Chapter 5 – Newcomer And Friction

A few days later, I rode the carriage to the duke’s estate and was promptly shown to a room.

But it wasn’t in the servants’ quarters of the main house. Surveying the space, my jaw dropped, unable to close.

It wasn’t even a room—it was a separate annex adjacent to the main house, a standalone building. The entire structure was mine: a bedroom, a study with empty bookshelves, a living room with a sofa and table, a small kitchen for basic cooking, and a dining area of just the right size. A complete house.

A covered walkway connected it to the main house, lined with gas lamps to keep it from going dark at night. Inside, both oil lamps and gas lights were installed, with candlesticks scattered about. Having lived in a dorm where a few candles sufficed, I briefly rejoiced at the prospect of endless reading—until the sheer extravagance overwhelmed me with fear.

Between the salary and the advance, this treatment was beyond a poor baron’s daughter’s comprehension.

“U-um…?”

Knowing it was impolite, I pointed at the room and looked up at the stern-faced young man beside me.

Around the same age as me or the duke, he stood a head taller than me in my heeled shoes, with short black hair similar to the duke’s. He gestured for me to enter. The few belongings I’d sent ahead were already neatly stacked in the bedroom corner.

“U-um… is this room… to be shared with someone?”

“No, His Grace designated it for Lady Zickler of the barony. Is it insufficient?”

“Quite the opposite! I-it’s too big…!”

“Indeed, it’s excessive for one person. But His Grace insisted, so please use it.”

“…O-oh.”

“I’ve heard from my father that this annex was built by His Grace’s late father, and his father before him, to house guests. Unused for a while, it’s been cleaned, though…”

The youth ran a finger along the windowsill, and dust sparkled in the sunlight. Footprints from his and my shoes marked the floor. Glancing sideways, he blew off the dust, his already sour expression darkening.

“…Would you handle the cleaning yourself?”

“Y-yes! I can, I will!”

“Is that so? Shall I send a maid?”

“No, it’s fine. I like cleaning!”

Being given such a grand space and relying on others to clean felt unbecoming of an employee. Though his words carried a slight edge, I shook my head vigorously and set my bag on the table.

In hindsight, I regretted not bringing Hanna. I’d sent her home, citing that servants shouldn’t use other servants, but this was unexpected.

“Very well. If you need anything else, let me know.”

“Thank you… um…”

“No need for thanks. I’m Fidel, His Grace’s attendant.”

“Thank you, Fidel.”

“…His Grace is at a meeting with Glad the butler today, so I’ve been tasked with guiding you, Lady Zickler. Contact me if needed.”

With a crisp bow, Fidel’s efficiency impressed me—fitting for a duke’s servant. My father’s attendant, older and slower, came to mind, stirring nostalgia. Leaving home for university four years ago, rarely returning even after graduation, I felt like an ungrateful daughter.

“Let’s head to the main house next.”

“Y-yes!”

No time for reminiscing. Hurrying after Fidel’s sharp turn, we reached the back entrance via the walkway. The rear garden’s trees were impeccably trimmed.

Admiring the flawless upkeep, I entered to find the duke waiting.

“Ah, you’re here.”

“Julius! What about the meeting? I said I wouldn’t trouble you!”

“Finished it quickly. Today’s to welcome Miss Zickler—I couldn’t be absent.”

Spotting the duke, Fidel rushed over, his stern face lighting up like a dog seeing its master.

Surprised to find the master in a servants’ area, Fidel’s casual address slipped—omitting honorifics. Close in age, their bond seemed relaxed enough not to mind.

My Hanna back home occasionally used casual tones too, sparking more nostalgia. Tense about living apart for the first time, my nose tingled.

As Fidel opened his mouth to protest, the duke waved him off, beckoning me.

“How’s the annex, Miss Zickler? It’s old, but I ordered it prepared for your comfort. Do you like it?”

“Huh? Prepared…?”

The spacious annex from earlier.

No apparent damage, it seemed usable, but his proud claim clashed with the dust. Behind him, Fidel’s brows shot up, like a dog guarding against a rival, mouthing “say yes” silently.

