Chapter 009. The Ill-Fitting Parlor Maid
The morning sunlight illuminated the turquoise velvet curtains in the leisurely dining room of the Cheister household.
Parlor maids, holding large silver tableware in both hands, bustled about within.
Centered around an intricately crafted circular metal medallion design, a massive crystal chandelier hung from the dining room ceiling.
On the long mahogany table beneath it, a variety of lavish dishes were successively arranged.
Roast lamb, smoked herring, neatly scored sausages, baked beans, and other foods filled the air with their fragrant aromas, tantalizing the senses of those seated at the table.
At the head of the long table sat Raymond, the Duke of Cheister and master of the estate, flanked by his mother, Eleonora von Cheister, and his younger sister, Cecilia, seated side by side.
Behind the table stood the butler, Greig, along with several footmen and maids, positioned at regular intervals, waiting to attend to the needs of the family.
Seated at a table set with lacquered cutlery adorned with oriental patterns and silver foil, they engaged in lively conversation in a warm atmosphere.
Mostly, Eleonora led the conversation gently with her soft voice, while Cecilia occasionally chimed in with agreement.
Raymond, for his part, offered brief responses or gestures from time to time.
“I’m planning to invite the Constant family to Elfengrin soon. What do you think?”
As Raymond took a sip of vermouth as an aperitif, his gaze briefly shifted toward Eleonora.
While she waited for his response, his expression unreadable as he swirled the crystal glass, Cecilia, seated opposite, unexpectedly reacted first.
“Before that, I’d like to invite Miss Olivia to my tea party in a few days, Brother.”
Having just arrived yesterday, likely still weary from the journey, Cecilia’s eagerness to already plan a tea party caused Raymond’s brow to furrow.
In contrast, Eleonora clapped her hands, her face lighting up as if it were a splendid idea.
“Is that alright, Brother?”
Cecilia, her turquoise eyes sparkling, pressed Raymond again, who had yet to respond.
“Do as you wish. Just don’t cause a commotion, and keep it quiet.”
His indifferent tone suggested a lack of interest, and though Cecilia thought, *‘How does one hold a tea party quietly?’* she had no intention of dampening the permission she’d barely secured.
“Alright. I’ll make sure it’s very quiet and doesn’t bother you, Brother.”
Smiling brightly, Cecilia, having achieved her goal, picked up the silver cutlery and took a bite of the boiled potato topped with gravy in front of her.
“Is your answer from our last trip still the same?”
Eleonora’s expression seemed unusually cautious as she asked.
In most cases, whether among lower nobility or the middle class, marriage discussions were approached with great care, involving multiple rounds of deliberation to avoid souring relations between families if the match fell through.
This marriage, however, was between the Cheister and Constant families.
Knowing full well that her son wasn’t one to lightly retract his words, Eleonora still wanted to confirm his intentions once more.
It was, after all, a delicate matter.
Even as his mother, she couldn’t know every detail of the private life of Raymond, a grown man and the head of the family.
Of course, she vaguely suspected, based on gossip, that Raymond casually saw other women, but she didn’t know the specifics.
Eleonora, more than anyone, knew the deep-seated anger Raymond harbored toward his father, Randler von Cheister, who had spent his entire marriage cavorting with mistresses.
Anything that remotely reminded Raymond of his father’s mistress elicited intense disdain and contempt, so Eleonora hoped her son’s marriage would be one filled with genuine affection.
Seeing Eleonora cautiously studying his face with a worried expression, Raymond could guess what she was concerned about.
So, with a gentle smile, he gave her the answer she wanted.
“My thoughts remain the same as they were then.”
After some time, when his response finally came, Eleonora let out a sigh of relief.
Watching her resume her meal with reassurance, Raymond gently swirled his crystal glass.
The clear, golden liquid shimmered within the glass.
It wasn’t a lie fabricated to reassure his mother, Eleonora.
He had no desire for even the slightest resemblance to his father, who had tarnished the Cheister Dukedom’s prestige by falling for a vulgar, orphaned courtesan.
Every time he noticed himself growing eerily similar to his father, he repeated to himself thousands of times that he was different.
But that didn’t mean he was devout enough to uphold premarital chastity.
On occasion, when the mood struck, he would spend a night with a woman.
But unlike his father, who abandoned his family and marriage vows for a low-class woman, Raymond would never be such an irresponsible man.
To restore the honor of the Cheister family, which the previous Duke had dragged through the mud, he would marry a bride befitting the Cheister name, and the daughter of the Constant Marquis seemed a suitable match.
Raymond vaguely recalled the face he had seen at her debutante ball.
Even at a glance, the young lady, who closely resembled the Marquis of Constant, was a lovely girl with radiant platinum blonde hair.
At the time of her debutante ball, she was still young, exuding a girlish charm, but by now, she would likely carry the air of a mature woman.
