Chapter 33
“No matter how much the Madam says that you shouldn’t reveal your identity to the outside world, a carriage without the family crest would have sufficed, Milady. I’m sure the servants in charge of the carriages did this on purpose!”
“Even so, the person who gives them orders wouldn’t change. Just because I look like I’m on good terms with Amoide doesn’t mean they’ll bend over for me.”
Amoide and Camilla were above everyone as they’re the estate’s employers, but there was still a hierarchy amongst the maids, attendants, and all the other people who worked at the Duchy.
There were people who managed everyone and gave instructions to others even though they were fellow employees.
In this manor’s case, the one on the top was Greta, the maid closest to Camilla, and no one could rebel against Greta because her orders were as good as Camilla’s.
At the very least, Jean was hired externally and his domain was the independent kitchen, so he could move on his own without having to challenge Greta’s influence.
But, outside the kitchen, everything was according to Greta’s will. It was a mandate granted by Camilla herself.
In any noble family, the influence of the head maid as the chief of the servants was somewhat strong, but in the case of the Efret Duchy’s mansion, it was especially stronger.
Truthfully, Camilla’s authority should have been passed onto me, as her daughter-in-law, and this was the common practice in any aristocratic household.
However, as long as the Duchess—or should I say ex-Duchess, since the title should have been passed onto me now—was still alive, she would still be in the seat of power, recognized as the master of this family.
If this was a normal household, the previous Madam should have stepped down from the household’s internal management since Amoide was the Duke, and to give way to the new Master’s wife. Usually, the previous matriarch would cease all her social activities, return to the countryside, and live separately.
Regardless, that wasn’t the case for the Efret household.
Camilla was still the most powerful person in the Duchy because Amoide was ill, and I, his wife, was just a puppet being controlled by Camilla. Which meant I was at the bottom of the food chain.
No wonder Greta’s words held more weight than mine.
‘Still, though, Camilla said she’d leave the matter of Amoide’s health in my hands…’
Even if I was still under constant scrutiny.
“It’s better than it used to be, though to them, it’s still the same. It’s not like I gave birth to a successor.”
After all, the servants are bound to listen to Greta more, since she was Camilla’s henchman. My position in the Duchy was exactly like the carriage I was riding right now.
“This is actually better.”
I leaned my head against the rickety carriage’s window. Every time we passed by gravel on the ground with some stones sticking out, the carriage shook readily.
“What’s better, Milady?” Rona asked, leaning her head towards me.
‘The less I stand out, the better.’
A carriage that would shake so earnestly like this on a rough road. No one would ever think that the Duchess of Efret was in a carriage like this.
This was also why I didn’t reveal my destination.
Soon, the carriage left the heart of the capital, but it took me a long time to reach my destination.
“Hmm… nothing’s changed here.”
Unlike the central part of the Capital where shops were abundant, commercial streets in the outskirts were sparse.
“What brings you here?”
As if spooked, Rona wrapped her arms around herself.
“If you’ll be shopping, wouldn’t it be better to go to Ritorre Boulevard at the center of the Capital?”
“There are too many people there.”
Ritorre Boulevard was the busiest place in the capital. Everywhere you looked, there were shops clad with shiny signboards and opulent glass displays—Anyone and everyone who had money always shopped there.
“Of course, it’s crowded there! It’s famous for its boutiques and jewelry stores and dessert shops… All the best things in the Empire are in that street.”
Muttering so, Rona looked so disappointed now since she had been looking forward to shopping. “But… what are we doing here…”
I simply grinned at Rona.
“There’s someone I have to meet.”
I stopped in front of a shabby pharmacy.
The wooden sign had a bowl of medicine etched on it with nothing else written but the word ‘Drugstore.’ The illustration and the handwriting were so horrible that I doubt anyone would willingly come here for business.
It was a place where you would wonder if there was a proper pharmacist working there.
Knock, knock.
Two staccato beats on the old wooden door followed more after no one welcomed us after a while.
“….”
There was no answer from inside. However, it wasn’t a store with transparent glass, so I couldn’t look inside.
“Nothing’s changed here,” I murmured, letting myself in the half-open door and looking in.
Inside was a sleeping middle-aged man, nodding under the sun, his belly large enough to hang over the armrest of the chair he rested on.
Clang, clang.
At the sound of the bell over the pharmacy’s door, the man was startled awake.
“Welcome…”
Bouncing off his chair, the man stopped panicking when he saw me there.
“How have you been?” I greeted him first.
“Oh, who is this?”
Walter, who blinked several times as he stared at me, adjusted his glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose. It was clear that he couldn’t believe his eyes.
“Selena?”
Finally, Walter beamed. Even so, his blurry eyes shone with tears and so the light in his eyes was quivering.
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