The Beardsley estate could be easily described with one word: gloomy. The whole place was gloomy, from the garden, which only had around four flower variations, to the main parlor room, which was dark and dusty from being unused for so long. The drawing room and the dining hall were the only places that seemed clean, although the piano in the former was still dusty. Either way, it wasn't a very interesting tour.

The eyes of the portraits that hung in ornate frames on the walls were dim and lifeless, the moose head that adorned the parlor room only made me pity the poor animal—and all the other decors in the mansion were equally tasteless, as well.

The halls and rooms were labyrinthine, but at least they were spacious, unlike the bustling and claustrophobic servant halls downstairs.

Throughout the whole tour Clo was picking at her nails and didn't seem to hear a single word that came out of Mister Kupka's mouth, Beth was hacking and coughing because of her asthma, and Rhiannon didn't say a single thing, nor did her expression change during the whole duration of the tour.

At the end of the tour we were introduced to the Beardsley staff.

"This is Miss Bethany Clock, who is new to working as a maid," Mister Kupka said, gesturing to her. "And this is Miss Shuyan, also new to the service. Next is Miss Clotilde Hutchinson, who has prior experience in a factory, and lastly, Miss Rhiannon Daugherty, who was a lady's maid prior."

"And this is the staff of the house of Beardsley, totaling to around eleven members."

Nervously, I looked at their faces. They were all Caucasian—there was not a single face like Clo or mine. They were also all old men, probably from having served the house since the previous Lord Beardsley was a child. When they looked at us us, their faces had an array of emotions, from being intrigued, delighted, to upset.

"I've never seen an Oriental in my life," a man with a twirly, almost surreal mustache was saying. He looked at me in interest before Mister Kupka cleared his throat.

"Well, now you have. Stop treating the girl like she's an exotic animal—I'm sure Master Eugene has enough of those to keep you amused."

"Sorry, sorry," the man said. "I'm Otis Brown, the head cook." He smiled proudly. He must've been in his sixties, hair all grey, dressed in a white uniform unlike the others.

"Really, I have no idea why they decided to hire women, for Heaven's sake," a even older man with pale skin and white hair was muttering under his breath in the corner, "but an Oriental and an African?" He might've passed for the oldest if not for Mister Kupka.

"Phillip! What you said was simply unacceptable," Mister Kupka shouted, quivering with anger again. "Apologize at once!"

"I don't see why I should! I'm allowed to have my opinions if I can't choose who to work with!" he snapped back, and then turned and left the room, his coattail swishing.

"Oh my." A younger, short man with a round belly scratched at his head before turning to us. "I'm sorry for Phillip. He's the oldest here, valet to the eldest son, Mister Silas. He doesn't like taking orders from anyone, even from Mister Kupka."

"And he's, as you have seen, very objective towards change," another man with an eyepatch and grave aura added.

"It doesn't bother me," Clo said with a shrug. "I'm used to people like him. It won't tire me to ignore him."

"Are you fine, Shuyan?" Beth turned to me. "Please don't take what that man said to heart."

"It's fine," I whispered, but my voice was low and my hands shaking. "I prepared for it before I sent in my application to work here."

"Well, that's good. You girls are young, but will have to face the real world at some point," another man, skinny and tall, said. "I'm Rudy Mason, valet of the second son, Mister Tobias." He gave a small smile, almost as though trying to encourage us. I smiled back. He was the first to smile at us.

"And I am the valet of the third son, Mister Eugene," said the short and round man. "My name is Matheus Peterson, or Matthew, for convenience."

"I'm Holden Hawthorn, valet of the sixth son, Mister Elias," The eyepatch man followed in his deep voice.

"There's seven lords, so is there seven valets? I won't be able to remember this," Clo groaned.

"I agree," Beth said with a sigh. "Not to mention there's the cooks and gardeners, as well as first, second, and third footmen."

"I'll introduce the ones you should know," Mr.Kupka said, "which are the seven valets, in case of any emergency regarding their lords."

