The great bell in the main hall tolled five times, its echo rippling through the high ceilings adorned with white plaster carvings. Outside, a light drizzle began to fall, merging with the thick Oakhaven fog to create a blur on the windowpane.
Evelyn had just finished the monthly household budget when the roar of her father's private steam carriage entered the front courtyard. It was a distinctive sound—heavy, powerful, and demanding.
"The Lord Duke has arrived," Martha announced.
Evelyn stood and smoothed her heavy skirts. From the inner balcony, she saw the massive double doors swing open. Duke Maximilian von Valerius entered, the personification of Oakhaven itself: rigid, firm, and smelling of masculine perfume mixed with tobacco and engine steam.
But Evelyn's attention was caught by something moving beside him. A manservant appeared to be struggling with a thick leather leash. At the end of it, a creature with thick, golden fur was sniffing the marble pillars with uncontrollable enthusiasm.
"Evelyn," the Duke's heavy voice echoed.
Evelyn descended the stairs gracefully. "Welcome back, Father."
"Bureaucracy is exhausting, but the new railway will be on time," the Duke said, glancing at the creature currently trying to lick his boots. "I brought this for you. A colleague on the coast is breeding them. They call it a Golden Retriever."
Evelyn blinked. In a house where everything was regulated with mechanical precision, the presence of something so... organic felt alien. The dog was large, with fur like tangled gold silk, and its brown eyes stared at Evelyn with a pure, spirited spark.
"A gift... for me, Father?"
"The house is too quiet," the Duke said shortly, a logical justification for his decision. "And I hear you spend too much time in the library. A pet might encourage you to step into the gardens more often."
As Evelyn knelt, ignoring Martha's disapproving gaze, her hand touched the dog's head. She felt a genuine warmth. Not the warmth of a steam heater, but the heat of something breathing and beating. The dog licked her palm, a wet, coarse sensation that made Evelyn let out a small laugh—a sound rarely heard in these halls.
"Does he have a name?"
"Not yet. That is your task," the Duke replied, walking toward his study.
Left alone with her new 'guest,' Evelyn watched the dog sit quietly, tilting its head as if it heard something the human ear could not—a faint hum beneath the ticking of the manor's many mechanical clocks.
"Come," Evelyn whispered. "Let us see how much of a mess we can make in the back garden."
Outside, Evelyn watched the golden animal chase its own shadow. "Golden Retriever," she murmured. She needed a name that didn't sound like a machine or a title. Something that felt alive.
For the first time in years, Evelyn's schedule was disrupted. She missed her evening reading just to watch the dog dig a small hole in the corner of the garden. That night, as she touched a small soil stain on her dress, she didn't feel annoyance. She felt the texture of the earth—something real, something not born from a factory.
As she turned off her lamp, the engines of Oakhaven still pulsed in the distance, but tonight, they sounded a little further away.