Oh, it clicked.

“Something wrong?”

“Oh, y-yes, yes! It’s so spacious, I feel undeserving of such a place…”

Tilting my head with a slightly defensive tone, Fidel’s brows relaxed.

I see.

“Don’t mind it. You’re not just an employee—I’m treating you as a guest.”

Smiling, the duke prompted a troubled shake from Fidel.

“Julius, that sets a bad example… especially with Lady Emeralda’s disapproval…”

“True. But I decided, and Glad’s informed the madam. Shall we introduce you? I’ll address everyone, including Emeralda.”

“I’m thinking of your position.”

“No matter. I’m the master here.”

“Come,” he said, opening a large door. A warm scent of baked oil and flour wafted out—likely the servants’ dining area. Steps led down, and he guided me in, taking my hand.

“This is Ernesta Emma Zickler, baron’s daughter, tutoring Amelia from today.”

Sparse applause rose from a few.

The dimly lit, half-basement room held over thirty servants—various ages, ranked by seniority—staring curiously. The duke noted this was a light turnout, with more lower staff absent. With over a hundred on the estate, the disparity struck me.

One woman stood out, apronless—likely the head maid, older than Hanna. Her sharp face featured a prominent, thin nose. Upright, she wore a thick, quality black outfit with a sash of keys.

As a worker here, I’d need her approval. I bowed deeply.

“Starting today, I’m in the duke’s care. I’m Ernesta. Please, favor me.”

“My, what a young teacher.”

Her raspy voice—perhaps from smoking or drink—made me look up. The head maid, Emeralda, rubbed her hands with a smile.

“I’m Emeralda, head maid here. The young master called us for you, I presume?”

“Yes. Sorry for the late notice—it was sudden. Glad’s informed, but she’s a valedictorian from the Royal University, brought by me and Amelia’s insistence. A guest, so treat her respectfully.”

Post-approval?

Even as duke, bypassing the steward or head maid seemed odd. In our barony, we consulted the head maid first.

Emeralda nodded, her smile unwavering. Then it hit me—Emeralda, the name from their earlier talk. Disapproving, wasn’t she?

“Miss Zickler, ask Emeralda for house matters. Need anything for the annex? I’ll have it arranged.”

“Oh, um, could I borrow cleaning supplies? I’ll clean myself.”

“Understood. Leave it to me, young master.”

Emeralda smiled, and the staff followed suit.

No hostility—seemed nice. But that lasted minutes.

After a brief introduction, the duke rushed off for work. Understandable, but his timing left me exposed.

The moment the Duke disappeared, the atmosphere in the room had turned cold.

Turning, Emeralda’s friendly mask vanished—eyes narrowed, she snorted.

“Now…”

Her icy tone straightened the younger maids. The tension was palpable; some paled.

“What are you gawking at? Back to work!”

Her clap scattered them like spiders. Soon, only Fidel, Emeralda, and I remained.

As they left, Emeralda grimaced at me.

“Tch, hiring a tutor without consulting me—trouble from the young master. I offered to teach Amelia myself.”

“…Huh?”

Her tone turned blunt, jerking her chin at Fidel.

“Manners, dance, music, poetry, reading—I can teach it all. But they ignore their old nurse. You should’ve stopped him.”

“My apologies, Lady Emeralda. It was His Grace’s decision.”

“Clinging like a goldfish all day—useless.”

Fidel bowed calmly.

“Then, as a goldfish, I must attend Julius. Excuse me.”

With a sly smirk, he left, shoulders tense.

Please, not alone with her—and my cleaning supplies.

Realizing we were alone, I turned to her nervously.

“U-um…”

“Didn’t you hear? I don’t approve of you here.”

“B-but it’s a direct request from the duke…”

“So what? I’ve nursed him since infancy. Some unknown girl with good grades meddling is a nuisance. Women with smarts bring trouble. Amelia’s better off in a convent learning saintly etiquette than school.”

Her intimidation rattled me. “Good grades” stung—I’d worked hard for my degree.

