Chapter 12
“Strange, but Warm”
After the little incident in the kitchen, Vivian walked again down the dark corridor.
Marian had said she would tidy up and return on her own, so Vivian was heading back to her room alone.
Unlike when she had hurried to the kitchen, her movements were slow this time.
Her feet pressed carefully against the soft carpet with measured steps.
Her hands were stretched out awkwardly in front of her.
Why walk like that?
Because they were holding something hot.
Vivian had transformed the unfinished stew Marian had been making into a proper beef and vegetable stew.
She had taken all the raw vegetables dumped into a shallow pot, chopped them finely, added the broth Marian had failed to perfect, and simmered it slowly.
Of course, she had remade the failed stew in her own way.
Watching with quiet curiosity, Marian had been left with no choice but to let Vivian handle it herself.
I can’t pass on the secret yet. I’ll do it myself whenever necessary, Vivian thought.
This gave her the perfect excuse to re-enter the kitchen.
Finally, she could make proper food to her heart’s content, and she couldn’t help humming happily to herself.
Marian had suggested making the stew in the servants’ dining room with a small stove instead of the first-floor kitchen, in case Zygmunt came by unexpectedly, and Vivian agreed.
There was no benefit in Zygmunt discovering this, so it was best to follow Marian’s plan.
Marian promised to come to Vivian when Zygmunt would place the stew on the table—though when that would be, nobody knew.
The stew Vivian had prepared with the ingredients she had secured for helping Marian was meant for Mrs. Mayfield, who had gone hungry all day.
Knock, knock…
Vivian quietly knocked on the door at the end of the basement corridor.
But no one responded from inside.
She looked up at the nameplate on the door:
[Irene Mayfield]
She hadn’t fallen asleep already, had she? A hungry person couldn’t easily do that.
Was this the right place? The name matched.
Just as she was about to knock again, a voice came from inside.
“Who… Miss?”
The housekeeper, Mrs. Mayfield, appeared suddenly.
She looked confused, brushing her messy hair back as she noticed Vivian at the door.
A faint lamp flickered slowly behind her.
“You came down to the basement? Why?”
Vivian immediately realized she had stumbled into a place a noble shouldn’t be.
Why were there so many forbidden areas for nobles?
She extended the bowl she was carrying toward Mrs. Mayfield, who instinctively stepped back.
Sniffing the steam rising from the hot stew, Mrs. Mayfield stared at it wide-eyed.
“I used the ingredients with permission. It’s the same ingredients Marian used for practice, so you can eat without worry. Nothing will get anyone in trouble,” Vivian said.
“Uh… okay?”
“Oh, and I told Marian it was for me, so please return the bowl afterward.”
“Alright, got it. Now let’s head upstairs, Miss.”
Mrs. Mayfield peered anxiously down the dark corridor.
Vivian reassured her.
“First, let’s eat the stew. It’s getting cold.”
“I’ll take it upstairs and eat quickly.”
Mrs. Mayfield hastily draped a shawl over her pajamas, grabbed the stew, and nudged Vivian forward.
“Why do you keep causing trouble like this? Surely not on purpose?”
“Of course not. I was just worried because you hadn’t eaten,” Vivian said.
“I am responsible for what happened. You need not worry so much…”
The two of them paused suddenly on the stairs to the basement.
Creak—
Footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Startled, they froze, unsure where to move.
Mrs. Mayfield, especially, nearly panicked.
She barely noticed the hot stew spilling over her hands as the sound grew louder.
“Mrs. Mayfield? This way!”
A shadow stretched at their feet just as the footsteps drew closer.
Finally, Vivian grabbed Mrs. Mayfield and turned quickly.
Vivian held the trembling housekeeper close and moved swiftly.
A small glimmer of light appeared in her line of sight.
A door a few steps ahead was slightly ajar.
It was the room Vivian had just stood outside—Mrs. Mayfield’s room—leaking a soft, warm light.
“Mrs. Mayfield, quickly, this way.”
They rushed inside, and Vivian shut the door immediately.
Bang—
The room echoed faintly with the slam.
