A Sense of Duty All Their Own
"Oh my, oh my! Did you see the Lord's face today?"
"Goodness, he was smiling! It was pure art! I nearly had a heart attack, I swear!"
Aslin and Tania, who had just finished serving dinner and returned to the kitchen, hopped about in a frenzy, practically stamping their feet with excitement.
"I've never once seen the Lord smile before today, have you? How can a man that quiet laugh like that?"
"Ahh, I'll remember it my whole life."
Tania spun in a dreamy little circle right where she stood — and very nearly toppled over backward doing it.
"You two, over there!"
At that moment, a sharp voice rang out through the kitchen, shattering their reverie.
"Can't you see everyone's run off their feet? The kitchen's a war zone — where would you find the time to stand around gossiping?"
"Eek! Yes, ma'am! Sorry, ma'am!"
"If you have time to stand there chattering, go lend a hand with the dishes!"
With preparations underway for a grand banquet — the likes of which they hadn't seen in ages — the kitchen truly did resemble a battlefield. New dishes came off the fire without pause, while on the other side of the room, workers bent their backs over mountains of ingredients, trimming and cutting without end. The dirty dishes had multiplied tenfold over the ordinary, to the point that even servants drafted in from other wings of the castle were being pressed into service.
"M-Mrs. Hoshue, ma'am. Isn't this a bit unfair?"
"Unfair?"
"Yes. Why is Rita sitting comfortably and eating a meal? Is she some kind of nobility, better than the rest of us?"
While Aslin admitted her mistake at once, Tania jutted out her lips and let her resentment show.
"We're just as hungry as she is. Isn't that right, Aslin?"
The servants could only fill their stomachs once their betters had finished dining. It was hardship enough to work while doing nothing but gazing at appetizing food — but for Rita to be resting so thoroughly that she'd actually sat down to eat made Tania feel so aggrieved she could twist inside.
"Rita has only just arrived. She spent months in a foreign land, laboring alone to look after the Young Master, and you'd have her put straight to work the moment she sets foot in the main castle?"
"Ha! What hardship could that possibly be?"
"Tania, enough……"
"No, am I wrong? She hogged the Young Master to herself for months on end, and that's hardship? She got to go sightseeing in Carrington on top of it — bet she had a lovely time!"
At Tania's mounting complaints, Mrs. Hoshue crossed her arms as if to invite her to go on, and simply stared her down.
"Besides, the Young Master was at the dormitory on weekdays anyway, wasn't he? Which means she had holidays sweeter than honey every single week. Of course it was a hundred times more leisurely and comfortable out there than here in Hamilton!"
"Then next time, why don't you go, Tania?"
This was their first meal together since Rita's return to Hamilton. She had, of course, wanted to rush straight into the busy kitchen work, but Mrs. Hoshue had insisted today was an exception and practically forced her into a seat — so there she sat, warming her travel-chilled body with hot soup.
In truth, it had been so long since anyone had cooked for her that she was quietly delighted. And because it was Mrs. Hoshue — the woman she had always thought of as a mother — the gratitude ran even deeper. Right up until Tania picked a fight, that is.
"Really? You mean that?"
The sour look Tania had aimed at Rita melted away in an instant.
"Yeah. If you truly want to go, I'd be happy to give up my spot."
Unlike Rita, who had been born and raised in the castle, Tania had been hired as a paid maid only around last spring. She was competent enough at her work, but a jealous sort by nature, and she had taken little jabs at Rita in exactly this way before.
"You mean that? It's not a lie?"
"Why would I lie? It's the truth."
Rita calmly ladled up another spoonful of soup, then added, matter-of-fact, for Tania's benefit:
"Though I do worry whether the Young Master would like it."
"…Worry? What do you mean, worry?"
"Think about it. Would the Young Master really feel at ease with someone who's barely been in the castle a year? Even coming only on weekends, there are a hundred things he'll need looked after — and handing all that to someone who barely knows her way around? How uncomfortable would that make him?"
"…I can do it all perfectly well! There's no way I couldn't manage what you do!"
"Oh, I'm not saying you couldn't. I'm just imagining how the Young Master must feel."
Rita spoke as though explaining to a child who ought to listen carefully.
"Attending the Young Master isn't just about handling the cleaning, the laundry, and the cooking, you know. All of that matters, of course, but the first thing you have to think about is his health and his mood. And since your very existence makes the Young Master uncomfortable… well, it seems like a nonstarter from the beginning, doesn't it?"
"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"
"He's rather shy around strangers, you see. Honestly, I'd doubt he even knows you exist."
Tania's face shifted from red to pale and back again, but Rita didn't stop.
"I'd wager the Lord wouldn't permit it either. No — before that, Butler Cunning would put his foot down, wouldn't he? Right, Mrs. Hoshue?"
Was I too harsh?
The thought did cross her mind for a moment, but Rita felt no regret. Every time Tania picked a fight, she had always smoothed things over with a smile, thinking peace was best — but she had just realized that endurance wasn't always the answer.
Besides, if the girl already disliked her, adding one more reason to the pile wasn't going to change anything.
"Why bother asking questions you already know will sting? Tania, if you've understood, get back to work! The desserts go out soon!"
"Ughhh…!"
It was Aslin who hauled the fuming Tania away by force. Tania shot Rita a venomous glare, but Rita only gave her a smiling wave with her eyes.
How dare she look down on the Young Master! Does she have any idea how precious our Young Master is?
My Young Master is mine to protect!
And so Rita found herself abruptly aflame with a sense of duty.
"She's going to cause real trouble one of these days, acting like that. And you — ease up a little yourself, Rita. She only acts that way because she's envious. Don't let it weigh on you."
