The Golden Age.
The stock exchange in Ejon, the capital, seethed with crowds every single day. People with bloodshot eyes leaped without hesitation into precarious investments little better than gambling, and most noble houses were no different from them. More and more families sold off unnecessarily vast castles and mansions to newly wealthy commoners, then poured the savings from reducing their staff into gold mine development and railway investments.
Yet there clearly existed traditional conservatives who found the current trend—where even high nobles threw away dignity to chase nothing but money—utterly repugnant.
The Count and Countess Viche, for instance.
Administratively part of Ejon City, but in reality the outskirts of a town closer to countryside than civilization. In the midst of fertile land where vast vineyards stretched endlessly, the Viche estate’s grand mansion held its ground as if still reigning supreme. They maintained this massive mansion in perfect condition all year round at tremendous cost, preserving it at precisely the scale their ancestors had lived in, and the true mistress of this splendid fortress was none other than Katarina Viche.
The Count and Countess Viche were devoted parents who would give anything for their only daughter, born to them at an advanced age, and Katarina was a somewhat cunning girl who understood her parents’ weakness better than anyone.
Thus Katarina Viche sought to use her maid of the same age, Amelie Ganier, as a “living doll.” Her reason was that she needed a playmate in this isolated, splendidly ornate mansion where she had not a single friend. Already exhausted by her eccentric daughter’s obstinacy, the Countess Viche secretly considered Amelie Ganier’s arrival a relief, so she left Katarina to do whatever she wished with the girl.
Amelie Ganier was summoned to her young mistress’s room every morning. When she arrived in Katarina’s room, she would don the dresses Katarina put on her, drink tea, share cookies, and play with dolls. Amelie even took all the refinement lessons Katarina Viche received. Penmanship, table manners, and deportment, as well as piano, literature, and history.
The governess working at the Viche estate at the time was quite flustered that the maid was far brighter than Katarina Viche, but at decisive moments, she would exert every ounce of her strength to adjust the balance so that Katarina Viche could always come out triumphant. After all, a mere twelve-year-old maid would not be the one paying her wages.
The young Amelie enjoyed all of it with a willing heart. That she was permitted to share in the young lady’s possessions was unbelievably delightful, blissful—enough to endure the piercing gazes the other maids occasionally sent her way. At times, Katarina would let Amelie sleep in her own room instead of the maids’ quarters, whispering dreamy words such as, “I told Mother to adopt you,” or “Father says he’ll consider it.”
On such nights, Amelie would fidget with her fingers and lie awake for a long time. Gazing up all night at the ceiling fresco painted with the Viche family, she imagined whether she, too, might be depicted there one day if Katarina’s words came true.
Then came one particular evening.
“If Amelie doesn’t go, I won’t go either!”
It was the hour before an evening outing. Miss Katarina threw a tearful tantrum. She had begun insisting that she would bring Amelie to the grand opera house in downtown Ejon. Though twelve was hardly an extremely tender age, Katarina constantly embarrassed her parents in this fashion. With their only daughter rolling on the floor in an atrocious fit, the flustered Count and Countess Viche eventually yielded to her demands. As Katarina wished, they dressed Amelie in a presentable gown and seated her in the carriage.
Amelie held Katarina’s hand tightly and, feeling rather smug, climbed into the splendid carriage past the servants lined up on either side. She carefully perched on the bright red velvet seat, folding her hands neatly on her lap, and beneath her small hands the crisp hem of her glossy dress rustled.
Katarina, having claimed the seat beside her, chattered away at her parents before suddenly turning to ask Amelie,
“Amelie, you’re happy to come with me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my lady…….”
The master and mistress sitting side by side across from them watched Amelie for a moment without a word, then soon began conversing in low voices as if she were not there.
The carriage hurried on through the softly falling spring rain. Passing fields thick with the fishy scent of damp earth, when the carriage entered downtown Ejon, Amelie’s eyes grew wide. Despite the late hour, the streets were vibrant. Gas lamps glittering like starlight lined the avenue in a long row, and splendid carriages passed by. People swarmed the brightly lit shops and cafés. From a gilded fountain, jets of water surged powerfully upward. As the carriage circled the round plaza and slowly came to a halt before the imposing entrance of the grand theater, Amelie’s heart began to pound as if it would burst.
“Welcome,”
a valet in an elegant uniform greeted them courteously as he opened the carriage door. He extended his hand to Amelie exactly as he did to Katarina Viche, offering a gentle smile. He kept his hand extended until the small enamel shoes she had borrowed from Katarina stepped from the carriage footboard to the ground.
Following right behind the Viches through the tall, massive doors of the theater, Amelie could not help but lose herself in rapture. Magnificent ceiling frescoes, chandeliers gleaming like jewels, lighting everywhere…… . The marble staircase converging toward the center from both sides of the lobby was packed with dignified gentlemen and ladies attired in splendid dresses. The distant sound of an orchestra tuning their instruments drifted over. She could see well-dressed young lovers walking in hand in hand.
