Welcome to the Rose Mansion - Chapter 83
Rendezvous in the Dead of the Night
[To the client, Miss Richelle Howard,
Hello, Miss Howard. This is Margaret Chester, the greatest detective of our time.
I looked into what you asked! You wanted me to investigate the people who worked at Bertrand. It just so happens that it’s the social season right now, so there are plenty of places to gather information.
Anyway, from what I heard, Bertrand has never really hired servants. Not only that, but no servant who left House Otis with a recommendation letter has ever moved from Bertrand.
Is it that once a servant is employed at Bertrand, they rarely change jobs? Considering they don’t hire separately, it seems like generations of families work at Bertrand. Maybe the working conditions are excellent.
Perhaps they provide jobs to residents of Sylvester. But hiring a lady’s maid like that would be difficult…
Well, they don’t need to hire for social activities anyway.
So far, nothing particularly strange in the investigation.
But here’s something I heard by chance while asking around. The former governess of Otis… after she went to Otis, she seems to have disappeared.
This is a story I heard from a lady I know. About six months ago, her daughter entered boarding school, and they ended the contract with their governess. She asked for a recommendation letter, saying she was going to Bertrand. Her surname was, if I recall correctly, Lloyd.
Since then, there’s been no news, so she assumed Miss Lloyd was doing well at Bertrand. But my goodness, Richelle, you’re the current governess at Bertrand!
What on earth happened? Did she run off with someone from Bertrand?
I have a feeling this is going to be more dramatic than a romance novel. Hehehe!
You should casually ask around about the former governess. Aren’t you curious about what happened?
I’ll be waiting for interesting news!
Heart racing,
Margaret Chester
P.S. What? No outside food allowed? What kind of place is this? Are they feeding you well? They’re not giving you leftovers from the Otis family, are they? Richelle, I’ve started to dislike Otis!]
***
[To the greatest detective of our time, Miss Margaret Chester,
Hello, Meg. How’s everything in Lynton? I’ve just returned to Bertrand.
Thanks for looking into it, Meg. I received your letter just now, having returned from home. It’s been quite helpful.
As for the former governess, Miss Lloyd… I haven’t heard anything. But now that you mention she’s not here, I’ll look into it myself.
Don’t worry about the food. I’m eating well. Every meal is proper and fresh…
…
By the way, Meg, things are complicated at the mansion lately, so I might not be able to write for a while. Please don’t get too anxious if you don’t hear from me.
I’ll be doing my best. Let’s meet again with healthy faces.
Doing my utmost,
Richelle Howard]
***
A week had passed since returning to the mansion.
It was an extraordinary, ordinary routine. Richelle took care of the children, dealt with Bertrand’s peculiarities calmly, and occasionally conversed with Rogéros as the days went by.
On the surface, it seemed as if nothing had happened. Just like those foolish days when she lived with hope for the future, knowing nothing. It was as if she were living in a ridiculous play.
After about five days, the odd, lingering gaze of Rogéros finally drifted away. Richelle remained silent for two more days.
And so today marks a week. It was time to act.
She stood by the window, gazing at the garden full of blooming roses. Soon, amidst the red flowers, a head of jet-black hair appeared. A man strolled leisurely across the garden.
The man, who grew smaller like a doll in the distance, soon disappeared from sight. The time was now.
Richelle turned and opened the desk drawer. She had prepared something for today’s operation. Holding it carefully, she strode out of the room.
Her destination was clear. It was a place she had visited several times—Alan Otis’s study. Her steps were unwavering as she moved down the corridor.
In the distance, the familiar, antique door came into view. A twinge of tension crept up on her.
‘What if he doesn’t come out? It’ll be a problem if I don’t meet him now…’
No, don’t shrink back already. Richelle took a small breath and knocked on the door.
“What is it?”
Contrary to her worries, the door opened promptly. The man, who looked like he might melt away like an ice sculpture, poked his head out. The slight smell of disinfectant was oddly comforting.
“Hello, Young Master Otis.”
First, she greeted him calmly. Alan Otis’s sky-blue eyes scanned her face.
“…You’re back.”
“You told me to return.”
The boy’s face stiffened awkwardly. He coughed a few times and leaned against the door frame.
