Friday afternoon, Emily was diligently scrubbing the stairs until the senior maid Michelle, looking exhausted, came to find her.  

“Emily, Mrs. Fowler wants to see you.”  

“What?”  

“Clean up and go. The estate steward, Mr. Jefferson, is here.”  

It was the first time Emily had heard the name, but if he was the steward, he must be an important figure. 

Emily stepped out through the back door, shook out her apron, used the tin bucket as a makeshift mirror to tidy up her appearance, and then headed toward the housekeeper’s office.  

She took a deep breath and knocked on the dark reddish-brown door. But there was no response.  

Emily hesitated before cautiously speaking.  

“Mrs. Fowler.”  

“Just a moment.”  

The murmuring voices inside continued for quite a while. After a long wait, Mrs. Fowler’s voice finally came through.  

“Come in.”  

When Emily opened the door, a middle-aged man in a neat coat turned to look at her from his seat opposite the housekeeper.  

“Introduce yourself. This is Mr. Jefferson, the estate steward.”  

“Hello, Mr. Jefferson. I’m Emily Turner.”  

The steward, who looked to be over fifty, was a large man dressed in a shiny coat. Despite his expensive attire, his hooked nose and small eyes gave him an unpleasant impression.  

“So this is the girl from Tollum? The one hired while I was away?”  

His tone was sharp, as though he was determined to find fault. Was he planning to dismiss her? 

Depending on what excuse he found, she might not only lose her advance pay but also the few days’ wages she’d earned.  

“If you have complaints, why don’t you recruit someone yourself?”  

Mrs. Fowler shot back immediately, making it clear Emily wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. Emily carefully observed the situation.  

“Mrs. Fowler, you need to manage things better. If you keep sending people away, what do you expect me to do?”  

“Did I send them away? They all left of their own accord.”  

Perhaps realizing he couldn’t win the argument or sensing there might be valid reasons for the departures, the steward clicked his tongue before turning his gaze toward Emily.  

“So, what’s her story?”  

“She worked at the parish vicar’s house for eight years. Did you even check her recommendation letter? I sent it over with the errand boy for you to read.”  

Thankfully, Mrs. Fowler continued to defend her.  

“Then why didn’t she stay at the vicar’s house?”  

“The letter clearly states the vicar and his wife are leaving for the New World in two months for missionary work—oh, forget it, I’ll stop explaining.”  

“You. Stand properly.”  

This time, the command was directed at Emily. She stepped forward, keeping her expression as meek and docile as possible.  

“Can you read and write?”  

While Emily nodded, Mrs. Fowler muttered under her breath.  

“Who can’t read these days?”  

“She doesn’t look like someone from Tollum.”  

After working at the manor for a few days, Emily’s appearance had improved considerably. Her once disheveled hair was now neatly tied back with oil Michelle had given her, and her pale, dry skin had become smooth thanks to cream borrowed from Hannah.  

“Did you confirm her background?”  

“Her younger brother is healthy but still a child, and her mother is unwell,” Emily corrected Mrs. Fowler’s earlier statement. “After my father passed away, she’s had frequent illnesses.”  

“Is that so?”  

While the steward seemed to mull over her words, Mrs. Fowler suddenly opened the desk drawer.  

“And that’s why we agreed to give her an advance. Here, come and take it.”  

Emily quickly stepped forward and held out her hands. While the twelve crowns were a welcome relief, the assurance that she wouldn’t be dismissed for at least three months was even better.  

But the steward unexpectedly laughed.  

“Look at that. Her face lights up at the mention of money.”  

“She’s from Tollum, after all,” Mrs. Fowler chuckled, but Emily didn’t feel embarrassed.  

“You’re obsessed with money too, aren’t you?”  

The steward’s playful tone left Emily unsure how to respond. If she answered honestly with “Of course,” he might find her vulgar and dismiss her.  

“Don’t tease the poor girl, Mr. Jefferson. You’re terrible,” Mrs. Fowler said kindly as she placed twelve silver coins into Emily’s hands. Emily sighed in relief.  

“Now, Mrs. Fowler, don’t you know how many people lose their morals to the temptations of money?”  

Whatever the steward might say, the coins were already in her pocket. He wouldn’t take them back now, and Emily felt a bit more at ease.  

“So, Elena—you’re not going to do anything bad, are you?”  

