In a twist that everyone can see coming from a distance like a flaming train going over the corner-shaped rails and plummeting to the coral seabed below, the other two siblings agreed after what seems to be 1 of consideration.
In my mind, I'm thinking that it's kind of fast, but hell, who knows, that might be courtesy to make your invitee wait, surely not me. I also don't know how they're communicating with each other but for me, communication comes knocking via a maid that comes by in the morning time to deliver the time and date for the horse-gathering day.
"Two days from now?"
"Yes, miss Carlyanne."
"And you are my sister's maid, correct?"
"..Yes, miss Carlyanne."
"Very well, you may go." I shooed the maid away and turn around to face the rest of my entourage (if you can call them that) without hiding any of the amusement I'm getting from their confusion. "Get ready to host a guest soon, perhaps around lunchtime. Prepare drinks and sweets that suit a lady's general palate."
Sonya and Winnie's face is all question marks as she tilts her head while I'm talking, contrasting Ina and Sasha who give a respectful nod in sync as they receive the order. "We will do as you say, miss." and immediately prepares to coordinate with the kitchen staff which gives me a round of surprise.
The guy I send crying from last time, who's apparently the Head Chef since that's what Sasha calls him, enters the room with minor tremor on his hands and body to the point that I'm pretty sure that his thin mustache are also quivering while he's stealing glances every few seconds to check my reaction.
I have half the heart to smile and tease him. I'm thinking about it, for sure, but knowing how much of a wimp this big guy is I'll have to refrain from giving Sasha the consoling duties again and instead, turn my attention elsewhere.
The elsewhere ends up accidentally being where Sieghart is standing, Winnie on his left as she's making sure the medicine for breakfast is ready alongside the whiskey glass I had jokingly requested to down it with. Mm, can't tell if sir Keller is allowing me to use this as a joke to get back at me for the sass or if he thinks it's harmless as long I use it to ease drinking the medicine. Probably both? Probably both.
In any case, soon, breakfast spreads in front of my lap and I find myself struggling to not smile at the sight of brown, warm, toasted bread presented on a literal silver platter.
Yes, that's right, the sandwich officially got the green-lit by the doctor man himself! I'm so happy, I think I might cry if not for the very real threat of tears ruining the food!! Focus, me, there's finally some real food on the table, I can't miss this chance!
"What is the filling?"
"A-Ah!" The head chef jolts from staring holes into the carpeted floor and does his best to look up and politely talk. "T-This one has the same configuration as the one you had before, miss. Boiled eggs, slices of tomatoes, fresh lettuce, and s-smoked meat, as you've requested!"
"The meat's color is different than I remember." I point out the beautiful, downright magnificent cross-section of the sandwich, where there are slices of very thin meat that remind me of ribbons. "It looks about the same, but the scent is different, so it's definitely not pork… I fail to see which part of that means the same to you."
"I-I ugh, um!" The head chef looks like he's about to cry, though he takes a deep breath and pushes through, "Doctor Keller informs me of your new.. dietary restrictions and I'm, I, I had to swap the pork with… chicken."
"I see," I comment shortly as the truth will be revealed when taste comes into play. "We shall see if your plan bore fruit."
I bite into the sandwich.
I take a slow, measured chew of the bite.
…
Yeah, let's not say anything about this. Just eat the food. At least it's edible.
I've only finished the bite that I took when I notice that the guy is looking like he's about to get a stroke on the spot. Probably from having direct eye contact with me, but I'm giving him some points for standing straight while he (still in that high squeak voice) trembles and asks, "H-How is it?"
Man. I really don't want to talk about it, but since you asked, I'll have to answer?? Ugh, but if I do that then you're most definitely going to grovel again to beg for forgiveness is there any way…
Ah! Right! I keep forgetting I'm not the only foodie in this room anymore! "Ina, try this."
"Yes miss!"
With no hesitation whatsoever, the girl takes a few steps forward and takes the plate from my hand, biting into the bread with still glimmering eyes that- yep, there it is. I'm glad your face agrees with how mid this sub is. The kind Ina should be more equipped than me to relay some constructive criticism more kindly,
"What the fuck is this shit."
"Eh?"
"The bread is so dry I might as well bite into a brick. The eggs are, what is this, duck? Some kind of birds other than chicken??? You dare put smoked Southern Rainbow Chicken with DUCK EGGS are you sane?!!! Does your tongue still work, huh?!!!!"
I, alongside the remaining staff in the room, instinctively moved back the moment that Ina put inflections on her words. Angry inflections. I can't help but be reminded of a certain British cook from that one TV show who's always angry in his kitchen which, somehow, just makes the sight of the short, eternally happy-go-lucky girl clutching at the lapels of a man twice her height more horrifying to witness. "What is your name, sinner?"
"Hic-! I'm Bah-bh-!"
"Let go of sir Bastian!" Sonya tries to calm down her friend as she moves over to separate the two, "Ina, this is highly inappropriate-"
"What's inappropriate is the lack of skill and unearned confidence this scum has while presenting this shit as food for our miss!" Ina's rage does not subside, but rather, seems to escalate even further. "Not even the pigs will eat this abomination and survive unscathed!"
Sasha clears her throat at the sight of a tiny rage ball and glares at her, but does nothing to refute her words. Wait, is this because she knows the sandwich will taste bad or is she agreeing that I shouldn't eat bad food??? Which one is it!??
In any case, the sight of a black man paling is not something I've ever encountered in my previous life (for the lack of opportunity to touch grass or go on vacation overseas), so seeing his skin losing the luster that it had to the point of looking dull in a split second is kind of fascinating. Also, names! Finally, I know what to call the pitiful Head Chef instead of just 'you' all the time!
