Chapter 5…………………………………………….
“What is the meaning of this commotion?”
“Head maid!”
Jane lifted her head and looked at the speaker.
Grace, the head maid of the ducal household.
Because the former Duchess of Mason had died shortly after giving birth to Edwin, the head maid—who had served as his wet nurse—had practically raised him in her arms.
Backed by Edwin’s favor, Grace was the most powerful figure in the ducal household after the Marchioness of Devon.
Recently, she had suffered a major setback at Trisha’s hands, but since almost no one had witnessed it, the matter had been quietly brushed aside.
“Jane stole the marchioness’s jewelry and is denying it!”
“I didn’t! And this isn’t the marchioness’s property!”
The head maid’s gaze shifted from Jane’s aggrieved face to the necklace in her hand.
“The necklace you’re holding—then whose is it?”
“It was left behind by Her Grace’s mother.”
At that moment, a maid standing nearby spoke up in rebuttal.
“Her Grace’s mother was a lowly foreigner! And you’re saying she left behind something this precious? At least make it sound believable.”
“It was a necklace she received from the late Count Rosenthein!”
“And how do you intend to prove that?”
“If you ask Her Grace, she’ll surely—”
“Regardless of the truth, Her Grace would protect you.”
At the head maid’s cold words, Jane’s eyes wavered.
It seemed the head maid, too, believed Jane had stolen the necklace and was lying about it.
Well, she’s always looked down on Her Grace anyway. If she despises her, then I must be an eyesore as well.
As if confirming Jane’s thoughts, the head maid continued with a sneer.
This works out fine.
With a single summons from the Marchioness of Devon, Trisha had reverted to her former state.
Though she went out occasionally, she spent most of her time shut away in her room.
Even when she saw the head maid, she said little.
Since Jane handled all her personal care, they could no longer send ice-cold wash water or spoiled food—but—
Once Jane is out of the way, we can do that again.
That day, the duchess must have simply gone mad. In the end, a person’s nature never changes.
Grace’s confidence stemmed entirely from the Marchioness of Devon.
Fearing that Trisha might begin acting like a proper mistress of the house and threaten her position, the marchioness had repeatedly humiliated Trisha in front of the servants.
On some days, she even ordered grain poured out in the storehouse and demanded that Trisha pick out only perfectly shaped kernels—an absurd command.
Afterward, no matter what Trisha selected, the marchioness would nitpick, and if any servant dared help her, they were severely punished.
As a result, the servants began to see Trisha not as the duchess, but as someone no different from themselves—or even lower—and treated her accordingly.
The head maid, Grace, was no exception.
“The indulgence of those below is the incompetence of those above. To think someone who keeps a thieving wench as her maid is the duchess—how laughable.”
“Do not insult Her Grace so carelessly!”
Smack!
Jane’s head snapped to the side.
The head maid’s hand was far harsher than the other maids’. Her authority was stronger as well.
“Bring a whip. A girl who steals deserves the punishment that comes with it.”
At the head maid’s gesture, the surrounding maids joined forces to restrain Jane.
Before long, another maid arrived holding a whip.
“Remember this well. The indulgence of those below is the incompetence of those above.”
“I was not indulgent, and Her Grace is not incompetent.”
Even on the verge of being whipped, Jane stood firm.
Frowning at that stubborn resolve, the head maid raised the whip—
“Interesting.”
A cold voice cut through them.
“May I ask what you’re doing with my maid, Head Maid?”
The head maid flinched at Trisha’s sudden appearance.
In that moment, Trisha gestured for the maids to step back and moved to take Jane with her.
“Jane committed theft,” the head maid said.
She was not about to back down easily.
“So we were in the middle of punishing her. There is no need for Your Grace to concern yourself.”
With that, she signaled several maids waiting behind them to escort Trisha away—meaning for her to leave.
She especially glanced at Chloe, who stood fidgeting behind Trisha.
Given that Trisha had been summoned by the Marchioness of Devon, and considering her usual timid and meek nature, the head maid assumed Trisha would retreat at this point.
“The indulgence of those below is the incompetence of those above, you say?”
Trisha smiled faintly, and the head maid froze.
“If I leave, it’s obvious you’ll use violence against Jane and then blame me. How could I possibly not concern myself?”
“……”
“Isn’t that so, Head Maid?”
She had clearly heard the earlier conversation. The head maid could hardly believe that such softly barbed words had come from Trisha’s mouth.
Was she always capable of speaking like this?
Except for the day she had been served rotten food, Trisha had been consistent.
Weak. Foolish.
As that thought settled, the head maid regained her composure.
“What can be done when someone has already behaved indulgently? We simply ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
As she spoke, she tightened her grip on the whip.
