——
Hannah stands there, her eyes wide and clearly startled to see Andrelise in her nightgown. Her mouth hangs open, as if she expected to find her anywhere but here.
Andrelise narrows her eyes, feeling a mix of annoyance and disbelief.
"What are you doing here, Hannah?"
Hannah tries to say something, but Andrelise's gaze shifts to Charlotte, who is crumpled on the floor, her face bruised. A jolt of shock runs through Andrelise, and she quickly directs her cold stare back to Hannah. "What's going on here?"
Hannah shrugs, completely unfazed by the chaos she's just caused. "She disrespected me," she replies nonchalantly, a wicked glint in her eyes. "I was just educating her."
Andrelise takes a steadying breath, trying to keep her anger in check. She tilts her head, forcing herself to appear calm and collected.
"Educating her, huh?"
"You know, Hannah," Andrelise says, a sly smile creeping onto her face.
"I've always admired how you manage to make everything about yourself. It's really impressive. You take every little incident and turn it into a grand affront against your precious dignity."
Hannah frowns, clearly confused by Andrelise's tone. "I'm just saying—"
"Enough." Andrelise raises her hand, cutting her off sharply.
"Let me be clear. Charlotte is under my protection, and I don't like it when someone messes with what belongs to me." Her voice is steady, icy, and she watches as understanding slowly sinks in for Hannah. She has crossed a line she didn't even know existed.
Andrelise steps closer, lowering her voice so only Hannah can hear. "And if you think for one second that you can lay a hand on anyone under my command and just walk away, you're in for a rude awakening."
Hannah stubbornly tried to defend herself , and Andrelise savors the moment. "I... I didn't mean—"
"No, of course not. You never mean it, do you?"
Andrelise leans in, her eyes locked onto Hannah's, ensuring that her words hit home.
"But here's what's going to happen. You're going to leave this room right now, with your tail between your legs, and you're never going to touch Charlotte again. Or anyone else in this household. Do we understand each other?"
Hannah opens her mouth to protest, but Andrelise cuts her off again. "I said, do we understand each other?"
Hannah nods, humiliated, her eyes flickering with hidden rage. Andrelise helps Charlotte up and into her room. Without another word, she steps back and motions toward the door. "Out."
Hannah hesitates for a moment, but then she scurries away, her face flushed with shame.
——
I can barely feel my feet as Lady Andrelise leads me into her room. My mind is spinning with apologies, each one tripping over the other as I try to make up for my failure.
"I'm so sorry, my Lady. I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I should've handled it better..."
The words tumble out, one after another, but Lady Andrelise doesn't say anything.
"Lady Andrelise, I didn't mean for things to go this way. I didn't..." My voice is shaking, and I don't even know if she's listening.
She says nothing. Not a single word. She just keeps walking, bringing me toward the center of her enormous room, her hand holding mine, but with no warmth to it. I try to read her face, but it's like a mask—cold, distant.
I feel so small right now, like I've somehow failed her in the worst possible way. She lets go and move as She stops by the drawer, opening it calmly, her fingers methodically searching through it. The sound of the drawer sliding open echoes in the quiet room, filling the space between us. I stand there, clutching my hands together, still whispering apologies as if I can make it better by speaking them into existence.
"I failed you. I should've done more. I should've—"
"Charlotte."
My body goes rigid, and for a moment, I can't breathe. The weight of that one word—my name, spoken like that—feels like a slap.
I shut my mouth, terrified of what might come next. I stare at the floor, not daring to look up. The fear I felt with Hannah earlier is nothing compared to what I feel now. This is Lady Andrelise Castiglivon. It is far much worst.
"Why did you just stand there and let yourself get hit?"
I want to melt into the floor. The words catch in my throat, but I manage a quiet, "It was my duty, my lady. I--." The words sound weak, even to me.
Her voice almost immedialtely cuts through me, cold and emotionless. She doesn't accept my answer, though. "Why didnt you just move and let her check the room, Charlotte." This time, I can hear the command in her tone—like she's not asking, she's ordering me to be honest.
My stomach twists as I gather the courage to speak. "Because you trusted me with this task, my lady," I say, my voice small. "And I didn't want to disappoint you. I thought... I thought I could handle it."
The truth is, I wanted so badly to live up to her expectations, to show her that I was capable. But instead, I just ended up on the floor, bruised and humiliated.
She lets out a long sigh, and the sound almost makes my knees buckle. I expect her to lash out or dismiss me with a cold remark. Instead, she walks back toward me, holding a small bag and a jar of ointment in her hand. She hands it to me wordlessly, her fingers brushing mine for the briefest of moments. The touch is gentle, yet it feels like a storm of emotions I can't quite understand.
"I probably wouldn't have given you such a job if I knew it was going to turn out like this." she says, her announced. There's something strange in her tone, like it's caught between an insult and something close to remorse.
