CH 16

The purple sunset sank over the heads of busy people hurrying back and forth. The large leaves of the lush trees rustled gently in the cool evening breeze, and workers who had been eagerly awaiting the night in Ezon poured out into the street amidst the yellow light of the street lamps rising like stars.

Conversely, however, the luxurious carriages carrying the young men of the aristocracy were speeding out of Ezon. They were all on their way to the mansion of Katarina Biché.

The journey to the Biché mansion on the outskirts of Ezon would take at least half an hour, so those who wanted to see the dizzying show as soon as possible had been on the road since the afternoon.

The carriages of the Dampierres were slow to join the ranks.

After passing cafés, restaurants and the gilded statues of the central square, the carriage stopped moving when it passed in front of the huge triangular roof of the Ezon Parliament. The traffic jam had begun.

This was the fourth traffic jam. If I hadn’t been on my way to find the maid in the first place, I wouldn’t have even set foot on the road!

He became increasingly irritated as he was stuck in a traffic jam.

“I hear more people have signed up to attend now that you’re coming.”

“Stars, how tiresome.”

Olivier’s face crumpled. He didn’t like the idea of Katarina Biché’s party.

It was better for the rumors that would flourish, but the sticky show and the stale smell of perfume in an enclosed space…

His irritation was already rising at the thought of having to endure this.

“What the hell did Katarina Biché do to deserve all these carriages crammed into that little corner of the world?”

Henri, who was sitting across from him poring over his notebook, replied nonchalantly.

“”Ah, I see. Cabaret dancers come to the Biché Mansion to work once a month, and apparently, they have to wear dresses that are half an inch shorter than what they wear at the cabaret to meet Katarina Biché’s requirements. That’s all.”

“Shame. It’s a wonder the Count and Countess Biché let her get away with it.”

“That’s true, but… the Count of Biché, who has been stuck in the countryside, is finally starting to get his hands dirty with Ezon’s investments.”

“So you’re saying that he wants to gain presence through a wild party? That’s foolish.”

“It’s better than no presence at all. And with his daughter making herself the centre of attention in Ezon’s social circles, he seems to tolerate some of the wildness at an extent.”

“Parents and children alike are crazy for attention.”

“You’re going to have to be extra careful tonight. Katarina Biché might be on top of you before you’ve even met the maid.”

What a horrible thing to hear! Olivier’s face contorted, and Henri chuckled.

“Oh, and there’s a pretty maid at the mansion, and from what I hear, she’s got a pretty good body and a pretty face.”

“…I’ve never seen a pretty maid.”

There was someone who immediately came to mind, but Olivier looked out the window in disbelief.

“No, really. She’s just very pretty, her face is slender, and she’s very slim… whew.”

Suddenly, Henri sighed heavily. Olivier’s head snapped back to the secretary.

“Why?”

“So, a rumor has spread that Lady Biché grabs the maid tightly like catching a fish.”

“Grabbing the maid?”

The image of Amélie Gagnier’s face as she burst into tears of despair plunged him into an even more unpleasant mood.

Why the hell was she working in that house?

Even if Katarina Biché had been doing this every month, there would have been no shortage of men who would have been pestering her maid…

“I don’t know the details, but I’m sure there’s something going on.”

He didn’t have to ask, it was obvious. She’s an exceptionally pretty maid, serving a young lady who’s going crazy for the attention of society…

Olivier, who was about to turn his disapproving gaze out the window, changed the subject.

“Henri. Do maids wear perfume?”

“Well, the senior maids, or maids-in-charge, can afford to buy luxury items from department stores when their salaries rise. But generally they can’t afford perfume.”

“And the younger maids?”

“Maybe scented soap. I thought you were hiring a maid specifically for this, from the beginning. Because you don’t like perfume.”

Henri looked puzzled. Olivier paused, then added.

“The younger maids might wear it. It smells like a faint perfume, you know, a cosy scent that doesn’t have a watery, dank feel to it. Something like that…”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

Henri was a very perceptive man, and he knew he was going to be annoying. Olivier rambled on.

“I didn’t know before, but I think Gervaise or something like that.”

“We don’t have a maid named Gervaise.”

