Chapter 19: Don’t Be Wrong
The place where Liri had returned felt more barren than before. Mr. Budino’s spot in the kitchen was now filled by a chef with an awkward foreign accent, directing the staff in his stead.
The manager, citing the excuse that “guests might notice,” assigned Liri to clean and manage the banquet hall instead of the guest rooms. She now had to live a life where she worked unseen hours in the hotel, cleaning and sleeping while no one was around.
Cleaning the vast, empty hall alone in the dead of night, she would sometimes see the sun rise before she realized it.
Green, pink, pale cream…
The smoothly fitted marble floors echoed crisply with each step she took in her shoes.
“Elizabeth, right? There’s something to pass to you.”
A maid with a face Liri didn’t recognize watched her silently as she came out of the banquet hall carrying cleaning tools and handed her a scrap of paper. It was a hotel memo. The faint letters were visible through the folds of the note.
“Thank you,” Liri said, offering a polite smile. The maid, as if conflicted, awkwardly shoved her hands into her apron pockets.
“Is there more you need to say?”
The maid glanced around before hurriedly handing her another roughly torn piece of paper.
“It’s actually a bit old.”
The second note was a telegram from East Longfell.
“I was told to get rid of it… but I have family in the countryside, too.”
The moment Liri saw the name “Bolina,” her heart pounded.
Instead of sending expensive telegrams, the nun had always preferred letters filled with love and affection. Receiving a telegram was never a good sign.
[BOLINA CONDITION WORSENING]
The brief message wasn’t even properly spaced. The word “condition” felt ominous. The fact that it was already somewhat old weighed heavily on her heart.
“Um… are you alright? You look pale.”
“May I ask who told you to hide this?”
Liri was so shocked by the other note the maid handed her that she hadn’t even thought to unfold it.
“I can’t tell you that. Absolutely not!”
The maid finally realized the gravity of the situation and zipped her mouth shut, then dashed down the banquet hall corridor. Liri’s heart thudded painfully.
Who could have tried to hide such important news? Why?
There were certainly some maids jealous of Liri’s promotion from laundry maid to house maid, but this was malicious to the extreme.
Liri grabbed a stiff brush and stepped out. Fortunately, it was the weekend.
If she could just get through the afternoon, with a noisy party and banquet scheduled for the night, she wouldn’t have to report to work at night. If all went well, she could even visit East Longfell.
Finding the person who hid the telegram was secondary—her priority was the nun’s health.
She didn’t show up.
Christopher checked the time on his pocket watch. It was already approaching two o’clock, well past when the maids’ lunch would have ended.
The ice cream in front of him had melted into an unrecognizable puddle.
“I went to the trouble of helping her.”
Please, don’t be wrong.
The script book she had handed him with a smile lay on the sofa.
He flipped through it carelessly, noting the neat handwriting—smooth and fast, uncharacteristic of a maid.
Her voice reading the lines aloud was pleasant to hear. Even after reading the same sad scenes several times, her nose would redden and her eyes would glisten with tears.
Christopher rose from his seat without hesitation. The script was tossed into a small silver trash bin.
He had memorized it long ago; there was no need to look at it any longer.
He enjoyed it when she came into the room. It was a strange new feeling for him.
The “pleasures with women” his friends talked about were certainly not like this.
A woman of low status is safe. If I mess around with a proud young lady, I could be reported.
Some of his friends indulged in women, often boasting about it.
“Belmore, you have a strange obsession with purity. It’s all about the money. Even if Julie Mitchell flaked on a performance, she’d lie on your bed and spread her legs for a price.”
Did he need to pay to get a woman? Even without money, there were women willing to lift their skirts for him. Such temptation wasn’t unknown.
But women who tried to win a man’s heart were boring.
He had known this ever since he witnessed the lonely death of his mother, once called Princess Gilbert.
Luiry, come back, please.
Beautiful duchesses had died in the same way. They would eventually say the same thing as his mother.
