Chapter 13
****
After parting with Dana, Maid Rosi went straight to the study. Edwin was there, reading a book.
"Master, I have been to the Shore as you directed," she told him, relaying her conversation with Dana. "As you guessed, the gift was a dress."
Encouraged by the surprise more than anything else, Rosi was eager to talk about the dress.
"There's a very famous dressmaker among the ladies called Rosaline Tissot," she said, "and she's the one who arranged it. I've heard it's extremely difficult to get an appointment with her, so how did Master Theodore do it? He has been planning this for so long, hasn’t he?"
Edwin listened to the maid's story intently, though he hadn't put down the book he was reading.
"The dress is one thing, but the jewelry alone must have been dozens... no, nearly a hundred."
She began to tell what she had learned by ear from the other maids. Each time, she added that it was to be kept secret from Young Lady Hastings, but there was no real harm in letting it slip.
"The maids at the Shore are already gossiping. As for what gifts Master Theodore might have in store for the young lady, I'm sure you and the Master are more than happy to hear... but it's true that we're worried and overwhelmed as well. A horse from Erncia would be a very impressive and touching gift...but...."
Edwin's mouth opened, having been listening the entire time, when Rosi made a poorly executed joke about how she might have to dress the horse in clothes if it didn't work out.
"Did you... deliver the invitation?"
"Ah...."
She covered her mouth and laughed, then quickly lowered her hand.
"Yes, of course, I delivered it to Mr. Nordstrom as soon as I saw him. Mr. Nordstrom, in turn, passed it on to Master Theodore."
"...And the answer?"
"He said he'll decide sometime tomorrow and let me know."
"Good."
That was all there was to report, so she should be on her way, but Rosi felt a strange sensation. She could sense a strange hesitation in the Master's eyes as he cupped his chin with his hand.
“Master, is there anything else you want to say...?"
Edwin paused in that position for a few seconds, then turned his head. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then turned his eyes back to his book.
"No, I don't."
"Then I'll... be... going."
Rosi bent her knees in a bow. Just as she reached the door and grabbed the doorknob, "Wait." Edwin called her back. Rosi turned quickly to her master. There was silence. After a few seconds, he finally looked away, "Nothing."
Rosi was puzzled, but that didn't stop her from prodding him.
"...If there's anything else you need me to do, just ask."
The door closed. A chill settled over the room. A breeze blew in through the open window. It was strong enough to flutter the curtains, but Edwin remained as still as a statue for a long time afterward, his mind racing with thoughts of his inexplicable behavior.
On a whim, he sent an invitation to Theodore. Why send a maid when he could have sent a coachman... he just wanted to make sure the girl was well, and for no other reason. He could have told the maid that, but instead, he gave her vague instructions to wait and return without explanation.
He had deliberately made the head maid go around in circles just to make sure Dana was well.
Thud. A gust of wind leaked in through the window and knocked over a small picture frame on the sideboard. Edwin closed the book and slowly pushed himself up. The sleeping dog's head snapped up. His ears perked up at his master, then he yawned languidly and stretched.
'No, that's not it,' he said, gripping the window handle, 'that's not it.' What he really couldn't understand wasn't the strange instructions he'd given the head maid in the afternoon, when he'd summoned her, it was this moment, this very moment. He should have just called the maid, Dana, and asked her directly... if everything was alright at the Shore, if Theodore hadn't been mean to her, if he just needed to ask... Edwin couldn't understand why he couldn't do something so easy and simple.
* * *
Whoosh, the wind made an odd sound. Nordstrom stared out the window at the trees swaying inexplicably, then turned his attention back to the teapot in his hand.
"Master Edwin seems to be quite free," he muttered to himself, lifting the lid. "I can't believe he’s inviting master Theodore in again when his guests have been gone for days."
"Well, in a way, it's not surprising. You’re both at the peak of your powers, and it must be frustrating and boring to be stuck in the countryside with nothing to do."
He chuckled lightly and tilted the spout toward the teacup, a cheerful sound accompanied by a waft of fragrant incense.
"Anyway, clay shooting, I'm sure your friends back in Peron would be very disappointed to hear about it, if only they’d stayed a few more days in Belvida, they could have witnessed some exciting matches."
Nordstrom handed him a teacup, and Theodore reached out a long arm to accept the saucer. He didn't take his eyes off the invitation.
"I told the maid that I would send an answer tomorrow... but now that I think about it, I think I may have been a bit rude, since he sent the maid and no one else, and I wonder if Master Edwin would have wanted an answer right away."
