Really, there was no reason for Mary to be unhappy. If anything, her current position was much better than she had ever dared to dream it could be, back when she’d been living in Lyndhurst. Even after she’d Bloomed and ended up attending the Academia Magnolis, she had known that she was destined to work as a governess, but she had certainly never expected to be working for one of the seven Dukes of the kingdom.

No, there was no reason at all to feel low. Even if there was a certain loneliness to her position, that was to be expected and even celebrated. A governess occupied a peculiar role in the household; as an instructor to the children of nobility and often a lady themselves, they were far more than a simple servant. At the same time, a governess could not be considered to be part of the family itself. As a result, Mary’s position commanded deference from the servants and workers that ran the mundane affairs of the house. Her loneliness was, if anything, a symbol of her esteemed position.

It would be a few hours yet before Lady Alicia reported for instruction, but that was no reason to linger. She examined her reflection in the small looking glass she kept on top of the dresser, a present from her brother. Mary was under no illusion with regard to her own appearance; she was a plain woman and the shapeless dresses that comprised her uniform did her no favors. Technically, as a young lady, she had the freedom to wear whatever she chose, but it was common sense that a governess ought not to wear anything hinting at beauty; to do otherwise would suggest she was attempting to seduce the master of the house. For the same reason, she had put away all her paints and cosmetics.

Looking into the mirror, she pulled all her hair away from her face and to the back, shaping it into three strands. She quickly braided them together, then curled the length into a tight loop against the back of her head and secured it with a two-pronged brass pin. There was a trick to properly placing the pin without letting it fall out, where you had to pull in hair from both the bun and the scalp itself to get it secure. It always reminded Mary of her mother, who had always done Mary’s hair as a child and had taught her everything she knew by the time Mary was of age. For a moment, she considered asking the Duke for time off to visit her mother, but she quickly dismissed it. Although the Duke seemed generally unconcerned with his daughter’s education, Mary knew that she would need to give a better reason for taking leave than her own whimsy. She finished the bun, tilting her head to the side to make sure it was both properly secured and properly inoffensive.

As a governess, Mary had been given her own room, although without a dedicated servant she was responsible for maintaining its cleanliness. That was no real hardship, though; both at home and later at the Academy, she had always found herself cleaning up after herself and her brother. It was the work of a few minutes to tidy the bed and put away the hair supplies, placing the unused pins back in the jewelry box with the few earrings and necklaces she never wore. She left the room and locked her door, another habit that she carried over from her Academy days.

Mary walked through the halls, taking the time to set her focus on the day. There would be plenty of time to reminisce over the past after the lessons. For now, she needed all her attention if she wanted to unravel the mystery of Lady Alicia’s sudden mathematical prowess. Of anyone, Mary was closest with the young lady, although that was not saying much as Lady Alicia could be quite irritating to instruct, and there was still the very noticeable distance between them that was required for her to be an effective governess. Mary shook those thoughts from her head; there was no helping it, and dwelling on her state would be ungrateful. As she walked, she noticed that one of the newer maids--Charlotte, she believed--was nearby, placing a coarse cloth over the rug in front of the fireplace.

“Excuse me,” Mary said, gesturing for her attention.

The young girl turned to face Mary. “Miss Hartwright! Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Mary replied, smiling gently, although silently she cursed herself for not being certain of the girl’s name. “Once you’re done here, could you bring some breakfast to the library?”

It was halfway between a request and a demand. The maid could refuse, since Mary was not part of the main family. At the same time, though, it was a bad idea for a commoner to get on the wrong side of any noble, no matter how minor. Mary saw the calculation going through her mind--how much of an inconvenience it would be, balanced against the risk of offending the governess. In the end, the girl bowed. “Of course, Miss Hartwright.”

“Thank you,” Mary said, and the girl bowed once more--clearly the maid was still uncomfortable around nobles. Thanking servants was perhaps beneath the pride of a real noble, but Mary found it went a long way in establishing good relations. In the absence of real camaraderie, good relations were the best one could hope for.

The library was usually empty, and the wealth of books paled only in comparison with the one at the Academy. As such, it had quickly become something of a haven for Mary, with its tall orderly shelves and the large window near the reading desk that let in the sunlight. In the morning, before Lady Alicia arrived, Mary could have nearly two hours to herself where she didn’t need to worry about social class or her own position, where she could lose herself in ancient Graekian poetry or a Francouis book on human anatomy. At least, that was normally the case. Today, when she entered the room, she was shocked to see several books pulled from their shelves and piled up on the desk, where a disheveled Lady Alicia was frantically paging through one of them. The girl’s hair was loose against the back of her dressing gown, and her feet were entirely bare.

“What in the nine hells?” The curse escaped her lips before she could stop it. Lady Alicia startled at the sound, looking at her with a guilty expression. It vanished as quickly as it came, as Lady Alicia composed herself and stiffly adopted the noble posture and bearing that her class demanded. Mary almost felt proud at the display of etiquette, although the complete impropriety of the rest of the situation quickly washed that away.