"You gave me the task, my Lady. It's alright," I blurt out, my words coming out stupidly optimistic despite everything. I just want to ease whatever tension is between us, to show her that I'm still loyal, that I'll still serve her no matter what.
"Get some rest," she mutters, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. She stretches, getting ready to fall into bed, and the conversation feels unfinished, hanging heavy in the air.
I give a quick bow, holding the ointment tightly in my hand. "Thank you, my Lady," I whisper, even though I'm not sure what I'm thanking her for.
Maybe it's for not being angry at me, or maybe it's for letting me stay. I don't know. I move toward the door, but halfway there, something inside me stirs. I can't leave it like this.
I pause at the doorway and turn back. "My Lady?" I call softly.
She looks up, her eyes tired, but she waits.
"I hope you found what you were looking for tonight," I say, smiling through the ache in my face. I don't know if it's a foolish thing to say, but I mean it. I really do.
She doesn't reply right away, just stares at me for a moment, then nods faintly as I close the door behind me.
____
What a disaster!
I had planned everything out so meticulously. The idea was simple: use Charlotte to help me sneak out, no remorse, no second thoughts thinking there would be no serious consequences. I thought I could keep my emotions in check, act like it was all just a game.
"Why did I let it come to this?"
I mutter to myself, pulling the covers tighter around me. I think of the bruises on her face—the way she looked at me, her eyes wide with confusion and fear.
It strikes me how I thought of everyone in this universe as just characters in a story, mere sketches on a page. I never thought of them as real people, with feelings and pain.
They were just figures.
But seeing Charlotte like that, the reality of it all crashes over me.
This isn't a book anymore; it's my life. And that's terrifying.
I shake my head, trying to push the feelings aside. I don't like the idea of using people, especially not someone like Charlotte. Innocent and kind-hearted. I vow to myself that I won't put her—or anyone innocent—in harm's way again. I can't bear the thought of being responsible for another bruise on her face, another moment of fear in her eyes.
My mind drifts back to how close I came to being discovered, if Hannah had walked in even a minute later I would have be discovers. It was close.
Too close.
I managed to find a carriage man willing to take me, but he didn't want to take me. Refused flat-out. But as soon as I tossed him ten gold pieces and promised to double it if he got me to Castiglivon Estate as fast as possible, his eyes lit up with greed.
Of course. Money speaks louder than any plea.
He agreed immediately, and we sped through the streets, the whole ride a blur. I was back in a matter of minutes, and after paying him the rest, I rushed inside as discreetly as I could. My heart was pounding the whole time.
Thank goodness I thought ahead and wore my sleep garment beneath my disguise. I could just remove the outer layers and slip back into bed without raising suspicion. I give myself a small pat on the back for that cleverness. But even that little victory is overshadowed by the looming dread of my earlier actions.
Once inside, I can't shake the worry about Leon. After I left the tavern, I searched frantically for him. My heart sank when I realized he was nowhere to be found. I asked people around if they had seen my horse, even begging the local street urchins for any information. "Have you seen a black stallion?" I would inquire, desperation creeping into my voice. But no one had any answers.
The time was slipping away, and I knew I had to return home. But I couldn't leave without Leon. It felt impossible to abandon him. My heart aches at the thought. He's not just any horse to me. He's special. The weight of that realization settles heavily in my chest, and I'm flooded with a wave of sadness that I don't fully understand. I liked that horse. I had grown attached to him, and now he was lost.
Suddenly, memories wash over me—memories of the real Andrelise sneaking down to the stables, of her soft whispers to Leon, feeding him carrots when no one was watching. I remember how at first, he didn't seem to want her near. But over time, he warmed to her. She found comfort in his presence. No one knew how she truly felt about him. She always acted like the horses were just smelly beasts, but there was more to it.
I realize now that Leon wasn't just a horse to her; he was a companion, a silent friend during her moments of solitude. And with that realization comes a deeper understanding of my own feelings.
I owe it to her to take care of him and I pray I find him, one way or the other.
_____
In the days that follow, Charlotte finds herself tending to Andrelise more than ever. Each hour spent together feels like a small victory, a gentle reminder that perhaps things can change for the better. Meanwhile, the other maids in the estate can't seem to stop whispering. They gather in groups, their voices barely above a murmur, speculating about the shift in Andrelise's behavior.
"Did you see how she spoke to Charlotte today?" one maid whispers, her eyes wide with intrigue. "It's like she's actually being nice."
Another responds, "Maybe it's all an act. She could just be pretending. Who knows what she's really up to?"
"Or maybe she's just become fond of her," another chimes in, tossing her hair back dismissively. "That girl has been so close to her. Something must be going on."
But none of this chatter seems to faze either Andrelise or Charlotte. They remain wrapped up in their own little world, the rumors swirling around them like autumn leaves in the wind.
