Friday evening, Emily headed toward the back door. When she opened the carriage door, three male servants quickly shifted to make space for her.
“…”
She worried the weight of the large men crammed to one side might cause the carriage wheels to sink, but thankfully, they arrived safely in the town of Tollum.
Emily clutched her skirt tightly as she walked along the cobblestone road, wary that the heavy pouch of coins might jingle like Mrs. Fowler’s keyring and attract unwanted attention.
Without drawing any unnecessary eyes, Emily returned home safely. Her mother, who had been worried sick, greeted her with teary eyes, and Emily answered by pouring her spoils onto the table in a clattering heap.
The next day, she went to the clinic to pick up eye drops for her mother, bought a new pair of shoes for her younger brother Oliver, and spent the rest of her remaining day off tackling the pile of housework that had accumulated. Even catching a ride on the food delivery cart back to the manor early Monday morning went smoothly.
Her streak of good fortune didn’t end there. Upon returning to Hazefield Manor, Emily discovered a hidden talent she hadn’t even known she possessed.
The other maids were the first to notice and were so surprised that even Michelle and Mrs. Fowler were taken aback. It was no exaggeration to call it a gift.
“…You cleaned the kitchen stove yourself?”
“Yes.”
Cleaning places touched by multiple hands every day wasn’t difficult for Emily. After all, she was used to scrubbing her own home, where even a moment of neglect would result in mold and sticky grease that was hard to remove.
“You cleaned the cooking tools too, didn’t you?”
Mrs. Fowler picked up a pan to inspect it and let out a faint laugh. The surfaces of the pans were so spotless that even the burnt-on soot and grime had been scrubbed away.
Some of the staff’s attitudes toward Emily softened slightly, but that didn’t mean she’d become the darling of the manor. Especially not after what happened during Tuesday’s lunch.
When the bell rang to signal mealtime, Emily happened to be near the dining hall. As she stepped through the open door, one of the maids inside wrinkled her nose.
“Ugh, why are you here so early?”
Emily immediately understood the situation and forced a lighthearted laugh.
“I’ll head to the kitchen.”
“No, Maureen, why are you being so mean to Emily?”
Another maid gestured toward an empty seat at the end of the table, but her expression made it clear she wasn’t being sincere.
“I’m fine. The kitchen is warm, so I don’t mind,” Emily replied, waving her hands dismissively.
Behind her, the sound of approaching footsteps abruptly stopped. It seemed the other staff hesitated upon seeing her near the dining hall.
This wasn’t the time to make everyone uncomfortable. Without lingering, Emily quickly headed to the kitchen.
“Geez.”
Bennia, the cook who was relatively kind to Emily, gave her a puzzled look. It wasn’t a look of reproach for her lack of awareness or a criticism of the others’ harshness.
It was simply a gesture of mild pity, a way to show off her own virtue. A thankful smile was all Emily needed to offer in return.
As expected, Bennia quickly lost interest in her and shouted loudly as though nothing had happened.
“There’s only enough roast goose for seven portions!”
Emily wasn’t one to indulge in food. Even if she never got to taste roast goose with gooseberry sauce again in her life, she wouldn’t dare touch the plates on the kitchen counter.
But when Hannah entered late, grabbed her share of bread, and then took a portion of the goose, she sniffed it, grimaced, and walked over to Emily.
“Ugh. It’s goose. Do you want this?”
“If you don’t want it.”
Instead of answering, Hannah dumped the goose onto Emily’s plate of pickled herring. Thanks to her, Emily got to enjoy a rare treat she hadn’t even dared to dream of. The crispy, savory leg meat coated in the tangy-sweet sauce was a true delicacy.
Emily thought her streak of good luck would continue, but the incident happened the next day.
“We need to scrub off the old grime. Start with the attic under the stairs.”
Michelle assigned Emily and two other maids to the task. But as soon as they reached the attic, the other two began slacking off.
“Do you think she has fleas or lice?”
“She makes me nervous. Doesn’t she make you nervous too?”
