Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 33
“Just… Just a moment, please.”
Richelle covered her agape mouth with her hand. Rogéros tilted his head to the side.
“What’s the matter?”
“O…Over there, isn’t that Young Lady Penny and Young Lord Nero?”
Indeed, it was as she said. Somehow having slipped away, the twins in their pajamas were gleefully romping through the bushes. Richelle felt like she might faint.
“M-Mister Rogéros! I must go after them right away! Please go ahead without me!”
“Wait a moment, Miss Howard—”
Before he could finish, Richelle dashed off after the mud-covered twins. Clutching her skirt, she ran with a grace befitting a fine lady, yet with the speed of a child climbing trees.
“Goodness.”
Left alone, Rogéros watched Richelle’s retreating figure for a long time.
Prudent, wary, quite intelligent—
Bertrand’s new family member.
“It won’t be easy.”
Rogéros, who had been stroking his sleek face, looked up at the sky. The strong wind suggested it might rain soon. He sincerely hoped Richelle would find shelter from the rain.
And to remain unharmed and healthy, surviving long in this mansion.
***
While convincing the twins to head inside, a sudden downpour began.
Richelle hurried to get indoors, but the twins shouted with joy and ran into the rain, like puppies seeing snow for the first time.
Suppressing the urge to cry, Richelle chased after them. Soaked to the skin along with the children, she managed to get back into the mansion with superhuman effort.
Despite the sight of three people soaked to the bone, the mansion’s servants were unfazed. They simply greeted Richelle warmly and busied themselves mopping up the water on the floor. It wasn’t anything new.
Hastily heading to their room, Richelle first immersed the twins in warm water before heating the room.
Although they missed breakfast, the bathed children soon fell asleep. They could nap now and be fed a warm lunch upon waking.
After closing the twins’ bedroom door, Richelle finally had a moment to attend to herself. She touched her neck and forehead, coming to a quick conclusion.
“I might catch a cold…”
And so she did.
By lunchtime and into the afternoon, a fever began to rise, eventually clouding her mind. Covering her coughing mouth with a handkerchief, Richelle left the children’s room.
“Fortunately, the children seem fine, but…”
Should she see a doctor? If she was unlucky, the fever could worsen by dawn.
But was there a resident physician in the mansion?
Hesitating at the stairs, Richelle decided to proceed. Consulting Madam Otis would likely yield no kindness, so asking the butler about calling a doctor seemed best.
Upon reaching the pantry, Bertrand Mansion’s butler, Frederick Grant, greeted her warmly.
“Good afternoon, Miss Howard. Is there something you need?”
The smile naturally appearing on his lips was as kindly as the day they first met. Richelle felt a slight relaxation in her shoulders.
“I came to inquire if there’s a resident physician in the mansion. Young Lady Penny and Young Lord Nero got caught in the rain. They might need to be examined…”
“A doctor?”
Frederick interrupted Richelle’s words. Suddenly, the smile had vanished from his face. Richelle looked up at him, perplexed. The butler’s eyes, unnaturally wide, lacked focus.
“There is no such role at Bertrand.”
His tone was as if assigning roles in a puppet show. The expressionless, waxen face made it all the more eerie.
Richelle clenched her stiffened hands tightly. It was imperative not to point out Frederick Grant’s strange behavior. For reasons unknown, intuition pierced through her mind.
Smile.
Politely. Casually.
As if just having a normal conversation.
“Then, is it possible to call in a doctor? What does Bertrand do when someone falls ill?”
“There are no patients at Bertrand.”
“It seems the Otis family doesn’t employ a resident physician then. What happens when Madam Otis falls ill…?”
“There are no patients at Bertrand.”
Frederick Grant repeated the same words once more.
But how could there be no patients? It’s natural for anyone to catch a cold or something minor.
Feeling increasingly feverish, Richelle felt unsteady on her feet.
She gasped for air, looking down, and once again, Frederick’s rigid voice fell upon her.
“There are no patients at Bertrand.”
The sentence was repeated for the third time.
Richelle then realized.
The tone and manner of repeating the same sentence were exactly the same, without a single deviation.
Cold sweat broke out on her back.
Was she really conversing with a human being right now?
