In the Doghouse - Chapter 3
On the way home in a hired carriage, Patricia didn’t say a single word. Courtney didn’t bother trying to cheer her up either. How could she, when they’d had to sell their perfectly fine carriage at a low price because they couldn’t afford a coachman? The thought of luxury items only made her blood boil more.
The coachman dropped them off in front of the mansion’s gate. The view of the Devon estate before them was bleak and desolate. The garden, once beautifully maintained, had turned into an untended jungle, and most of the unnecessary furnishings had long been sold off.
If only Courtney had been the one to sell things to support the household, but no—it was mostly the work of her brother, Frederick, a hopeless gambling addict.
“Mother! Courtney!”
As soon as they stepped into the entrance, a frail, tearful voice greeted them. It was Elise Devon, Frederick’s wife, and one of the primary sources of Courtney’s headaches.
“Yes, sister-in-law. What’s happened?”
“Jack, he… he packed his things and left.”
Elise burst into tears the moment she finished speaking.
Though Elise was always one to cry at the drop of a hat, this time the news was genuinely upsetting. The last attendant of House Devon had finally given up on his overdue wages and left.
Why did it have to be today of all days? Courtney was the one who truly wanted to cry.
Patricia quickly stepped in to comfort her daughter-in-law.
“Elise, don’t cry. We can always hire another servant.”
Her words were astonishingly carefree. And at that moment, the last thread of Courtney’s patience snapped.
“Mother. Sister-in-law.”
Her voice was cold and eerie, and both women turned their gaze toward her. Courtney’s already sharp eyes narrowed even more fiercely. It was one thing to avoid reality, but to this extent? She was the only one desperately trying to keep the house and what little land they had left.
“Do you not understand the situation we’re in? We can’t even pay Martha, who’s been cooking our meals all by herself, and you’re talking about hiring more servants? If there’s no one to work, then you’ll have to do it yourselves! Laundry, cleaning—there’s nothing you can’t do on your own!”
Courtney unleashed her frustration in one breath, without pausing. They didn’t need more servants. At this point, the entire family ought to be employed as servants instead.
If their downfall had happened overnight, maybe she could understand their failure to grasp reality. But for as long as Courtney could remember, House Devon had always been in a precarious or downright terrible state.
Twenty years of collectively deluding themselves… It was almost impressive.
Patricia and Elise, clinging to each other, blinked in shock. In that moment, they truly looked like mother and daughter—so alike in how they sought comfort in clothes and jewels even when the world was crumbling around them.
Another downside of an empty house was that sound echoed. Courtney’s loud outburst reverberated throughout the vacant space, filling every corner. From somewhere nearby came a tiny voice.
“Miss Courtney… I’m fine.”
Martha, the old maid in a shabby apron, stood in the kitchen doorway. She was the only one in the house who ever comforted or supported Courtney. Her actual family, despite being bound by blood, was less dependable than a stranger.
Courtney swallowed the tears rising in her throat and spoke harshly once again.
“No one in the whole capital will want to work for us anymore, so it’s time for everyone to face reality. And Mother, I’m not the least bit sorry for the embarrassment you faced at the tea party!”
With that, Courtney spun around and ascended the stairs. The wooden steps, long overdue for repairs, creaked ominously under her weight.
Her father, despite having nothing, had always been overly generous.
Her mother, spoiled by her wealthy family, clung to her vanity, yet they never lifted a finger to help House Devon.
Add to that her gambling-addict brother and her constantly weeping sister-in-law, and it was an utterly hopeless family.
Maintaining her sanity in such a household was a feat in itself.
At this point, leaving the house altogether seemed like a tempting option, but—
“Auntie. Upset?”
“Eddy.”
A small boy, only reaching Courtney’s waist, was standing in the second-floor hallway. He had inherited his father’s green eyes and his mother’s curly golden hair, but none of his parents’ personalities—he was an angelic child through and through.
Her nephew, Edvard, was hugging a large bunny doll that Courtney had made for him when he was a baby. The icy expression that had been frozen on Courtney’s face since winter softened slightly.
“Eddy, did you have a good nap?”
“Uh-huh. Auntie, where’d you go?”
“Just had to take care of something.”
When Courtney opened her arms, Edvard smiled bashfully and ran into her embrace. The sweet baby scent melted her heart.
It was for this boy that Courtney struggled so hard to keep House Devon afloat. If it weren’t for him, she would have long since left the house—whether it meant working as a maid in someone else’s household or serving food in a tavern. She wouldn’t have cared a bit about her hollow noble status.
She regretted not bringing any treats from the tea party. The Wrighton ducal residence’s desserts would have been made with rare ingredients that Edvard had never even seen. She had been so upset with her mother that she hadn’t thought of it at the time, and it bothered her now.
“I’ll change my clothes and make you some butter cookies.”
“Yay!”
Though she would have to figure out where to get more money by nightfall, Courtney, at least while she was with Edvard, could forget about her exhaustion.
Once again, she steeled her resolve.
Even if she never married, she would make sure her nephew lived a life different from the rest of the Devon family.