I wanted to challenge her ability, but she took my silence as defeat, turning away.

“If you get it, then quickly hand in your resignation and get out. No matter how much of a Young Lord he is, he won’t stop someone who chooses to leave on their own.”

“What…”

“Scratch that annex, and I won’t forgive you. The late master would be appalled at a girl like you using it.”

Snorting, she stormed out, leaving me to slump, exhausted from a mere greeting.

Emeralda, a longtime nurse turned head maid after raising the siblings, likely prided herself on it—irked by ignored authority.

But I couldn’t bear her grudge, and Amelia’s education seemed beyond her. Ideally, the duke and Emeralda should resolve this. With an advance and this rare job, I couldn’t quit.

“…Guess I’ll take it slow.”

Adapting’s part of the job. University freshmen—noble boys’ scorn, city girls’ distance—taught me that. Maybe not bringing Hanna was wise.

Then I realized…

“…I didn’t get cleaning supplies…”

After searching, I found only pots, knives, and crumpled cloths—no brooms or buckets. Using these covertly was risky.

Searching corners, I found nothing. Were they in a supply room? Inconvenient for quick cleans.

Sighing at my dusty hands—dirty from a brief search—I wondered if the kitchen needed more care. A nearby cloth would keep it tidy.

I brushed the faint brownish dust and grime from my fingertips on the back of my skirt, then stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall to find a servant. If I could just spot one of the junior staff, I might be able to ask them about the cleaning supplies.

But that failed.

Spotting a girl, she fled like a rabbit at my voice—no chance to ask. Likely fearing Emeralda, the maids’ direct superior, more than the rare duke.

I understood—Emeralda scared me too.

But I was in trouble. Those clear footprints and dusty shelves haunted me—I couldn’t sleep like that. At least the bedroom needed cleaning.

No supplies, though. Cut an old shirt for rags? But with few clothes, laundry would be an issue. Buying new—

“…Um.”

A tug on my sleeve. Behind a pillar, a maid in uniform gestured cautiously.

“For the annex cleaning, right? Sorry, I can’t help, but use these.”

Covering her mouth, the woman whispered; she seemed slightly older than me. Beneath her chestnut bangs, she discreetly handed me a dust cloth, a bucket, and a broom, all while looking the surroundings warily.

“Thank you… um…”

“Sophie. I’m Amelia’s attendant, nominally.”

“Thank you, Sophie.”

She glanced around again.

“Emeralda spotting us would be trouble—this is all I can do.”

“No, this helps. I couldn’t sleep in that dust.”

“Well…”

Sophie frowned. The cleaning seemed Fidel’s doing, but I kept quiet.

She might be compromised if seen. Bowing with the supplies, I turned, but she tugged my sleeve lightly.

“Emeralda says that, but Amelia and the master eagerly awaited you. Please care for her tomorrow.”

“Thanks. That’s reassuring.”

Despite the head nurse’s stance, Amelia’s zeal wouldn’t waver. Sophie’s support eased me. I’d worried that if everyone were simply swayed by their superiors’ ideologies, believing education was unnecessary for women, Amelia would have an incredibly difficult time.

I wanted more on Amelia, but Sophie’s duties and risks with Emeralda or the maids loomed.

Bowing, she smiled faintly and left.

Alone, I cleaned the bedroom and living room for half a day.

Sweeping and wiping revealed my inactivity—odd noises creaked from my body. How long since I moved this much?

But mindless cleaning dulled Emeralda’s words, letting me sleep like a log, dreamless.

The next morning—my first lesson.

After a quick breakfast, I dressed in the annex and headed to Amelia’s room, as Fidel instructed.

The vast estate divided into guest, family, and servants’ areas. The parlor Uncle Dario and I visited was the “guest” zone, with top-tier furnishings. The family area, per instructions, was elegant but not ostentatious—still a far cry from our barony.

Less pressure to avoid blunders here. Relieved, I reached Amelia’s door, raised my hand to knock—and froze.

Something writhed at my feet.

Not one or two—dark, varied shapes, long or round, spiky, all squirming oddly.

