Chapter Text
THE JAGGED OUTLINE OF THE MOUNTAIN RANGE flew by as the train sped through the Alps. The mountains, at this time of the year, were lush green and full of life, though the peaks were still snow-capped due to the altitude. Inside one of the train’s cabins, a letter was slowly unfurled, then read for about the fiftieth time in the past week or two.
May 29, 20▇
To Louise Bachelor
Salutations, I hope this letter finds you well. I am formally inviting you to the Betham Estate to celebrate your induction into the Ultimate Talent Program. Attendance is mandatory if you wish to officially claim your title as the Ultimate Matchmaker. The date for this occasion is on July 13. Transportation from your current location of Seattle to the Swiss Alps has been paid for and is included along with this letter. Other details will be explained at the destination—I hope to see you there.
Sincerely,
Xavier Betham
Louise read the oddly short letter continuously. She understood it just fine, she only wanted to assure herself that this was real. The Ultimate Talent Program was a prestigious organization, so much so that the only way to become an Ultimate was to be invited. Finally—she had a chance to prove to her parents that this could work..
The train lugged on at a pace that was slower than Louise preferred, but she eventually arrived at the station. Then it was just a matter of figuring out the route to the mansion, which went about as well as one might expect for someone who was practically a tourist. After getting lost several times, Louise swallowed her pride and returned to the station to wave over a taxi. With the cabbie’s help, she loaded her luggage into the trunk and entered the backseat, ready to settle down for a bit.
“Going to the Betham Estate? What’s the occasion?” The cabbie asked, snapping Louise out of her zoned out state.
“That’s where I’m headed, yes. They’re inducing new Ultimates this year.”
“About time. The last group was becoming old news. You one of them?”
“Yes. Ultimate Matchmaker.”
The cabbie scratched his neck as he took a left and the road slowly went higher. “Interesting. They’re getting a lot broader. You know, I heard a few decades ago they only admitted people in professional fields. Now anyone off the street can be assigned an Ultimate Talent. Nothing against you, of course.” He chuckled.
“Right.” Louise responded, trying to keep a neutral tone. She had gotten good with regulating what emotions she showed, especially after observing so many people who paid to show their emotions. “Is this the place?” She said after a brief moment of silence, as the taxi approached a gate. The cabbie nodded, “Yep. They don’t allow public vehicles past this point, so it’s on foot for you from here. I’ll help you with the luggage.”
Louise exited the car as she and the cabbie unloaded her luggage from the trunk. As he brought the last bag out, the cabbie said, “Need someone to bring this to the estate?
“I’ll manage.”
“If you say so. Good luck with your induction, by the way.” Louise waved him off as the cabbie drove back down, then turned to the gate, taking a breath. She didn’t think she needed any luck, but it would be nice to have. Hauling her luggage through the wicket gate, Louise made her way up the winding road to the Betham Estate and a new beginning.
The trek wasn’t really that long, but it definitely felt that way. Louise took a moment to catch her breath, stopping at a set of large double doors. She took out her phone, opening the camera app to make sure her appearance was in check, pulling her fingers through her blonde curls and adjusting her red glasses before putting her phone back in her pocket. She reached up for the metal knocker, enclosed in the mouth of a cat, but heard someone turning the knob. Stepping back, Louise didn’t have a second to prepare for the sight of the woman who stared at her, her gaze almost a glare, with glinting yellow eyes. That wasn’t the part that caught her attention, though; the left side and other parts of the woman’s face were severely burned, the skin warped like the bark of a tree. It was tanned and seemed dry, which contrasted the rest of the woman’s ghostly pale but smooth skin. A sizable part on her right scalp was missing, instead covered with similar scars, and the short mauve hair that remained was styled into a bob and covered with a ruffled cap with two white streamers.
“Are you here for the induction?” The woman asked bluntly with a monotone voice. Subconsciously clutching her bags closer, Louise nodded and responded, “Yes, I am,” though, more meekly than she would’ve liked. She tried to not pay any mind to this woman’s appearance after that, feeling a bit of guilt for her reaction.
“Come in,” was all the woman said before stepping back from the door. Louise hurriedly followed behind, then slowed to a stop to admire what she just walked into. The foyer was spacious, with a large chandelier hanging from the high ceiling. The woman, who she noticed was dressed in a maid’s uniform—black dress covered with a pristine white apron—was already making her way down the hallway between the double staircases, which curved slightly inward and had an indigo carpet running down each step. Louise caught up to her quite easily, and after a few moments of silence, decided to try and make some conversation as they passed by a large grandfather clock.
