Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 10
The Bertrand Mansion, over two hundred years old, displayed a pristine white beauty, unmarred by time. Though its style was relatively rigid and simple compared to recent fashions, it appeared all the more noble and grand.
Moreover, behind the mansion stretched a forest filled with dark trees, standing guard-like. This made the mansion’s white expanse even more strikingly vivid to the eye.
The Bertrand Mansion was indeed a beautiful residence befitting House Otis’s reputation.
However, Richelle felt an inexplicable chill.
Was it due to the stark contrast between the dark forest and the pure white mansion?
Or was it because this mansion was reached after passing through the ‘Black Forest’, a place detached from reality?
‘No, it must be because I’m too tense.’
The carriage came to a stop. Richelle neatly arranged her skirt, adjusted her hair and hat. Not too flashy, but not too shabby either. A trustworthy soft smile on her face, poised demeanor. She knew well how to gain favor with a noblewoman.
As the carriage door opened, a wave of rose fragrance rushed in. Richelle alighted with the help of a footman. A middle-aged man with a kind face was waiting for her by the door.
The man waited for Richelle to adjust her dress before extending his hand.
“Welcome, Miss Howard. I am Frederick Grant, butler of the Bertrand Mansion.”
“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mister Grant.”
“Please, come inside. The Madam awaits you.”
Before leading Richelle in, Frederick handed a small pouch to the coachman. The satisfied coachman beamed and turned the carriage around.
Richelle watched the departing carriage for a moment before following Frederick.
But why?
A sensation, similar to the one she had felt in the Black Forest, as if being thoroughly scanned from head to toe, suddenly struck her mind.
Richelle lifted her head. At the far end of the fourth floor of the mansion, a window.
It seemed as if a shadowy figure flickered there.
***
The interior of the Bertrand mansion could itself be considered a cultural heritage.
Richelle’s gaze was captured by the paintings densely lining the walls of the long corridor. Next to a painting depicting a scene from Genesis was a portrait of a beautiful woman, and beside that, a landscape painting depicting a view of the Bertrand estate.
“This landscape painting was a gift from Marzoa Dais during the major renovation of the mansion. The head of the family at the time was very pleased with it. And this painting is…”
As the butler narrated, Richelle simply nodded absently. The names mentioned were all renowned artists who had made their mark in history. She swallowed dryly.
The wealth of the Otis family, witnessed firsthand, was more than what she had heard. She was almost overwhelmed when she entered the central hall, under the gaze of the magnificent ceiling painting.
Richelle looked down at the marble floor, patterned in regular intervals. Her old, shabby shoes seemed to tarnish the marble’s clarity.
Of course, there was no new shame in this. Long ago, she had lost any jealousy or longing for wealth.
Her only worry was whether Madam Otis would find her agreeable. Next to such beautiful things, she might seem like an unsightly country mouse.
A gloomy country mouse, too awkward to be around their precious children.
‘Stop it, Richelle Howard. Don’t show a disheartened face.’
Richelle shook her head lightly. As she had already spent the entire signing bonus, failing to fulfill the contract period was not an option. She had to make a good impression, no matter what.
“Madam, Miss Howard has arrived.”
“Come in.”
While she was reaffirming her resolve, they had arrived at the drawing room where Madam Otis awaited. Following the butler’s lead, Richelle carefully stepped inside.
‘Goodness, Mother would have adored this.’
It was her first thought upon seeing the drawing room. The room, adorned with a blend of red and gold, seemed designed to overwhelm visitors with its opulence.
She passed walls decorated with exotic plates and paintings of women in red dresses to focus on the sofa in the center of the room. There, a woman who appeared to be in her late twenties was standing.
