“Why are you so late?”
Katarina’s voice rang thunderously through the room.
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
In truth, she had arrived ten minutes early, but Amelie first bowed her head deeply and begged forgiveness.
It was harassment she still could not quite get used to. Perhaps because of the anxiety, or perhaps because breakfast had sat badly in her stomach, she had felt stifled for some time now, as if something were lodged tight in the pit of her chest.
“I don’t like it. Were you late on purpose?”
“Of course not, my lady.”
It had been a baseless accusation from the start, so explaining herself would only be poison. All she could do was bow her head and plead.
“This won’t do. I’ll have to correct that habit of yours.”
Katarina’s fierce gaze swept over Amelie as if inspecting her.
Her neatly braided brown hair, her uniform so old the elbows had gone shiny yet without a speck of dust upon it, that head bowed gravely and deeply with an expression of utmost contrition, as though she had committed a mortal sin.
Her eyes were so ominous it was as if she might tear Amelie apart and devour her alive on the spot.
In the end, unable to find any fault worth mentioning, Katarina turned away in irritation.
“I need to choose the dress I’ll wear to the banquet. I also have to pick the accessories to match, so take out all the hats, shoes, and parasols as well. Every single one, without exception.”
“……All of them?”
Amelie’s face turned deathly pale. Katarina, who had been looking down at that face, flew into a sudden fit of nerves.
“Why are you asking? Must I say it twice?”
The Count and Countess Bichet were people who opened their purses without hesitation for the sake of their daughter.
Thinking of the dozens of hats, the hundred or so pairs of shoes, the more than ten parasols, and the room packed full of dresses, Amelie felt her head spin.
It was obvious that putting all those things back in order would fall to Amelie alone as well.
“Move quickly. What are you doing?”
The sharp, jagged voice stabbed into her back.
“……Yes, my lady.”
As Amelie turned away, the nape of her white neck looked especially pale. Katarina glared irritably at her retreating figure.
A mere maid—it was her own fault for daring to draw more attention than her mistress. Who told her to attract men’s gazes?
So the problem had been what happened a few months ago, at a certain social party.
* * *
〈Who is Katarina?〉
It had been at a party, when a few glasses of champagne had lightly warmed her body.
Katarina had been on her way to the terrace for some air when she heard her name from behind a large potted foliage plant, and quickly hid herself.
〈You know, the Bichet count family. The big mansion out in the sticks on the outskirts of Ezon.〉
〈Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a party at the Bichet estate.〉
A group of gentlemen were snickering as they put her name in their mouths.
〈You must have heard of the marvelous parties Katarina throws.〉
〈Ah, now that you mention it, I did have fun there, but I never thought to look at the maid.〉
〈Look closely next time. She stands out at once.〉
〈Yes, remember the “Sunshine of the Bichet Estate.”〉
……The “Sunshine of the Bichet Estate”?
Katarina’s eyes widened. If it was the “Sunshine of the Bichet Estate,” then that was certainly a nickname she knew.
She knew that fresh and affectionate pet name well—one she had pretended not to notice for the sake of appearances, while secretly feeling proud because she had thought it was hers.
〈It’s quite grand for a maid’s nickname.〉
The “Sunshine of the Bichet Estate” wasn’t me? Katarina was swept up in a fury that felt as though her blood were flowing backward.
To be honest, she too had found it somewhat strange that it should be “sunshine,” of all things. Wouldn’t something a bit more sensual suit her better than “sunshine”?
It would be embarrassing to give herself such a name, but for instance, “Black Velvet,” or “Enchanting Rose”……
〈Katarina must be terribly jealous. She pours that much money into her parties, and the men only talk about her maid…….〉
〈Honestly, there’s no comparison. She’s crudely big, with those stupid-looking eyes…… there isn’t a single noble thing about her…….〉
〈It’s because the Count and Countess are so ugly.〉
〈Those sagging lips, too.〉
〈Shh, watch your mouth.〉
〈The problem is that her temper is worse than her looks.〉
As Katarina stood there silently listening, the rims of her eyes flushed red. Those madmen—how could they so carelessly say such things…….
Her fingertips trembled. She had truly never experienced such shame and humiliation in all her life, and she did not know how to accept it.
Even as she did, they kept bringing up the “Sunshine of the Bichet Estate,” raising the vulgarity without restraint and spewing filthy lewd talk.
In other words, they said, “Sunshine of the Bichet Estate” was a nickname given because her smiling eyes were bright, clear, and beautiful.
And when one actually saw her, there was something somehow sorrowful and aloof in her gaze that stirred secret desire; in particular, the fair white nape of her neck was said to drive men wild.
