The Social Ladder

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Mathilda and Claire rushed over to Charlotte, who lay strewn across the ornate, carpeted floor. "Charlotte!" Mathilda exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay!? AM I OKAY!?" Charlotte responded, her voice breaking with a mixture of anger and despair. She swiftly sat up, her eyes red and swollen. 

"Don't you see this?" she said, pointing dramatically towards a short, gold-plated ladder leading up to the top floor.

"Life is unfair, my dears," Charlotte whispered, tears streaming down her face. "Why should the princess have vast lands stretching as far as the eyes can see, while my dominion is limited? 

Why should she own private islands, basking in their secluded beauty, where I am always welcome but only as a guest? Why is she invited to every royal gathering, having audiences with emperors and kings, and wearing tiaras housing the rarest of gems?"

Mathilda, suppressing her emotions, took Charlotte's hand and led her through elaborate corridors to a grand chamber. There, she assisted the Duchess into her nightgown before leaving her to rest in the lavish bed.

Mathilda rejoined Claire, and the two servants began their descent down the ladders, which seemed to stretch far more than they appeared. After two full miles of vertical height and two exhausting hours later, they entered their small, dimly lit home.

Claire looked around as if absorbing her surroundings for the first time.

"Mom," she began, looking at Mathilda, "I've noticed... the higher the floors, the more they seem to count the steps."