Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 3
New Beginnings
[Miss Richelle Howard,
We have received the letter of recommendation from Madam Curtis, your graduation certificate from Harriet Private Girls’ Boarding School, and your resume. We at Bertrand are pleased to offer you employment with great enthusiasm.
Enclosed are your train ticket and a signing bonus. Upon arrival in Sylvester, please proceed to the carriage rental in front of the station and mention your destination. We will ensure your safe transport to the Bertrand Mansion.
However, please note that entry to the Bertrand Mansion is not possible after six in the evening, so we advise you to spend the night at a nearby inn and visit the mansion the following day. Mentioning Bertrand’s name at the inn will settle your accommodation costs.
We are delighted to welcome such a talented individual. We eagerly await the day we shall meet.
Signed,
Frederick Grant
Butler of the Bertrand Mansion.]
***
It was a cloudy day, as usual.
Spring was nearing, yet the wind that scratched at her cheeks was still chilly. Richelle Howard shivered in the bone-chilling cold, hunching her shoulders. The coat she had bought at the onset of winter looked decent enough on the outside, but its poor insulation betrayed its cheap price.
“Still, saving on the coat was the right decision. Thanks to the leftover budget, I’ll have enough for food this winter.”
Richelle clenched her teeth, which chattered uncontrollably, and crossed her arms. Something crumpled and rustled against her chest.
Realization dawned on Richelle’s face, casting a shadow of distress.
A very elegant letter had arrived for her today. It was from the House Otis, expressing their desire to employ her as a tutor.
Madam Curtis, Richelle’s mentor and the one who had recommended her to House Otis, had said this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Securing a connection with the Otis family, reputed to be the wealthiest in the kingdom, could not only guarantee a permanent position at the school but also a splendid marriage prospect.
Moreover, House Otis had offered an astonishingly large signing bonus and salary. With such an amount, she could pay off all her remaining debts.
However, Richelle could not easily respond. Making excuses to leave school earlier than usual and pondering a little longer was the best she could do.
‘What will happen to Mother if I leave?’
Sylvester, where Bertrand Mansion was located, was a half-day’s train ride from Domblinn, where she lived. This meant she would have to live apart from her mother while working as a tutor.
Her father had passed away, and they had long lost touch with her maternal family. Now, she was all her mother had left. Could she really leave her alone?
Richelle gazed up at the sky pensively. The gloomy clouds seemed to mirror her sentiments.
‘No, I can’t leave.’
Deciding to refuse the offer, Richelle hugged the heavy envelope close. The fresh beef she had hesitated to buy but eventually did warm her heart.
She would enjoy a delicious dinner, get a good night’s sleep, and then shake it off.
Admittedly, it was a disappointment, but it was okay. She could increase her workload and pay off the debt little by little. Enduring and persevering had always been Richelle’s forte.
Her steps lightened as she walked past the gray, disorganized streets. By the time the familiar and dear ochre roof came into view, the weight of the large suitcase in her right hand no longer felt burdensome.
A forty-minute ride by carriage from the center of Domblinn, and then a further twenty-minute walk, led to Richelle’s home, the most dilapidated and oldest house in the vicinity.
Even sunlight struggled to penetrate its walls, necessitating the burning of cheap, foul-smelling candles even during the day. Of course, using oil lamps would be more pleasant, but their cost and upkeep were too burdensome for the household budget.
Yet, Richelle loved her home. Although her mother called it ‘the most dreadful house in the world’, if you looked closely, it had its charm, and more importantly, it was a home earned entirely through her own effort.
‘Commuting is hard, so I have to stay at the teacher’s lodging during the week…’
How could she not love it? It was her family’s sanctuary, free from anyone else’s interference.
She gently caressed the white-painted wooden fence. The gate’s hinges squeaked.
‘Rusty now, hmm. It needs some oiling.’
A list of chores for the upcoming weekend neatly lined up in her mind. Then, she noticed several pieces of mail wedged into the gate. The local postman, when finding no one at home, habitually left letters like this.
Richelle set her luggage down and slowly extracted the mail. The correspondence she received was usually of a similar nature: debt collection notices, bills, or occasionally, letters of well-being from acquaintances. Judging by the color of the envelopes, it seemed bills were today’s lucky draw.
