e·lite
/əˈlēt,āˈlēt/
noun
noun: elite; plural noun: elites
a group or class of people seen as having the greatest power and influence within a society, especially because of their wealth or privilege.
• in which the darkness-loathing heiress meets t...
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"Here is the bathroom."
Ada had said while her hand gestured to the pasty white-grey tiled bathroom the size of Irene's broom closet back at home.
She and Izzy looked at each other. Her feet carried her inside the poor excuse of a bathroom, "It's... comfortable."
Ada noticed the grimace on the socialite's face, "It's awful, I know. It's not permanent though."
Irene turned around quickly, "No, no, no, no. It's not, it's... nice. Very compact."
Izzy snickered. Her fist covering the traces.
"Really, it's nice." Irene moved her eyes to meet her sister's to glower at her. Izzy responded with a shrug. Ada had kindly offered her bathroom while both of the bathrooms in Mr Shelby's house were occupied by Charles and himself.
Charles had to prepare for his tutors, while Mr Shelby had to prepare for God knows what. He didn't say what his schedule for today was, but Irene knew it had something to do with the Italians business. She just knew it.
Alas, Irene felt her heart leapt when Mr Shelby excused her and her sister from their duties today. Finally, a day off. A day Irene knew she deserved. She deserved this day because she had been working very hard these last few weeks. The most work she had done this year. Or really, in the twenty-six years of her life.
"You know, everybody back at the manor panicked once I told them you stayed the night here." Izzy's hand moved the comb she's holding slowly in Irene's golden brown hair, her eyes full of amusement.
They're alone now. Ada had left them to prepare her boy for his school while grumbling something about not everyone could have a day off.
The only sister of the Shelbys frankly amuses Irene; she was something else indeed.
Irene gasped, "You consoled them, yes? Oh, please tell me you did, Iz."
Isabelle laughed, "Of course I did, my sweet. Though you know our family and the girls. No amount of consoling can console their wild minds."
"Great, that's just brilliant." Last night was embarrassing enough for her, sleeping in her enemy's bed, now she has to face her family and their nasty bewildered minds. Irene sighed, "Well, how is everyone?"
Irene caught her sister rolling her eyes over the mirror, "You know, you left for only a night. Not a year. Everyone's having breakfast by the time I finished packing up your clothes. Oh, and the cook put in that seasonal cured meat from Italy in the omelette for this morning. Your favourite."
"Oh my, I'm stuffing myself later, for sure."
Izzy continued humming a French lullaby as she worked the knots out of Irene's hair. It was a lullaby their mama would sing to them every time one of the Grosvenor siblings would have a nightmare. Even Robert have listened to the gentle song at one point in his life. Someone as brute as Robert once giggled on songs like A la Clair Fontaine. She smiled to herself.
