Lady Eileen Rethwood had hardly lived the typical life of a noble. Where most were born into their rank, Eileen's path had been forged in equal parts by cleverness and pure dumb luck. She had no notion of who her parents had been or for what reasons they may have had for leaving her at the orphanage's doorstep, but she had always assumed it was the most common story of woe. A peasant couple who lacked the funds to support another baby (or any baby at all) and had been decent enough to decide against leaving her to die of exposure. She had never entertained the notion that perhaps her parentage was noble or magical, like something out of the tales orphans so loved to hear. There were some who held to such fantasies, but that was all they ever were, stories meant to keep them from despair. But the little red-haired girl had known such things were unlikely. She had worked tirelessly as soon as she was able, did odd jobs doing deliveries and playing messenger across the city near and far, washed dishes when the local taverns were short-handed. Half the money she spent on books that she shared with the other children, though at least a few she forbade from touching them. The other half she saved in case she needed it under her rickety old bed.<br/><br/>It had been pure luck when the owner of Angira's Aromatics had decided to hire her. Angira Rethwood told her she had just gotten tired of seeing a skinny teenager racing back and forth in front of her store day in and day out. Her only stipulation for the job was that Eileen spend more of her money on clothes as the girl's growth spurt had seemed to come upon her unnoticed. In addition to the typical patchwork that had adorned her clothes, her skirt and sleeves were too short and her blouse pulled tight against her torso with seams stretched taught. Eileen had agreed, what she hadn't expected was for Angira to personally select finer attire when she had found Eileen's selection to be too simple and lackluster. After only a year working in the shop and studying perfumery, herbology, and whatever else Angira had thought it necessary for her to know, the woman had elected to adopt her. She had been childless and her husband had died years ago, so it had seemed a natural conclusion to leave the shop to her apprentice and give the girl her surname. Shortly after that, they had found themselves with some rather generous investments from a few select noble families. In combination with Eileen and Angira's heads for business, the two had quickly found themselves launched into the ranks of nobility. There were those that scorned them as upstarts, only in their echelons due to sheer luck, and perhaps that was the case, but that hardly negated the truth. A business woman and her adopted commoner daughter had intruded into the world meant only for those born wealthy and privileged, and if they could do it, then why not another commoner with pluck and luck on their side? And that was what frightened them.<br/><br/>Truth be told, even four years after the fact, Eileen still had trouble believing this was not all a fanciful dream. She feared that one day she would wake up to find herself back in her modest quarters in Angira's shop, not sitting down to a lengthy dining table to see the woman herself in a fancy silk robe and slightly plump from the consumption of rich food. Yet that morning she awoke to the same big bed with satin sheets that she had started to grow accustomed to, the same mountain of pillows, the same house in which they now lived. Eileen got out of bed to find a gown of blue and cream laid out for her by their servants, a staff Angira had hired after the both of them realized they had neither the means nor time to clean and organize the whole place on their own. Eileen could only allow them to handle to much, however. She preferred to dress and make up her own face herself, the servants only helped in that respect when it was for a ball or festival, few of which the Rethwoods actually attended. They were still far too involved in their business and expanding it to waste money on fancy gowns for parties. She exchanged her nightgown for the the dress, then set about washing her face in the basin sitting on the corner of her vanity. By the time she had finished doing her hair and makeup, she had made herself presentable with her hair fixed up in a knot at the back of her head, kohl delicately lined around her grey eyes, and a touch of subtle red lacquer upon her lips. To think she had never once thought of being able to afford such luxuries as a child.<br/><br/>"I suppose life is full of surprises," Eileen muttered to the red roan spaniel that had roused itself from the foot of her bed. Angira had recommended she get a companion dog since they had few friends in the noble families and often Eileen had stared wistfully at even the mangiest stray on the side of the street. Not to mention there was a certain loneliness that came with being made newly wealthy, a strange circumstance in which your old friends felt they could no longer speak to you without reprimand and your potential allies didn't so much as want to touch you for fear of staining their honor. Marigold became a permanent fixture in the household after approximately a week. Ever at her mistress's heels, the loyal dog followed her to breakfast, where Angira sat with her black curls spilled across her shoulders and her sepia skin yet untouched by cosmetics. Angira had always preferred to paint her face after eating.<br/><br/>"So have you made your decision about going to the festival?" Angira asked without even glancing up from her ledger, adding up sums from sales.<br/><br/>"You know all we would be doing is selling perfumes to ladies and denying slimy old men love potions," Eileen sighed as a servant laid a plate off eggs, bacon, and a light pastry before her.<br/><br/>"So that's a no, then," Angira replied with a knowing smirk. "Always a head for business, none for pleasure."<br/><br/>"Well, it's  not as if we would have much by going," replied Eileen with a shrug. "Regardless of whatever gossip is going around, we will hardly miss anything by staying home and actually doing something productive with our time. All anyone will do is ignore us as usual or invite us to dance only to whisper backhanded compliments in our ears."