Known for being doted on as the only daughter of the Marquis couple, who were renowned for their deep affection for her, the young lady was the epitome of innocent purity, untouched by the world’s harshness.
He vividly remembered the golden eyes of the young lady, her fair cheeks flushed red as she stood in his arms as his dance partner after the Marquis.
Though the finer details of her features didn’t come to mind and remained a hazy image, for some reason, those shining golden eyes stayed vividly in his memory.
Holding the stem of the thin crystal glass and swirling it, Raymond swallowed the transparent, golden vermouth.
As the bittersweet flavor spread through his throat—
For a fleeting moment, something with a similar golden hue flashed through Raymond’s mind.
It was the bold maid he had seen recently, with her amber eyes like glass marbles—
“…….”
Perhaps it was the lingering bitterness of the alcohol spreading through his mouth—or maybe it was the sudden recollection of that face that soured his mood—Raymond’s brow furrowed sharply.
* * *
“Where are Rosie and Selina? I didn’t see them.”
After breakfast, Cecilia, who had moved to the parlor, summoned Mrs. Charlotte by sending a maid.
Mrs. Charlotte, who had been reviewing the accounting ledgers from various departments, stopped her work upon hearing that Cecilia was calling for her and headed to the parlor.
Before Mrs. Charlotte could finish asking why she was summoned, Cecilia set down her chamomile teacup on the round table and spoke up.
“…Rosie got married last fall and left for Hamstone with her husband, quitting her maid duties, and Selina suddenly had to leave a month ago due to tuberculosis.”
At the word “tuberculosis,” Cecilia’s blue eyes widened as she exclaimed, “Good heavens….”
“…But why are you asking about them?”
As Mrs. Charlotte asked, puzzled, Cecilia, who had been frowning uncomfortably, let out an “Ah” and turned her gaze back.
“I couldn’t help but be shocked when I saw the faces of the parlor maids serving breakfast this morning, Madam.”
A refined, haughty face, like that of a well-groomed turquoise-eyed Turkish Angora.
Looking directly at Mrs. Charlotte, Cecilia unabashedly expressed her displeasure.
“What do you mean…?”
Unlike the gentle Lady Eleonora or the cold but proper Duke Cheister, who never demanded anything improper, dealing with the particularly sensitive and finicky Miss Cecilia was no easy task, even for the experienced Mrs. Charlotte.
Every year, when visiting Elfengrin, Cecilia’s endless tea parties and balls already made her a figure of dread among the estate’s maids, but what Mrs.
Charlotte found most challenging was when Cecilia called her to nitpick about every little thing that displeased her.
Even after Cecilia dropped a hint, Mrs. Charlotte didn’t immediately catch on, causing Cecilia’s long, Irish eyelashes to shoot up sharply.
“You must know that parlor maids are the face representing a household’s servants, don’t you, Madam? And that everyone scrambles to hire prettier maids to show off to guests.”
“…Yes, I understand, Miss.”
Ha—
At the acknowledgment, Cecilia let out an exasperated sigh, as if dumbfounded.
“Then—Madam, are you saying you thought the faces of the maids carrying the tableware at breakfast this morning were befitting of our Cheister family?”
“…….”
At the sarcastic tone and implication, Mrs. Charlotte finally understood why Cecilia was so upset.
Cecilia, who loved socializing at tea parties and balls, was dissatisfied with the appearance of the parlor maids who would be seen by others.
Born with naturally striking beauty and always praised as the best wherever she went, Cecilia couldn’t tolerate being outdone in matters of appearance or beauty.
Hosting numerous guests at Elfengrin during spring and early summer, Cecilia was always particularly critical of the parlor maids who greeted guests, but in the recent flurry of a busy schedule, she had overlooked this.
“…I apologize, Miss. I failed to attend to it. I will immediately place an advertisement to recruit new parlor maids—”
Mrs. Charlotte bowed respectfully, promising to rectify the situation, but Cecilia cut her off sharply once again.
“I’m planning to hold a tea party in a few days, and you’re saying you’ll recruit and train new people now?”
“…Then what should…”
As Mrs. Charlotte, unusually flustered, asked, Cecilia frowned, as if exasperated that she had to spell it out.
“Aren’t there nearly 200 female servants employed at Elfengrin? Pick out someone suitable from among them. Why go the long way around when there’s a shorter path?”
With a displeased expression, Cecilia picked up the teacup she had set down on the table.
But perhaps because the tea had gone cold, she grimaced after a sip.
“If you understand now, why are you still standing there? Don’t you get that I’m holding a tea party in a few days?”
Her shrill, irritated voice rang out, and Mrs. Charlotte bowed respectfully once more.
“Yes, Miss. I will quickly select someone.”
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By Anna 💓