Nordstrom stood still and waited for his master's reply. Theodore set the invitation down and took a sip of tea. There was not a single clink of crockery as the porcelain cup hovered in midair before settling back down on its saucer. Watching that graceful, controlled movement, it sometimes seemed as if the young man was in another world, another being entirely.
“…….”
Staring at the tightly closed mouth, Nordstrom suddenly realized that his master was unusually quiet.
"...What do you want me to do? If you can give me an answer, I'll be traveling to Belvida myself tomorrow...."
Nordstrom deliberately blurted out the words and looked up. His master's face was as calm and unconcerned as a calm lake, but there was a hint of displeasure in his eyes as he lowered them slightly. If his guess was correct, it was a very strange thing indeed.
Like many men his age, Theodore was an avid clay-shooter. A friend from the neighborhood invited him to join him for a day of clay shooting, something he would have welcomed with open arms, but why wouldn't he accept?
"...Shall I refuse?"
"No."
Theodore finally replied, setting down his teacup.
"Tell him I'd be happy to."
He picked up the invitation again. Nordstrom swallowed hard and opened his mouth.
"Would you like some more tea?"
"No, thank you."
Nordstrom quietly began to gather his tea. He thought, after decades of doing this, why couldn't he be as orderly as this young man?
“Ah," he said, and looked up. "One more thing, Master... Belvida's maid has asked if she may accompany you to the next fitting, as she says she knows Lady Liana's tastes somewhat well and thinks she can save you some valuable time, so if you'll allow her to...."
At that moment, he heard a chuckle, a laugh. Nordstrom doubted his eyes and ears. But he didn't see it wrong, and he didn't hear it wrong. His master was indeed laughing. It wasn't a bright, happy laugh, but a cold one, like he was looking down on something insignificant.
"...How do you want me to...?"
"Do as you please."
Theodore replied, and tossed the invitation into the air. The slickly coated paper slid across the hardwood.
***
"Are you sick?" was the question Dana had heard like a nail in her ear for the past three days. Her coworkers, the head maid, Lou, and even Noah Miller across the room... all shook their heads at her pale face.
"No, I'm fine," Dana repeated over and over again, the corners of her mouth curling up. Noah stared at her for a long moment. Trying to figure out if she was faking it or not, his eyes kept drifting to her damp hair and unusually rosy cheeks.
"You...." Realization and questioning passed through Noah's head at the same time. "You washed again."
"Huh? Uh... yeah."
Dana ducked her head in response. Her cheeks were slowly warming through her wet hair. Noah's head snapped to her apron, this time crisp and clean as new.
"...You washed your clothes again?"
Dana hesitated, then said, "...Yeah."
"What, why are you washing them so often these days?"
"...I just thought they were...a little...smelly...."
"Smelly?"
Noah furrowed his brow in incomprehension, and Dana's face turned even redder. The first thing she did after returning from the Shore was bathe and wash her clothes. She couldn't help herself from nuzzling her nose into her armpits, wrists, and skirt hem at every opportunity.
Noah's tapered eyes widened again at the basket Dana was carrying. "...What the hell, how many did you get out?" Noah began counting the neatly folded corners. "One, two, three...four?"
Belvida's maids had to wash their own clothes. Blouses, for example, had to be hung dry and ironed, making the job even more tedious and laborious than it already was. No wonder Noah Miller thought it was odd that the basket contained not one, but four pieces of clothing. Dana grabbed one of them and held it up.
"This... belongs to the other person."
Noah shook his head, then blinked.
"You can't be...."
Sensing what he was thinking, Dana quickly waved her hand away, "Not something like that." By "something like that," she meant a kind of bullying. Washing her own clothes was such a chore that some of the more clever maids would pass the job off to newer or weaker opponents.
"Are you sure? You're not really being harassed?"
"Absolutely." Dana shook her head, but Noah's frown refused to lift, "I get along fine with Bessie, I laugh and talk to the other girls, and no one ignores me or treats me badly."
Bessie was - according to Noah - the ruler of the lowly world of maids. Her world was always filled with jealousy, betrayal, and intrigue, yet she was strangely popular. Noah was worried that Dana would be bullied by Bessie.
"Seriously, look, do you think these are Bessie's clothes?"
Dana held up the tattered and frayed fabric. Noah relaxed his grip, but he wasn't entirely reassured, and asked, "Then whose are they?"
They were Dorothy's. She felt bad that she hadn't been there to comfort her when she was being bullied, so she'd done her laundry for her, but Dana didn't want to go into the details.
