Chapter 15
***
A few minutes later, Dana finally stood in front of his door. She thought he had not shown and was fine, but her heart was racing harder than it had the first day. Nordstrom knocked, and Dana took a deep breath.
"Belvida's maid is here."
"...Come in."
The voice from inside was a woman’s. Her voice was clear and easy, and Dana's heart sank. The heavy wooden door slid open without a sound, revealing the interior. Dana's eyes were met with an unexpected scene. He was shaving. Sitting in a barber chair, head tilted back, was the unmistakable Theodore Macmillan.
The pale sunlight streaming through the window bathed the man's face in a golden glow. A stocky man who appeared to be a barber bustled about him with a small knife. The man's sharp jawline glistened smoothly with each swipe of the silver blade.
"You must be the maid."
Dana's eyes snapped open, recognizing the woman. It was the voice that had answered her earlier.
"Let me see. Can you lift your head?"
Dana slowly raised her eyes to face the woman. The crisp hem of her dress and the faint smell of perfume were unmistakably that of a noblewoman, but her tone and accent were not. She was not too fancy, not too shabby, but everything seemed 'just right'. Her downward gaze was piercing, like a discriminator, but not enough to inspire fear. No one had told her, but Dana had come to the realization on her own. This must be Belle Celeste, the woman Rosaline had spoken of. The Duchess's personal maid...
"Hmm...."
The woman scanned Dana from head to toe with an unreadable expression.
"Come with me." Celeste's steps halted in front of the tea table. "They said you're not an official maid, so... I'm sure you haven't been taught properly... Would you like to start with the tea, I assume you can blend that?"
Dana's eyes drifted to the rows and rows of small pottery, jugs, and bowls, colorful herbs and dried fruits. She swallowed hard and turned to face Celeste again.
"I, I'm...."
A small sigh escaped Celeste's lips, as if that was enough to convey.
"You don't know?"
"...no, I've...never...brewed tea before."
"Never?"
Celeste's eyes widened. Dana answered with a deep bow of her head. Celeste blinked in disbelief, then cast an accusatory glance toward the barber chair. Dana didn't want to be made to feel guilty when she hadn't done anything wrong.
"I, I'm not.. a personal maid, I'm just...well...I'm just...a maid...."
"Enough."
Celeste put her index finger to her lips with a stern glare.
"That kind of excuse doesn't work. Maybe in your family, but especially not in ours, the MacMillans."
The firmness in her soft voice made Dana's jaw clench.
"Well, then, I suppose I can't help you today, just learn to pour tea ....."
"It's done," the barber said, and with that the cloth over Theodore's neck and chest disappeared. His tightly closed eyelids opened, revealing his frosty pupils. Dana looked away in horror. She hoped the colorful materials would calm her racing pulse, but instead they made her dizzy.
With a clank, the chair jerked upright from its languid recline. The tall man buttoned his sleeves and began to stalk toward Dana with a brisk pace. As the toe of his dress shoe drew nearer, Dana's heart took another frightening leap. Instead of the cigarette smoke that filled the air around him, a cool, soft citrusy scent washed over her. It wasn't until much later that she realized it was aftershave.
"She’s such a blank slate." Celeste shook her head at Theodore.
"......."
Without another word, Theodore stepped up to stand directly in front of Dana. His gaze swept over her pale face, from her gently cropped hair, to her throbbing neck, to the thin lace that barely covered her shoulders and collarbones... It was hard to breathe under his strangely intense gaze.
"Would you like some tea?"
Celeste asked. Theodore's gaze, which had been making Dana's breath catch in her throat, faded. He nodded and sat back in his chair. Dana puffed out her ribcage and drew in her breath, which was scattering like grains of sand.
"I'll get you something you always like."
Celeste began to steep the tea by hand. She deftly mixed the tea leaves, herbs, and dried fruit in a fine mesh strainer, then placed it on the teapot and tilted the kettle. Hot water poured in and steam rose. Finally, she added a few drops of oil, which unexpectedly released a faint scent of orange.
"Here you go."
Celeste set the teacup down in front of Theodore. It was beautiful porcelain, milk-white with a cobalt-blue bird on the side. Theodore tapped the gilt handle impassively before abruptly picking it up and placing it in front of Dana.
"We need to get you to know the flavor of tea. To teach you to blend."
Dana, a beat late to the party, stared down at the teacup in front of her.
"Does he mean...does he mean I should drink this...right here, right now...?"
She wasn't sure if she dared, because it was unthinkable. She twiddled her fingers and turned to Celeste.
