Chapter 28
Miss Rose Evans
The manager pushed the double doors wide open with all his strength. Beneath the warm firelight, Cecil Hobart was seated in an armchair, wearing a white muslin dress that made her seem to have forgotten the season.
“I’ve brought the maid,” the manager announced.
He practically shoved Liri forward as if presenting an object or a dish. Liri tucked her worn leather bag behind her back and bowed politely.
The room was a display of lavish tastes: an ornate ivory-inlaid table, marble floors, and a rug imported from Morocco. It seemed as though every luxury had been gathered here.
Liri stood quietly before the wall, waiting for Cecil’s next command. Cecil glanced at her and let out a brief sound of admiration.
“You’re really beautiful. You’d be perfect as a hostess maid. It’s surprising you’ve been stuck cleaning rooms with looks like that.”
A delicate nose slightly lifted, dense eyelashes, and deep-set eyes that hinted at untold stories—Liri’s beauty drew people in the more one looked.
Cecil wasn’t imaginative by nature, but when it came to matters related to Belmore, all her senses were on alert. With such beauty, it was safer to have Liri by her side.
Even though Cecil had been raised as a noble, she was well aware of gentlemen’s clubs, the government, and the gossip surrounding easily swayed maids.
“Until the social season begins, we’ll have tea parties every day. In the morning, we’ll ride in a carriage for a walk through High Square. You’ll serve by my side during those times.”
“Yes, Miss,” Liri replied.
Cecil gently took Liri’s hand.
“Be a good friend to me.”
Liri nodded vigorously in agreement.
As Summer had predicted, Cecil kept her from thinking about anything else. She was sharp, but not out of malice, so Liri silently endured her exacting nature.
The more Liri focused on executing Cecil’s orders perfectly, the less time she had to think about that other gentleman, and she sometimes overcompensated in her diligence.
From early morning, winter rain and fog blanketed the city. With unexpectedly little to do, Liri spent the day altering Cecil’s dresses.
“Has Lord Belmore arrived yet?”
Cecil asked the manager anxiously, who cleared his throat.
“Master has an important engagement today. The exhibition opens soon, so he won’t be able to pay much attention to the hotel…”
Standing beside Cecil as she let out an audible sigh, Liri felt a mix of sympathy for Cecil and irritation toward Lord Belmore.
Since the first day of her stay, Lord Belmore had not come to see Cecil even once. He had sent a yellow rose bouquet, but through a servant.
Cecil had made Liri read the card:
“It says it’s from Belmore, Miss.”
“That’s all?”
Cecil, unable to hide her disappointment, had even turned the card over to check for more, but there was nothing else.
Liri glanced at the rain pounding against the window. With weather like this, the streets must be in chaos. It wasn’t ideal for a tea party.
“Elizabeth, Miss Rose Evans will be coming to the afternoon tea. She wants to wear that dress, so finish the alterations quickly,” Cecil said, pausing her embroidery to glance at Liri, who was observing the rain.
“Yes, Miss.”
“Today, Catherine Bronski, Rose Evans, and Florence Cavendish will be coming. They are debuting in society this year, so you’ll meet them often—memorize their names.”
Cecil quickly recited their names, their family background, and their fathers’ occupations. Liri nodded, holding her breath so as not to miss a single detail.
“Don’t make a mistake. I won’t repeat myself. Recite exactly what I’ve said.”
Cecil was unusually irritable today. She had chosen Liri as an easy target for venting, arms crossed as she stared at her.
“Rose Evans stayed abroad for a long time but has now returned to her home country. Her parents recently secured mining rights and made a fortune. Rose was born here but may not know our customs due to her long stay overseas…”
Liri repeated every word perfectly. Indeed, she was flawless in execution.
“Florence Cavendish is your closest friend. Her father…”
“No, that’s enough. You’re clever,” Cecil interrupted.
Liri had wanted to thank her for acknowledging her usefulness but hesitated.
‘You seem to have an extraordinary memory,’ Cecil had noted.
Liri shook off the faint memories that surfaced like fog and continued mending the torn lace.
When the time came, the young ladies arrived one by one. In the tea room, decorated with gentle floral wallpaper, the rustle of muslin dresses could be heard.
Liri stood by the door to guide the last arrival. Her breath caught at the sight of a young lady dragging a soaked dress through the hallway with anxious steps.
Red hair, a face sprinkled with freckles, tall yet still childlike in the features.
“Rose…?”
Liri, in her black dress with a frilled apron, and Rose, in an elaborately adorned white muslin dress, stopped in the middle of the corridor.
Like a child, Liri reached out toward Rose—but Rose did not come forward. Instead, she looked stiffly around, moving back slightly.
“Miss Evans? Why aren’t you coming in?”
Rose lowered her head and passed by without speaking to Liri. Her hand froze midair, unsure where to go.
“Everyone’s here now,” Liri said, politely pulling out chairs and pouring tea, just as she had for the others.
But Rose couldn’t focus on the conversation. The bright, confident Rose was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a girl nervously fiddling with her teacup.
When she spoke even once, the other young ladies subtly mocked her accent, giggling.
The worst was when someone commented on her grip of the cup: “It looks like a soldier drinking hastily in a trench.”
After that, Rose couldn’t even touch the tea. Liri stepped forward and placed some cake in front of her.
“Miss, please have some cake.”
Rose did not look at Liri. It seemed inevitable that tears would soon fall into her teacup.
The other young ladies watched her closely.
“I didn’t even ask for the cake, yet it’s being offered—my pride is offended. Though, she does have quite a ‘healthy’ figure.”
Rose trembled. She pushed the cake away, and the white cream smeared onto the red carpet.
“I don’t need this.”
“Miss Evans is quiet, but her speech is quite like Londinium commoners. I thought it was from living abroad when she performed on stage.”
The young ladies glanced at her from time to time. When they saw her teetering on the edge of tears, they immediately returned to discussing society debuts, dresses, and inherited jewelry.
“Miss Evans lived abroad a long time, right?”
A girl asked. Rose nodded nervously.
“I heard your father got word long ago that a daughter of the Evans family fell ill seriously abroad, but she recovered well, right?”
Did these girls even understand Rose’s situation? Liri faintly understood why Rose pretended not to know her.
The conversation shifted from balls to engagements, naturally revolving around Cecil Hobart.
“Cecil, your engagement to Lord Belmore is true, right?”
“He said he would announce it after my society debut, once everything is prepared.”
The young ladies reacted enthusiastically to every composed word Cecil spoke.
“Nothing has happened with Lord Belmore yet? I wonder what he said when he proposed—did they even kiss?”
Liri couldn’t help but listen.
“Cecil, don’t dodge. I’m asking about Lord Belmore. High-blooded stallions sometimes can’t control themselves,” one said boldly.
“Catherine! You speak shamelessly in front of the maid!”
The young ladies giggled at her daring metaphor. Cecil turned to Liri.
“Elizabeth, could you step out for a moment?”
Liri blushed but nodded. A young lady across from her smirked.
“Maids are quite experienced. With a face like yours, you’ve probably seen and done plenty.”
Only Liri and Rose stiffened at that remark.
“Cecil, don’t make her leave. Tell us—was it true? Don’t deny it now.”
“Right. And don’t try to defy the young ladies,” Florence added, leaning her chin on her hand.
Liri was flustered. Cecil gently stopped Florence.
“Florence, there’s no need for dirty stories. I’ll tell you about Lord Belmore. He always kisses me very carefully.”
Liri silently thanked Cecil in her heart for helping her escape the embarrassing questioning, listening with a burning red face.