Bastian's dark terrified eyes lock with mine and, well, he's pitiful enough that I have to lend a hand in de-escalating this situation. "She's not wrong."
… Okay, I know that it's kind of harsh to say it like that, especially to a guy who only learned of the concept of 'you can put food between two slices of bread to make it easier to eat' just a few weeks ago, but I don't want to lie when it comes to food! That is my ninja- wait, nope, wrong genre. This is my villainess way!
From the short-lived dejected expression that flits through his eyes, I can see it's the right decision as the man steels his face for the first time in my presence and, once freed from Ina's iron clutches, performs a full 90 degrees stiff angle bow with trembling voice, "My apologies, miss! I will do all that I can to make them better so please, give me another chance!!!"
Before I can say my verdict, maybe impart some wisdom to the guy, the doors once again thud from being knocked. Sasha waltzes over to the door at a speed that can be described as hurried, yet poised, as she slows down and very carefully asks without reaching for the handle like last time.
"Who is it?"
The voice is too muffled to hear from this distance, but it seems to be someone safe, since the old maid opens the door slowly as she double-checks for the visitor. There's some more talking by the door, with the maid holding on to the door handle the entire time and keeping the door gap minuscule before Sasha finishes the conversation, shuts the door (slowly and politely), and turns over to bow at me.
"Lady Joanne's maid has come with an inquiry from her mistress. Requesting that, if you'd be so kind, to allow Lady Joanne to visit you today, miss. How should I reply?"
I let the silence linger for a moment. Not because I'm being dramatic, but there's a hiccup threatening to come up right now for some reason, so I have to take a deep intake of breath and force whatever muscle is spasming down there to calm the fuck down! It's annoying enough needing to drink the damn allergy medicine, I don't need another one to treat heartburn!
"Tell her," I pause, making sure that the hiccup is actually gone before I continue talking and breathe normally again, "that she's welcome to visit today, and that I hope she'd enjoy tea for the occasion."
Sasha nods and relays the message while quick-witted Winnie starts to coordinate with the other staff to bring out the prepared tea set and snacks I ordered while I, taking the sudden moment of action, take more bites of the half of the sandwich that Ina didn't eat just to pad the stomach.
Ina and Sonya, part of the maid group, are moving with the kitchen staff that just arrived with the trolley to set up the lounge area while Sieghart is.. not doing much but escorting me out of the bed to the table, which is so dramatic of him since it's in walking distance! I'm not some old grandma needing an escort to walk such a short distance!!!
It can also be since he's the only one without clear work to tackle in this moment, that Sieghart feels a little left out. That, I can understand. It's just kind of awkward to see everyone working so hard while you're just standing there doing nothing, isn't it? I can forgive him if that's the case then.
Not too long after, the doors are once again knocked and this time, the guest enters through proper procedure and I get to meet the sight of my sister in full.
Slightly wavy dark hair cascades on her side, showing off her fair complexion perfectly as a frame would to its painting. Her eyes are pink, closer to red like mine than it does with Countess Ingrid, but more subdued in shade. If mine is ruby red of fresh blood, hers are almost the gentle, deep crimson of wine.
Said eyes met mine in an almost unsettling manner and for a second, I sense dread creeping up my spine like a warning and without having to listen, I know.
"I'm thankful that you accepted my selfish request this time, my dear sister. It has been too long since we last.. talk."
Those aren't the eyes that look into someone that they know. I'm being stared at by someone regarding me as a stranger.
She knows.
But how?
"Indeed, it has. Please, take a seat, sister. I do have to apologize that I can't receive you formally, as you can see, I am unwell. But I hope you'll enjoy the refreshments I've come up with, the cookies are delicious." I gave her a smile, which she took without looking unfazed, taking the seat as her entourage fuss around the dress and the seat itself. Fuck, this is going to be hard. "So? To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Joanne looks at me, perhaps through me, for what feels like an eternity before she harshly leans back on the chair with an order escaping her cherry-pink lips.
"Carlyanne, would you please be a dear and send everyone unrelated outside?"
That got some of the maids from my side to flinch. Ina, taken aback by either the suddenness or the wording, instantly looks as if she's about to pick a fight before Sonya silences her with a sharp, well-aimed, heel-to-the-toes maneuver. Winnie's face scrunches as if she's getting constipation, locking eyes with one of the maids from Joanne's entourage who's smiling smugly like a cat who got the fish.
Sasha is not even gracing Joanne's maid who's giving cues with her eyes to leave, as she asks me directly, silently, whether she should follow that order with just a single lift of an eyebrow.
"Give us some privacy."
Just like that, the maids (my maids) start to filter out following the older lady's lead, to the chagrin expression shared between Joanne's entourage. The kitchen staff, too, are going out in a line as if ducklings being herded out of the pond, it's kind of nice to see them going out so orderly.
"Ah, not you, Sieghart. You stay."
This makes both the blond and the older sister look at me with nearly identical shock. There's genuine surprise on Sieghart whereas on Joanne, there's a tinge of intrigue shown on her eyes as argument settles on her lips quicker than me blinking. "It will be best if my words stay between us two, Carlyanne."
"Ah, but sister, I am feeling rather faint right now and I can't serve anything, in case it slips my hand rather unfortunately. I won't dare presume that you'd be amenable to lift me into the bed, should anything happen?" I take a swig of my water with ease, calm, tasting the sweetness of pure spring water like a connoisseur to their vices, and meet her eyes with the challenge head-on.
"I'm sure you'd understand, right?"
"…"
Joanne sighs softly, very much emulating the soft sigh of the breeze outside, as she gives me a nod of reluctant assent. "He may stay."
Said 'he' who isn't getting involved in this decision-making whatsoever gives a resigned look, turns around, and stands by the side of the table and the refreshment trolley, ready to serve and wait on us.
The door closes with a soft click.