Andrelise sits at her desk, deep in thought, sketching out plans for her next project. She feels a strange sense of satisfaction in her work, perhaps driven by Charlotte's unwavering presence.
"There has been alot of gossips of you, My lady" Charlotte breaks the silence "I don't pay much attention to it, It's what maids do—gossip. Keeps things interesting, I suppose."Abdrelise replies,glancing up from her writing.
"Interesting? Or just tedious?"
"Probably a bit of both," Andrelise says as she watches Charlotte pouring tea into the cup.
"well.. it's better than silence, I suppose." Charlotte simles.
"Do you have any family, Charlotte?" Andrelise asks, genuinely curious. Charlotte's smile fades slightly, and she shakes her head. "No, my lady. I've been here since I was quite young. The estate has been my home for as long as I can remember."
Andrelise blinks, processing this revelation. She had assumed Charlotte was a girl of her own age—perhaps seventeen or eighteen—but now she realizes Charlotte is older than her.
"You've been here for a long time, then? How old are you?"
"Twenty," Charlotte replies, a hint of pride in her voice, though her expression remains wistful. "I may look younger, but I've seen my share of things."
Andrelise nods, feeling a surge of respect for Charlotte's resilience. "I can't imagine what that must be like. It must have been difficult."
Charlotte shrugs again, brushing off the concern. "It was just my life. And now it is what it is."
The atmosphere shifts momentarily, growing heavy with unspoken thoughts, but Andrelise is quick to lighten the mood. "Would you mind replacing the sugar with cinnamon? I think it might add a nice touch."
"Of course, my lady," Charlotte replies, eager to shift gears. She leaves the room, her mind racing with the conversation, already planning how she can infuse their relationship with even more warmth and understanding.
____
As I make my way to the kitchen, I can't help but reflect on how different Lady Andrelise is from the rumors that swirl around the estate like a thick fog. Honestly, she's a breath of fresh air. During my time here, I've always been assigned menial tasks—laundry, sweeping, and the like—while the other maids would whisper about the Lady and her supposed misdeeds. I bought into those stories like everyone else, but spending time with her has opened my eyes. She's not the villain everyone makes her out to be; she's human, just like the rest of us.
The kitchen is oddly quiet. Usually, it's bustling with the sounds of pots clanging and maids chatting, but today, there's an unusual stillness. I brush off the thought as I search for the cinnamon, and my heart flutters with a little excitement.
Cinnamon! Such a small addition, but it has the potential to transform a simple cup of tea into something special. I finally find the jar, lift it off the shelf, and place it on a tray, my mind wandering back to those moments I've shared with Lady Andrelise.
I wonder why, ever since our first encounter, she has spoken so informally to me. It's strange, really.
I remember that morning Hannah came into the maids' quarters, throwing around orders like confetti. "One of you will serve Lady Andrelise today," she announced, her voice dripping with authority. No one volunteered, and then, with a sly grin, Hannah pointed to me. "Charlotte, you're up," she said, and I had no choice but to agree.
I remember being terrified as I made my way to Andrelise's chamber. I was so nervous that I tripped over my own feet multiple times, my heart racing. When I finally knocked and announced breakfast, her casual reply took me by surprise.
"Come in." she had said so casually like we are friends, and I could hardly believe my ears. It didnt feel like a normal interaction between a lady and her servant. In that moment, I was confused but scared.
Did she do this on purpose? Was she just oblivious to the proper way of addressing new faces?
That thought remained with me. It couldn't be the latter; after all, the Marquis provided she had a proper education, complete with tutors and etiquette lessons.
"So why did she choose to speak so casually to me? At first, I was scared of her—her status, the air of mystery around her. But now, I find myself wishing to be by her side more. I wouldn't mind being her personal maid, not at all." I say to myself.
There's something warm about the way she treats me, something that makes me feel valued.
__
As I'm walking past the maid's quarters to go back to Lady Andrelise , I notice a group of them gathered, whispering among themselves. It piques my curiosity, but I decide it's best to keep moving. Lady Andrelise is waiting for her tea, and I can't just leave her waiting.
Whatever's going on can wait until later. I turn to leave, my thoughts already back on the lady and the strange comfort I feel in her presence, when suddenly I hear a voice shout,
"There she is!"
I freeze, my heart racing as all the eyes in the quarters swivel in my direction. To my surprise, the maid who yells is pointing straight at me. Confusion washes over me. "What are you talking about?" I ask, my brow furrowing.
Hannah walks out from the midst of the everyone, she pulls out jewelry and a stack of papers, holding them up like trophies.
"Look what I found!" she declares, her voice dripping with malicious glee. "Charlotte has been stealing from Lady Andrelise!"
My blood runs cold.
The room erupts in whispers. I hear fragments of their gossip swirling around me.
