Chapter 6
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
As soon as Anne raised the gaze she had been avoiding, her eyes met Gray’s.
“Everyone in the mansion hates me, don’t they?”
Gray tore off a piece of bread and dipped it into his soup, speaking as if it were nothing.
“…That’s not true.”
The boy reached across the table, but Anne’s hands were neatly folded in her lap. His hand hovered in the air before falling and scratching the table.
“Anne. Do you hate me too?”
Clatter. Empty dishes and utensils dropped onto the hard surface of the table.
The boy’s large eyes, shaded and forlorn, became misty.
“I don’t hate you.”
It was easy to lie—just wet her lips with her tongue and say it.
But Anne truly didn’t hate the young Gray. So it was close to the truth.
“Please don’t hate me.”
The illegitimate child of the Duke of Benton, left alone in a grand mansion—isolated and abandoned.
He would probably be shipped off to the knight academy before he even became an adult, barely hanging on with a maid’s pity.
Thirteen-year-old Gray Benton reached toward Anne again.
He even leaned forward as if he might push back his chair and approach her at any moment.
“…Okay.”
Anne barely moved her lips, keeping her hips and shoulders firmly against the chair.
But she didn’t take his outstretched hand.
“Thank you.”
Withdrawing his empty hands, Gray made a small fist and gave Anne a sweet smile with his eyes.
He had always liked Anne before. When he had first arrived at the mansion, scared out of his wits, she had been the only one kind to him. It was only natural that he grew attached.
But now, it was different.
Though Anne stayed by Gray during meals at his request, she had never reached out first or smiled at him.
Even though it was obvious she only showed up at meal times out of obligation and endured it begrudgingly, Gray still sought her warmth just as he used to.
Sometimes she wondered why he was still so kind to her.
Her behavior had changed, and yet it felt like they were walking the same path as before.
Was he simply that lonely and desperate—willing to give his heart away for a shred of sympathy or pity?
Just like how Anne had fallen in love too easily after Jamie died.
She steadied herself against the growing softness in her heart for this boy, who was so cornered he couldn’t afford to miss even the slightest warmth.
Right now, she could still think of her care and trust as something she gave to a little brother. But eventually, her heart—captured in a man’s hand—would be shattered into pieces.
Anne bit her lip.
“I’m only doing what I was told.”
“Anne.”
“I’ve caused trouble. Next time, I’ll bring my own.”
Before he could say anything else, she quickly bowed and began clearing the table.
As her hands moved busily, Gray stared blankly at her, then grabbed one of her hands.
“Still… thank you.”
Gray’s small hand gripped hers tightly. Sitting in the chair, looking up at her like he was hanging on, Anne deliberately avoided his gaze.
She lowered her head, dodging his eyes, and picked up the empty dishes.
“I’ll take my leave.”
Her scalp prickled with his gaze until the door quietly closed behind her.
Anne wished her brother would arrive soon.
* * *
The daily routine was the same.
She woke at dawn to begin cleaning. Sometimes, when guests came or there was special bread to be baked, the head cook would call on Anne to assist.
Cooking was more difficult than cleaning—more precision, more care—but Anne was grateful to be useful in the ducal household.
The more valuable she was, the more she could speak her mind.
The Duchess of Benton was not unkind to her servants.
Her noble character and graceful demeanor, befitting her high status, earned her the respect of both stewards and maids alike.
But Anne knew just how cold and cruel the duchess could become, and she had no intention of provoking her unnecessarily.
This time, she would avoid even the possibility of clashing with the duchess.
She would bow low, press herself to the floor like a loyal hound, save up money, and eventually leave the Benton estate.
When the butler informed her that Jamie would be arriving soon, Anne rushed to the entrance of the mansion, excited.
There was always work, but it wasn’t a particularly busy day, and the other staff understood that Jamie was her only family.
“Sis—!”
Jamie came running up, waving his hand.
He was thirteen, the same age as Gray, but looked much smaller and thinner.
“Jamie!”
Her aunt had neither cared for him nor fed him properly, it seemed. As she hugged his bony frame, she could feel the bones sticking out beneath his clothes.
She had sent more than half her wages every month, and yet he hadn’t even been properly fed?
If not for the Duchess’s letter, Jamie might never have gotten out of that place.