“Miss Hartwright,” Lady Alicia said. “I had not expected to see you here.”

“Lady Alicia,” Mary replied, dipping her head with a shallow nod of acknowledgement. “I could say the same. It is several hours still before our lessons, after all.”

“I was just… doing some research,” the girl offered weakly.

“At this time?” Mary raised an eyebrow. “Wearing only your dressing gown?” Now that she had overcome her shock, she knew it was her duty to impress upon the girl the severity of her actions. What if a servant had seen her behaving in such a loose way?

At this the girl at least had the sense to blush. Lady Alicia began to speak, presumably to defend herself, and then paused. She seemed to deliberate for a few moments, before at last she asked, “Have you ever read about anyone remembering details of a past life?”

The question was so far from what Mary had expected that it derailed the whole lecture she had intended to give. Instead she walked over to her pupil, making sure to shut the door behind her, and took a closer look at the books Lady Alicia had been reading. They varied in subject, from a collection of theological treatises to a modern text on phrenology and psychology, and even a book containing older mythologies and folk tales. Indeed, there was little connection between them, other than the purpose that Lady Alicia had said.

“Well, there are certainly a few cases,” Mary said, picking up the book of theological essays. From the corner of her eye, she noticed with interest that Lady Alicia had sat up abruptly at her words. Mary had read the book a few years back, so she was able to find the passage she was looking for easily enough. “How familiar are you with the saints?”

“Quite familiar. I could list them for you, if you like,” Lady Alicia replied.

“That won’t be necessary,” Mary said. “I more meant the religious doctrine surrounding their persistence.”

“Persistence?” The girl scrunched her forehead, clearly thinking hard. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard about that.”

Mary couldn’t help but give a dry laugh. “I’m not surprised; it’s a pretty obscure point of theological contention, and one that the church understandably doesn’t want talked about much.” She could feel herself slipping into giving a lesson rather than lecturing her pupil on her behavior, but it was rare to see Lady Alicia take this much interest in any subject. “Persistence essentially refers to the idea that the nine saints did not ascend to rejoin the Divinity after their deaths, but are continually reborn upon the earth to guide us on the Enneadic Path. There have been several recorded cases of people claiming knowledge of a past life as one of the saints, able to recount personal details about the saints.”

“So were they really reborn?” Lady Alicia’s eyes were wide and she almost seemed to be shaking.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” She passed the book to Alicia, pointing at the passage she’d opened to. “This is an essay by Pastor Bulligan, written about thirty years back. It’s most likely what you’re looking for; the argument itself is not particularly compelling, but he does a good job of recounting a few of the more contentious cases of persistence. Certainly it can be said that some of the claims are fake. It’s well-known that some people can go mad in such a way that they become deluded and claim to be the reincarnations of everyone from generals to emperors, so it stands to reason that there would be madmen who believe they were saints.”

Mary arranged her hands into a loose steeple. “Usually there are other signs of madness, if that’s the case. With some of the cases, though, the people claiming to have those memories are otherwise entirely normal. In many cases, those claiming persistence will have a strong affinity for the Magnolic force of that Saint. In any event, it’s rare that the Church of Estelar actually acknowledges someone to be a reborn Saint, although it does happen on occasion. It’s more common in the Holy Alemandic Kingdoms, although that may be more for political reasons than truly religious ones.”

“I see,” Lady Alicia said, looking down. She started to chew on her thumbnail, and Mary realized this was more serious than she thought. The governess had become too entranced in her own lecture, but now she took the time to really look at her pupil. Lady Alicia seemed troubled, far more so than a fringe theological debate ought to have inspired. It was puzzling, but Mary had always been quite good at solving puzzles.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Lady Alicia,” she asked slowly, “just what made you so curious about past lives that you rushed out here wearing only your underclothes?”

Lady Alicia went very pale and didn’t respond, but Mary barely noticed. She was already making other connections, ones that were uncomfortably real. There was the strange reaction to the Bloomed lotus, the incident with the math yesterday, and now this strange and improper behavior. She wanted to dismiss the idea out of hand; for all that she had just told Alicia, Mary didn’t think she even believed in persistence. It seemed unimaginable that Lady Alicia, a girl she knew personally and the spoiled daughter of an out-of-favor Duke, could be the embodiment of one of the nine saints. It was incredible; the very notion was too ridiculous to say out loud. Yet, why couldn’t she say that it was impossible?

She opened her mouth to say something, although for once no words came. Fortunately, she was interrupted by a sudden knock on the library door. She came back to herself in an instant, snapping her head to the side to look at the door. In a sudden flash of panic, she realized that Lady Alicia was in no state to be seen by anyone. Judging by the frantic look on the lady’s face, she had realized the same thing.

The door began to open regardless.