"You know... the one who did my work for me when I was sick before."
Noah blinked at Dana a few times before raising his arms in understanding. Scratching the back of his head, he glanced down at the 'piece' of maid's clothing Dana was holding and suddenly frowned. "Are you sure you didn't wash that already? What's so dirty about it?"
Noah's eyes were pinpoint. Dorothy's clothes never got old, no matter how many times she washed them, and it was many times harder to wash one of her clothes than it was to wash three of hers. Plus, they smelled really musty. She wondered if there was a real "maid smell" that the maids didn't recognize.
So Dana was forced to get up at the crack of dawn, grit her teeth in the cold communal bathroom, and soap them up again.
"Anyway... if anyone's being mean to you, just tell me. If you get the slightest hint of something weird... okay?"
"Yeah, okay, no worries."
As playful and quick-witted as he was, there was a reason why he was so emotional. Bullying and harassment was not just among maids; it was common among male servants, even among nobles. Noah Miller was once a victim of such bullying.
One of his old stable hands, now no longer with them, had been bullying him with his brazenness. There was only one reason for this: he was from poor, rural Dorset, and Noah couldn't help but worry about his fellow countryman, Dana.
"Dana, you're too nice." Noah wrinkled his nose. "And I don't mean that in a nice way, because nice means easy. So don't try too hard to be nice. Okay?"
Dana didn't answer, but clamped her mouth shut. Noah was wrong about everything. Dana wasn't as nice as Noah Miller thought she was. And she wasn't going to make a special effort to be nice.
"Who knows, maybe Dana Bodan is actually a little stubborn when she gets to know her." Noah grinned and flopped down on the grass. "By the way, I'm going to Dorset soon...."
Half-moon eyes glanced back at him. "I'll lay flowers on your grandfather's grave."
"Oh...really? ...Thank you."
Dana smiled broadly, showing her pearly whites. Then, as if on cue, she snapped her fingers and said, "Ah!" "You're coming to see Gene, aren't you?"
Noah blinked once without answering.
"So now all you have to do is ask her to marry you officially, which you said you would do once you're a trainer."
"Uh... I'm not a trainer... yet... but... well... I guess I should be, right?"
Dana's eyes curved into crescents. Noah stared at her wordlessly, then made an amused face.
"By the way... I don't even have a ring. Can't I just give her this?"
Noah held up a ring made of grass flowers. Dana stared at it, then swallowed her laughter and made a serious face.
"Yeah, I don't think that's quite right."
Noah clutched his chest and made a wistful face, then suddenly began to sing. "I'll tell her I don't have any money, I'll tell her the truth, but then she'll leave me, and I'll never see her again, my beautiful girl."
A giggle escaped Dana's lips as she watched Noah from afar. "Ah, woe is me, all that money and no love. Oh, I'm sad, I'm sad, I can't afford to propose," Dana cackled in the middle of her impromptu hum.
Noah pulled his hat off his face and slowly pushed himself to his feet. The lame song continued. "There you go, ugly girl, can't you just take it, I'm going to throw it away anyway, can't you just take it."
As Dana giggled, Noah handed her the pool ring. Dana took it like she hadn't won and slipped it on her index finger.
"Phew."
Noah put one hand on his chest and pretended to wipe his sweat with the other. Dana burst out laughing again. When her head tilted back toward the sky, she realized that this was her first real smile in three days.
"Thanks, Noah. I'm sure Gene will know how wonderful you are."
Just then, in the distance, the bell rang, signaling eleven o'clock.
"Oh, I better get going." Dana dusted off her hands. Torn grass and dirt fell off the booth. Noah grunted and pushed himself up, fixing his hat. "You're going to the Shore again, aren't you? I don't know what's going on, but have a good trip."
Dana picked up her basket.
"Oh, Dana."
She waved and started to turn away, but Noah caught her once more.
"I think we're going to have piglets any minute now, Ferguson's pups, as you named them. Come see them."
"Really?"
"I'll tell you when we get into the nursery."
"Okay. Thanks."
The wind blew over the field and swirled between them. Dana tilted her head back slightly and gently shook her long, flowing hair. A faint scent tickled the tip of Noah's nose.
"......."
He pressed his hat back on his head and stared at the back of Dana's head. Her light brown hair shone gold in the sunlight. Looking up at an angle, her face was slender and flawless. Long, slender fingers reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her tiny earlobes and smooth nape were revealed. As he watched, Noah had to pull his hat down once more to hide his flushed face.
***
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