Like any other hot afternoon, Berth was seated on her bed with a needle in her hand, making beautiful patterns on her clothes. Her blue eyes were fixed on what she was doing, but she had long zoned out in a whirlwind of thoughts.
After finding out what people thought of her three days ago, she had tried to ignore their vile words and the humiliation her husband was facing, but she just couldn't.
How could she?
She was his wife, and even though she had no feelings towards him, she wanted to thrive to live up to his reputation. The pace at which Berth was sewing gradually increased as she was lost in her train of thoughts.
The needle working in and out of the clothes suddenly dove into her thumb, and she hissed, jolting back to reality. She lowered her gaze and saw that her thumb was bleeding; she kept the needle aside, then sighed.
Obviously all odds were against her; she had to do something, or else she won't be getting her peace of mind anytime soon.
"Marymanda!
Berth called out from where she was seated; she waited for a while before she heard light footsteps approaching. The door to her chamber creaked open, and Marymanda stepped in.
She was always dressed in a plain white gown with a brown apron strapped across her waist. Her grey-colored hair was pinned up in a low bun, and brown sandals were strapped to her feet.
Marymanda was a woman in her late sixties. But she looked younger than her age, her fair skin always got envious glares, and her cherry cheeks… simply laudable.
Anyone could tell that during her prime, Marymanda was an epitome of beauty.
The first thing Marymanda took notice of was her mistress's chamber. Was it in good shape?
Yes.
That was a relief; it meant Berth wasn't having a mental breakdown from the rumors she had been hearing these past three days. Marymanda slowly trailed her gaze to where Berth was; her eyes were quick to notice the wound on Berth's thumb.
She immediately panicked.
"I will pluck some leaf from the garden; that will stop the bleeding." She quickly said, turning around to leave. She had thought Berth called her to help treat her wound, but that wasn't the case.
"It's alright, Marymanda, I am perfectly fine. It's just a small cut."
Berth retorted calmly, tracing her gaze on her thumb before slowly settling her gaze on her only house help. Marymanda, who had turned to leave, halted and then turned around to gaze at her mistress.
"Are you sure?"
She asked just to be on the safe side. Berth sidestepped her gesture.
"I have a favor to ask from you."
Berth said, rising to her feet.
"Ask anything, my lady."
She said, her face plastered with a senile smile, the wrinkles around her lips creased, and three lines appeared on her forehead.
Berth could never tell if her smile was genuine; whatever the circumstances may be, Marymanda always had that contagious smile masked on her face.
Berth walked up to her dressing mirror and stooped in front of it. She gazed at her reflection, mentally preparing herself for the question she was about to ask.
"Marymanda….."
Berth called out before finally asking the favor that had long gnawed at her heart for the past three days.
Now, all her life, no matter the complicated scenarios that played out before her, Marymanda had always learned to smile. Her smile was more of a mask shielding away her real emotions, but it became a part of her.
But the moment Berth uttered the favor she had so desperately wanted from her, for the first time in many years, the smile on Marymanda's face fell.
It was as if all the blood on her face began to drain; she was literally shrinking on the spot.
Berth took notice of this; her gaze was lowered, fixed on the floor in embarrassment. When she saw that Marymanda was silent, she immediately knew it was a bad idea from the start.
"I…uhm, it's okay if this is too much to ask…" Berth paused, then turned around only to realize that Marymanda was gone. She blinked her eyes rapidly as she gazed at the empty doorway where her house help was standing a few moments ago.
There was something that everyone who came across Marymanda failed to take notice of: she was sensitive. Though there was always a fake smile on her lips, there were always signs when she was displeased.
It could be a mere twitch of her lashes or a slight laughter to adjust to an awkward situation. But people seemed to be ignorant of it.
Marymanda's sensitive nature had a long history. Starting from when she was mistreated by her aunt when she was a little girl. Her childhood was simply horrifying, and she hated having conversations about it.
But she loved little children, a lot!
Most times when she was less busy and when Berth didn't need her service. She would spend her time in the kitchen baking to her heart's content. She baked enough to distribute around to kids around the neighborhood.
If she wasn't working as a house help, she would have probably been a baker.
For the whole day Marymanda reflected on her mistress's words. The favor Berth had asked of her wasn't too much to give, and yet her blunt reaction filled her with guilt.
Her mind drifted to what her mistress had said. Even while making dinner, it was difficult to concentrate; she zoned out most of the time, only to be triggered by the smell of the food almost burning.
By nightfall, Berth was already preparing herself for Dickson's arrival. She drew the curtains closed and then turned on the candles in the chamber.
She soaked herself in a warm bath and remained there for a while before stepping out. She didn't ask for Marymanda's help because she was too embarrassed to do so.
Berth was dressing up in a blue night robe when she heard a slight knock on the door.
"It's Marymanda."
Came the voice behind the door. Berth paused what she was doing before saying,
"I will be waiting for Dickson; we will have dinner together."
She retorted calmly. Of course she was just trying to avoid eating alone in the dining room under the watchful gaze of her house help; how unsettling.
The door opened and Marymanda stepped in. Berth frowned, then retracted her gaze from the mirror…
"I just said…"
"I heard you, my lady; I didn't come here to ask you to come down for dinner."
Marymanda answered plainly. Berth turned to look at her; she lowered her gaze instantly, then turned away.
"I understand your plight completely."
Marymanda began inching forward.
"That is why I am here to help."
She added, and Berth froze momentarily.
"You don't have to."
Berth replied, her voice almost in a whisper.
Marymanda chuckled softly, then smiled.
"I want to. You see, during my youth I had a lot of experience; I wouldn't mind teaching you." She answered, her eyes losing their spark after.
"I only reacted that way because your word stirred up some buried memories. I used to be like you once, a married maiden, young and clueless. But now, the one person that loved me for who I really am, my husband, is dead." She said bitterly.
Berth felt guilty; her face turned sour, filled with remorse.
"I didn't mean to offend you."
"I know that."
Marymanda answered casually, a weary smile spreading on her lips.
"That is why I am here to help you master the act of seduction." She added, before bringing out the bottle of coconut oil she had been hiding behind her back.
Berth's eyes softened, a warm tingling in her heart.
"I think I am the problem."
She said, turning to gaze at Marymanda, she crossed her hand on her chest tentatively before reclining on the dressing table.
"It is no wonder that he won't touch me; I did, after all, threaten him with a knife on our wedding night."
She admitted it. Marymanda was stunned at her mistress's words, but as the master of facial expression, her countenance didn't change.
"Oh…well, we can start from somewhere."
She stuttered before composing herself.
Berth pondered on her words for a fleeting moment before nodding in agreement.
Marymanda began to stroll around the chamber.
"You first need to have a signature scent. Which oil do you prefer, coconut oil, lavender…rose oil…?"
"Coconut oil will do."
Beth answered curtly, already feeling nervous.
"Nice choice. Smelling nice while in bed is always a bonus."
She commended before coming to a halt.
"I will be honest with you; for all this to work, you both have to stay in the same room."
It wasn't a new thing that Berth and Dickson slept in separate rooms. At first it was merely out of convenience, but now it had become a normal thing.
Berth swallowed her, and her shoulders dropped at Marymanda's remark.
"This is going to be harder than I thought."