The Chateau de Charenton was a place unlike any Dorée had ever known. It was not simply the luxury of the setting nor the licentiousness of the inhabitants. It was not even the power she saw displayed on a daily basis by the Duc and his guests. It was the way in which everyone, even the servants, played shifting roles in an immense and complex game of erotic influence.
Newcomers like herself were considered the lowest of the low. They were technically available to be commanded, berated, and abused by anyone at any moment. The Duc had told Dorée as much, so she was prepared to have her dignity assaulted at every turn. And yet, she quickly found that in practice, tender new fledglings like herself were seen as precious commodities. Unscarred, unjaded, fresh and sensitive to new experiences, they were looked upon by the older, more powerful denizens of the Chateau as particularly desirable morsels. As a result, the more influential members of the household tended to keep the lower-ranked servants at bay and claim the newcomers for themselves. It was an intricate social world, one in which the tiniest gestures held immense significance and displays of power came in many forms. Dorée soon learned that she must pay close attention in order to guess who wanted her, what they wanted to teach her, and what they could tell her about her future in the Chateau.
The head chambermaid Berenice, for instance, took it upon herself to make Dorée into a good servant in very practical, down-to-earth ways. She demanded that Dorée help her with the rooms and scolded her for every misstep, no matter how slight. That said, she never slapped or pinched unless it was for a very grave fault, and she rarely had to correct Dorée twice for the same mistake. Despite her sharp tongue and cynical attitude, Berenice was the one who taught Dorée the most on a daily basis. She imparted the fundamental skills of being in service, and drew the new girl's attention to all the niceties of etiquette required to avoid offending the Chateau's higher-ranked staff and guests. Every day for the first several months of her service, Dorée followed the Liturgy of Berenice.
"Here now, don't hold the duster like that. Hold it like this, with a curved wrist."
"Fold these in thirds, not halves. It's more elegant."
"You curtsey like a lame goat! Try it again, this way."
"See how the sous-chef uses his spoon especially hard on that one busboy? That means he dotes on him."
"Stop! Never, ever enter any of the guest chambers without first scratching on the door-frame! You'll catch hell if there's anyone in there."
"Remember, kindness is the cruellest trap."
This last phrase was one Berenice often repeated, especially when Dorée tried to thank the more experienced girl for her help.
"I am not your nurse, nor your bosom companion!" Berenice huffed one day, when Dorée was being particularly effusive in her thanks. "I'm teaching you how to survive so that one day you might spare me in return. You'll rise faster and higher than I ever will, mark my words."
"How can you say that?" Dorée asked, baffled.
"I've heard things about you."
"What have you heard?"
"That you're to be trained by the Scarlet Lady."
Dorée did not have to ask who that was. There had been a magnificent woman all in scarlet and gold at the Feast of the Fall, the only one dressed so. She had won a wager on Dorée's weakness, and had seemed both archly amused and genuinely interested in the one lamp who showed signs of taking pleasure in pain. Dorée still recalled the cool touch of the woman's fingers as they slid inside her. She must be the Scarlet Lady. She was unforgettable, unmistakable. Thinking of her again, Dorée involuntarily breathed a soft "Oh!"
"That's all you can say, is it? 'Oh!'" Berenice laughed bitterly.
Dorée shook her head, dispelling memories of the Feast.
"No, I'm just wondering. This training, what is it? I cannot become a noble the way you've taught me to become a chambermaid. What would she tutor me in doing?"
Berenice gave Dorée a withering look.
"Have you still no idea what it is we do here, after so many months? You are a simpleton. A pretty, brainless village idiot."
"I'm not simple!" Dorée exclaimed defensively. "I just don't have any experience with such...worldly affairs."
"Of course not, petite innocente. They just love unspoiled girls like you. So pure and good, like a little nun!"
Berenice made a sweetly mocking moue with her lips and raised her hands palm-to-palm in a parody of prayer. Then, in a quieter voice, she added,
