4. The Maid
After Emily had been living in the servants' quarters for a few weeks, the topic came up during afternoon tea time with the baroness.
"Lately, it seems like you're falling asleep on your own."
The baroness gazed at Olivier over the rim of her teacup, filled with golden chamomile tea. That day's tea was chamomile, known for its benefits against insomnia and stomach ailments—a favorite the baroness often enjoyed.
"Has your insomnia gotten better now?"
Olivier, her mood refreshed by the floral aroma rising faintly from the teacup the baroness set down on the table, smiled brightly and replied.
"It's gotten much better thanks to all of Emily's hard work these past days. Isn't that right, Emily?"
Emily, standing behind the sofa, quickly answered Olivier's question.
"Yes, miss."
At those words, the baroness gave a peculiar smile. To Emily, the baroness's expression—lowering her eyes with a secretive glance and slowly curving the corners of her lips—seemed to carry a subtly suggestive air. The baroness soon smoothed her face into neutrality, her gaze drifting to the golden liquid in her teacup. She stared intently into it for a moment, lost in thought, then lifted her head again.
Emily followed the subtle shift of her gaze. By the narrow table near the window, Lotte was tilting her head slightly, gently rotating the teapot in her hands to let the tea steep properly. Once it was fully brewed, golden, transparent tea poured from the spout, passing through a finely wrought silver strainer into the cups. Lotte picked it up and carefully set it down on the empty spot on the table before Olivier.
"Even before I was married, my insomnia was terrible. I suffered for so long, but later Lotte helped me out. Even now, when I can't sleep sometimes, she helps me drift off. It's a chronic condition, you see."
The baroness looked at Olivier with a faint smile.
"So I'm truly relieved to hear your insomnia has improved."
"Now I think I can fall asleep on my own without waking up startled in the middle of the night. It's all thanks to Emily's efforts."
Olivier gazed at Emily with a serene smile. Emily, meeting Olivier's eyes, returned the smile.
With Olens gone, peaceful days continued. Regaining her lost appetite, sleeping soundly, and resting to her heart's content, Olivier's face truly glowed with a radiant luster. She had always been beautiful, but lately, her beauty was blooming anew, drawing the eyes of those around her. Even Marie, who cared little for appearances, praised how the young miss's complexion had brightened and her beauty shone these days.
Baroness Eleanor herself, during afternoon teas, would ask Lotte—not because she was biased as her mother, but objectively, wasn't Olivier's appearance truly beautiful?—openly demanding affirmation. Lotte always responded with the highest praise, and Olivier would blush shyly beside them. The harmony of her bright brown hair, perfectly symmetrical snow-white face, and sparkling orange eyes was enough to draw admiration from anyone. Even village youths could often be seen peeking over the supervisor's fence during her afternoon garden strolls, just to catch a glimpse of her.
As her dress sleeves grew shorter with the season and the youths' appearances increased, the weather grew relentlessly hotter, and early summer had swiftly passed.
"Really, on such a sweltering day, with all this scorching popularity in a dusty rural backwater like this. If we'd been in Leon, summer party invitations would have poured in like rain, filling the table every day. My drawer would be stuffed with applications to attend the summer festival next month together. And I might have had to hire a maid with elegant handwriting just to send polite refusals befitting a lady, hmm? Hohoho."
Finishing her morning primping, Olivier laughed with self-praising jest as she closely examined her reflection in the full-length mirror.
Emily knelt at her feet, slipping on pearl-embellished shoes that matched today's blue silk dress.
"Of course, not you, Emily. Your handwriting looks like a three-year-old scrawled it— all crooked."
Olivier met Emily's ashen eyes, which seemed to convey: I've only been learning to write for half a year; if I could already write neatly, I'd be making a living as a scribe, not a country maid. She grinned.
"Still, you're reading books smoothly without stumbling now? You've improved a lot. Of course, with the devoted guidance of someone kind, gentle, and beautiful. Right?"
Olivier asked with exaggerated inflection at the end. Emily meticulously brushed dust from the pearl ornament on the shoe's toe, then straightened up. As Olivier raised an eyebrow at her, Emily reluctantly replied.
"Yes. It's all thanks to you, miss."
Olivier peered into the mirror, lifting the hem of her dress slightly to check if it matched the shoes. Satisfied, she spoke.
"Good thing you know it."
"Yes."
