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Soon, rumors circulated in the residence that a new maid named Rosalynn was very bizarre. It continued on to say that she was violent and incapable of controlling her anger.
These people gossiped among themselves, something quite common to uncultured provinces and rural areas, different from those areas who received higher education.
But Deatrice did not know about it and did not pay heed to any rumors floating around.
It was because she was too busy tackling all the obstacles in her new life—not being able to supervise finances and checking the important documents about the manor was just the beginning.
When she tried to ask about her allotted budget, tried starting her own charity that she had been doing since she was young, and even tried bringing in a new painting to her room; everything was all blocked.
One time, Deatrice asked.
“Who is it?”
“Mrs. Bell, madam.”
The maid answered calmly and Deatrice scoffed.
“Don’t tell me you’re speaking of Dixie Bell?”
“Yes, it is ‘that’ Mrs. Bell, madam. The master’s sister is very famous for her artistic sense and is mainly responsible for the household management, which includes any kind of artwork that goes into the manor.”
“What a mess.”
But the maid pretended not to understand anything and just said the following words.
“Mrs. Bell is visiting this week, how about consulting with her about this piece right here?”
Could there be any more insulting words than this?
Was she the lady of the house? Or was it the master’s sister? More like, she was being treated as a guest—an outsider.
Deatrice’s expression hardened and without even dignifying the maid’s words with an answer, she turned around and left.
In the end, all she got from this marriage was a wedding ring and a single room.
Arguably the best room in the mansion, but that’s all there was to it. One can even go as far to say that it was more of a lavishly decorated cage.
Giving the wife the authority to manage the household meant that the husband trusts and respects her. By denying Deatrice this position, Lucius had set her up to become a laughingstock.
He had reasoned out with a mischievous smile that ‘his wife wasn’t feeling very well and he didn’t want to burden her with work’.
His sweet smile at that time and the soft tone of his voice could easily be mistaken as him being so smitten with her.
Therefore, he had ordered his people that if she ever wanted to do something outside of leisure, stop her.
Still, the servants thought it was strange that the lady had no authority, but it was the master’s order and they couldn’t exactly defy it.
Besides, the first thing that Lucius rambled on and on about when he first came home with her was about Deatrice’s well-being. Then, whenever she felt slightly ill, he would become restless and ask her over and over again if she was fine.
Remembering this point, the servants didn’t think his behavior was ‘that’ strange anymore.
In addition, the first argument between the couple also served as a good basis in judging their marriage. They concluded that Deatrice’s insistence on not seeing her doctor was her being irrational, and that Lucius persuading her was him being logical and rational.
Tsk. The lady needs to quit being so stubborn.
This notion echoed within the minds of the majority of the servants.
Therefore, by conditioning the servants’ thoughts into the direction that he wanted, they already had this belief that Lucius’ concern and affection for her were only growing stronger by the day.
All of them were workers who were employed from remote regions. When naive newcomers had first visited this place, the manor had awed them into illusions of grandeur.
But the ones who had worked for the master for a while were more intuitive. They thought there was another side of this uncanny situation, but they opted to remain silent.
Their master was Lucius, and they still wanted to live the rest of their days in peace.
Overshadowed by ignorance and those who bowed to power, ‘guests’ could only be left at the mercy of the one in charge.
“We’re already married. Shouldn’t we both get away from our murky past and start our relationship anew?
Just after saying that, he betrayed her.
Thinking of Lucius, Deatrice clenched her fists. She couldn’t stand the thought that she was so delighted back then that he had taken the initiative to put the past behind them.
Feeling a sense of defeat along with the relentless boredom of having nothing to do, Deatrice was unable to leave the comfort of her bed for two days.
Currently, she had just finished her meal and was peacefully lying down on a pillow.
Rosalynn entered the room and brought a sandwich with her. It was then that Deatrice noticed her arm was wrapped in bandages.
“What’s that?”
Rosalynn’s face heated up and she quickly hid her arms from her view as soon as Deatrice spoke. “It’s nothing, m’lady. I just got burned while ironing clothes.”
“Ironing? Why are you doing such things?”
“I was just helping, m’lady. The residence is quite small and there aren’t that many servants, so they asked for my assistance.”
But somehow, Deatrice knew she was lying.
Maybe the reason behind this was why Rosalynn’s complexion hasn’t been so good lately.
Deatrice sighed and sat up. “Tell me the truth, what happened?”
The maid shook her head, “I can take care of it by myself, m’lady.”
“Just tell me, I don’t have anything to do anyways. But if you choose not to, I’ll send you back to the duke’s mansion.”
“M’lady!” Rosalynn was surprised as her eyes widened, but Deatrice wasn’t joking.
When she saw her mistress’s face, Rosalynn realized it too and sighed.
But truth be told, it was impossible for Deatrice to send her maid—her only ally—back home.
Rosalynn spoke.
“My… My reputation inside the manor isn’t so good these days, but it was all my fault. I just didn’t know if the rumors were spread intentionally or accidentally, so I decided to just leave it alone.”
“It started because it’s your fault?” Deatrice questioned.
“I…” she gulped, “…I hit Tom Wilson.”
“What?!”