“Do you work here?” she inquired, and the woman, without giving a glance, coldly responded, “No.”
“Then you must be an Ultimate?”
“That would be accurate. Ultimate Maid, if you couldn’t already tell. My name is Charlotte Gridsby. I assume you’re also an Ultimate?” Louise blinked, still a bit taken aback by Charlotte’s brevity. “..I am, yes. Louise Bachelor, the Ultimate Matchmaker. It’s nice to meet you.” She held out her hand for Charlotte to shake, but was met with nothing.
“I suppose. Speaking of that, you should meet the others who have already arrived. You’re quite early, so there’s not many. They’ll be in places around the mansion.” Again, Charlotte went off somewhere without letting Louise get a word in, neither in a hurry nor dawdling. Nothing Louise could do about it now—she decided she should just look for Mr. Betham. She didn’t know much about the man. In fact, she didn’t even know what he looked like. All Louise could remember was that he was the Ultimate Sociologist, and one of the big names behind the Ultimate Talent Program.
She made her way down the main hallway, past the intersection at which Charlotte separated from her. At the end of the hall was the living room, which was just as big as the foyer with its own chandelier, except instead of double doors, a large fireplace sat in the center of the back wall, framed by two large windows. On one side of the room, a man stood analyzing a portrait of a music composer. On the other side, a woman was inspecting an arrangement of flowers in a vase made of china. As they noticed Louise, their heads turned upward.
“Another arrival, it seems. Where are you coming from?” The man asked Louise with a strong Russian accent, looking her up and down. The man’s tan face was framed by tawny, voluminous curls that were kept in a low ponytail by a ribbon, similar to the styles that men in the Baroque period wore. His mutton chop sleeves gave him broader shoulders than he already had, and the man stood poised, his left leg bending slightly inward from what looked like a ballerina’s second position stance. She felt that his glance was invasive, and answered cautiously. “Um, Seattle. Why?”
“Oh. You’re… American?” He hesitated to say it, his words lightly glazed with disgust.
“Excuse me-?” she responded, confused, and the woman in the room with them gave the man a questioning look.
“Nevermind that. What would you say your socioeconomic standing is?
“Well, my parents are part of the upper middle class. Why’re you asking?”
“Hm, as I suspected. No reason, I was just curious.” The man said. Though there was clearly more to it, Louise decided it would be wise not to push further. She didn’t want to continue speaking to him, but the woman who had been in the living room was already walking away.
“Now that we’ve begun conversing, I suppose I should introduce myself, no? You might recognize me. I’m Damir Ignatovich, the Ultimate Ballet Dancer.” he stated proudly.
“Er. Louise Bachelor, Ultimate Matchmaker.” In truth, Louise didn’t know who he was at all, but decided it would be wise to not comment on it. Damir seemed to have an ego bigger than the mansion itself.
“Well, it’s good to finally meet someone on the higher end of the ladder. Have you seen that, little servant girl?” Louise was becoming more and more uninterested, but she wanted to make a good first impression. Thus, she decided might as well humor him.
“You mean Charlotte?”
“So it has a name,” he responded, speaking in a way that implied he was aware of that but didn’t care enough to figure it out. “I suppose you know who she is, then. Anyway, I can’t fathom why they’d accept someone like her here. I wish the program would be a bit more selective.” Damir scoffed, tugging at his sleeve cuffs. Louise thought back to what the cabbie had said about the program being more inclusive about who they chose to invite. It seemed not everybody was happy with the new system. Even with everything advancing like a snowball down a mountainside since the beginning of the 21st century, human decency increased at a mere stroll. And so did shame, apparently. Trying to shift away from the topic, Louise asked, “Do you happen to know where Mr. Betham is? I’ve been trying to find him since I arrived.”
“Xavier’s probably in his study. Just down the East Wing, the last door on the right. I doubt you’ll have any chance of entering, though.” Damir took a step, turning left and away from Louise. “He’s very reserved these days. Good luck if you try anyway—I’ll be off exploring the rest of the mansion.” He then walked into what Louise presumed to be the West Wing, leaving her alone in the living room.
She stood there, the grip on her luggage a bit looser now as she processed everything that just happened. She could’ve inferred that Mr. Betham was a wealthy man, who else could buy such a large mansion, and based on Damir’s attitude, so was he. She hadn’t been able to tell that Charlotte was poor, though, and at that moment Louise was aware of how silly that was. She couldn’t grasp the concept of hating somebody for being poor, let alone someone who didn’t even look like it—she didn’t think she’d ever. The topic as a whole made Louise a bit uneasy as she wondered how Damir figured that out anyway. She guessed it because Charlotte was a maid.
