Golden Girl Ch. 13

Chapter 13: The Golden Lady

It was a warm summer morning, already promising to be a hot day, and Dorée sat ensconced in comfort, sipping her tea. She could hardly believe how things had changed since she passed through what the Duc called "the turn." He had turned her with a single word from girl to Lady, from slave to Mistress, and turned her world upside down yet again.

To be sure, her power was not permanent or absolute. But for now, she had been installed in a suite of rooms in the East Wing - the first to see the light of dawn—and given power over all the servants there. She had her own apartments, tastefully decorated in sheer curtains and pale gold silks, gilt chairs tufted in velvet and tables with slender legs like antelopes. She had her own luxurious bed, curtained and cushioned, with down coverlets. She could not call whomever she wished into that bed, of course. She had no power over the Duc's noble guests nor the servants in their domains. But she could command any of the servants from her wing, and any who entered her wing with the permission of their Master or Mistress.

She could also command the twins.

She shivered to think back on the meeting that had granted her such power. She was still raw then, her skin still sticky with Thierry's seed. She recalled sitting in the Duc's receiving room wrapt in the warm blankets she had come to cling to despite the heat of the night. He offered her a glass of wine. Uncharacteristically, she took it and drank it down in a single draught. He chuckled and said,

"You played the game well today, Golden Girl. We came to quite an impasse. One might say, a double bind."

His expansive good humour came barbed with provocation. Dorée refused to bite the hook.

"It must be quite a shock to you." The Duc continued. "But you spoke truly when you said that martyrdom brings terror, wonder, and transcendence. You have transcended your former station. Your position as a chambermaid is henceforth terminated. Ah, but what will you be now?"

"I know not, my Lord." Dorée shook her head. She'd still been dazed, then, and strangely distant from herself.

"Stand, Dorée, and look behind that door. Perhaps there you will see that which you are to become."

The Duc gestured to an oaken door. Dorée hesitated, unsure of what fresh horrors she might see behind it. But the Duc's expression was not malicious now, only curious. She went over, moving gingerly as her aching muscles protested, and opened the door.

O, someone there! She jumped back fast in fear as a shadowy figure stepped forward to confront her. But no, it wasn't someone else. It was her reflection, cast back at her from a small room whose walls echoed to infinity. It was like the oval mirrors in her room in the South wing, only amplified within a chamber fully paneled in looking glass from floor to ceiling. Amazed, Dorée peered all around. Then she stepped in, bringing a candle with her for light.

Once again she felt the sensation of herself amplified. She allowed the blanket to drop and studied her body. Yes, it was battered and torn, but the form beneath the wounds was beautiful. Her hips had filled out more since her arrival almost a year ago and her breasts were larger as well, though her waist and legs were still slender with youth. When she straightened her back, her many selves did as well, standing tall and proud. She lifted her chin, allowing her golden locks to cascade behind her. How could she not know what she was when confronted with this sight? She had been martyred and now she beheld her heavenly body, perfected through its trials.

"Vanity, away," She murmured to herself, as she had many times before. But it did not seem like vanity to recognize that what she saw was beautiful and somehow deeply powerful even in naked vulnerability. It felt like a truth long denied and now acknowledged. Her honey-brown eyes shone at her from the mirrors in recognition of this truth.

When she returned to the Duc with her head held high, he smiled in satisfaction. She found a yellow silk robe on her chair, folded and placed there by some unseen servant. She donned it carefully so as not to pull her scratches open again. It would be a pity to stain the silk with something so common as blood.

"You have seen her. The Golden Lady." The Duc said eventually.

"Yes, my Lord. She is glorious."

"Well, then, I have a gift for her. Come in!" He called out this last towards the door.

At his command, the door opened and in strode Thierry, followed by his sister Mariette, both clad only in Romanesque cloths draped over their hips and breasts. Their midnight-black hair had been brushed to glossy perfection and their strong, sleek bodies rubbed down with oil, but Dorée could tell they were abashed to be seeing her again so soon, and in such a different context. Before they had been fellow slaves suffering and striving towards pleasure together in the shadow of the St-Andrews cross. But now...

The Duc spoke, breaking the erotic tension that resonated between Dorée and the twins.