“My name is Emily. Of course not. I believe in God, I’m aware of Mrs. Fowler’s sharp watch over the manor—”  

For the first time, Emily felt her nerves ease enough to speak freely.  

She wanted to make it clear: she was poor, but she wasn’t stupid.  

“And the thieves in Tollum wouldn’t bother buying stolen goods from someone who’s only worked at the manor for a few days. They’d rather report the thief to the manor and get rewarded several times over.”  

“True.”  

Mrs. Fowler nodded in approval, but the steward didn’t seem entirely convinced.  

“Why go through all this trouble to work? You’ve got a pretty face.”  

Emily had thought someone dressed in such an expensive coat wouldn’t use such coarse language. Then again, compared to the actual coarse language of common folk, his tone was still somewhat refined.  

Considering the steward’s curious expression, Emily decided to humor him a little.  

“I’m not pretty enough to fix my sick mother and young brother’s circumstances.”  

“Surely there’s a blind young man out there somewhere.”  

The steward didn’t drop the subject, offering unsolicited advice or meddling opinions.  

“Working here will only earn you a few coins. Why bother with such hard labor?”  

He gestured toward Emily’s hands, red and swollen from sweeping and scrubbing the manor’s front gate all morning in the cold wind.  

“Stop wasting your breath on the girl,” Mrs. Fowler interjected, making the steward frown.  

“I’m not saying anything bad, am I? I’m just suggesting that, as a grown woman, she’d be better off marrying into a good family.”  

No matter which household Emily might marry into in Tollum, she’d likely have to work harder than she did as a maid here. But the steward continued his argument.  

“A gentleman with enough sympathy and money wouldn’t abandon his wife’s family, would he? Of course, he might have to raise children left behind by his first wife, requiring warmth and patience.”  

Even if the second marriage went well, raising stepchildren was rarely easy. And if the children grew up, they might even drive their stepmother out.  

But there was no reason to explain reality to the steward, who spoke without much thought. Emily clasped her hands together and replied.  

“Thank you for the kind advice, but I’ve learned that people’s hearts change easily, and wealthy men’s hearts change even faster. The only thing that never changes is the sanctity of labor, which God has bestowed upon humanity as a calling.”  

The steward’s expression softened, and Emily added one more thing.  

“And while you say it’s only a few coins, to me, it’s a great deal of money. Thank you, Mrs. Fowler.”  

Emily hoped the conversation would end there, but Mrs. Fowler’s skeptical gaze turned toward her.  

“You speak like someone well-educated.”  

“It’s what the vicar’s wife told me every day.”  

“Fair enough.”  

Emily’s quick response seemed to satisfy Mrs. Fowler, who smiled and turned to the steward.  

“Mr. Jefferson, are we done here?”  

Unable to find any further faults, the steward cleared his throat repeatedly before dismissively waving his hand.  

“Fine. You can go now.”  

As soon as the words left his mouth, Emily hurried out of the room.  

Once the door closed, Mrs. Fowler whispered in a low voice.  

“Young women in the capital these days would rather work as shop assistants than serve as maids. That’s why we only have seven women left, and they won’t send us replacements.”  

“…….”  

“She’s been vetted through several people. She’s healthy, does chores well, and needs the money, so she won’t leave anytime soon.”  

The steward rubbed his forehead and nodded.  

“True. She’s from Tollum, so she’s probably seen all kinds of people growing up. She won’t run off. She knows her place…”  

Still, the steward seemed uncertain.  

“But Mrs. Fowler, you’re always worried the young Count might mess with the maids. Aren’t you concerned she might cause trouble?”  

“Hardly. Would he even look at a girl who smells like the sewers?”  

Mrs. Fowler scoffed, but the steward shook his head.  

“Mrs. Fowler, you don’t seem to understand how low some men can sink—”  

“Enough. And if he does mess with her, so what? She’s from Tollum.”  

Cutting him off sharply, Mrs. Fowler declared firmly.  

“It’s easy to suppress rumors about maids from the capital, but handling someone like her is simple. Just give her a few coins to keep quiet.”  

* * *

How did it come to this? Emily wondered as she stared at the figure before her.  

She’d been lucky all week, but it seemed it had all been leading up to this moment of misfortune.  

“Hello.”  

Cold sweat ran down her back. Her wide eyes reflected someone she shouldn’t even be looking at—a man of high standing.  

“What’s your name?”