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Training started at 4 in the morning.

I had to work out of two hours.

Two long, exhausting, sweaty hours.

And this will be going on for the next four months, with a trainer.

I wonder if it's too late to quit.

When I headed back to my room, I just wanted to crawl on the floor and sleep until tomorrow. I wanted to lay there and allow the exhaustion to take over me.

It is interrupted by a buzz from the intercom.

"Miss Moore, are you there?"

I drag myself up and click the button, "Talk to me,"

"Mrs. Margaret will be here in an hour for breakfast, so please be ready,"

"Mrs. Who?"

"Mrs. Margaret. She is on the etiquette teacher assigned by Mr. Moore,"

I groan. What the hell is an etiquette teacher?

"Okay, thanks,"

I hop into the shower and pray that my body does not ache tomorrow. I wear a light grey sweater and black leggings.

I braid my hair into two cornrows, making sure I look smooth and clean before heading down to the dining table. I see the time, 7:03 am.

I wonder if the lady is already here.

I push open the double doors and find a dark-haired woman in a long black dress standing by the window, "Three minutes late, Miss Moore,"

I stop where I am, "My apologies, I just had to get myself cleaned up- "

"Have a seat and eat your breakfast,"

She is terrifying.

I like her already.

I take my regular seat and she sits across from me, watching me eat my food. I was feeling faint after my shower, due to the lack of food, so I scarf down my plate of pancakes and eggs.

"Do they not feed you, here?" she asks.

I stop mid-bite, "They do,"

"Then why do you eat like a starved person, Miss Moore. It is very un lady-like,"

I feel my appetite disappear, as I return the fork back unto my plate.

I follow her to the library or the study room, where she has charts of people and books laid out. Mrs. Margaret tells me that she is going to teach me how to be a lady in society. She has taught many of the families' daughters to act as prestigious and well-mannered as possible in a matter of weeks.

I see why Gramps hired her.

Again, I am reminded of how I lacked a mother figure to teach me this side of womanhood.

We start by formally addressing people.

Then learning to walk properly.

Then learning how to look the part.

How to think the part.

How to sit.

How to acquire table manners

How to eat

How to drink

How to wipe one's mouth

How to talk to different people.

I am convinced she is trying to make me an arm candy for some gentleman. Why do women have to learn all of this in order to be considered a lady of class? But men can smoke, drink, and walk however they want without any consequences.

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