“Amelie, I’m so excited! Tonight’s performance will be incredible. A famous actress is performing.”
Katarina whispered, pulling Amelie close by the arm. And then…….
“We’re off!”
Katarina spun around and immediately latched onto Count Viche. Amelie was left alone.
“Father, it wasn’t boring coming with Amelie. I want to bring her next time too.”
Before Amelie could even understand what was happening, Countess Viche glanced at her without the slightest interest and beckoned the coachman with a lift of her chin. The coachman, who had been standing awkwardly near the entrance, hesitated before walking into the lobby.
“Jerome, take charge of this child.”
“Yes, madam.”
Amelie looked up at the middle-aged coachman in shock. The coachman, sporting a scruffy beard, seemed exceedingly conscious of his untidy clothes; he repeatedly glanced at his mistress’s mood and took Amelie by the hand. Led away by the coachman’s hand, Amelie turned to look back at the lobby one last time. A lively tune began, and the sounds of people whistling and cheering died away behind her.
Thud. The theater staff bolted the massive doors shut. The beautiful melody that had tapped at her ears was instantly blocked by the soundproof doors and grew faint. The front of the theater fell silent, as if nothing had happened. The expressionless servants of various households loitered about before scattering off somewhere forlornly, leaving Amelie sitting all alone with the coachman.
“……!”
Amelie bit down hard on her lip until her vision blurred violently. Golden light flickered across her burning eyelids, and at last tears began to fall, drop, drop.
“That’s no place for you, child.”
Having nothing else to say, the elderly coachman gazed down at Amelie for a long while before letting out a heavy sigh.
“Nasty nobles, the lot of them. Doing this to a young child…….”
The coachman’s rough hand gently stroked her head. She wanted to run away, ashamed of her own foolishness. She had been happy, never knowing such things were forbidden to a lowly maid. Amelie was nothing more than the young lady’s doll.
After that day, Amelie became miserable. Elegant fragrances drifting through comfortable rooms, smooth silk dresses, clean fluffy bedding, sparkling enamel shoes, and pretty dolls…… . Surrounded entirely by beautiful, pretty things, by a glittering world, she would find her breath choking in her throat when the time came to return to the servants’ quarters under the roof.
But after the trip to the grand theater, the piercing gazes and irritation of her weary colleagues grew increasingly severe. At times she was beaten for hours by senior maids.
“The lucky wench living high off the miss’s favor. The country bumpkin who thinks she’s a noble. The selfish wench who never dirties her hands.”
In endless torment, Amelie repeated it to herself again and again. The closer one drew to the lives of nobles, the wider the gates of hell opened beneath a servant’s feet.
* * *
“Amelie, why don’t you get pimples?”
The pimples beginning to sprout one by one became seeds of discord. Even at thirteen, Amelie’s face remained as clear as porcelain, and as the days passed it even took on a bewitching air. It was the threshold of adolescence, when the most irreplaceable friend in the world could turn into a bitter foe. Having bid farewell to the innocence of childhood, Katarina poured out unrefined jealousy and hatred without restraint upon the maid closest to her.
“Amelie Ganier, my hair is tangled because of you!”
She would strike Amelie’s cheek without warning for brushing her hair poorly, or wipe her own sauce-stained hands on the girl’s uniform. Amelie had to endure one-sidedly all of the young lady’s whims and sudden fits of irritation. The bright and cheerful Amelie gradually grew taciturn. The inescapable life of a maid, Katarina’s violence, wore Amelie away incessantly.
As time passed, Katarina gradually began mingling with other young ladies her age. To win the favor of new friends who willingly visited the Viche estate on the outskirts of Ejon, she did not hesitate to disparage Amelie.
“Before I met you ladies, I played with only her. In this backwater, with that maid!”
“Oh my! Please don’t tell me you had her sleep in your bed.”
“I’m afraid it’s true. You can imagine how lonely I was as a child, can’t you?”
Amelie attended to them like a shadow. She diligently refilled tea and moved about the room to ensure cakes and cookies never ran out. Wearing the mask of an obedient maid, she concealed a heart filled with anger and despair.
Time flowed on, and Amelie Ganier, nearing adulthood, became a seasoned senior maid. Her unusual stiff-backed propriety sometimes drew laughter from her colleagues, but now everyone said in one voice that being a maid was Amelie Ganier’s calling. She performed any task entrusted to her perfectly, knew her place, harbored no greed, and always said that the world of servants to which she belonged was everything. And so she was getting by well enough.
But in truth, Amelie Ganier had never been able to fully discard her desires and her pride.
She had merely learned how to bury them in secret.