"Do as you're told," Celeste said, her face as cold as Theodore's. A sip of water would make her sick, but Dana was in no position to refuse, nor did she have the courage. She sagged her shoulders in defeat and reached for the teacup. Before she could reach the handle, the chilly voice spoke once more.
"Sit down."
Her startled hand faltered in midair, then slid down the wooden backrest. Dana pulled back the heavy chair and gingerly stepped into it, so that she was level with the clear green eyes.
"It's a mix of roots, mint, and orange peel. The lady likes it, so remember it. I'll teach you the specific proportions and method later."
Roots, mint, orange...
Dana thought to herself. Did they think she could make Lady Liana that tea? Dana stared into the thin, maple leaf-colored liquid. She could have sworn it was poison. Dana's face turned to stone, and for a moment, she came to her senses. She hooked her fingers around the handle of the teacup and slowly lifted it. Her hand trembled, and she thought she might drop it.
"Careful." Celeste warned.
"...yes."
Dana replied, moistening her dry lips with her tongue, then brought her mouth to the rounded edge. The astringent, bitter liquid touched her tongue, but she couldn't taste anything. A hot gaze rested on her face. She didn't have to turn her head to see it. The eyes of the man with his arms crossed, staring intently at her.
Gulp. Dana swallowed very carefully, but it sounded too loud. She could feel the man's gaze linger on her tea-soaked lips, then slide over her quivering jaw to the nape of her neck. If only he would stop staring... Dana felt like getting down on her knees and begging. Once again, it was Celeste who dispersed the suffocating air currents.
"Ah," she said suddenly, reaching for a new glass. It was as if it had dawned on her as an afterthought that she had to get back in her master's tea. "Shall I make the same one? Or something else...."
"Celeste," a low, deep voice interrupted softly. "There's something I need you to deliver to Nordstrom."
The words shocked Dana more than Celeste. Dana looked around in shock, but Nordstrom was nowhere to be found. The barber was nowhere to be found.
"There should be a letter on my desk."
Unable to finish her sentence, Celeste set down her glass and walked to the desk. When she returned, she held a small letter in her hand.
"Go deliver it, yourself."
Celeste looked puzzled, then nodded her understanding and started walking away. Dana's ears picked up the sound of her shoes, the turn of the doorknob, and all the noise before the door slammed shut again. When the fluttering mauve skirt disappeared out the door, she realized with despair, they were alone again.
Dana clutched her teacup like a lifeline and drank slowly. It was a tiny amount, like an ant's sip, but unfortunately, it wasn't long before the teacup began to empty. Clutching the empty cup, Dana stiffened her neck and stared blankly at the tablecloth. Time passed. Unable to resist, her gaze slowly made its way to him. Rolling her eyes and looking up at an angle, the man sat cross-legged, leaning back against the backrest. His broad chest rose and fell regularly beneath his tightly fitted shirt.
Dana's gaze traveled upward, following the buttons. Something peeking out through the open collar at the top caught her eye. It was a mole. Dana's stomach churned as if she'd seen something she shouldn't have, a shade of color casting a nice shadow in the middle of his long, shapely neckline. Her eyes snapped back downward. The sun was at full tilt, casting a rosy glow across the table, teacups and teapots alike. Dana scolded herself for continuing to stare at the nobleman, chasing the pale light of the setting sun.
"Belle Celeste was from the slums," he began, all too suddenly. "Now she owns farmland all around the Port, a fairly large country house, and a small townhouse on Eighth Avenue."
Theodore reached toward the tray. His unblemished hands began to steep the tea himself.
"I’ve been studying the tea ceremony since I was ten years old, and if you don't know how to taste tea, you're bound to be fooled by someone like Celeste."
He moved without missing a beat and brewed a fresh batch. A moment later, a delicate floral scent filled Dana's sense of smell, replacing the orange zest that had filled the room. Theodore poured the tea by hand and set another fresh cup down in front of her.
"You want to be the Lady’s personal maid, don't you?"
Dana froze. She felt like she was going to vomit if she opened her mouth, but she forced her voice out.
"No... I... I do not... at all...."
A short laugh interrupted her.
"I told you, you can be honest with me."
Something unlike anything she'd ever felt before clamped down on Dana's throat. It rose hot and forced her tongue to move of its own accord.
"No... I... never... lied... to you... really...."
Instead of being angry, Theodore was perfectly still. It was like casting a fishing pole into a calm lake.
"I...I...want...to...be...by...her side, but I...never...thought...of...being...a personal maid."
"Really?"
"I mean it... I don't know why you think I'm lying... but I don't really... want... an education or anything... I just want to go back to Belvida...."
