment’ that follows it, don’t you? But, before I give a gift, you need a grave sin.” Her tone hardened. “So, from this moment on, you will pleasure yourself. And you are not to stop, not for a single second, until you are permitted to rise from this desk.”
“M-My Lady?” Gaby gasped, her voice trembling in utter disbelief. Her eyes pooled with fresh tears, her lips trembling in silent plea. But Alice’s voice cut through the air, cold and razor-sharp.
“Want worse? Do it!”
With a broken sob, Gaby finally gave in. Her legs fell open, exposing her ruined dignity to the light, and her trembling fingers reached down to touch her own drenched, glistening folds. As she began to stroke her sodden sex, a pathetic, weeping moan escaped her lips.
Alice watched the sight with a faint, lingering smile. Then, the smile vanished instantly. She turned toward the door and suddenly shouted out into the hallway.
“Who is out there?!”
“It is Martha, My Lady,” a muffled voice replied cautiously from the other side.
“In! At once!” Alice commanded. As Martha stepped into the room, she froze. Her eyes darted between her trembling mistress and the broken, weeping Gaby, who was slumped over the desk.
“Drag this woman to the Great Hall and hang her from the stone pillars.” Alice pointed a trembling finger at Gaby. “And strip her of every rag—I want her naked for all to see,” she added, her voice cold and unwavering.
Martha’s face drained of color. She looked at Gaby’s exposed, ruined form and then back at Alice, her voice a mere quivering whisper.
“My Lady, surely you do not mean the Exemplar? The way of the late Dowager Duchess?”
“Precisely,” Alice replied, a dark, regal fire burning in her eyes. She glanced down at the stained desk. “And you remember how my Grandmother treated a servant who leaked such lewd filth, don’t you?”
Only then did Martha’s gaze fall upon what Gaby was doing. She saw Gaby’s fingers moving between her splayed legs, and the staggering amount of lewd filth drenching the Lady’s desk.
Alice kept her eyes fixed on Gaby, a faint, inscrutable smile playing on her lips.
“Martha, is there any need to see more?”
“No, My Lady.”
“Then, prepare her.”
Gaby could hardly believe the wretched situation she was in—the sight of herself still moving her fingers in front of Martha’s cold gaze, and the image of her Mistress looking down upon her with a satisfied smile.
She had created a tyrant. Out of her own sacrifice and devotion, this merciless creature had been born. Yet, as she looked up, Lady Alice had never appeared more breathtakingly beautiful.
In that moment, Gaby defiantly locked eyes with Martha, quickening her pace against her own flesh. Seeing her Mistress towering over her with such perfect, regal authority, she was finally swept away by a crushing orgasm.
A short while later, Martha led the limping, sobbing Gaby to the center of the manor, toward the cold stone pillars of the Great Hall. Martha had also been strictly instructed not to spare the rod should Gaby falter for even a moment. As they descended from the upper gallery, the servants—footmen, cooks, and junior maids—emerged from the shadows, their voices low and frightened as they witnessed the unprecedented spectacle.
Under Alice’s curious and watchful glare from the upper gallery, Martha began the grim task. Once Gaby was stripped completely bare, Martha bound her wrists in heavy iron chains, hoisting them high until Gaby was forced to stand on her tiptoes against the cold stone pillar. The chilly air of the hall bit into Gaby’s punished skin, but it was the judgmental glares of the younger maids and the leering whispers of the footmen that cut deeper.
But the humiliation was only beginning. With shaking hands, Martha opened a small, velvet-lined drawer at the base of the pillar. She pulled out a long, polished object carved from dark, heavy oak—a cruel instrument used to seal the ‘shame’ of wayward maids.
Looking at the device, Martha looked up at Alice one last time, seeking final confirmation. But Alice simply gave a slow, calm nod.
“I’m sorry, Gaby. It is the Lady’s command. I must,” Martha whispered, her hands trembling as she positioned the wooden device. “It’s going to hurt, Gaby. Loosen up. But pray that you do not let it fall. If you do, the Lady’s mercy will end.”
A moment later, a raw, piercing scream tore through the Great Hall as the wooden instrument was ruthlessly forced into Gaby’s body.
Yet, through the agony and the soul-crushing shame, Gaby lifted her tear-stained face toward the gallery. There, behind the silken curtains, stood Alice. And as their eyes met, a faint, ecstatic, and utterly broken smile played on Gaby’s lips.
Oh, Lady Alice, thank you for the gift you gave me today. You needn’t look at me with such a worried face, My Lady. I truly deserved this. Today, you were the perfect mistress I always dreamed of. Haa—but why? Why am I so incredibly aroused? Being punished by you—it feels so wonderful. Ahhh!
A moment later, Martha was seen raising the rod high. As Gaby hung there, as much fluid was flowing from between her thighs as the tears she shed, streaming down her mature legs.
It was her ecstasy.
(End of Part I of II)
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
* Lady Alice (20): The only daughter of the Duke and Duchess. Possessing a delicate and refined beauty, she has lately begun to awaken to the cruel, authoritative spirit of her ancestors. She is starting to accept the heavy responsibilities of her bloodline.
* Gaby (47): The long-serving Nanny to Lady Alice. A survivor of the Workhouses, she is a permanent ward of the Somerset estate, bound by a debt of life. Having suckled Alice from infancy, she shares a bond of lifeblood with her and now guides the young Lady in the strict, dark ‘Traditional Ways’ of the House.
* Duchess Catherine (46): The mistress of the manor. A woman of grace and poise who upholds the family’s ancient traditions.
* Dahlia (20): Gaby’s daughter and a junior maid.
Supporting Cast:
* The Late Dowager Duchess: The Duke’s late mother. (Mentioned only)
* Martha: A senior maid of Gaby’s age.