Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 52
Lost in thought, Becky approached the bookshelf with her rag. Richelle dipped her pen in the inkwell.
“In just three more weeks… I’ll be free.”
The maid’s voice trembled with fear, as if soaked with it. Ink splattered uncontained onto the paper. Richelle nonchalantly took out a new sheet.
Finally, Becky began to speak. So, what should Richelle ask first?
Alright. First, find out how the servants exhibiting strange behaviors gathered in Bertrand. It’s essential to confirm whether the mansion indeed makes people strange.
“That’s wonderful. I’ve only been here for about two months. How did you end up coming to Bertrand, Miss Dustin?”
“I saw an advertisement in the newspaper and sent a letter with my introduction to apply. After that, I had a simple interview and was hired.”
“They recruited a maid through a newspaper ad in Bertrand? That must have attracted a lot of people.”
“The advertisement was just for a maid at a country house of the upper class. It wasn’t until I received a reply to my letter that I found out it was Bertrand. Probably because they didn’t specify the workplace exactly, I was the only applicant. It felt odd, but I was desperately looking for a job at the time…”
For a distinguished family like the Otises, it was customary to hire servants through recommendations. It was a uniquely unconventional method to anonymously advertise in the newspaper.
Richelle’s pen scratched roughly across the paper.
“Then, did the others also come here in the same way?”
“I’m not sure. Bertrand doesn’t often bring in new people… There’s no vacancy even if something happens to a servant…”
Becky answered in a voice that seemed to shrink back.
They don’t often bring in people, and there’s no vacancy even if something happens to a servant.
Her words were veiled in mysteries, almost like a riddle. Richelle tapped her pen on the paper and asked,
“It seems there are many long-term workers in Bertrand. Who has been working here the longest?”
“I don’t really know. I haven’t had conversations with them. When I came to Bertrand, they were all long-standing staff.”
“Are you considering renewing your contract, Miss Dustin?”
“A person like me can’t even consider that.”
Becky emphasized the word ‘person’. Did she mean that the long-term servants were not ordinary ‘people’?
Or perhaps, not ‘people’ at all?
Asking more about the servants didn’t seem to yield new answers. Nonetheless, considering that Becky, seemingly the youngest servant, was the only one who was normal, it appeared that the longer one worked in the mansion, the stranger things became.
Hesitating, Richelle changed the topic of their conversation.
“It seems Mrs. Otis is such a good person that many servants work here long-term.”
Right after Richelle said that, Becky suddenly turned her head sharply.
“Mrs. Otis is…”
“Miss Dustin?”
“Don’t ever take an interest in the Otis family. The Otis family is…”
Becky’s body started to tremble as if an earthquake had struck. As Richelle stood up in surprise, the girl screamed.
“Stay there!”
“Are you okay?”
“Don’t come closer. Please.”
Richelle hesitantly leaned back into the chair. Becky turned around again to resume her dusting, obsessively scrubbing the same spot.
“Getting close to the Otis family is too dangerous… especially the eldest son.”
“…Why is that?”
Her dusting slowed down. After a while, Becky finally spoke.
“Well, it’s essentially poison for a servant to get close to their employer’s family. You become too noticeable, and you might be misunderstood as having presumptuous thoughts…”
“……”
“Several tutors came and went before you arrived, Teacher. All showed interest in the eldest son. And they all disappeared without a trace. It’s because those people caught their eye.”
“If by ‘they’, you mean.”
“You must never catch their eye, Teacher Howard.”
Becky turned around. Her grip on the rag was so tight as if she might tear it apart. She seemed tense, and in a way, desperate.
“You mustn’t think about it. You need to keep a low profile. Don’t be curious. You have to survive as if you were dead. And.”
The girl crouched down. In a tiny voice that seemed to fade away at any moment, she whispered,
“And, be wary of the scent of roses.”