“You’re more barbaric than I expected, Head Maid.”
Trisha walked gracefully up to her.
Then she whispered, softly enough that only the head maid could hear.
“You called me a foreigner’s daughter and all that—but it seems you can’t hide your own origins either, can you?”
“…What did you say?”
For the first time, the head maid’s expression openly twisted.
She bit down on her lip, suppressing her rage, then leaned in to return the insult.
If she criticized the duchess openly, it might work against her.
So, just as Trisha had done, she whispered so only Trisha could hear.
“How dare the daughter of a whore-like foreigner lecture me about origins? If not for His Grace the Duke, you’d be rolling around a brothel. Who do you think you are?”
Of course, the words didn’t even itch to Trisha.
“Oh dear, Head Maid.”
Clicking her tongue, Trisha raised her hand.
In an instant, sparks flew before their eyes.
Trisha had slapped the head maid across the face with all her strength.
“Have you lost your mind?!”
The head maid staggered, and the maids behind her hurriedly supported her.
“Indeed. You shouldn’t wag that little tongue of yours so carelessly. How dare you put a superior’s private affairs in your mouth!”
Trisha raised her voice for the first time.
It was a strange reaction if she was merely angry over being insulted. And “a superior’s private affairs”?
It felt almost like she was putting on a show of anger.
“How dare you do this and think you’ll get away with it?!”
Whether or not it made sense, the head maid—who had been struck—was furious beyond measure.
“How dare I? I’m the duchess. What’s wrong with educating a head maid?”
Trisha, utterly calm, lightly patted the head maid’s shoulder.
As if offering encouragement after striking her.
“I don’t think there’s any problem at all.”
“……”
“Don’t you agree, Grace?”
Faced with Trisha’s still-leisurely, elegant demeanor, the head maid felt deeply humiliated.
She was Edwin Mason’s wet nurse.
The one who had served the sole master of this ducal house from the moment he was born.
And now this mere foreign woman dared humiliate her like this?!
Consumed by rage, the head maid swung the whip without thinking.
If she couldn’t strike Trisha, she would strike the maid Jane instead to vent her anger.
But the whip that had been in her hand only moments ago was now in Trisha’s.
“A weapon should be in the hands of someone who knows when to use it properly. Otherwise, it only invites disaster.”
She gave it a light flick.
She hadn’t intended to strike anyone—the whip lashed toward an empty space—but the head maid flinched instinctively.
Drawing the whip back in, Trisha spoke as if issuing a notice.
“So I’ll be taking this, Grace.”
The initiative had completely shifted.
It was the head maid’s defeat.
After instructing Chloe to seek the Marchioness of Devon’s understanding, Trisha returned straight to her room.
“How’s your cheek?”
“I’m fine. This much is nothing, really!”
As Trisha gently applied ointment to Jane’s face, she let out a sigh.
“You don’t still think you’re a knight, do you? You’re the duchess’s maid now, Jane.”
“Haha, of course. I know that…”
Jane gave an awkward laugh, trying to change the subject, but Trisha didn’t let it slide.
“Next time, just hand over the necklace.”
“How could I? It’s not just anything—it’s a keepsake left by Your Grace’s mother!”
“The living are more important than the belongings of the dead.”
As she put away the ointment, Trisha continued,
“And besides, even if not now, it would be taken from you someday.”
“What? That can’t be!”
“I don’t yet have the power to protect what’s mine.”
Not yet.
Just as Jane was about to offer some words of comfort, the door burst open and people rushed in.
“So this is where you were, Trisha.”
“Aunt.”
At the Marchioness of Devon’s appearance, Trisha rose to her feet.
Jane also hurriedly stood and bowed her head.
“I apologize for making you come in person, Aunt. My maid was badly hurt, so—”
“Yes, that’s why I came. I was curious how badly she must have been injured for you to miss my tea invitation without even asking my leave.”
At the marchioness’s words, Jane shot Chloe a glare.
Chloe looked perfectly innocent, as if she knew nothing.
Jane ground her teeth. Chloe must have spoken ill of Trisha behind her back.
“Her Grace clearly told Chloe—”
“Jane.”
Trisha gently cut her off and bowed to the marchioness.
“I’m sorry, Aunt. I failed to think things through.”
Her polite, deferential posture was the same as always.
At least, that was how the Marchioness of Devon perceived it.
Until she heard the next words.
“I failed to consider that Chloe was too foolish and ignorant to properly convey even a single message of mine.”
“…What?”
The marchioness’s eyebrow twitched.
Watching her furrowed brow as she gauged her intent, Trisha continued in a soft voice.