"The eldest lord is Mister Silas and his valet is Phillip Eagleden, who has left. Second is Master Tobias and his valet Rudy Mason. Third is Master Eugene and his valet Mathues Peterson. Fourth and fifth are the twins, Master Augustin and Master Valentin, who share a valet, Clifford Johnson."

He gestured to a scrawny and quiet man who I assumed to be Clifford. He didn't even lift his face to look at us, but it felt more like timidness than rudeness.

"Sixth is Master Elias and his valet Holden Hawthorn. Last, but not least, is Master Olive and his valet Harper Wakefield, who unfortunately, is occupied at the moment. So is there any questions?"

"I have a question," Rhiannon spoke, probably for the first time since the shock at the news of us sharing a room.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Who was the previous Lord?"

"That would be Lord Adam Beardsley."

"Did he father all of these children?" Clo asked. "Because if he did, holy moly."

Otis snorted in laughter, then coughed to disguise it. Mister Kupka glared at him.

"He did not," he said. "Only Mister Silas, Master Tobias, and Master Elias are his real sons, although Master Elias has a different mother. Master Eugene is adopted: he was Lord Adam's brother's son, so his nephew. Mister Augustin and Mister Valentin were adopted as babies from France, and Master Olive is the son of a employee who once worked here but unfortunately passed away."

"That's a lot of complicated family history," Clo said. I agreed in my head.

"So who is the heir?" Beth asked. At this, everyone falls silent, and seemed to freeze. "Well?"

"I suppose there's no use hiding it," Mr. Kupka said. "The issue of inheritance has currently not been settled, as no will has been found and, as Miss Clothilde mentioned, there is a lot of complexity in the family relation."

"Shouldn't the eldest son get it?" I asked. They looked at me and I regretted it immediately.

"No," Mister Kupka finally said, "because Lord Adam Beardsley mentioned giving a will to someone for safekeeping, but as of now no one has turned up with one."

"Oh. I'm sorry," I said, "but I don't understand the English inheritance system very well. I grew up in an orphanage and didn't have an education in such matters."

"Don't worry—I don't know anything either," Beth said and gives a small laugh. "After all, I'm just a maid."

"And how in the world do we address them?" Clo asked. "My Lord? Your Lordship? Sir? Mister? Master?"

"Miss Rhiannon worked in the service industry before, so can I count on you to teach them?" He looked at her as he said this, and once again, the stoic beauty nodded in silence, lips pressed together as though she was forcing herself to.

She turned to us.

"Only his lordship, or the master of the house, is addressed as 'Sir'. Since the heir has not being decided on yet, we shall address each of them by 'Master' besides the eldest son, whom we will address with by 'Mister'." She turned away after her lecture, as though she was glad to be rid of us. Clo raised an eyebrow and Beth pouted at her coldness.

"What about guests?" Clo asked.

"All guests should be greeted with 'Sir' and 'Madame', followed by their family name."

"Thank you for your help, I can see you really enjoy helping us out," Clo said sarcastically, smiling along—but Rhiannon, who was turned away from us, couldn't see anyway.

"I don't know why you seem to hate us so, but I guess I can assume it's due to our race," Clo said, the smile now dropping and her voice turning low, "but I'll tell you one thing: I've been through a lot, and I'm not as weak as you think. I'll never lose to the lot of you. Neither will Shuyan."

I perked up at my name. "Huh?"

"Yes, Rhiannon," Beth said. "We should try to be friends. We are all going to working together, after all."

"I'm not interested in being friends."

The bluntness stung, then a tense silence followed.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind," Clo said, barely able to contain her anger. She turned around to Beth and I and growled—without lowering her voice—"Who does she think she is?"

"I don't think Rhiannon meant to—" my voice drifted away as the Beth suddenly held my hand.

"I hope we can become good friends, though," Beth said with her innocent smile.

"Oh—thank you."

"And I'll be on your side too—after all, we are both outcasts." Clo flipped her hair behind her.

I couldn't find it in me to say anything, so I only watched as Rhiannon stepped out of the room, her long braid trailing behind her.

It was only the first day, but I could sense that things weren't going to go smoothly.