They whispered while glancing at Emily from the corner of the room.
What should she do? Emily wondered briefly before pretending to flinch in shock.
“That’s impossible. If I had anything like that, Mrs. Fowler wouldn’t have hired me.”
“…True.”
They must have been afraid of Mrs. Fowler. They wouldn’t dare question her judgment or decisions. Emily bit her lip as though she were intimidated, all while swiftly moving her duster.
“Ugh, just look at this.”
“Open the windows wide.”
It was an unusually sunny day, and the sunlight streaming through the windows revealed the dust floating in the air. The maids grimaced, and when Emily opened the windows, they left on their own.
“It’s cold. Let’s go downstairs.”
“Hey, call us when you’re done. We’ll be on the second floor.”
“…Understood.”
Whether they heard her response or not, the maids left, and Emily continued dusting with a lighter heart.
The attic was filled with unused chandeliers, paintings, and a large, tall bookshelf. After dusting everything, she ensured the room was properly ventilated before closing the windows and grabbing a rag.
She had just climbed a ladder and started wiping the top of the tall bookshelf when she heard a voice behind her.
“Hello.”
Even with just one word, the voice carried an unusual weight. A sense of foreboding washed over her as she stiffly turned her head.
“What’s your name?”
She froze. Even if a monster or ghost had been standing there, she wouldn’t have been more shocked.
The man before her had features so flawless they seemed carved from cold marble, with striking blue eyes that shone brightly. His golden hair framed his face, making him appear almost otherworldly. Emily’s mind went blank.
“…Emily Turner,” she stammered, quickly averting her gaze and forcing her stiff lips to move. The man’s soft voice brushed against her ears again.
“I see. Emily.”
He didn’t sound scolding or displeased, yet Emily’s unease only grew. Why was someone of such high status speaking to her directly, even meeting her gaze?
Realizing she shouldn’t remain above him, she began to climb down the ladder, step by step. Suddenly, the young master extended his hand.
“Take my hand.”
“I couldn’t possibly.”
There was no way she could just grab the young master’s pale, elegant hand.
But had her response come across as rude? Frozen mid-step, Emily leaned back against the bookshelf and cautiously replied.
“My hands are filthy.”
“That’s fine.”
The young master even took a step closer. Emily pressed herself harder against the bookshelf.
“So, you’re the girl from Tollum. You look young.”
“…I’m twenty.”
“I see.”
The young master looked at her intently. Emily, unable to find a place to rest her eyes, remained stuck three steps up the ladder.
“Arthur.”
“…?”
“That’s my name.”
At that moment, Emily snapped back to her senses. She realized just how abnormal the situation was.
A nobleman introducing himself to a mere servant? The rumors about his eccentricity must have been true.
“…It’s an honor.”
“We’ve exchanged introductions now, haven’t we?”
Emily had no idea where this conversation was heading. She stared at the floor, cold sweat dripping down her back. If the young master suddenly turned violent, would Mrs. Fowler compensate her?
She needed to show she’d tried to escape. But her exit, the last three steps of the ladder, was blocked by the young master’s polished shoes. Should she jump to the side…?
“Why? Planning to run that way?”
The young master’s words hit the mark, freezing Emily in place again.
“I just wanted to have a little chat. Is that so troubling?”
It was troubling. What he considered a simple chat could easily be seen as a servant overstepping her bounds.
But the ordeal didn’t end there. The young master leaned in closer and whispered softly.
“Want me to tell you a secret?”
“…?”
“Truth is, the people in this house are a little strange.”
Emily darted her eyes around, trying to steady her breathing. The young master seemed to be delusional. After a moment of silence, he added,
“That’s why I’ve been waiting. Waiting for someone I could talk to, someone normal.”
He’d clearly endured a great tragedy. No one to talk to? That was sadder than not having food to eat or a sick child crying at home.
How else could she explain why he was standing so close to her, a lowly servant?
Unlike the maids, he didn’t seem to care if he caught fleas or lice from her.