What would happen if the Earl discovered her? She might be branded a vulgar woman, but what about his dishonor?
With restless thoughts keeping her awake, Charlotte’s insomnia worsened. She reached for her bedside and found the water pitcher empty. Sighing softly, she wrapped herself in a shawl and got up from bed.
As she quietly entered the kitchen, she realized someone was already there. Charlotte nodded silently, about to leave, when a low voice made her stop in her tracks.
“You don’t have to go, Charlotte.”
“…”
“If I’m not making you uncomfortable.”
She didn’t mean to disturb the quiet night; it seemed she was misunderstood.
“No, I just didn’t want to intrude.”
Adjusting her shawl, Charlotte turned back into the kitchen where only a table lamp illuminated the darkness.
“Looks like you can’t sleep either, Lady Janice.”
“Insomnia is like an old friend to me.”
She gestured for Charlotte to sit across from her and sipped from a glass of sherry. The faint smell of alcohol hit her.
“Lady, wouldn’t warm milk or herbal tea be better than alcohol?”
“Nonsense. I’m no child.”
She waved dismissively and poured herself more sherry. Watching her, Charlotte hesitated before asking, “Are you alright?”
Janice looked disheveled. Her cheeks flushed from the drink, her auburn hair long and loose, dressed more casually than she had ever seen her. Normally, her hair was tightly done up, and she dressed almost like a nun.
Instead of answering, she just stared at Charlotte and suddenly said, “You remind me of Cynthia, yet you don’t.”
“Pardon?”
“More in the way you act than look.”
It felt eerily familiar. When had she heard that before? Then it clicked.
“Someone said something similar before.”
It was Richard, on the day they first met.
“Really?”
Charlotte nodded, and Janice smiled.
“He has good instincts.”
“…”
“Cynthia was quiet, seldom spoke, but was always keenly observant.”
Her voice was so soft she had to strain to hear as she seemed half-asleep.
“Maybe call it intuition. She knew the right time to flee.”
Charlotte couldn’t quite grasp her meaning but nodded anyway. As she poured the last of the sherry into her glass, Janice added, “I believe you have that same sense, as her daughter.”
Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine. With a creak, Janice staggered to her feet, pushing back her chair. Charlotte moved instinctively to support her, but Janice brushed her hand aside with a warning.
“Run, Charlotte.”
Her eyes were gentle as if bestowing mercy upon a friend’s daughter for the last time.
“Run while you can.”
Patting Charlotte’s frozen shoulder, Janice straightened up as if she had never wavered, and left the kitchen.
“There are no eternal secrets in this world, child,” an old servant’s warning echoed in her mind, sending shivers down her spine as if cold water had been poured over her head.
The candlelight, already flickering precariously, snuffed out suddenly as a draft swept through the room.
***
Over the past three days, Seoren Hall had been bustling, greeting visitors during the day and preparing for dinners at night.
Even on nights without guests, relaxation was not an option. Socializing on Corlen Island was regarded as the second most crucial season in the Ethelwood social calendar, just after the official season. The hall’s entrance was piled with invitations, and Chloe Kensington sifted through them to decide her activities for the evening.
Sometimes, instead of sending a card, women would naturally invite her to their parties during salon teatimes.
“I’ve recently acquired a piece by the renowned painter Gustave, right from the capital. I’m planning a modest appraisal gathering and would be delighted if the Countess could attend and share her insights.”
The words were gilded, but the underlying intention was clear. Chloe responded with a feigned ignorance and a smile.
“Oh, if it’s that artist, I’ve been quite interested in his style. You have quite the discernment, Baroness. I’d be delighted to accept your invitation.”
“I’m glad you’ll come. And, pardon me for asking, but I’ve heard there’s another connoisseur in the Kensington family…”
Without needing to specify who, Chloe, hiding her smile behind a fan, tilted her head playfully.
“Well, he’s not much into art, and Franz is still too young…”
Finally, another lady interjected.
“True, but I heard the Earl has transferred his secondary title to his brother, Richard. Is that true?”
Forced to respond directly, Chloe nodded.
“Yes, that decision was made long ago.”
“And I understand he’s also inheriting lands and an estate in the south.”
“Yes, managing Gredel Hill alone is already a lot of work. With Franz beginning his succession training, it’s best for Richard to manage that estate for the family’s sake.”
The women, having coaxed the answer they wanted, leaned in collectively.
“That estate must be substantial, too. Managing tenancies and the estate without a wife must be tough for a bachelor.”