"Golden Lady, the East Wing is yours for seven days. After this term, we will judge your progress and lengthen the term as necessary. While you dwell there, you may have need of a table steward and stewardess. I bid you to use mine, and use them well."

Inside, Dorée trembled. Outwardly she kept her face calm.

"I cannot express my gratitude enough, your Grace." She said evenly. "I'm sure I shall enjoy them."

With a wave, the Duc sent the pair off to the East Wing. Dorée departed soon afterwards.

And so it was that she found herself lounging in bed on a day that already promised to be hot, sipping her tea and wondering just what she should do next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first few days of her tenure as the Golden Lady, Dorée had done nothing but rest and heal. She stayed abed late, even taking her morning meal from the comfort of her cushions. She allowed herself to be bathed daily in hot water scented with lavender. Female servants gently sponged her wounds and applied healing balms that worked like magic. Within just a few days the sting of the nettle's poison was gone and the cuts had faded to pink lines in her firm flesh. She doubted there would be even a single scar left to tell the tale of her martyrdom.

On the third night of her tenure she invited the Scarlet Lady to dine with her in the East Wing. Thierry and Mariette alone were allowed to serve the table. Even then, Dorée was afraid to lose face in front of them, so it wasn't until after the dinner was complete and the two women were sipping cordials that Dorée dared to ask the question she was burning to have answered.

"My Lady-" She began timidly.

"Please, dear, we are equals for the time being and the formal dinner is over. Use my given name. I am called Rufina."

Dorée shivered despite herself.

"Rufina...was she not a martyred saint in ancient times?"

The Scarlet Lady nodded, laying one finger to her nose as if to say, 'It's a secret.'

"Well then, Rufina, I must ask you a question. What does a Lady do? That is, what ought I to be doing now that I'm...this?" She held up her arms on which golden bangles now danced in place of shackles.

"Why, whatever you please, of course," the Scarlet Lady said. "I cannot dictate to you how you should run your affairs."

Dorée slumped in her chair. All she really wanted to do with her power was keep others from bothering her so that she could rest. Acting the hermit would probably not go well for her at the end of seven days, though. Seeing her disappointment, Rufina smiled and added,

"Well, it is traditional for a new Lady to hold a soirée in which she demonstrates her power over her servants. If she shows promise as a Mistress, it is very likely her tenure will be extended."

Dorée nodded slowly, turning this idea over in her mind.

"I know that Thierry and Mariette will serve me. But that hardly seems a demonstration of my ability to command. They are like a pair of horses so well trained that they would obey any hand at the reins. I barely have to hint at my wishes and they are off doing whatever is needful."

Rufina nodded in her turn.

"You are perceptive. A more...substantial demonstration is required. Something that shows those at the Chateau that you do not tolerate betrayal or ill-will."

"Betrayal? But the only one who has betrayed me is—"

Dorée bit her lip, remembering to whom she spoke.

"Yes," Rufina said knowingly. "She gave you up to the Duc just as you were beginning to discover your power. If you require retribution, I will not shield Juliet from you."

Dorée nodded again, this time with more certainty. She could still hear Juliet's gloating laugh. The girl was jealous, selfish, bratty, and arrogant. She needed to be taught some humility.

"There is another as well. One who vies for your position."

At this, Dorée shook her head vigorously.

"No. No, I cannot punish Berenice. She has not wronged me. It was I who wronged her. I cannot...it is I who should be..."

Rufina laid a hand on Dorée's knee, quieting her growing anxiety.

"Do what you feel is best, Lady. I leave all the particulars to your discerning mind."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the remaining four days of her stay in the East Wing, the Golden Lady worked feverishly to prepare for her debut. Thierry and Mariette proved themselves invaluable to her efforts. Their position at the Duc's table meant they had ample opportunity to observe who his most favoured guests were and what sorts of entertainments they enjoyed. They also knew the porters and heralds, the cooks and scullery-maids, and any number of other servants from the Main Hall whom they recruited to work extra time on Dorée's behalf. They even managed to convince the Chamberlain himself to oversee the public portion of the event, which would lend it an air of accomplishment that Dorée could not have hoped to achieve alone.