"You want to go back?" the voice asked, sounding a little soft. Dana looked back at him, desperation in her eyes.
"Yes, if... if you'll let me... I'll do my best... I'll ask my master to help me learn how to blend... or whatever... ...."
"...Your master?" the voice was strangely cold. Dana froze, wondering what she'd said.
"Master," the man’s voice continued, opaque and hard as a frozen river. "Hastings must be good, to have such a loyal servant as you."
At that moment, Dana realized it was useless. The man just wanted to torment her. He seemed to be enjoying the situation like a cat cornering a mouse.
"Then why are you so unambitious, you're being showered with love from your master."
After muttering these strange words, Theodore acted even stranger. "Remember?" He pulled out something. It was a ring. "You picked it out for your master, and it cost a fortune," he said, his intentions unclear, and Dana's chest tightened uneasily.
"I wonder what would happen if it suddenly disappeared."
Dana's head snapped up, the turquoise eyes staring back at her, neither pleased or displeased, but filled with indifference. "What if the trusted maid... has the ring in her pocket?"
Dana was in such shock that everything up to this point seemed like a joke.
"It's a classic trick, used by masters who don't want to pay wages."
Dana couldn't say anything. Her eyes went white and her mind went blank.
"Me and my family have never been in such dire straits that we have had to resort to such shenanigans, but we can do so whenever we feel like it."
With that, Theodore slipped the ring into his palm. Then he reached out with his other hand and picked up his teacup.
"Let's try it out, then."
What...? As Dana stood there dumbfounded, the unbelievable happened: he let go of the teacup in midair. Clank! With a crisp sound, the china shattered. The beautiful cobalt blue bird broke into pieces on the marble floor.
* * *
The letter from his mother was nothing special. Edwin stared at the word "Macmillan" for a long moment.
[Liana is very much looking forward to it. She's always wanted to have a maid. Why wouldn't she? All her friends at school had one. ]
Her handwriting was as neat and tidy as ever, but he could sense a hint of excitement in her voice.
[ I'm told the maid doesn't know anything, but will she be okay? I wonder if it would have been better to just get a proper maid, even if it was expensive. ]
Edwin's chest tightened at the thought of his mother worrying about the cost. He wondered how long the Hastings family would be able to keep this a secret…
[ But as the Duchess of Macmillan says, it might be better to take a maid she likes. You know she's not the people-pleaser type, and some clever maids can use and hurt their masters. Liana is a sweet, innocent child, and I'm afraid she's not the kind of girl to let that happen to her. ]
Edwin felt the same way; his sister was certainly naive for her age. When he was younger, he thought it was a good thing, but now he was a little worried.
[I'm going to trust Celeste to take the maid in for a few days and try to educate her.]
Edwin put the letter down and looked out the window. It wasn't a problem, and it shouldn't have been. Matters concerning female servants were strictly the domain of the hostess, and he was merely suspicious. How much Theodore had to do with this, or Marcus? He knew he was delusional, but he couldn't help but wonder...
Everything was too coincidental to be unrelated. Suddenly, a memory from his childhood came to mind. It must have been the day the polo team was formed and played its first practice game. He was on the same team as Theodore, and there were quite a few potential players. His name was Vincent. His family was American, but there was one kid who was so good that he was chosen. Polo was a sport of horsepower, the pedigree and ability of the horse, but Edwin had always felt that the individual's ability to handle such a horse could not be ignored.
Vincent excelled at the latter. His equipment was outdated and the number of horses he owned was inadequate, and he often missed practices, but Edwin believed he was essential to the team. But some of his teammates disagreed. Marcus, who was very sensitive about his origins, openly ignored him and scowled at other teammates who tried to lend him a horse. Theodore was uninterested at first. Okay. Edwin thought. He wanted to buy Vincent a couple of horses for his worn-out equipment and inadequate supplies, so he suggested they raise money to help.
Theodore began to change. He objected, saying that Vincent wasn't really that good. He even scoffed at the idea, saying that such sympathy was hypocrisy. Edwin pushed for an up-or-down vote, and the results were split exactly 50/50. In the meantime, someone from the other side of the table suggested a new candidate: someone who, like them, could handle the seven or so horses needed for a polo match. The mood quickly changed.
Vincent became intimidated and came to Edwin in tears. The next day, it happened. Theodore began to treat Vincent with disrespect. He refused to give him the ball and pushed his horse in a threatening manner. Vincent tried to avoid Theodore's black horse, but he fell off. He never returned to practice again. And the incident remained a dark shadow in Edwin's mind.
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