I felt my cheeks lift. My hand dropped to pick one up, raising it to my face.

“…A bug! Oh, this one’s still a larva!”

“Wow!” I gasped, crouching to scoop them up.

“What larvae? Seasonal moths, maybe—pale, undernourished? Oh, a big centipede… rare, but weak? You, a cricket? Lost a leg—big, can’t jump. This garden grows such bugs? Yes!”

Joy surged—rare in the city, easing my research struggles.

“Why here?” faded as I chattered.

“Oh, I should’ve brought a box. Stay put, good bugs.”

Knowing they wouldn’t listen, my excitement ruled—until a creak stopped me. Looking up, Amelia peeked from a cracked door.

Worried by my delay or my cries? Too late to hide. She lowered her gaze, freezing.

“Ah!”

I panicked, covering the bugs with my notebook. University taught me—girls freak at big bugs. A research incident with a classmate lingered.

A sheltered lady like Amelia might faint. A chill ran down my spine.

But—

Amelia stepped out, crouching, lifting the notebook.

“Amelia, wait—!”

“…Ha…”

Too late. Bracing for a scream, she stared, eyes gleaming, plucking a bug.

“Miss Ernesta… what bug is this?”

“Uh, broadly, a cricket…”

“So long legs. Short and long, six?”

“…Yes, insects have three pairs, six legs from the thorax.”

“Thorax—legs from the chest? But that long one has many legs.”

“Yes… um…”

“Is it okay?” I asked.

“Don’t ladies dislike bugs?”

“No, I love them.”

I adored their ecology, their human ties—vital for crops, yet linked to diseases. Fascinating, if niche.

Assuming noble Amelia would hate them, her smile at the cricket stunned me.

“…Amelia, do you like bugs?”

“Eh… Ah, yes. But I’ve never been so close and seen so many of them before, so it was a rare experience…”

Blushing, she looked down, lashes shadowing her cheek. Her shy charm nearly overwhelmed me—I shook off the odd thrill.

“Birds or cats are shown close. Horses, from carriages. But Emeralda and others shoo bugs—I’ve never seen them like this.”

“You like creatures?”

Nodding eagerly, she peered at the larvae and centipede.

“That dark green one’s a moth larva. Seen big-winged moths by lamps?”

“Yes. But no wings here.”

“Butterflies and moths start like this, growing wings later.”

Her face lit up. Interested in this? I’d planned history and math, but biology fit now.

Gently stroking a larva, she pointed at the centipede.

“Don’t touch—centipedes bite.”

“Bite?”

She flinched but studied it unafraid.

“They’re carnivorous, eating small bugs or animals. Strong jaws—bites hurt, and they’re poisonous.”

“…Oh. You’re okay?”

“It’s fine if you hold it in the palm of your hand. But be careful, if you pick it up it may get angry and bite you.”

“So many legs—ground walkers. Flat hands mimic that, no biting?”

“Yes. Touching from above makes them rear.”

Amelia sighed, stroking the larva again. Her curiosity was clear—city nobles rarely saw bugs, even I saw Hanna squash them.

Then it hit me.

Why so many large, disliked bugs here—unusual combinations?

Someone scattered them—expecting me to scream and flee. A prank?

Fidel, knowing my schedule and being male, could’ve easily. His lax prep suggested dislike.

If him, or not—tough luck, it failed.

“Let’s go in, Amelia. We’ll observe their bodies and discuss bugs today.”

“Yes!”

She blushed but answered brightly.

The room, once a study, had built-in shelves and a wide, functional desk by the window. Faded wood showed where books once filled it—untouched spots retained their color.

Inhaling, old paper scented the air—better than perfume to me.

Amelia led me, saying it was her late mother’s favorite.

“Mother passed when I was young—few memories. Brother said she loved books.”

“I see. Some old ones, but well-preserved. Nice shelves, nice room.”

“The old encyclopedias and dictionaries were cleared—kinda lonely now…”

“Let’s fill it with your favourites, new guides. Soon, no space will be left!”

She giggled. I laid out the bugs.

