Chapter Text
You sat, cuddled in a heavy blanket on a grand bed, staring at the windows. The curtains were drawn, but an opening let in the smallest amount of sunshine. Dust particles danced in the golden light, which was weird, for you lived in an area where good weather was considered a rarity.
Your eyes traveled around the room. Although, chambers sounded more fitting. Everything was clad in white—silk, if you had to guess—and the ceiling unnecessarily high. It reminded you of a room that a princess would have. So pretty and so lifeless. No one would ever guess what kind of person slept here. Your bedroom was a mirror into your soul. At least one could guess your favorite color; the same couldn't be said about this room. Or, perhaps, this room's owner liked the color white.
You carefully scooched out of bed and placed your bare feet on the carpet. Your toes sank into the soft fabric, and for a moment you just sat there, taking in every sensation the world had to offer. It felt.. ordinary. But your feet looked different. Those were the feet of a stranger, attached to you.
You lifted yourself from the bed, the blanket falling to the floor, and realized that you stood a head taller/shorter as well. You squeezed your hands, nails digging into your palms, and felt how soft they were. They looked and felt like they'd never carried anything heavier than a cup of tea.
You noticed a mirror from the corner of your eye. It stood pressed against one of the four walls, under two portraits of painted landscapes. It faced you, but due to the darkness in the room, you could only make out an unfamiliar silhouette, making you flinch at the stranger.
You cautiously walked towards the mirror, and with each step, your heart raced faster. You've prepared to see an unfamiliar face in the reflection since last night, but you overestimated yourself.
The lips, the cheekbones, the face shape... Your mother's nose was gone, your father's eyebrows were nowhere to be seen. Only a woman looking back at you with eyebrows drawn in and eyes wide in slow horror.
Your hands came up trembling to touch the cheeks. You felt the face, you felt the fingers, and yet you were touching someone else's face. Last night—and the memory of it made you shiver—you felt as if someone pulled a stranger's skin over your own. Like a wet rubber jumpsuit, compressing the body under it.
You forced yourself to look away, for your brain couldn't handle it.
A door, which you didn't notice before, creaked open, letting light into the chamber of darkness. A woman with rosy cheeks and a tight bun peeked in.
"My lady, are you awake?" You had no idea who she was or why she called you My Lady, but she sounded like a trembling mouse. With her shoulder, she pushed the door open and walked in holding a tray of food. As if the floor were made of fire, she hurriedly put the tray on a small, rounded table and then opened the curtains.
The sudden bright light made you wince in pain. You squeezed your eyes shut and shielded them with your hands. And then you adjusted and the sight out those tall windows stole your breath.
They faced an enormous garden. A path in the middle divided the area into two, and on each side were perfectly trimmed bushes in various shapes. Roses bloomed there and tulips bloomed here. Countless other colors caught your eyes, and even though you couldn't make out the flowers from a distance, you could tell they were as beautifully planted and taken care of as the whole garden itself.
Am I a princess?, the thought crossed your mind.
"It's almost 11 am," the girl held her hands in front of her lap. "We let you sleep in after... after what happened the previous night, but Lord Nathaniel should arrive soon, and he'd like you to be prepared for his arrival."
"Lord who?" Last night was when you learned of your new voice, but it still made you flinch when you heard it. That's also when you heard of Lord Nathaniel. When the servants were holding you back as you screamed and fought, that was who they sent the other servants after.
"L-Lord Nathaniel." She blinked. "Perhaps you're still under the weather. I fetched you a cup of wine. I know you prefer it over whiskey or brandy."
"Wine? Wait—no." You massaged your temples, but it didn't help with the headache. Alcohol, really? They assumed you were sick, so the logical thing to do was to get you warm and drunk? Unbelievable.
You had to gather yourself. What would be the right thing to do? Not panic, for one. Figure out the year, for two. But then, letting these people know of the situation couldn't have good consequences. Telling them you weren't their Lady was out of the question too, but going with the tale that you lost your memories was dangerous also.
They could put you in a psych ward. Women were put there for less. Oh god, women were put there for less.
"I—" you took a breath, "I feel dizzy. Can't Lord..." Shit, Lord what again? "Can't he wait a day or two? I'm sick, am I not? He can't actually expect me to march out ready to greet him."
The girl looked at you baffled. "No, of course not. Oh dear, the fall must've really gotten to you. Your father won't be pleased with it.
"Oh!" You immediately pressed your lips closed. You had to work on your expressions. Even the girl flinched. "My father. Wow, okay. Well, he must be worried about me then."
The girl didn't speak. She stared at you with great confusion, which then formed into what could only be described as horror. "My lady..." she whispered, "Have you forgotten Lord Nathaniel?"
Before you knew it, the girl ran out of the room, screaming for someone.
You stood frozen watching the door left wide open. It was over before it even began. Panic seized you up like a hand gripping your heart. The girl would tell everyone. You'd get brushed off as mad and sent into a psych asylum, like those you heard about in hour-long podcasts that you used to put on when cleaning. The doctor would operate on you while you remined conscious, experimenting on your brain and taking out your organs one by one, just to see how efficient you could live without them.