So grateful was she for the aid of these suffering siblings that one evening, as she was reading over Thierry's list of tasks accomplished for the day, she found herself saying absently, in tones she had unconsciously picked up from the Scarlet Lady,

"Very good. Very good, indeed. Continue this way, and I shall see that you and your sister are freed ere I begin my second term in the East Wing."

"Truly, my Lady?"

Dorée looked up to see his vivid blue eyes shining with hope, and more: with adoration.

"Yes. I...I know not how, but I shall use all my newfound influence to accomplish it if I can."

Thierry bowed, speechless with gratitude. Until that moment, Dorée had never realized how wonderful it felt to be worshipped.

With the committed service of Thierry and Mariette, preparations for the soirée flew by, until all of a sudden it was the seventh night of Dorée's stay in the East Wing -and, perhaps, her final night as the Golden Lady.

As the sun kissed the Western horizon on that day, a gong was sounded in the Main Hall which echoed throughout the Chateau. It beckoned everyone who had received an invitation and knew this signal to come to the East Wing and enjoy themselves as guests of the Golden Lady.

For this event, Dorée had decided to turn the evening into dawn. Birds had been kept in cages in the darkness for several days and were only introduced into a small, well-lighted room at night, so that as the guests entered, a dawn chorus of waking wrens and finches trilled around them. The lamps had been lit hours in advance, coating the skins of their human holders in fantastic crenellations of hot wax. In a novel move, the flames of the lamps were extinguished one by one while the guests entered, as if a long night had just come to an end. It was amusing for the guests to see the lamp-bearers all bedecked in hard shells of wax, swaying softly with exhaustion in their alcoves, a sight rarely witnessed at evening feasts. The flickering candle-light of the lamps was replaced by a wondrous glow created by hidden mirrors which spread the light of lanterns panelled in frosted pink glass, mimicking the diffuse mists of early morn.

Dorée herself stood at the head of the table, clad in a dress of cloth-of-gold with a high, stiff collar spreading behind her head the rising sun. Even her slippers and the handle of her slim, elegant gold cane were patterned with fan-like arcs of spreading rays. She had hesitated at first to use the emblem of the Sun King, which was still well-known from his rule in decades past. But her tailor told her His Majesty's emblem had been the full sun in its noontime glory. So Dorée took for herself the dawn, with all its soft golden-blooded promise.

The last of the guests to enter were the Scarlet Lady, trailed by her ever-present Companion, and the Duc. The Scarlet Lady made a point of greeting Dorée with warm dignity, signalling their alliance openly. The Duc, however, was standoffish, with a harsh, cynical look in his eye that made even the most boisterous guests wary of approaching him. He quickly assumed his place at the foot of the table, standing opposite Dorée in a confrontational posture that made her feel she was facing him in the arena for a second time. What had he called it then, "the high field of battle"? Well, she would meet him again, will to will and wit to wit.

Once all the guests had their chance to admire the décor and find their seats around the table, Dorée took up a small glass of wine. Holding it high, she pronounced,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and most especially Your Grace the Duc, a good morning to all. I bid thee welcome to my humble chambers in the East Wing. It has been a long, dark night in the Chateau de Charenton, but I am pleased to say that the time has come to turn our faces to the sun. Let us raise a glass to the new day!"

"The new day!" Everyone chorused, raising their glasses.

There were chuckles at the pretense of toasting the new day at the night's beginning. There were also a few raised eyebrows among those who interpreted her words in a political light. The Scarlet Lady was keeping an eye on the Duc's expression for signs of anger. For now, however, his face was a marble mask of polite interest as he raised his glass for the toast.

"I hope you will be well pleased to break your fast in such good company." Dorée said. "The meal may be light, but I hope the entertainment will provide heartier fare for those with more expansive appetites."

At this the laughter grew sharper, hungrier. The Chamberlain, who stood behind Dorée as master of ceremonies, rang a gong somewhat smaller than that which had summoned the group to dinner. At his signal, the servants entered bearing the first breakfast course consisting of platters of freshly-baked breads and pastries. At the head of the train were the Table Steward and Stewardess, dressed in fine livery of white and gold. They served first the Duc, then the Golden Lady.