“Indeed, such matters are best handled by a wife.”
“As we’re discussing, my niece is here on a retreat, perfectly of age for marriage…”
“Oh, Mrs. Winster, although Sara is certainly charming, isn’t she a bit too petite to stand beside Richard? More importantly, Mrs. Kensington, have you heard about my daughter…”
As one opened the topic, others hurried to promote their daughters or female relatives. Though stories of a duke’s daughter had quieted the crowd before, everyone now treated it as a thing of the past. Seeing Richard Daniel Kensington as an appealing prospect for marriage, they held nothing back.
Chloe smiled inwardly, pleased. This type of competition was not unwelcome. Her husband Seymour was increasingly keen on his brother finding a bride.
“I would love to accept all invitations, but he doesn’t care for fuss, which is regrettable. However…”
Before the competition intensified, Chloe cleverly broke the flow and nodded towards an empty plate. A maid who had been waiting a step behind quickly whispered something to her colleague.
Soon after, the maid who had quietly left the salon returned. Her hands gently placing the teapot on the table were somewhat clumsy.
“I haven’t seen this girl before.”
“Forgive me, madam. Charlotte is just not accustomed to this work.”
Another maid, catching the brief comment, interjected with a slight bow. Chloe tilted her head in curiosity.
“Charlotte, you say…”
Muttering to herself, a maid whispered in her ear.
“Charlotte Hegel, madam. She’s the daughter of the servant Cynthia.”
“Ah.”
A memory Chloe had momentarily forgotten came back to her.
“Has Cynthia’s illness improved?”
Contrary to everyone’s expectation that she wouldn’t last a month, the mother and daughter were still at Mistymoor Hall. Chloe had liked the quiet and demure impression the girl had made at their first meeting. She appreciated people who knew their place and refrained from overstepping.
Cynthia Hegel was just such a person. That’s why, despite losing her way as a servant, she had been allowed to stay. Clear punishments and rewards were preferable, after all. That her daughter was brought into the mansion had not been a difficult decision.
“Yes. It’s all thanks to your care, madam. Thank you.”
Charlotte bowed deeply, her hands clasped politely. Just as Chloe was about to speak, one of the patiently waiting ladies suddenly spoke up.
“Madam, sorry to interrupt, but what were you about to say?”
“Oh… I got sidetracked.”
Turning away from Charlotte, Chloe continued.
“I plan to host a dinner in two days. I intend to invite everyone here.”
The room held its breath. She was happy to give them the words they awaited.
“You may bring your daughters or nieces. The more distinguished guests, the better.”
Chloe glanced around at the suddenly animated crowd before shifting her gaze back.
“Charlotte.”
“Yes, madam.”
“Could you inform Richard about this? He’s likely in the library.”
Though Richard was her brother-in-law, their relationship was not particularly close. Folding her fan, she concluded.
“After that, you may rest. You don’t look well.”
***
‘Run, Charlotte.’
‘…’
‘Run while you can.’
That night, Janice clearly knew everything. The next morning, she acted as if nothing had happened.
Unaware of the situation, Anna repeatedly mentioned how unusually pale Charlotte looked. Charlotte simply blamed her pallor on not yet adapting to the island of Corlen. It was a relief when Anna shrugged it off without further questioning; she might have crumbled and confessed everything if pressed further.
No, that’s not it. No matter what, she would never speak. Charlotte knew it. Anna outwardly obeyed Janice but secretly despised her. A few other servants who knew Janice’s past felt the same.
The unspoken rule about not discussing certain topics in special places was inevitably broken. While cleaning silverware in the kitchen, Anna and another maid openly discussed topics that were otherwise avoided.
“I made my own fate. I’ve heard of a governess marrying her employer, but who would marry a mere maid?”
“Exactly. Especially not a woman with a public scandal. No mistress would accept her, she wouldn’t get a job anywhere else so she has no choice but cling to Gredel Hill.”
“Yet she still hovers around the earl, as if believing he still has feelings for her, despite having left once before.”
“Well, who knows. What would we, the lowly, know about it? Most of the servants at Mistymoor Hall had left at that time.”
“Right. I actually went to see a friend working at Cloverfield recently and heard an unbelievable rumor…”
Their intriguing conversation was abruptly cut off. While the two women were engrossed in their discussion, Charlotte sensed someone behind the door and simultaneously dropped the spoon she was polishing.
🍉🍉🍉