Weak or warmed by my hand, they moved slowly—good for study, but might die soon. A paper box earlier would’ve helped.

Glancing at Amelia, she noticed their state, looking worried.

“Miss, let’s release them.”

A firm, unexpected suggestion.

“Sure?”

“Yes. Seeing them close was fascinating. The shelf has bug guides—we can learn from those.”

“But outside, with missing legs or weakness, they might die?”

“Ah… but…”

She paused, then nodded seriously.

“Even if they die, their home or soil is better…”

I agreed, shifting them to the notebook edge. She opened the window, a fresh green scent wafting in. Tilting it, we released them.

“Their survival’s unsure, but I’m glad for your kindness, Amelia.”

She smiled shyly, fetching a decently new guidebook.

We pored over it, reading about the bugs and kin.

Today aimed to bond—mission accomplished. Bug talk was unexpected.

“You researched bugs spreading disease at university…”

As I gazed at a page of small winged insects, Amelia suddenly asked, as if a thought had just occurred to her. Oddly enough, the very insects depicted on that page were the kind that feed on human and animal blood. In recent years, the possibility of these creatures transmitting infectious diseases has been suggested, and researchers are gradually advancing their understanding in this field.

“You know? Interested?”

Nodding, her face dimmed.

“…Mother and Father died of plague… I want to study, be a medicine…”

Her faint voice gripped my heart.

“But, born a duke’s daughter, I can’t work that way. Still, I’m interested in reducing illness…”

Admirable.

Words failed me—I hugged her. Risking rebuke or punishment, her eleven-year-old weight compelled me.

“Miss?”

Worried, she touched my hand. So kind—my nose tingled. I forced a smile, pulling back.

“Admirable, Amelia. I’ll help. Science and math will matter in a developing world—useful for women, and your dream—”

A knock cut me off. A rude bang, then the door opened. Emeralda stormed in.

“Milady! Etiquette time!”

The woman rushing towards me with large strides, pushing a wagon so forcefully it looked about to tip, was Emeralda—the one who’d claimed not to recognize me. What’s on the wagon? Tea implements, it seems. My throat tightened. To be handling the Duke’s expensive tea set so roughly! What if she broke them? I didn’t even want to imagine the cost.

“What are you showing her!”

Seeing our guidebook, she slammed it shut, hair bristling—bug-hater, maybe Fidel’s prank.

I clutched it—Amelia’s mother’s book—bowing.

“A lesson on insects, Amelia and I.”

“So interesting, Emeralda, join us?”

Her clouded face shifted to a poised smile—less radiant than before, I noted.

A lady’s poise shone—firmer with her superior than with me.

Emeralda faltered, bug-averse.

Amelia’s depth impressed me. I reopened the book.

“Butterflies will visit the garden soon.”

“Enough. Put it away.”

Even a butterfly page was rejected. She shooed me, and Amelia frowned.

“Emeralda, didn’t Brother say—two hours morning and afternoon with Miss Ernesta?”

“I handle her education. Etiquette now.”

“Emeralda!”

“Etiquette.”

Her force silenced Amelia.

A highborn lady needs etiquette for society—ingrained, not instant. As a saintess candidate, I’d trained, finding it stiff as a rural noble.

But Amelia seemed adept. Was extra practice needed?

She wanted to study—blushing, she’d insisted, sharing passions and curiosity. Education mattered too—ignoring her will was unjust. Nor could my paid time be taken.

Reluctantly, Amelia sat. Emeralda clattered tea sets on the desk.

“Here? Etiquette needs a proper room…”

“Here. Time’s short.”

Unwiped, she piled dishes. Less dusty than the annex, but still used for books and bugs. I reached for a cloth—

“Don’t interfere.”

“No, just to wipe—”

“Huh?”

Annoyed, she tossed me a cloth—use it. Catching it midair, I unfolded it—gasping.

“…!”

Black stains, unwashed grime—it stank like yesterday’s rag.

“T-this isn’t clean?”

Her brows shot up at my question.

“It’ll get dirty anyway! Use the clean side!”