Belmore, I will forever hate you for ignoring my heart.
Everyone except Elizabeth Gardner.
I truly dislike all of you.
Christopher slowly placed a cigar in his mouth. But he didn’t light it and simply dropped it into the ashtray.
Standing there in soaked underwear, shamelessly, like a child.
He continued rubbing the already crushed cigar.
The grandfather clock struck two, and at the same time, Rufus entered, forcing all the intrusive thoughts from Christopher’s mind.
It was time to act.
“Sir, the carriage is ready. The vote of confidence for the Prime Minister will take place this week. From now on, it’s a race against time.”
Although the Prime Minister’s hearing in the House of Commons was over, his reelection was still uncertain. Being a member of the House of Lords, he was negotiating behind the scenes to gather votes and prevent vetoes.
“When’s the date?”
“The 23rd. They probably won’t stay up all night, but it should wrap up around the 24th. At the latest, they want it settled before the New Year.”
“So while the Commons debates the Prime Minister, the nobles are painting their faces and performing plays?”
Rufus shrugged at his master’s cynical remark. As a noble himself, Christopher always mocked the aristocracy’s pretentious rituals—his words, not mine.
“You’ve already earned a bad reputation for taking care of the convent and the orphans. But that’s not entirely useless.”
In fact, Christopher had been the first to volunteer for the charity play benefiting the orphanage. He had openly mocked those who insisted he just donate money instead. Rumors of him having “killed the nun” also played a part in his change of heart.
“And… we’ll announce your engagement to Miss Cecil around that time.”
“If there’s no backlash regarding the Prime Minister in the Commons.”
“The convent issue caused a bit of friction.”
Rufus adjusted his glasses.
“Is Phil Gordon still digging around because of that?”
“He’s been quiet since nearly dying at the hotel.”
“Don’t let your guard down with such a persistent man.”
Only then did Christopher nod in satisfaction.
“Should we clear the food?”
Rufus glanced at the untouched food on the table before leaving. There was still plenty for two people.
“Why didn’t you eat? Hmm… you weren’t planning to eat all this alone, right…?”
“I got stood up.”
Who could stand up Christopher Archibald Belmore?
Rufus felt a strange sensation looking at the jelly, chocolate, and ice cream. Lord Belmore was known to dislike sweets.
“What are you doing?”
At Christopher’s prompt, Rufus rose.
“Hmm, the play preparations are going well, right?”
“Do I need to worry about that? If you ask me with that smiling face, I’ll lose all patience with hiring you.”
Christopher’s cold expression made Rufus stop smiling.
“No, it’s a genuine question. Surely it’s not because you enjoy seeing me recite sweet lines in that outfit, huh? Hehe.”
Christopher glared at Rufus in disbelief. Rufus quickly hid his giggling and flipped through his notebook.
“Uh… um… hmm… you haven’t met the lady playing opposite you, right? What’s her name… Ah, Rose, Miss Rose Evans. The Evans couple invited her for a post-Christmas dinner. Will you go?”
The intent to establish connections under the pretense of inviting the daughter’s play partner was obvious.
A quiet war was shaking Londinium’s noble society.
“Not dinner. Lunch. It’s not that important.”
“Although she’s been abroad for a long time and her influence is weak, I think there might be some news worth hearing for you.”
“I’m interested if it’s about the mines.”
“That’ll be fine. And I looked into Miss Evans… I’ll let you know when it’s confirmed.”
Christopher nodded as if it didn’t matter. Rufus held his coat and slipped his arm through Christopher’s, adding:
“May I ask who your promised partner was?”
Christopher frowned.
“That’s someone you don’t need to know.”
“Whether private or public, we know everything about each other, especially anything I need to know about you.”
“In that case, this is an exception. It’s a promise that won’t happen again.”
With that, he strode ahead. Rufus, looking as if he’d been scolded, hurried to follow.