As Thierry turned to leave, Dorée summoned him back again. In a dangerously casual tone, told him to kneel at her side. He did so immediately and without complaint, holding his tray up at shoulder height so Dorée could pluck whatever she wished from it. Dorée left him there on his knees as she ate, until most of the guests had almost forgotten him.

When the cold meats arrived, however, Dorée took the opportunity to order him relieved of his tray and stripped of his jacket. The order was carried out, as she gave it, in an understated fashion. Nonetheless, he caught the eye. It could hardly be overlooked that his nipples were gilded with hot flakes of gold leaf, as were his eyelids, highlighting the striking contrast of his dark hair and blue eyes. He bent his noble head to Dorée and pushed his chest out as she toyed absent-mindedly with the golden nubs of flesh, plucking at them with her sharp nails. Even the most jaded guests could not fail to see the devotion in his posture and the grace in his service. Murmurs of approval rippled around the table. The Duc watched like a hawk but said nothing.

With the arrival of the fish course, Mariette was pulled from service and similarly stripped to the waist. Not only were her nipples gilded, but they were also pierced with rings between which ran a fine golden chain. Any time the Golden Lady wished to take a sip of her wine, she tugged the chain, guiding Mariette to stand, step up to the table, turn to present the glass, and kneel again when the Lady was finished. Mariette, too, looked to her with worshipful eyes. Without force or pretension, the Golden Lady showed her influence and the loyalty of her servants throughout the meal. It was all the more remarkable, a few dared to comment in whispers, since Thierry and Mariette were favourite slaves of the Duc, and yet here they were, utterly in thrall to this striking young Lady who had so recently been subservient herself.

When the platters of the final course were cleared, Dorée once again stood to command the attention of the room. The nobles continued to chatter. Frowning for the first time since the dinner began, the Golden Lady gestured to the Chamberlain. The sound of the gong filled the room, drowning out their voices with its reverberations. Dorée spoke quietly in the silence that followed.

"I am truly grateful to all of you for your presence here today. You have taught me many things over the past year. I have learned fortitude and discipline, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

She smiled beatifically. But when she spoke next, her sweet voice had turned to frost.

"That said, some among you have not always appreciated my service, nor respected the wishes of those I served."

She took a long look around the room. The Chamberlain shifted from foot to foot behind her, suddenly looking distinctly nervous. The Fop also stilled. On the Duc's face, gathering clouds signalled the storm that would break if she dared to call him out publically.

"Juliet." The Golden Lady said with deadly calm.

Juliet jumped. She had been licking cream off her fingers, not paying attention to the speech of a Lady she didn't respect yet.

"Come here, Companion to the Scarlet Lady."

Dorée's voice held thunder now.

"My Lady, must I?" Juliet stammered, looking to her Mistress.

"Yes, Juliet, you must."

Juliet rose. Her chair scraped the floor, a sound that echoed in a room gone deadly quiet. Like a child about to be chastened, she approached Dorée with her head down, all her habitual gaiety fled.

"Juliet, do you remember what I asked you before you turned me in to the Duc?"

"No."

"I asked you, for the sake of all that we had been through together, to spare me. I appealed to you, as one girl in service to another. But you felt you were higher than I, and you had the right to punish me. Is that not so?"

"I was ranked higher than you!" Juliet spat, her eyes flashing. "You were just Head Chambermaid. I am the Lady's Companion."

"And did the Scarlet Lady bid you to spy on me? Was she happy when you had me removed from her service?"

Juliet was silent, unable to lie in front of her Mistress but unwilling to condemn herself.

"Tell everyone why you spied on me, Juliet, why you were seeking to find ways of separating me and my Mistress. What did you say, that night?"

Juliet ground her teeth, squirming under the Scarlet Lady's withering gaze.

"I wanted my Lady for my own. You were in the way."

"So it wasn't just my crime that made you act. It was your jealousy."

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Lady."

"It was your pride."

"Yes, Lady."

"It was your arrogance in thinking that you could curry favour with the Duc and get rid of a rival at the same time."

"Yes, Lady."

"And do we suffer servants whose hearts are full of jealousy, pride, and arrogance to abide here at the Chateau?"

Juliet's body jolted with shock. Her voice broke as she shouted