“But it’s unhygienic—won’t clean, just dirties more.”

“Then don’t wipe.”

My face likely lost its noble grace. Amelia blinked between us.

A head maid managing like this? Our Hanna kept tables spotless.

Odd. The parlor’s luxury and cared-for dishes impressed me—guest areas differ from family, maybe less maintained?

Perplexed, I reached for the cart.

With tea, there were jams, pastries, and a vegetable bowl—not decor. I pointed.

“Eat this? Not decoration?”

“My, a graduate unaware of salad?”

“Huh?”

“So educated, yet worldly naive.”

Her mocking laugh shifted.

“Raw greens are trendy in the capital—nutrients for skin and stomach. Amelia’s been unwell, so we’ll add it to dinner.”

She served it, laughing.

“No, don’t eat that.”

“…What?”

Her voice dropped, smile gone.

I explained—raw eating trends need clean, fresh produce. These were old, unwashed, with soil and slime.

“An ignorant girl, quiet—”

“No, I know what a salad is. I know that eating it raw has positive effects on the body. But it has to be all clean and fresh vegetables. The vegetables here seem a little old to be eaten like that, and they don’t look like they’ve been washed properly.”

Flustered, she trembled.

“But—wash and cook for dinner. Safe then.”

Emeralda’s scowl held. Amelia peered at the plate.

“Salad’s common at breakfast. Why can’t we eat?”

“High chance of stomach issues. Worst case, fever and death.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, hand on her stomach.

“Lately, I’ve had pain and slight fever—seasonal, I thought. so I knew I needed to eat properly.”

“No, not this—salad’s fine if—”

As Amelia looked at me dumbfounded, I picked up a vegetable leaf from the plate and turned it over to show her.

“Look. There is some dirt on it, right? Very tiny insects live in the soil in the fields, and sometimes they lay tiny eggs on the vegetables that are too small to see with the naked eye. If you eat the eggs without washing the vegetables, the insects will hatch inside you and make you sick.”

“Oh…!”

“Also, if you look at the back, you see something sparkly attached to it? This is mucus from a slug or snail. If you eat this without washing it, you can get a fever, stomach aches, and in worse cases, you can lose your sight.”

“I’ve heard of that. It’s a parasite, isn’t it?”

Paling, Amelia recoiled. Smart girl. Emeralda slammed the desk.

“Never heard that! We’ve eaten raw veggies!”

“Recent studies show risks.”

“My castle friend said their food’s safe!”

“Washed and managed, yes. But here, especially servants’ areas, hygiene’s lacking—illness will come.”

“Proof!”

I showed the cloth.

“Separate cloths for tables, dishes? Yesterday’s kitchen had dust—grime mixes in, attracting rats, fleas, disease.”

Amelia, losing parents to plague, covered her mouth.

“But the dust isn’t old. Clean and wash produce—it’ll improve. Prevent big illness.”

‘Right?’ I prompted, seeking agreement, but Emeralda simply glared back without a word.

If she was merely clumsy, I’d be content with her simply being more careful from now on, or asking her to instruct the other servants. But it seemed my intention hadn’t gotten through at all. I might have completely given her the impression that she was being blamed.

‘Um—’ I fumbled, sifting through my mental vocabulary for a different way to put it, but before I could string anything together, Emeralda began slamming her hands on the table. As if throwing a tantrum, Amelia recoiled, shrinking into herself. Then, timidly, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Lately, my stomach’s hurt. Maybe three months ago—”

“Milady!”

Emeralda’s sharp cry—panicked, stern. Amelia shook her head.

“Since Mother died, Glad’s wife managed. She’s been ill since midwinter.”

Glad—the butler or steward? His wife, the true head maid, per yesterday’s talk.

“Emeralda’s acted head maid. Unfamiliar, she’s struggled…”

Amelia lowered her eyes, trailing off. Although she didn’t say anything, she must have had some inconveniences in her life, or rather, they must have occurred quite frequently. I could sense her consideration not to damage Emeralda’s reputation. As I was admiring her modesty, I heard footsteps approaching from outside the room. Then I heard them arguing in front of the door.