“Skin and bones… how are you going to serve anyone like this?”
Apparently, the duchess had found him weaker and younger-looking than expected. Anne was frantic, terrified she might send Jamie back.
Just as Anne was struggling to find words to defend him, the usually quiet Gray spoke up in her stead.
“He’s the same age as me, so I’ll be comfortable. I’d like to take him as my attendant, Madam.”
Though he was the duke’s son, Gray never dared to speak informally to the duchess.
Anne’s heart sank, worried that he had overstepped and angered her.
The duchess frowned and scolded Gray.
“From now on, send your attendants to speak for you instead.”
Regardless of how it happened, the result was that Jamie became Gray’s attendant.
Thank goodness. Anne smiled as Jamie let out a relieved breath, then turned to look at Gray.
Their eyes met squarely, as if he’d been waiting for her to look.
She hurriedly averted her gaze.
She wanted to say thank you, but even that felt difficult. Every interaction with Gray was awkward.
After introducing Jamie, Anne took his hand and led him to the servants’ dining hall.
She brought out a few dishes, and Jamie immediately grabbed food in both hands, eating hurriedly.
“Eat slowly. You’ll get sick.”
It was just some dried bread and scraps of cheese and ham left over from the masters’ lunch.
When she placed a bowl of reheated soup beside him, he looked like he might gulp it down in one go before even using a spoon. Anne had to stop him several times.
She wanted to storm over to her aunt, demand answers, and get all her money back. But for now, Anne was satisfied just having taken Jamie away from that place.
She no longer dreamed of revenge or retribution. In truth, every maid had a pitiful story full of grievances.
Most of them had been taken in by other households after being orphaned, and Anne was no exception.
After her tenant farmer parents died early, Anne and her younger brother were sent to live with their aunt.
Though technically relatives, Anne was treated no better than a maid.
The cost of food and shelter came with cruel strings attached, and from age seven, Anne had to take care of Jamie while doing all the cleaning and laundry.
So in a way, becoming a maid at the ducal estate had been a stroke of luck.
Now, Anne Ferro had no delusions of grandeur.
She had saved her brother’s life. If he just learned to read and write, he would be able to make a living on his own.
Even if he ended up serving Gray for life, it wouldn’t be the worst outcome.
For Anne, it was the worst. But for a boy in Jamie’s position, Gray—who would become a duke—was a generous master.
And Anne just had to make sure she never got entangled with Gray again, and live her life quietly.
No more silly dreams like the duchess had. She would simply live as a maid and save money diligently.
She was sick of the idea of marriage, but if she ever had to, she would marry a kind, hardworking man who wouldn’t cheat.
She would raise children in a small, peaceful home and teach them to read and write—helping them dream of a better life than hers.
“Hmph.”
Funny how the very skill she’d be teaching came from Gray.
Anne laughed at the strange twist of fate.
“Why are you grinning like that?”
“You’re writing everything wrong. Start over!”
These days, Anne regularly taught Jamie how to read and write in the backyard of the servants’ quarters.
Jamie grumbled, but he was deeply grateful to his sister for rescuing him from their aunt and bringing him to the ducal estate.
So even as he held the pen and copied letters, he covered the top of his head with one hand—afraid Anne might smack him again.
“I’ve already got too much to learn. Do I really need to study letters too?”
Jamie had never encountered written words before. He was at the age where kids liked to play and were easily distracted.
But Anne would grab him by the earlobe and shove a book into his hands whenever she had a chance.
“Jamie, didn’t you say you wanted to keep serving Young Master Gray?”
“Yeah. So what?”
Jamie seemed to have already forgotten how he had sobbed over soup the first day he arrived.
Anne pushed his head down toward the open book, and he looked up at her with teary, indignant eyes.
“If you want to be a proper attendant, you need to know how to read. What if someone else ends up serving Young Master Gray instead of you?”
Even among servants who waited on nobles, pay and treatment varied depending on their background and skills.
Most peasants who came from the countryside were illiterate and relegated to menial tasks. But those who could read and write could be involved in household affairs.
In other words, knowing how to read could raise your status as a servant.
Jamie may have been called an attendant, but in reality, he was no different from a regular servant. So he needed to study.
And once he could read and write, things would change for him too.
