Episode 8
The dinner was very delicious.
Mrs. Mollet asked Monica a lot of questions and told her about the various circumstances of the mansion. She mentioned that Mr. Mollet was too busy with work to be around much since he frequently traveled between the capital and La Spezia, and that the mansion was most beautiful in the summer.
Monica glanced at Riella while eating.
Riella played with her spoon with the graceful manner of a noble lady. She cut the meat, brought her younger brother Martinel’s plate, cut the meat again, and pushed it back—all without a single flaw.
“Marty’s doctor is coming tomorrow at lunchtime. He comes once a week, so would you be willing to meet him and then take care of Marty in the afternoon?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Great.”
Mrs. Mollet smiled broadly. Then Riella interjected.
“Mother, may I come over tonight and teach Miss Monica how to take care of Marty’s bed?”
“You?”
“Even now, I sometimes look after Marty.”
“Oh my, is that so?”
Mrs. Mollet looked at Riella with curiosity. Riella shrugged slightly.
“I know that too!”
Martinel grumbled. Riella smiled.
“You keep chewing on the thermometer. That’s not right.”
“I won’t chew anymore!”
“You don’t even button your buttons properly.”
Isn’t that something the maids should do? Monica wondered, staring blankly at Riella and Martinel as the lady kindly explained.
“Marty and Riella have such a big age gap. The kids get along really well. People say they are not acting like noble, but what’s the big deal? As long as I like it, that’s fine. Right?”
At those words, Riella nodded. Monica nodded along, feeling somewhat confused.
—
Later That Evening
Riella’s hands were skilled as she placed the sparkling mercury thermometer into the boy’s mouth and then removed it to check his temperature.
Martinel crawled into bed as if he had been waiting for Riella’s gesture. As soon as he lay down, Riella straightened his pillow and smoothed out his blanket.
“I record Marty’s temperature every evening. When he’s sick, his fever starts at the back of his neck, so if there’s nothing wrong with his neck, all I have to do is make his bed.”
“Thank you.”
“Sister, can I just look at that and fall asleep?”
The boy complained, wanting to finish the book he had started, but Riella was a strict older sister.
Seeing Riella shaking her head, Martinel pouted but lay down without arguing further. The door closed with a soft “Goodnight.”
“Let’s talk for a moment,” Riella said as soon as the door closed.
“…Okay.”
Monica nodded and led Riella into her room.
Once inside, Riella closed the door and looked around. Nothing had changed except for the luggage the maids had brought from Monica’s quarters earlier in the day.
“My mother noticed. We both lied.”
“…I thought so.”
Of course, who wouldn’t notice the lies the two girls had hastily made up?
Riella crossed her arms and looked at Monica with an air of authority.
“My mother is wondering what to do with you.”
Monica stared at Riella quietly. Riella frowned.
“Do you have anything to say?”
“What are you talking about?”
Riella seemed annoyed at Monica’s blunt response.
“Don’t you want to work in this house?”
“Right. But?”
“Then—”
“Then what? Are you telling me to leave because Mrs. Mollet is upset?”
Riella’s face crumpled. Monica barely managed to suppress a snort. She shouldn’t have done that.
It wasn’t as though Monica had been idle all day after Riella left.
Madame Orange had come to her first. While being shown around the mansion, Monica met the servants she would interact with most often.
“Oh my, you’re the new nurse! Nice to meet you!”
The staff were generally friendly. Monica chatted lightly with them and asked many questions.
She learned several things about the mansion. It had once belonged to a wealthy noble family, but after that family fell into ruin during the war, the Mollet family had taken it over.
From the servants, she also uncovered unspoken truths—like what Riella was afraid of.
—
Monica now understood the source of Riella’s fear: being exposed as an adopted child.
“If you were going to kick me out, you wouldn’t have taught me how to take Marty’s temperature earlier,” Monica said softly.
“…Hmph.”
Riella narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms.
Monica could have threatened Riella, but she knew better. She understood the precariousness of her position as a nurse with no connections or power.
Looking down at her hands, she saw the faint scars left from years of hardship. Monica glanced at Riella’s gloved hands, noting the contrast.
Finally, Monica spoke, her voice steady.
“Riella, I understand my place.”
“…Good.”
“I’m poor. I came from an orphanage. I don’t have money to return to the capital, so I have no choice but to succeed here.”
Monica looked directly at Riella.
“I thought Mrs. Mollet might be suspicious of me. But I owe you for defending me at dinner. For that, I’ll stay quiet.”
“…Fine.”
Riella snorted, clearly irritated but she was unable to argue further.
“I’m glad you know your place. Let’s not bring this up again.”
With that, Riella turned and left Monica’s room.
Monica, now alone, let out a long sigh. Exhausted, she began to unbutton her sleeves.
As she rummaged through her belongings, something fell to the floor—a brooch. Lizzy’s brooch.
Without hesitation, Monica stuffed it into her bag. Then, she buried her face in the bathroom sink, letting the cool water wash over her.
There was no room for tears.
—