Her heart pounded in her head, making her stomach churn.
“Isn’t it hot? Look at your hands—they’re all red.”
Despite the burn, Mrs. Mayfield held onto the bowl firmly. Her fingertips had turned white from gripping it so tightly.
She looked dazed.
“…I’ve served countless noblewomen, but I’ve never met anyone like you, Miss. I really can’t handle this.”
Vivian tried to distract herself from the statement.
“It’ll taste even better since you worked hard to bring it… Things you earn through effort are always more valuable, don’t you think?”
“Yes. That’s true.”
“I guess… it is?”
Mrs. Mayfield finally smiled weakly, meeting Vivian’s gaze.
She accepted that Vivian had cooked for her this night, understanding it as a sense of responsibility.
It was strange, but somehow comforting, and Mrs. Mayfield even felt curious about this reckless yet warm mistress.
How had she lived to become so daring?
Just as Mrs. Mayfield readjusted her shawl, there was a soft knock at the door.
Small, yet firm.
Startled, Mrs. Mayfield flinched.
“What do we do?”
“Shh… First, pass me the stew.”
Vivian gripped the still-hot bowl and asked,
“Where should we hide?”
“Well…”
“I’ll just stand here.”
“No, it’s too close.”
“You’ll be hidden.”
Vivian pressed herself against the wall behind the door. Mrs. Mayfield took a small, steadying breath.
When she opened the door, Marian stood in the corridor with a displeased expression.
“You were Mrs. Mayfield, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“The one out in the corridor just now. Wasn’t it you?”
Hidden behind the door, Vivian held her breath.
“You were it. I heard some noise outside, but it was nothing after all.”
“I thought maybe a rat was running around.”
“Maybe. But Marian, what are you doing at this hour?”
“Oh, I had a reason….”
“You must be busy preparing for the wedding. I heard all the dishes are being replaced with new ones.”
“That’s true, but… anyway, I had a reason.”
“I see.”
“Wait… sniff—”
Marian sniffed the air sharply.
“Don’t you smell something?”
Mrs. Mayfield blushed, but the room was dark enough to hide it.
“I don’t know,” she said, feigning ignorance.
“Smells like food… sniff… strange, but it’s definitely there…”
Vivian hugged the bowl closer. If Marian found out now, Zygmunt would hear everything, and Mrs. Mayfield might actually be fired, just as she said.
She couldn’t just stay hidden any longer.
Suddenly, Marian exclaimed.
“Damn it, that smell is coming from me! I smelled it earlier… I’ve been in the kitchen all day, so it must’ve clung to me!”
Marian sniffed at her clothes with a scowl.
Vivian closed her eyes tightly behind the door.
Mrs. Mayfield sighed inwardly, relieved, and reassured Marian.
“You must be tired. Go back and rest now.”
“Yes. Oh, I should set some mousetraps in the basement for the junior maid tomorrow.”
“Yes, do that.”
After chatting for a while, Marian returned to her room, leaving Mrs. Mayfield finally able to sit in front of the stew.
With a small table between them, Vivian on the bed and Mrs. Mayfield on a chair, they faced each other.
Surprisingly, steam still rose from the stew.
“Thank you so much, Miss. But…”
“I know, I know. First, eat and fill your stomach.”
Her softened expression was warm.
“Then I’ll enjoy it, Miss.”
Mrs. Mayfield glanced at the stew, hesitated, then seemed to search for something with her eyes.
“What are you looking for?”
“Just a moment…”
After rifling through the table, she looked puzzled.
“Miss… there’s no spoon?”
In the end, Mrs. Mayfield had to eat the stew without one.
Thinking, This Miss really is hopeless, she leaned over the bowl.
“Is it good?”
Mrs. Mayfield took a sip and smiled brightly.
“This is the best stew I’ve ever tasted. Thank you so much, Miss.”
Vivian smiled back at her.
“I hope you also make sure to eat tomorrow, Miss.”
“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Mayfield.”
The warm moment was brief, though, as Vivian thought of her breakfast with Leon the next morning.
The thought of his cold expression made her chest tighten.