No such maid? Olivier, blinking dubiously, tried to recover.

“An older, well-built maid. Is she new? Why, she has a large spot over this eye…”

Henri shook his head as if he knew it, and sighed heavily.

“My God. You mean Simone, she’s been working for the Duke Dampierre for thirteen years.”

“Nonsense.”

“You always treat the servants like they’re just shadows. But isn’t it too much? Duchess Eleanor is said to be quite knowledgeable about the servants’ names and length of service.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Exactly.”

Henri made a stinging point.

“Who would believe that our duke would have a scandal with a maid?”

“Whatever.”

Olivier coughed awkwardly as he watched Henri move his nib in a grumpy manner.

“Then… What’s that smell?”

“It smells like cloth, doesn’t it? Sun-dried.”

“What is that?”

“You know, that cosy, warm smell you get when you hang your clothes out to dry on a sunny day.”

Without thinking, Olivier sniffed his clothes. It was a faint scent, not overpowering, but nothing like the scent of Amélie Gagnier.

“I don’t smell it.”

“Of course you don’t. Your clothes are scented by the maids separately, to suit your sophistication without offending your finicky sense of smell… You asked for a subtle scent that seemed to fade away.”

“..Did I.”

Olivier cast his gaze out the window.

He remembered the hot forehead that had rested on the nape of his neck, the pleasant scent that had wafted in with it, and what had she said to him at that time.

Scumbag master?

He’s not sure what came out of her mouth, but she smelled amazing. If someone else had touched him like that, he would have reflexively pushed them away.

Shaking off the thoughts, Olivier buried himself in the sheets and cast his gaze out at the rapidly changing scenery on the window.

Anyway, tonight, if I can convince Amélie Gagnier, this tiresome play will soon be over. And then I can live in peace for a while.

I had a vague feeling that with Amélie Gagnier, things would somehow work out.

* * *

The carriage drove across the open fields outside Ezon, and it was not until the sun had completely set that they turned onto the road to Biché’s.

“Nothing missing, Henri?”

Henri calmly took out his pocketbook.

“All those employed in the apartments are on paid leave until September, with generous additional allowances. I’ve sent a telegram to the caretaker of the villa in the south.”

“Good.”

“Also, my task for tomorrow morning is to make a hotel reservation for when you go in until the villa is ready, selling the shares that belong to you… Oh, I missed one thing.”

Henri made an impassive gesture at the end of his notebook.

“To be beaten to death by Her Grace the Grand Duchess Eleanor on behalf of Master Olivier. Write my will about the death compensation to be given to my mother in my hometown.”

Closing the notebook, Henri’s shoulders sagged.

“Your Grace, we might really die. And on top of that, that card you left behind… Oh, I must call the physician. If she read something like that as soon as she returned from the New World, Her Grace, she will undoubtedly collapse.”

“What did I write?”

Olivier tilted his head.

“Anyway, our young master’s temper is…”

As if on cue, Henri pulled out a draft of Olivier’s card. He opened it, crumpled it impatiently, took a deep breath, and read the words.

Grandma. I’m afraid I’m not getting married, and of course I’m not going to be a whore. I hope you’ll let me be in this decision. I’m going to take half a year to clear my head and come back. With love, Olivier.

“Still…something seems missing, Henri.”

Henri said calmly, tucking Olivier’s note away.

“’It wouldn’t hurt to have a new lover with a lot of money in my place now, or to look for a second heir.’ I wrote something like that but deleted it promptly. My heart can’t handle it.”

“Yeah, good job.”

Olivier smirked and pulled out his wallet.

“You take it easy until September, too.”

“Me too?”

As several large cheques slipped from the master’s fingertips, his sullen face lit up.

“It’s unnecessary for you to follow my grandmother around when we have dozens of servants back at the main house. Give that card to the butler at the main house and go on that honeymoon you’ve been putting off.”

“Sigh… If you say so, really…”

“Say hello to Annette for me.”

When Olivier added a tip for his wife’s share, Henri pretended to wipe away tears and made a fuss.

“I’ll be loyal. Thank you.”

A proud smile crosses Henri’s face as he secured the thick wad of bills. The fact that his wife’s name was not Annette, but Marianne, was not mentioned.