Chapter 28
Walter’s eyes sharpened suddenly.
Could it be that the doctor has taken Melissa away? Why? Where to?
Henry, anticipating the next question, quickly added,
“I don’t know if it’s abduction or if she went willingly, but it’s clear that the doctor knows Miss Melissa. When we first asked if a woman named ‘Mel Greenwood’ had come by, instead of asking who she was, he asked us where we were from. That’s why I stayed back to keep an eye on things.”
“So, did he take a train?”
“He did. Two of our men followed him, and we should receive contact when they arrive at their destination.”
“……”
Walter sank into thought as he checked the tightly secured pouch.
Realistically, the possibility of abduction was almost nonexistent.
The only people who knew Melissa’s identity were the subordinates who had participated in the party and the servants in the main building.
Excluding those tight-lipped subordinates, the remaining individuals were servants who had been thoroughly vetted to root out spies.
No one had disappeared along with Melissa. They conducted surprise personnel checks every day, so that was certain.
In conclusion, it meant that Melissa had left on her own…
‘The doctor, aware that they are looking for Melissa Vansen in the Duke’s household, packed his bags overnight and left for somewhere.’
‘He has been supported by the Vansen family for a long time.’
‘I wonder what this means, but I can’t make any guesses right now.’
“Investigate this Isaac person in more detail. Don’t send your subordinates; do it yourself.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Only answer once.”
“Understood.”
As he glared at Henry for dragging out his response instead of answering just once, Henry quickly brought over a pouch that jingled at his ankle. Kneeling down to fill it up, he grumbled.
“To be honest, I’ve long since passed the point where I should be taking care of these things. You haven’t forgotten I’m a lieutenant, have you? I would be quite disappointed if you had.”
“If you have complaints, resign. I’ll treat you as a young master of the Marquis family. Civilian Henry Schumacher.”
Walter delivered his words with an utterly expressionless face, making Henry look up with dissatisfaction.
“Colonel, please don’t joke around. No one says anything, so it seems like you’re doing it more often now, but it’s actually not funny at all.”
“……”
Was it really not funny? Civilian Henry Schumacher didn’t seem bad at all.
As Walter pondered for a moment while stepping down from the podium with heavier footsteps, he reflected on his own joke.
—
“Is this investigation just going to end like this? Does he really have some kind of illness?”
Back in the guest room under Emily’s strict supervision, Hermia collapsed onto the sofa.
It seemed like the Duke was genuinely unwell. Otherwise, there was no way he would fall backward just because a woman pushed him lightly.
He had reportedly performed great feats on the battlefield multiple times; perhaps those rumors were exaggerated beyond reality.
Born under the reputation of House Rockford, it made sense that his subordinates’ achievements would be packaged as his own. Isn’t that how high-ranking individuals usually operate?
Sitting at the desk, ordering here and there, getting noisy. “Bring me some water, don’t talk back…” Ah, maybe that was too much.
Shaking her head vigorously to dispel such thoughts, she almost turned someone she had only received help from into trash.
‘It’s probably just that he wasn’t feeling well for a day or two.’
Although she didn’t know when the Duke’s feelings might change, she should refrain from speaking ill of him while he was being kind. She deliberately made this resolution and hugged the square cushion beside her.
The soft material of the sofa made her body and mind feel relaxed. Compared to her own sunken sofa at home because she hadn’t replaced its stuffing on time, this felt like it could provide a good night’s sleep.
Moreover, after her brief trip to the study, the bed had been neatly arranged and new snacks were set up on the sofa table.
“This place is like heaven…”
Hermia bit into a biscuit and turned her head toward a glass bottle glistening with droplets of water.
Ah. It’s fruit juice. When she opened the cap of the bottle filled with bright pink liquid, a refreshing scent wafted out.
As she poured its contents into a glass and rolled it slowly around in her mouth, a wave of luxury washed over her.
“Grapefruit? Did they add carrots too?”
It was an intriguing taste where fruit and vegetable flavors blended together harmoniously. It was quite addictive; as she kept slurping it down one after another, someone knocked on the door.
She quickly adjusted her posture and answered before coughing loudly as soon as the door opened. About twenty maids around her age rushed in all at once.
“Excuse us, Miss!”
“Hello!”
“…Cough.”
Despite their lively entrance being obvious to anyone watching, Hermia’s heart began to race with anxiety.
‘Could it be that they’re all spies?’
If so, just one hit each would make it twenty blows.
Even though she thought it was unlikely logically, being stared at by a group of young women instinctively made her shrink back.
As they surrounded her while she sat stiffly like a statue, all of them had brightened faces with sparkling eyes.
“We’re sorry! The girls insisted on greeting you!”
