DYKWRI - Chapter 4
Which Will You Choose?
“P-please forgive me… Please forgive me… I’m so sorry….”
Mina repeated the words with hiccups but gave no sign of answering my question.
How troublesome. All I want is a plain answer.
“Well, you’re no longer fit to be my personal maid. I can have you sent to be a scullery maid — or, ah, if it’s the Silver Stag Inn, my father can arrange an introduction there right away.”
I’ll keep quiet about the fact that the introduction would be for a kitchen position, not for anything shameful.
My father supplies wine to the Silver Stag, so he can pull a few strings. He wouldn’t charge an introduction fee, but he’ll insist he has no responsibility for whatever happens afterward. That alone would be enough to brand a maid as ‘the one who angered a noble.’ I hear scullery work is harsh and you must finish menial tasks quickly.
A scullery maid’s life would be brutal, and she’d have no contact with my husband. Nor would she have any contact with me — she wouldn’t have to care for the wife she hates anymore.
The three of them said those two options were sufficient, so apparently those choices ought to make her reflect properly. If she truly shows remorse, I’ll reconsider dismissal — but she will no longer be my exclusive maid. I’ll leave it to Daniel to find her some work; he’ll assign whatever position he sees fit.
“Oh dear, this is troublesome. If you’re crying like that I can’t tell what you’re thinking. You hate me, don’t you? You don’t want to serve the trophy wife, is that it? And yet you expect me to cover your brother’s hospital bills? Doesn’t that strike you as unreasonable? Tell me — what do you think?”
I asked because it puzzled me. What had she hoped to accomplish by harassing me?
“What outcome did you expect from making my life difficult? If I were to run crying back to my father, he would pursue the Rilaias household until he’d nearly stripped their joint enterprises of profit. They’d have to cut back on maids, gardeners, coaches — perhaps even footmen. Is that what you wanted?”
“N-no… I didn’t want that… I didn’t mean—”
Mina’s face had gone beyond ashen to nearly white as she gasped out her words. It’s astonishing how much a person’s complexion can change.
My husband a week ago had turned deathly pale too, but by virtue of his noble upbringing he had eventually steadied himself. Did Mina genuinely intend to marry into a count’s family in that state? Did she have some connection to be adopted into another household? The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. She refused to answer my questions and I grew very annoyed.
“This is a problem — I still don’t know your answer. So tell me, which will you choose?”
Finally, Mina crouched down and began to sob.
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