Her face was far more aristocratic than her mistress’s, while her breasts were nicely full and her waist slender, so if one took her to bed, she would be better than any courtesan……
With the neat faces of gentlemen, they went on and on with a disgustingly shameless conversation.
However, Katarina, who wiped away her tears and kept eavesdropping on that conversation, felt her heart plummet for a different reason.
……It was Amelie Garnier.
The Sunshine of the Bichet Estate was not Katarina Bichet, but the lowly, worthless Amelie Garnier.
Only then did she understand.
Until now, Katarina had thought she was the one drawing people’s gazes.
She had believed her large eyes gave off a strange allure, that there was some loneliness in them that bewitched men.
She had mistaken her bursting, ample breasts for sensual charm, and thought men were going mad over her tall figure and the shapely lines of her long legs.
Sagging lips, sagging lips. Had she not thought that her thick, upturned lips were precisely her weapon?
Flames surged up in her chest.
When she thought that all the gazes of the men she had believed were hers until now had been directed not at her, but at Amelie, the anger that welled up was hard to endure.
She recalled the many mortifying days when she had blushed at her own misunderstandings—when she had been certain they were looking her way, only for the other person not to spare her a glance once she approached.
Looking back, every time that happened……
Amelie had been nearby.
When she walked down the street, servants and middle-aged gentlemen, even the seminarians from the chapel, would roll their eyes to look.
To think that the reason she had been so absurdly unpopular at social parties, that everyone had been so lukewarm toward her, was all because of that.
Because of nothing more than Amelie Garnier.
* * *
“Amelie?”
Katarina smoothed her hands over her body in front of the mirror. The tiny scales of the skintight silver dress were densely woven with fine thread, making her look just like a glittering snake.
“You look beautiful, my lady.”
Amelie desperately pulled up the corners of her mouth. The reason her smile was forced was not that the dress was not beautiful, but that her forehead was so hot she could hardly see properly.
“Is ‘beautiful’ all you have to say again? Amelie. I didn’t call you here just to hear some lukewarm ‘beautiful,’ did I?”
“A coat or cloak would suit it as well. Black, or a deep red.”
“That’s not bad.”
Katarina, who had raised her eyebrows fiercely, grudgingly accepted it.
No matter how much she hated Amelie, there was one fact she could not deny: Amelie’s aesthetic sense was quite excellent.
Amelie had an instinctive sense that allowed her, with a mere glance, to know exactly where a corsage should be pinned, or what color and material of accessory would match a certain fabric.
And so, when she was with Amelie, Katarina could end up in a dress perfectly to her liking with only a few instructions.
Of course, that did not mean she had any intention of giving Amelie a rest.
Over the hour it took to move the entirety of Katarina’s dressing room over, Amelie’s condition had grown worse and worse.
On top of that, since morning alone Katarina had changed dresses no fewer than seven times. As if determined to torment Amelie, she even made her take out old-fashioned dresses she had no intention of wearing.
Amelie would pull the corset tight with all her strength, fasten the crinoline that puffed out the back like an ant’s abdomen, then layer skirts and petticoats over it to complete the silhouette.
Then Katarina would smile and turn once in front of the mirror, find fault with one thing or another, and make her repeat the entire process from the beginning.
Moreover, for each dress there had to be perfectly matching jewels, gloves, fans, capes, jackets, and hats……. Amelie moved with all her might.
As if that were not enough, for Katarina, who wanted to try changing every hairstyle as well, she combed with trembling hands, repeatedly putting in and taking out dozens of hairpieces to create a different mood each time.
Even the person wearing that many clothes and accessories ought to have been fairly tired, yet Katarina grew more and more pleased, as if tormenting Amelie gave her strength.
Good. You’re good at this, Amelie…….
Katarina’s voice, with a hat set askew upon her head, grew distant as though underwater, then pierced back into Amelie’s ears and became clear again.
She could not tell whether she was truly being praised for doing well, or whether it was an auditory hallucination.
“Yes…… You look beautiful, my lady.”
Her small fingertips, convulsing from the high fever, already looked visibly pitiful, but Katarina did not even glance at them and continued chattering on about the dress, the gloves, and so on.
“Yes, yes, my lady…….”
Now a chill was running through her body.
Even as her mind grew hazy, Amelie simply picked up whatever words came to mind and wrung out the highest praise she could.
“I mean, it’s like Charlotte Garel’s stage costume. It shows off your figure so well, my lady……. And, and it’s elegant.”
“Charlotte Garel? That actress from the Grand Theater?”
Katarina asked back with a frown.