❖ ❖ ❖ 39
It wasn’t until the Marquis strode out of the room that the concerned servants were allowed to enter.
“L-Lady…”
At the forefront was Masa.
Miss Mergoverlay (Mergoverlay being her surname) lay sprawled on the floor like the aftermath of a storm that had swept through.
Masa didn’t know what to do and pressed her hand to her mouth in shock.
“Lady… Lady…”
Beside her lay a shattered tea set and a toppled teacup.
It must have been placed on the tea table by the servants to warm her after her outing. When Masa tried to help Vivienne to her feet, Vivienne pushed her hand away. She staggered as she rose but maintained an air of elegance and dignity.
When Masa noticed the broken cane lying on the floor in the distance, she immediately understood what had happened and quickly scanned the area around Lady Vivienne’s calves.
Vivienne lifted the table with trembling hands and then seated herself in an empty chair. They could only see her profile, and even that was partially obscured by her long black hair, hiding her expression.
“Bring the tea.”
Those were Vivienne’s words. The servants exchanged glances, and Masa nudged one of the footmen forward.
“You must be thirsty.”
Her voice was hoarse.
When the tea was placed before her, she drank it with the most aristocratic grace. Even though it must have been hot, she quenched her thirst without losing an ounce of her refined etiquette.
That day, the servants thought to themselves that when a person cannot shed tears, they swallow bitterness instead.
Every drop of tea traveling from the cup down her throat seemed like the noble tears of Lady Mergoverlay herself.