The last person to enter was Emily.
A greeting? What kind of greeting? As Hermia sat there like someone who had broken down except for her eyelids, she finally chose what to say a beat too late.
“Nice to… uh… see you.”
Hmm. It seems like more practice is needed for her speech.
A voice with a playful tone broke the silence, saying,
“I’m sorry for interrupting your rest.”
As this was said, dozens of eyes turned to look in that direction. It was clear that the response would not be “it’s okay,” so she decided to keep her mouth shut. Instead, she shook her head with a smile, which brightened the expressions of the maids.
“See! I told you she’s a good person!”
“She’s even more beautiful in person than I imagined!”
The maids were in awe, as if they had finally met a famous character from a novel. Some even came prepared with pens and paper to get Hermia’s autograph.
Hermia, seeing the girl who had just outgrown her childhood, smiled genuinely this time. The tension that felt like a sandcastle began to dissipate in the breeze.
“Oh my, look at how fair your skin is!”
Ah, that’s because I’ve only been inside.
“Your hair feels like silk!”
That’s also because I haven’t been exposed to much sunlight.
“Doesn’t she look like the Snow Queen from a fairy tale?”
What does that even mean?
As Hermia continued to respond with her ever-present smile, Emily hurriedly interjected,
“Actually, I wanted to confirm a few things while greeting you.”
“Confirm?”
“I’d like you to help choose the girls who will attend to you during your stay. If you have preferences regarding personality, speech, appearance, or family background, I can arrange them according to your liking.”
At Emily’s words, the other maids lined up in an orderly fashion. Their movements were swift and efficient, suggesting they had designated positions.
Emily pointed out the maids with familiar gestures.
“We will rotate attending to you since we have our usual duties. However, if there’s a particular type you find uncomfortable, we can exclude them from serving you.”
This additional remark was a rule in this place: guests were not assigned dedicated maids regardless of how long they stayed.
This policy was approved after being proposed by the head maid who had served the late Duke for many years. It was meant as a safeguard against guests treating familiar maids carelessly.
The maids simultaneously recalled the time they stood in line before Melissa Vansen. Emily had asked the same question then, and shy Melissa had replied.
“I’d prefer someone whose voice isn’t too loud.”
“I see. Anything else?”
“Um… I’d rather not be woken up early…”
As Melissa rolled her eyes while speaking, Emily nodded encouragingly for her to continue.
“I’d like someone without a mole under their eye because it reminds me of Lady Laura…”
“Lady Laura?”
Melissa flinched and waved her hands dismissively. “No, it’s nothing.”
“Under-eye moles are excluded. Understood.”
“I want someone polite who won’t pressure me into doing things.”
“So you prefer politeness.”
“Exactly! Politeness! And they shouldn’t serve cold food just because I missed meal times.”
Emily furrowed her brows unconsciously. “Miss Melissa, that would never happen here…”
“And I want my room to always smell like flowers! Not damp and moldy!”
It seemed endless if she continued with her requests, so Emily forced a professional smile.
“I will ensure fresh flowers are brought to your room every morning. Thank you for your input. Now we must take our leave.”
As they filed out, Melissa’s last request flew after them: “And fresh fruit next to the flowers! It should be clean without bruises or blemishes! Thank you!”
These requests offered a glimpse into Melissa Vansen’s past few years.
The eighteen junior maids finished reminiscing about their memories. Among them, some recalled even older events.
A few months ago when Princess Elisabeth visited, there had been the winter funeral of Duke Leonard John Rockford.
Despite not coming from far or abroad, the Princess stayed at the Duke’s residence for a week like guests from distant lands.
“That was truly dreadful.”
In similar circumstances now, Elisabeth first eliminated those maids she found unattractive (though they were rather pretty). After that, her selection process became completely arbitrary: she rejected them day by day for reasons like dissatisfaction with their combing strength or how crooked they placed tea cups or that their massages weren’t soothing enough until eventually…
“What if that girl’s pimple transfers to me?”
“The sound of swallowing is too loud.”
“She looks at Lord Walter with too much interest.”
For such absurd reasons, only two remained by the end. Even then, she wasn’t satisfied and requested to be attended by the head maid before finally returning to the palace after Gerald intervened.
At least Gerald was kind and sensible regardless of status; thus it was possible for them to complain about issues.
They shuddered, recalling the image of the princely, gentle prince who looked exactly like him but had a completely different personality, his dazzling platinum hair decorated with countless jewels.
Now, what would be the demands of Hermia Vansen, the daughter of the Counts family, who had reportedly been mistreated by Count Henry’s wife?
Curiosity and tension rose together as she finally opened her mouth.
“I…”