Emily gave a short reply, then bent down again. Spotting a tiny wrinkle at the hem of Olivier's blue dress, she tugged it taut and lifted a narrow, bottle-shaped vessel steaming with hot vapor from the floor, holding it close to the fabric. Rubbing the stretched cloth against the bottle's mouth smoothed the wrinkle away. They'd pulled this blue dress from the depths of the wardrobe for a day like today; major creases had been roughly smoothed, but these fine ones needed hot steam and hand-ironing each time they appeared. Otherwise, the overall look felt somehow off.
Emily finished with the wrinkles and straightened once more.
"Emily, you seem so much more grown-up overall? Your waistline even has some shape now."
Olivier, who had been watching Emily bend and straighten repeatedly, commented.
"It's the age when secondary sexual characteristics develop."
At Emily's response, Olivier shrugged dramatically.
"Oh ho, using big words now too. Ever since you learned to read, you've been devouring my romance collection, shedding that country bumpkin vibe and picking up some proper city girl vocabulary."
Emily mimicked the gesture in reply.
"It's all thanks to you, miss."
Olivier pursed her pink lips, puffing up proudly.
"No, it's the refined vocabulary from my carefully curated collection of romance novels, selected to reflect my sophisticated taste. Hohohot."
Emily nodded with a short sigh. Teasingly pursing her lips and turning her head at Emily's reaction, Olivier spotted the neatly stacked books in the corner of the lower bookshelf and murmured.
"The Lady and the Mage, A Chance Encounter in Axelon, Heart-Pounding Diary at Magic School... Huh? Out of my whole collection, you've only read the mage ones?"
"...They just drew me in somehow?"
Emily mumbled evasively, and Olivier winked knowingly.
"Your taste runs that way, huh? I'm hooked on chaebol romances now, but when I was younger, I was obsessed with mages too. They're so cool—smart, intellectual, appearing with a snap to whisk you out of trouble. Fine, when the new catalog arrives, I'll order a few mage books for you. I haven't touched that genre lately, so I'm curious about the trends myself."
"...Thank you."
Emily replied, bending again to smooth a newly spotted wrinkle. The blue dress fabric was premium quality, but prone to creasing and tricky to store. Emily's busy hands smoothed the entire garment, then checked Olivier's hair and accessories. Finally, fully dressed, Olivier gaped dramatically at her mirror image, slapping her palms to her cheeks.
"Kyaa! So pretty. Is that a person? A doll? Wow!"
Ignoring Olivier's ongoing self-praise, Emily moved silently to the bedside table and opened an ornate card decorated with thick silk ribbons. It was from Count Loren, stating he and his guests would attend Baroness Belpharos's tea time.
"Count Loren's guests arrive after noon today, so please maintain this 'doll-like' state until then. There are five guests total: Count and Countess Loren, their granddaughter Lady Evril, Sir Killian, and Sir Illoy, Sir Killian's schoolmate. Unlike last time, they're bringing their full retinue of attendants."
As Emily spoke, Olivier twisted and turned, admiring herself in the mirror. Today's outfit was a classic noble miss's dress: blue with delicate white pearl embroidery, subtly revealing cleavage below the collarbone, softly hugging her waist, then cascading in voluminous pleats. Olivier's figure was excellent, making the blue accentuate her pale skin flawlessly. Still dissatisfied, she twisted her pearl-toed silk shoes this way and that, inspecting the match with a hawk's eye.
"Miss, you look truly beautiful."
Unable to stand it, Emily emphasized each word clearly.
Olivier shrugged.
"I know. I'm just looking."
Olivier spun once, flaring the full skirt, then grabbed Emily's arm from the table and pulled her beside her in front of the mirror. It reflected Olivier in her ethereal blue dress, smiling prettily, next to the expressionless Emily in a plain brown maid's uniform with a bonnet for practicality.
The heights were similar, with Olivier in low-heeled shoes.
"Wow, when did you grow so much? You're a bit taller than me now."
Olivier smiled at Emily's reflection.
Emily replied flatly.
"My knees ached every night a few months ago, and I've grown a little since."
"Hmm, yeah... though the places that should grow still haven't, huh."
Olivier teasingly glanced at Emily's chest. Emily pointed at the deep valley below Olivier's collarbone in retaliation.
"Yours seem overly developed, miss."
Olivier caressed the full swell above her dress, feeling its lively volume. She reached out, placed a hand on Emily's chest, slid it down, then off. Then she patted Emily's shoulder lightly.
"...Keep at it. Your day will come."
As Emily opened her mouth to reply, a commotion arose outside the wide-open summer window. Olivier hurried over and peered down. Along the fence to the supervisor's gate at the main entrance, a grand six-horse carriage and two four-horse ones entered the manor under knightly escort.
"The guests are here!"
Olivier cried out, her ruby eyes sparkling with excitement.