Moving towards the East Wing, Louise set her mind to the next task which was seeking out Mr. Betham. Despite the warning, she still wanted to check in with him and ask a little more about the program. As she walked, she caught bits and pieces of conversation coming from the rooms from her left and right, but she continued. Reaching the last door on the right of the hall, her gaze skimmed the plaque stating what the room was, and knocked three times. A moment or two later, the door opened a crack. A short man with his chest puffed out looked through it. He was wearing a Victorian suit, the shoulders making him appear much wider than he seemed to be. He had impressive ginger whiskers and equally ginger hair with tufts that resembled cat ears. His eyes were a striking green, his left one frame by a gold monocle which had its chain tucked into his collar. He looked her up and down before speaking.
“You must be Miss Bachelor. You’re the third person to knock on my door today, so make it quick. I’m in the middle of sorting some documents,” he said, his tone
“Sorry for bothering you, Mr. Betham, but I just had a few questions,” she began slowly, her gaze lingering on his cat’s eye lapel pin. “Where’d you like me to put my things? I didn’t see anything in the letter about living arrangements.”
“Upstairs, corridor on your left. The dormitories are divided by gender, and your assigned dorm will have a plaque with your name.”
“Alright,” Louise mentally noted, then began to speak, but Xavier put up a gloved finger.
“I understand that there are things I didn’t write down, but I preferred to only write what was necessary in the moment. I’ll explain everything later, at dinner; I’d like to wait until everybody arrives. Until then, you can mingle with those who are already here. Now, if you would, I have to get back to work,” he said before promptly shutting the door.
Louise stood there, blinking. Well. If she couldn’t get any information yet, she would look around a bit before going to her dorm. Swiveling on her heels and turning back the way she came, she opened the door in the center of the long wall and entered a large dining room. There was a long, rectangular table that had a runner a similar shade of indigo to that of the stair carpet. On each side of the table were seven chairs, with one more at each of the ends. Sixteen in total. Dangling from above was the chandelier, a simpler, smaller version of the ones in the foyer and the living room.
Three people were already in the room: Charlotte, a middle-aged woman dressed as if she was attending a funeral, and a man dressed in the drab clothing one would expect from an office worker, scribbling in a small notepad with a pen, chewing on the end every now and then. The woman, who was almost whispering in what sounded to be Japanese to Charlotte, glanced at Louise, her dark purple eyes behind her hexagonal glasses lingering for a second, but then turned back to Charlotte, whose back was to Louise. The two could pass for mother and daughter, though the woman’s hair and eyes were a slightly lighter shade of purple, her skin a tad more lifeless. She wore a black bonnet lined on the inside with white fabric, and covered with a veil. Her neckline resembled a kimono, with crossing flaps of purple with detailed patterns, but the rest of her dress was Victorian in style; she wore what seemed like a small capelet over her sleeves, and a large bustle that trailed on the floor. Meanwhile, the man didn’t even acknowledge her and continued to look at his notepad, pushing his short and neat blonde hair out of his face, which had concentrated brown eyes that were framed by glasses. He adjusted his green tie, tucked into a plain sweater vest with an equally plain green argyle pattern on top of a white dress shirt. The light skin of his fingers was turning red from how hard he was writing, and Louise began to get curious.
Before she had the chance to ask, the man abruptly picked up the briefcase on the floor next to him and walked past Louise, almost bumping into her as he left the dining room. The environment was becoming more unwelcoming, so Louise decided she would retreat to her room. She returned to the foyer and made her way up the stairs to the second floor landing, struggling to drag her luggage with her. There seemed to be more rooms along the walkway, though she didn’t care to figure out what they held inside. To the left of her was a hallway, the sign above it reading “East Wing - Female Dormitories,” as Xavier had said. Heading down the hallway with her luggage, Louise stopped in front of the door with her name on it. There was a key already inserted in the knob, with a tag that held her name. It seemed a bit irresponsible, but she decided not to dwell on it.
Opening the door and stepping into her room, all Louise wanted to do was sit back and lose herself in a book. It had been a long journey, and now she could settle for a bit until everyone arrived. She carefully unloaded her luggage, packing it into the closet tucked into a corner. Sitting down on the bed, book in her lap, she scanned the room. Her bed was centered nicely on the wall, opposite to the aforementioned closet. A vanity desk was there to her right, and behind it was a room she guessed was the bathroom, the door leading into it being located in the tiny hallway with the entrance. Finished with her observations, Louise kicked off her pink heels and opened to the first page of Wuthering Heights.