“True?”

“Doubt it? She skips work—unfit for His Grace.”

“Fit? What?”

“I’ve said—choose a better-bred woman—”

“What? Amelia, you there?”

The duke’s voice with knocks. I moved, but Emeralda beat me, clinging to him.

“Young master! Young master!”

“Emeralda? What—Miss Zickler?”

“Here.”

Patting her back, he froze, spotting me. Fidel gaped.

“What’s this, Fidel? She wasn’t teaching.”

“Huh…? Oh, she was… odd…”

“I arrived on time.”

“Good. My mistake. Glad that’s cleared.”

Fidel smiled forcedly under my stare.

But Emeralda wailed, clutching his shirt.

“Young master! Expel her! She insulted me—horrible words!”

Where did her angry face from a moment ago go? Emeralda was now crying loudly and pointing her finger at me in between sobs, trying to accuse me. I was completely dumbfounded.

“Insulted how?”

“Called me useless! Despite serving you and milady!”

“What happened? Why tea here?”

“Emeralda set it for etiquette…”

“Morning’s your lesson time. And those wilted leaves?”

Confused, he glanced between her and Amelia—hesitating, perhaps for her nurse role.

“Emeralda, enough. Shameful to trouble the master.”

A crisp voice—Glad and a woman emerged. She, likely his wife, stood poised, hands on hips.

Emeralda froze at her sight. The woman sighed; Glad pried her off.

“Meeting the tutor, and you cause chaos? The family’s home’s dusty—didn’t you direct staff?”

Paling, Emeralda faced the woman’s sternness. My heart raced.

“Shamefully displaying this cloth—admitting incompetence!”

“T-this—laundry’s fault—”

“Don’t blame others! Bringing it here shamelessly—what nerve! You supervise!”

Finally, her patience had run out. The woman thundered down with a bang, and Emeralda collapsed to the ground. The woman’s force was so great that it went without saying that everyone there shook their heads. Not only the Duke, but even Glad, who was probably her husband, stopped moving for a moment.

“Interrupting lessons for etiquette? Who authorized that? You can’t even bow properly—know your place.”

“Young master,” she turned.

“Sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll resume work. For Emeralda, retrain her as a cleaner, if you allow.”

“N-no! Glad’s wife, not cleaning!”

“Silence. Compare dismissal or staying—reflect.”

Her firm ruling silenced Emeralda. Age considered, staying beat leaving—pragmatic, given her experience.

The duke nodded—settled. He handed her to Fidel, who, after a pause, obeyed.

“Glad’s wife! You’re well?”

Amelia’s bright voice lifted the mood. The woman softened.

“Worried you, milady? You’re well?”

“Yes! Your color’s back—great!”

“My, thank you.”

Hugging her like a grandmother, she turned to me.

“You’re the tutor?”

“Apologies for the delay. Ernesta Emma Zickler.”

I curtsied; she mirrored, flawlessly.

“Heard from the master and husband—valedictorian, female. Thanks for tutoring. We’re glad for your talent. Please enrich milady’s learning.”

“No, I’m grateful for this chance.”

“I heard that you came to university with the aim of becoming a civil servant, and I thought that was a great thing. Young people of the future should be like that. If I were a little younger, I would like to accompany you and hear what you have to say, my lady.”

“Well, Mrs.Glad, are you studying your picture book?”

“That’s good. But I guess I need to get her some new glasses then?”

When the Duke said this jokingly, Glad’s wife and Amelia looked at each other and laughed.

This was unusual for a woman of her age, who would normally tell people to stop reading books and focus on practicing embroidery and dancing. She was probably older than my mother back home, but she seemed to have a positive outlook on women studying and going out into society.

It’s really reassuring to know that Amelia has people like the Duke, the maid Sophie, and Glad’s wife by her side who are understanding. When I was introduced to the servants of the mansion yesterday morning, they were all timid and aloof, so I wondered what would happen, but maybe things will go well after all.

Watching the laughing siblings, I sighed in relief.