"So that's why she's always with the Lady," one maid says.
"I knew she was up to no good," another adds.
"Maybe she thinks she can get away with it!"
Their words like sharp knives cutting into me. I open my mouth to speak, to deny the accusations, but the shock has frozen me to the spot.
I can't believe what's happening. Stole? From Lady Andrelise? I'd never! How could she even say such a thing?
"Hannah, that's not true!" I finally manage to say. My voice sounds weak even to my own ears. "I didn't do that! I would never—"
"Don't try to play innocent, Charlotte. Everyone knows you've been cozying up to Lady Andrelise. I knew something was off the moment you started spending so much time with her. And now we have proof." She waves the papers and jewelry in front of me like she's holding some damning evidence. My heart pounds so hard I think I might faint.
"No, that's not... I haven't—" I try to speak again, but Hannah won't let me get a word in. She's already yanking my arm, pulling me toward the hallway as I drop the tray and cinnamon on the floor.
"We're going to the Marquis. He'll decide what to do with a thief like you."
The other maids follow behind, their eyes full of judgment, their whispers turning into a deafening roar in my ears.
They've already decided I'm guilty.
Hannah drags me down the hall, and I stumble along, trying to protest, but my words fall flat. It's all happening so fast, and I don't know how to make it stop.
We arrive at the Marquis's study and Hannah barges in. He's sitting at his desk, flipping through papers, his face calm and unreadable. The butler stands quietly by his side, as always, stoic and distant.
When we enter, the Marquis barely glances up. That is, until Hannah throws me down on the ground in front of him, forcing me to kneel on the cold, hard floor.
"My lord," Hannah says, her voice full of false righteousness, "I've caught this maid--Charlotte red-handed. She's been embezzling money, stealing jewelry from Lady Andrelise."
She drops the fake evidence and jewels toward him, and I can barely breathe.
How did she get those papers? And the jewelry? I've never even seen them before. I want to scream that it's all a lie, that I would never steal anything from Lady Andrelise.
But my voice is caught in my throat.
The Marquis sets down his papers and finally looks at me. His expression is unreadable, his eyes hard as they study me, and I can feel my heart sinking.
"N-no, my lord!" I stammer. "I didn't do any of this. I would never steal from Lady Andrelise, I swear!"
But before I can say anything more, Hannah steps in again. "She's lying, Marquis," she says with a sneer.
"You know she's been around the Lady more than anyone else recently. Isn't it obvious she's using her position to steal?"
I try to speak, to defend myself again , but Hannah's sharp voice keeps cutting me off. She's relentless, each accusation sharper than the last, and every time I open my mouth to say something, she swoops in with more lies.
My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely hear anything over the sound of my own blood rushing in my ears.
The Marquis expression is unreadable, as he listens to Hannah. I can't tell if he believes her or not. That cold ruthless gaze of his makes me feel small and helpless.
My hands are trembling, but I clench them into fists, trying to keep myself together. I've made it this far without breaking down, but the more Hannah talks, the harder it becomes to stay calm.
The other maids are watching, whispering amongst themselves.
I'm terrified—terrified that no one will hear me, that no one will believe me. But more than anything,
I'm terrified of what Lady Andrelise might think.
What if she believes Hannah's lies?
The thought lodges itself in my mind, and a wave of panic floods through me.
I haven't cried yet. I haven't let fear show on my face, but now... now I feel it closing in. If my lady thinks I've betrayed her, everything will be over.
She's the only one in this place who's shown me any kindness. I've seen a side of her that no one else has—one that's so different from the rumors.
My mind is spiraling again.
What if she looks at the evidence and assumes it's true? What if she believes that I'm just another greedy maid trying to take advantage of her? If she turns against me, there's nothing I can do.
The Marquis might be the one in charge, but it's Lady Andrelise's opinion that matters most. If she doesn't believe my side of the story, I'll be thrown out of the estate—or worse.
I can feel the pressure building in my chest. My breaths are coming quicker now. I know that if she doesn't believe me, it's over. No one will listen to a lowly maid like me against Hannah's clever lies.
I'll lose my job, my place, everything I've worked for
And worst of all, I'll lose Lady Andrelise's trust.
The fear sinks deeper, and for the first time, I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I bite my lip, trying to hold them back, but the thought of losing everything because of something I didn't do is overwhelming.
I've always been afraid of the Lady, in some way. Afraid of disappointing her, afraid of doing something wrong. But this? This is different. It feels so final, so permanent. If she believes them, my entire world will come crashing down. The panic rises in my throat, threatening to choke me. Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away.
No, I can't cry, I have to stay strong.
But I can't help it. The fear is too much. I've never been more scared in my life. Not of the punishment but of the thought of Lady Andrelise turning her back on me.
Just when I feel like I'm going to collapse under the weight of it all, the door bursts open—