Episode 32
“What are you doing? Go on, keep talking.”
I waved my hand as I sat at the table, and Liza crawled on her knees and sat by my feet like a cute little puppy. I gave her a piece of torn bread, and she chewed on it happily.
“I heard Baroness Yvonne got a house from her husband. They must be on good terms.”
“No, they’re not. The Baron and his wife fight a lot.”
Bell tried to stop Liza from talking with a glance, but I signaled her to stay quiet. I stared at the dish on the table for a moment, then picked up my spoon. The soup wasn’t spicy.
“What do you know? Even if they argue, Baron Yvonne isn’t the kind to back down.”
“But it’s true. The Baroness always ends up crying.”
That sounded interesting. I gave Liza another piece of bread and encouraged her to keep talking.
“Really?”
“Yes! When the Baron raised his hand, it was scary. I had to be careful just to breathe around him.”
Liza kept calling the Baroness’s husband “the Baron,” which made things confusing.
“Do you mean Baron Yvonne hit her? Or was it her husband?”
“It was her husband. He was so scary—way bigger than both our gardeners put together, and his face looked like this!”
She tried to make a scary face but only looked silly. Bell gave her a look like she was hopeless and started clearing the dishes.
What Liza said matched what Baroness Yvonne had told me.
“Poor thing.”
“But what can you do? A woman’s duty is to obey her husband.”
Liza’s clear blue eyes blinked, and Bell froze mid-cleaning. Even Bell looked shocked by her words.
“What did you just say?”
“I said it’s a woman’s virtue to obey men, ma’am.”
Her innocent smile left me speechless. She truly believed it.
Even after seeing her mistress being hit, she still thought “there’s nothing you can do.” I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Baroness.
Even if what the Baroness told me last night was true, there wasn’t much I could do. But I still felt uncomfortable.
“Yvonne can handle it herself.”
Bell brought me tea that was supposed to calm me, but it was so bitter I couldn’t swallow it.
As I stared at the teacup, Yvonne’s words from yesterday kept ringing in my head.
“I’m glad he doesn’t hit me. It was just a misunderstanding. I’m really relieved.”
Her tearful, drunken voice echoed in my memory. I wanted to blame the tea for the bitter taste in my mouth, but I knew it wasn’t.
‘Why did she say something that’s so hard to ignore?’
I wanted to scream out the window. I already had enough problems—now I knew something I couldn’t ignore.
“Ma’am, should I bring more tea?”
“I’m fine. No, actually, I’m not. My head is pounding.”
As soon as I said I wasn’t okay, Bell and Liza rushed over to massage my shoulders and legs. Still, the frustration wouldn’t go away. My head was spinning, and Bell kept calling for divine help.
‘If the gods were here, I’d slap one.’
I looked out the window and saw the garden poppies swaying beautifully in the sun. They would soon grow fruit.
According to Carla’s diary, there was about one month left until I would be forced to share a bed with the Count. Just thinking about it made my skin crawl.
I’d rather jump from the top of the mansion than kiss Count Icarus. My stomach twisted again.
As I was groaning alone, there was a knock. A kitchen maid came in carrying a tray—with a pie topped with a fish head.
‘What on earth is that?’
She looked nervous as she stepped forward.
“Ma’am, the Count sent this.”
“This?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She placed it on the table. I could see melted cheese inside the cut. The fish smell made my stomach churn.
“He said you didn’t look well and asked for a healthy dish.”
“The Count sent this…”
It was clearly a joke—or more like an insult. Sending a smelly cheese-filled pie to someone with a hangover? That was just cruel. I waved her away after mumbling a quick thanks.
“You may go.”
“Oh, and…”
“And?”
“The Count said… if you send Liza, he’ll tell her something important.”
Of course, the Count just wanted to know what Liza had told me. But too bad for him, everything Liza heard was useless.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The maid nodded hard. She was cute, but not as pretty as Liza.
Looking at her gave me an idea—how to get rid of the pie and not send Liza.
“Would you like a piece of pie?”
“Pardon?”
“Have a piece before you go.”
“I-I couldn’t possibly…”
She hesitated, but she wasn’t brave enough to say no.
“Bell, how many kitchen maids are there?”
“Three, ma’am.”
“Then take three pieces.”
I waved my hand, hoping they’d realize I hate fish. I glanced at the maid putting pie into her apron.
“Ask Sir Theodore if he likes pie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bell led the maid out. I saw Theodore nod at her when she spoke to him. Then, Bell gently took his arm and pulled him inside.
“Sir, if you don’t mind, please try a piece. It’s freshly baked.”
Theodore hesitated but stared at the pie. He didn’t seem to dislike it.
“The maid brought it, but I can’t eat it right now. It’s a waste to send it back.”
“Are you still feeling sick?”
“I feel better, but the pie is too much. I’d be happy if you had a piece.”
Finally, Theodore took the pie. Even though it was large, it looked small in his hands. He took a big bite.
“It’s delicious.”
His eyes softened, and he smiled. Watching him eat so neatly was kind of charming.
Liza gulped. It was funny that everyone had pie except the personal maids.
“Bell, Liza, you can finish the rest.”
“Thank you!”
Liza quickly grabbed a piece. Bell followed slowly. For a while, only the sound of eating filled the room. It was oddly calming.
‘Maybe I should give them snacks regularly.’
Liza’s cheeks puffed out like a squirrel, then shrank as she chewed. Bell also ate slowly but steadily. Theodore had already finished his piece and was licking his fingers. His red tongue flicked between his lips.
I swallowed hard without realizing.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
“Your face is red!”
The one who wasn’t okay was Theodore.
“Are you alright?”
He knelt and looked up at me. Even from below, he was so handsome. I stared at him blankly—until I heard a knock.
“Carla, may I come in?”
It was the Count.
Liza quickly stuffed her last bite into her mouth. Bell wiped her mouth in a hurry. Only Theodore stayed perfectly still.
“Carla!”
The Count shouted like a train engine. I decided to send Bell out—there was no point in letting her watch the mess.
“Bell, clean the table. Tell the chef to ask for permission before sending anything next time.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I looked down at Theodore. He was still kneeling.
“Sir Theodore.”
He stood when I called him, but didn’t leave.
“May I stay beside you?”
“Fine.”
I almost said, “What do you want to see that badly?” but kept it in. My hands weren’t shaking, at least.
“Carla! Will you leave your husband waiting?”
I motioned for Liza to open the door.
When she did, we saw the Count’s oily, slicked-back hair shining like he’d used pig fat. His hairline was receding fast—he’d be bald soon.
