Chapter 1

Morning in the Dulwich marquisate begins the moment Serafina’s bicycle bell rings. She closed her eyes lightly and savored the early summer breeze brushing softly against her cheeks. The kind of weather that makes you hum without thinking, warm with gentle sunlight. Her favorite season. Her light brown hair, just past her shoulders, lifted and swayed in the wind as she picked up speed.

It had been seven years now since Serafina was hired as the Marchioness’s companion and began coming and going from the manor. She could find her way with her eyes closed. Cross the arched wooden bridge spanning the Derwent River, pass through the dense conifer garden, and a great lake appears. Circle the lakeshore in a wide arc, and at last you reach the large white horse sculpture, the symbol of Dulwich House. Then, whoosh. A fountain shoots high into the sky and falls back down in a shimmer of rainbow colors, welcoming her.

Serafina drew in a deep breath. The warm, rich scent of butter caught at the tip of her nose.

“Good morning, Serafina!”

As always, this is where she dismounts her bicycle. The first gate she must pass through before seeing the Marchioness.

“Good morning, Aunt Merry! Did you sleep well? Today’s croissants……”

The gray-haired baker pressed a piece of bread quickly into Serafina’s hand.

“Well? I’ve been waiting for you. You were right yesterday, you know.”

She had offered the advice carefully, hoping all the while she was wrong. Watching the shadow cross Merry’s face in that moment made Serafina’s own heart sink a little more than it should have.

“Don’t tell me she didn’t eat a single one.”

“No, the Marchioness said the butter smelled too strong……”

Serafina chewed the piece of bread thoughtfully and swallowed. Merry’s throat moved in unison, tense with anticipation.

“Well? How is it?”

She blinked her richly brown eyes and drew out the moment, summoning every sense in her body to reconstruct the Marchioness’s palate.

“It’s delicious! This time I really, truly think it’ll be all right!”

Serafina’s enthusiastic response brought a bright, relieved smile to Merry’s face. Her husband, who had spent years as the baker at Dulwich House, had passed away from illness not long ago. Merry had naturally taken over from him, but matching the mistress’s exacting and ever-changing tastes, which shifted with the seasons, or rather from day to day, was more than she could manage perfectly in just a few months. The only reason she was holding on at all was the help of the young woman standing before her, the one that even the prickly Marchioness trusted above all others.

“Thank you, Serafina. Oh, wait, wait, wait! What am I thinking. The butler asked me to tell you to stop by his room first.”

“Yes, I know!”

Already back on her bicycle, Serafina answered with a burst of energy and pushed down hard on the pedals. Beads of sweat had already gathered at the tip of her nose. Now for the second gate.

“So then, what book did you say you’d be reading to her today?”

The butler, seated at his desk going through papers, asked in a gruff voice from behind his large, round magnifying spectacles.

“Hmm, it’s the story of two lovers from Verona. A daughter and a son from rival families meet and fall in love at first sight……”

Every day before seeing the Marchioness, she had to pass through this study without fail. Unless she reported in detail what she planned to read aloud and what she intended to talk about, he would not let her leave the room. When she first came to Dulwich House at fifteen, this space, its books stacked to the ceiling with barely any light getting through, had felt quite frightening and suffocating to a young girl.

But as she had grown taller, so too had she grown the ease to look around her and the eyes to notice what was not plainly visible. Enough to see the old butler’s devotion, his constant anxiety that not even the smallest shadow should fall over the Marchioness, a woman who had lost both her husband and her daughter young and now lived alone. The man’s sharp, unsmiling eyes felt almost endearing to her now.

“Sounds dull.”

“Absolutely, absolutely not! I’ve read it more than a hundred times and I still cry every single time. Especially at the end, when the girl takes the potion and pretends to be dead, and the man, not knowing any of it, goes and, well! Oh, no, never mind that. How about I lend you a copy instead?”

Growing animated mid-sentence, Serafina stretched out both arms and leaned in close over the butler’s desk. He flinched at the sudden proximity, but she paid no attention, lost in the tragic ending of the doomed lovers. The butler watched in silence as tears welled up in her brown eyes, then let out a low sigh.

“That’s enough. Save it for the Marchioness. Besides, you……. no, never mind.”

“Pardon?”

Hadn’t she cried over that Around the World in Eighty Days story just a few days ago, or something like it.

The butler looked at Serafina with her wide, round eyes and an expression that said there was no helping her, then dropped his gaze back to his papers.

“Then I’ll be on my way! Have an exciting, I mean, a peaceful day, Mr. Butler!”

Another clean pass. Serafina clutched the beloved book she had just been passionately discussing to her chest and set off toward the final gate.

“Aaah!”

But her confident steps up the staircase faltered at once. The gray object that had made her jump out of her skin was, thankfully, just a crude toy made of yarn and paper. Phew. Not a single day passes without something. She deliberately stomped her footsteps as she moved along the corridor, and a small shadow went scurrying off and ducked behind a pillar. She pressed down the laugh threatening to escape and cleared her throat several times.

“Master Anton? Master Anton!”

A small figure rustled and quickly revealed itself from behind the pillar. Serafina smiled at the blond-haired little boy, then put on a teasing expression.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, young master. And I brought something really special and delicious, but if you’re not here, I suppose I’ll have to eat it all by myself……”

“No, I’m here! I’m right here!”

She grinned at the little boy who had scrambled out to meet her, then lowered her voice with a mischievous air.

“I’m so glad I found you, young master. But listen, you must never, ever go near that staircase over there.”

Recalling the prank Anton had just pulled on her at the stairs, she dropped her voice on purpose, and the boy’s green eyes began to tremble.

“……Why?”

“Well, there was this enormous black rat, this big!”

“Eeek! Waaah! Huuuh……”

Startled by Serafina’s exaggerated gestures, Anton suddenly burst into tears and burrowed into her arms. Oh, honestly. He started the prank himself, but a child is still a child. She shook her shoulders with a quiet laugh and pulled the small, warm, sobbing body tightly against her, patting his back.

Anton Camelayan. The boy, just four years old, was, she had been told, the son of Countess Camelayan, the Marchioness’s niece by marriage. The Countess, pregnant with her second child, was in poor health and receiving treatment in the capital, so the boy had come to stay at his great-aunt’s country estate.

At first he was only meant to stay at Dulwich House for a few weeks, but as the Countess’s health showed little improvement, the stay had stretched to several months.

“Now, no more crying. Hold out your hand, young master.”

Still hiccupping with sobs, the boy spread his small, fern-like hand open in front of Serafina.

“Ta-da!”

“Wh, what is this, hic. What is it, Sewafee?”

Anton turned the colorful egg-shaped object placed in his palm this way and that, then whined in a disgruntled voice.