Chapter 33
When a week and another day had passed, anxiety began to take root in me. The servants of the manor were not particularly worried, mentioning that Kirhin often left the estate for a fortnight or even a whole month under the pretext of learning the ways of the world. But I knew better.
I knew that his excursion this time was tied to Damian—and that it involved grave danger.
“Is there really no way to get in touch with Brother?”
As I muttered to myself, unable to turn another page of my book, Maya brought over tea and lowered her voice.
I offered her a faint smile.
Maya always made a point of preparing tea for me around this hour, knowing I read in the parlor. Since neither of us wanted Nina to see us growing too close, we were careful to conceal our familiarity.
After checking the time, I headed down toward the kitchen pantry with her. Maya stood lookout to make sure no one approached.
Thanks to her, I could take my time exploring the sprawling pantry, which was incomparably larger than anything in Mrs. Allmon's house. The sheer volume of ingredients was astonishing, and everything was quite fresh.
There weren't too many varieties of tea leaves, so I was able to memorize them in a single day. Bringing small pinches of leaves back to my room each night, I practiced distinguishing their aromas and studied books to learn which teas were favored on which occasions. And whenever Maya stood watch, I used that time for Nina.
It was on my second day visiting the pantry that I discovered a flight of stairs at the far left leading up to Nina’s room. What intrigued me was that until a few years ago, Nina had used a different room, only to move to this one for some reason.
Listening for the rustle of Maya loitering outside the pantry, I slipped up the stairs.
At this hour, Nina always gathered the maids to inspect their morning chores and hand down their afternoon tasks. That meant her room was empty.
Pushing through the heavy wooden door, I surveyed the room that had now grown reasonably familiar. It was far nicer than my cramped storeroom back at Mrs. Allmon's house—indeed, it was better than Mrs. Allmon's own bedchamber. It was spacious, impeccably kept, and carried the subtle trace of perfume.
That struck me as unexpected. Servants generally did not use perfume, and from what I had seen of Nina, she seemed the last person to indulge in such things. That question tied into a single thread the moment I saw the lavish negligees filling one side of her wardrobe.
They were nightgowns one could never imagine on a woman who kept her dress buttoned strictly to the neck.
Fabrics transparent as butterfly wings that left bare skin in plain view, sticky hues of wanton crimson, and designs slit so high along the skirt that merely lifting the hem would lay everything bare. Looking at them, I learned another lesson about the duplicity of human nature.
Tucked deep in the recesses of the wardrobe lay a wooden box. Inside were several elongated, smooth, club-shaped implements. They varied greatly in length and girth.
I had a fair idea of what they were used for. They had appeared in Where the Veil of Night Sings.
Thinking it best to read them quickly while Kirhin and Damian were away, I had already plowed through an entire shelf of those volumes. When I couldn't sleep at night, perhaps from drinking too much tea, they were just the thing to pass the hours.
From those books, I had learned just how supple and miraculous the human body could be, yet Nina’s case seemed puzzling. If such devices were meant for solitary pleasure, why on earth would she need such extravagant garments?
“Does she have a lover?”
In The Poet with Wet Lips, penned by the author of Where the Veil of Night Sings, there was a tale of a poet who had lost his manhood in a childhood accident, and the lover he adored. To keep his lover's heart from wandering, the poet made love to her using implements modeled after the bodies of fourteen men.
The tragedy began when the wife of one of those model men came calling. The ensuing chaos was so riveting that I had reread that passage several times. I even remembered the fond pet names the poet’s lover had given each of those pieces. It was a masterpiece, easily holding its own beside Hairund.
Feeling my face grow faintly warm, I shook away the stray thoughts and began opening the chest of drawers I hadn't managed to check last time.
From what I had uncovered so far, Nina led an unexpectedly passionate nocturnal life and possessed eight bottles of high-end perfume. There were rings and necklaces set with sizable pearls, rubies, gold, and obsidian, along with dozens of promissory notes from loans she had made to other servants. The sums involved were far from trivial.
“Can a head maid really earn this much?”
I furrowed my brow. While I knew little about head maids in noble households, this struck me as lavish. Outside this room, she always presented a plain, austere appearance, never wearing earrings, a necklace, or any ornament whatsoever.
My hands kept moving while I pondered, only to find the bottom drawer locked fast. I gave it a tug, but the latch was stubbornly secure.
A key.
Where would the key be?
“Meow. Meoowww.”
Just as I was about to search the places I hadn't checked yet, a cat's mewing drifted up. It was Maya's signal that time was running out.
Biting the inside of my lip, I got to my feet. Still, it hadn't been a wasted effort. Today's prize was knowing what I had to look for.
I could feel it intuitively. Nina likely kept the key to the drawer on her person. Given her cautious nature, she wouldn't leave it lying around.
And that key would surely be her 'dead rat.'
Closing the door and lifting the hem of my dress, I quietly slipped down the stairs, my mind already churning with ways to lay hands on that key. The languid night air wrapped around the room. Through the crack in the window, the whistle of the wind sounded sharper than it had yesterday.
I lifted my eyes while yielding my neck to Maya's hands as she applied the ointment. Her lips were pursed in a mild smile.
When I spoke gently, Maya answered with a smile and scampered out of the room. Left on my own, I shut the book and rested my chin on my hand. Thoughts of Nina and Kirhin kept taking turns disturbing my peace.
As I stared into the darkness beyond the undraped window, a sudden knock sounded at the door. Assuming it was Maya returning, I called out pleasantly.
Yet the face that appeared through the opening door was entirely different. Seeing Laurel step inside with a calm smile, I narrowed my eyes.
Her tone was mild and composed, yet the fact that she made a point of mentioning Maya set off a subtle prick of vigilance. As I looked at her in silence, Laurel gave the small medicine bottle in her hand a gentle shake.
I could have called her out for slipping back into familiar speech the moment we were alone, but I held my tongue. I needed to see what she was after first.
I simply let out a small yawn and allowed a faint scowl to touch my brow.
“Why are you tired? From slipping in and out of Nina’s room?”
The fine hairs across my body stood on end. Turning my head slowly, I saw Laurel settling casually into the chair by the window. She looked as comfortable as if she were in her own quarters.
Her brown eyes glinted under the flickering lamp. I clicked my tongue inwardly.
The room given to Laurel was on the opposite side from Nina's. Strictly speaking, she was my tutor, which meant she had no servants' chores and had no business near the pantry. There was no way she had stumbled upon me by pure coincidence.
At my retort, a smile surfaced on Laurel's face. Setting the medicine bottle on the table, she spoke.
I had no intention of replying. I was merely curious to see whether Laurel would side with me or with Nina. Given that she had come to me first, however, the answer already seemed clear enough.