Provoking Tania would do nothing but give everyone a headache. The older servants, like Mrs. Hoshue, took it for granted that Rita — who had grown up alongside them in the castle — should be the one to attend the Young Master. But a few of the younger, newer hires saw it differently.
This was no middling noble house — it was the great House of Randert, its Duke himself. To serve the heir of such a family at his very side was, for people like them, advancement and honor all in itself.
"It doesn't bother me one bit. Honestly, I just find it ridiculous."
Only then did Rita set down her spoon and rise from her seat.
"Why are you standing up? Not eating any more?"
"Everyone's working and I'm the only one sitting around — it did feel a little wrong. I've had a few spoonfuls, so I should go help too."
"No, absolutely not!"
Mrs. Hoshue seized Rita by both shoulders and pressed her back down.
"Not one finger today. The work will keep until tomorrow."
"Aw, come on, Mrs. Hoshue. I'm really fine. My backside's a bit sore from three straight days on the train, but I'm perfectly healthy."
"Do you think I don't know you?"
Mrs. Hoshue's eyes curved into thin crescents.
"When I think of you all that way off, laboring yourself sick over everything single-handed, it makes my heart ache!"
"It's work I've done since I was a child, that's all."
"No more of that. Today you do as I say. I am the master of this kitchen!"
Down came Mrs. Hoshue's iron decree. For twenty years she had commanded the kitchens of Hamilton Castle, and when she planted her feet like this, not even Rita could stand against her.
"All right then. I'll be in your debt today."
"Debt, nothing."
To Rita's deep bow, Mrs. Hoshue thrust out a plate of freshly stir-fried eggplant.
"Whoa! Eggplant! I've been craving this forever!"
Rita snatched up her fork and stabbed a piece in a scramble.
"Mmmmph!"
"Melting in my mouth" — surely that expression existed for moments like this. Rita writhed in delight, both thumbs thrust skyward.
"Your cooking is still the best there is, Auntie! Nobody can touch this! The best, the very best!"
"There, there. Eat up, child."
Beaming, Mrs. Hoshue brought out several more dishes — all the while never once pausing her stream of orders to the other servants.
"Now, where on earth did you dig up those three? They've been shoveling food away since earlier like… no, I mean, eating like there's no tomorrow?"
Watching the food vanish from the table at a truly alarming pace, Mrs. Hoshue was seized by a strange, uneasy premonition.
"Haha, they do have healthy appetites, all of them."
"Healthy? At that rate they'll eat the other servants' share too! If you're going to hire servants, you ought to vet them properly — can this household even afford their food?"
"…I didn't hire them."
"If not you, then who? Did Sir Ian pick them?"
A shake of the head.
"…Don't tell me the Young Master chose them himself?"
A solemn nod.
Well, then there was nothing more to be said. Second-guessing the Young Master's decisions was simply not proper.
"Though I can't imagine how they came to look so… grim and haggard…"
Only a small grumble slipped out after all.
"Heh, their, uh, atmosphere is a little rough around the edges, isn't it?"
The three brothers of Des's crew were far too absorbed in eating to so much as glance this way. Speaking from her position as their senior — the one responsible(?) for the three of them — Rita mounted what defense she could.
"But they're all kind at heart. They've only just started the work, so they're still a bit clumsy, but they're learning steadily."
"Steadily?"
"Yes, they listen to me really well, actually. You don't believe me, do you?"
"They listen to you? Not even slightly."
Hulking brutes like those obeying Rita's every word? Mrs. Hoshue found it hard to credit.
"Give it a few days and you'll see. I'm sure you'll come to like them."
Provided, of course, that she never tasted Bar's cooking. Now that they were in Hamilton, Rita fully intended to assign Bar nothing but the humblest kitchen chores — while praying, desperately, that he would have the sense to keep his culinary ambitions hidden.
"But the real, decisive reason I brought those three along? The cleaning!"
"Cleaning?"
"Yes! They clean incredibly well. Not a speck of dust anywhere — spotless, just like that! It's no joke, I promise you."
In all her life, Rita had never seen anyone clean as thoroughly as Death. Sure, he occasionally said things so absurd they made her want to tear her hair out — but when it came to cleaning, she conceded the point without reservation. Death was, quite simply, a master of the craft.
"Just how miraculously well can this cleaning possibly be, that you sing such praises?"
That Rita's own tidiness was exceptional was a fact known to every soul in the castle, Mrs. Hoshue included. If she praised someone this extravagantly, the man was worth expecting something from.
And indeed, the recent rains had left every corner of the castle sullied and grimy. If he could truly perform as advertised, she was willing to turn a blind eye to a bit of gluttony.
"Just wait and see. He's going to shock everyone."
Rita shrugged her shoulders and vowed it with confidence.
"My Lord and the Young Master have finished their meal!"
While Mrs. Hoshue and Rita chatted away in high spirits, the dinner came to its close. A maid who had been waiting at table came rushing in to report.
"The two of them are going to play a game of chess!"
"…Really?"
Rita couldn't help but echo the words in disbelief. For father and son to sit down to chess together meant far more than a simple pastime. It was a signal of reconciliation — a hope that things might finally return to the way they once were.
"Mrs. Hoshue! We have to prepare dessert!"
"Yes, yes! What shall we make?"
It wasn't as though Mrs. Hoshue couldn't see the awkwardness that had settled between father and son. She, too, rolled up her sleeves and threw herself into the effort with burning enthusiasm.
The kitchen grew busier than ever, and into the main castle of Hamilton, a warmth it had not known for a long time began, at last, to seep gently in.