You stumbled back onto the bed and stared out the window. At least the last image of the outside world would be this beautiful garden.
Mr. Burk was a short man with a great mustache. It curled at the ends and was clearly set firm with some kind of special jelly to hold the shape longer. He held the round end of a stethoscope against your chest with a thorough set of his bushy eyebrows. The stethoscope was different from the those you were used to, but at least you knew that it had been invented.
After the 1800s then..
"Tell me, Lady Y/N," he leaned back in his chair "what is your father's first name?"
Oh my god. "I, erm..." Your so-called father stood behind the doctor, staring you down. There was a resemblance between the body you possessed and the man whose daughter had lost all of her memories, but unfortunately for you, he looked distraught by the inconvenience of the situation rather than with his worry for his daughter.
Given that you couldn't answer the question, the doctor picked up his notepad and scribbled something down.
"This is unbelievable," Lord Nathaniel grumbled under his breath, then picked up in volume. "You have to fix this. You have to fix my daughter!"
Mr. Burk ignored the man and proceeded to examine you. He asked you one question after another, each more private than the last, and when you failed to answer any of them, he defeatedly put his pen down. He rose from his chair and started to pack his belongings.
"So, what is it? What's wrong with her?" your father demanded.
"She has fallen down the stairs, am I right?" Fallen down the stairs? "The impact caused a temporary loss of memory. It'll surely pass soon. Keep her inside, do not let her leave her chambers, and minimize any kind of stress. Over time, I'm sure she'll be healthy again."
"How long will that take? She can't sit idly at home. She has banquets and social gatherings to attend!" Both men walked out of the room without a word to you. You still had a headache and would've liked that taken care of, but clearly you'd have to wait it out. At least now you knew the cause of it.
Fell down the stairs. The same thing happened to you when you were seven years old. It did not cause someone to take over your body. A quiet crying from the hallway snapped you out of your thoughts. You recognised the voice.
"Excuse me! Is that you?" You didn't even know her name. The girl walked into the room with a handkerchief held to her lips. Her face was red from crying.
"My lady," she hiccuped, "how can I help you?"
"Well, I guess you know of my condition by now." You shifted on the couch. "Take a seat. I don't want you standing while I sit."
"No, no!" she said. "That's improper. It's not fit for a servant to sit with her lady."
"I want to talk with you, which I can't while craning my neck up." That was an exaggeration, but you had to get your point across. "Please sit. It's making me uncomfortable."
She hesitated before lowering herself onto the couch. The whole time she held cautious eye contact as if you would lash out at any moment.
"I have questions," you said. "I assume you're my special servant? Like a lady's maid, right?"
"That's correct, my Lady," she nodded. "I've been serving you since you were just a little girl."
"Oh, that's great!" You smiled. "So we're close?"
She chuckled nervously. "Of course. As close as a Lady and Lady's Maid can get."
Well, that was a clear no. You leaned against the couch, wondering what kind of person you—or rather, the woman who used to be in this body—used to be. A kind and caring person did not come to mind.
"What's your name?" you asked and saw her eyes immediately well up with tears again.
"My name is Marisol Bennet, my Lady"
"That's a lovely name, truly," you cleared your throat. "Makes me almost wonder what my name is.." You knew you went by Y/N— last night the servants called that name often and loud enough for it to engrave in your brain—and Nathaniel must be your last name, for that's what your father went by, but you needed the confirmation. There could be a whole middle name for all you knew.
Marisol's lips trembled. For a second, you believed she would break down in tears again, but she took a deep breath and gathered herself.
"Your name is Y/N Nathaniel. You're the daughter of Lord Nathaniel, his only child and heir. Lord Nathaniel is a duke and he owns several mineshafts in various cities. He is a good businessman. Your Mother, Lady Nathaniel, unfortunately passed away after your birth. May her soul rest in peace," she said, crossing her chest.
Whoa, you thought. Your father's occupation explained the expensive taste all around. All these rooms with the rich fabrics and furniture were the doing of the man. Judging by everything you saw, which was very little and yet enough to create an image in your head, your father must be a millionaire.
But coalmines? Not for one second did you believe that the money was hard earned. Piecing some facts together made you more confident in it. An English speaking country, not too much in the past but just enough for people to give alcohol to their sick ones, and a few history videos on YouTube about the life of a coalmine in the older days.
You sank into the couch. Of course. Everything here was bought by the men slaving deep in the tunnels. You shock the thought away. There were more pressing matters.
Like the question of How. It rang loudly in your head. How did you end up here? There was no reasonable explanation to why you woke up in the past in a body of a rich girl. And even the slightest thought of what had happened to your body and your real timeline made you sick to your stomach.
Perhaps you were dead. Or maybe the rich girl fell down the stairs and you got hurt at the same time, which caused this switch of souls. You did not recal anything about the last hours in your own body. That would also mean that the real Y/N Nathaniel was roaming in your body, probably having a seizure at all the things and views the modern world had to offer. You were now Y/N Nathaniel and she was..
She was..
You couldn't remember your name.