While Altair and Vivian were enjoying their lively conversation, the bathroom door rattled at the worst possible moment.
'Tap-tap-tap.'
Before Altair could react, Vivian snapped, 'Come in!'
The door opened and Irene walked in with lowered head. 'My apologies, Count Altair, Lady Vivian. A messenger from Count Leif's residence just delivered a letter; Steward Hahn felt it required your immediate attention and reply.'
Still looking down, Irene finished speaking and produced the letter she had been holding to her chest.
Altair patted Vivian's back to calm her, then took the letter, broke the wax seal, and began to read.
'My dearest Altair,'
'I hope this finds you well.'
'Perhaps you've already heard the outside gossip and are worried day and night; your Uncle-Grandfather is both pained and helpless. You are a girl of gold and jade—such sordid affairs, these schemes and intrigues, should never touch you.'
'Your Uncle-Grandfather and the elders will settle everything properly; we will never let the slightest disturbance reach you. Stay quietly in the manor, read, tend the flowers, or meet a few close friends—do whatever you like.'
'Let us shield you from the wind and rain outside. Do not trouble yourself with inquiries or excessive worry; simply guard your own peaceful days—this is the greatest comfort you can give us.'
'Do not dwell on worldly matters; take care of your health.'
'Your Uncle-Grandfather, Leif Strauss'
'Fourth of August'
After finishing Uncle-Grandfather Leif's letter, Altair picked up the enclosure.
It was clearly a high-level aristocratic banquet invitation.
Invitations of noble rank use heavy embossed card stock, gilt edging, and a pressed family crest; the envelopes are lined with velvet, made of thick colored paper, and sealed with bespoke wax bearing the family emblem.
Opening the ornate envelope, Altair read:
'To the esteemed Earl Altair Sheffield,'
'It is midsummer; the roses in the gardens of Hall Manor, Empress Borough, Backlund, are in full bloom, and the evening breeze carries their fragrance—perfect for an elegant gathering.'
'On Sunday, the tenth of August, at seven in the evening, the highest-summer fête will be held in the main hall and gardens of Hall Manor. There will be royal Burgundy, cold-smoked venison loin, candied fruits, and the Royal Symphony Orchestra. At nightfall a bespoke fireworks display will light the lake with drifting color.'
'Since the hunting banquet you and my daughter Audrey have got on famously; she speaks of you daily and hopes you will stroll the gardens, taste tarts, and view her new watercolor album with her. If you consent, please send a reply within three days. A gilded carriage will call at your residence at five that afternoon; you may bring attendants.'
'Sincerely, Count Hall'
'Fourth of August'
…After reading the letters Altair frowned. Vivian asked, 'What's wrong?'
Handing her the letter, Altair explained, 'It's what you mentioned tonight—the trouble in the industrial district is blowing up, but it should be settled in a day or two.'
Vivian glanced at the letter. 'Isn't that good? Fewer people will die and you won't feel so wretched.'
Altair took back the letter. 'Honestly, those people's lives have nothing to do with me; I'm not in the mood to play savior. I'm human, not a god.'
'I like something Count Hall said: charity is "extra compassion," never a duty.'
'Besides, their misery isn't my doing; I've given them plenty of jobs—they just can't tell friend from foe and listen to rumors.'
With that, Altair rose from the tub; Irene hurriedly fetched a towel and began drying him.
Vivian sighed at the change. 'It seems our little earl has grown up. Try to stay this way—otherwise I'll worry about your "escape route."'
When Altair left the bathroom, Vivian turned a cold gaze on Irene.
Tonight there had been reasons, but the maid had breached a taboo. Though a personal maid, she still had to respect boundaries—privacy was inviolate.
Interrupting while her master was intimate meant she had seen everything. Altair might overlook it, but Vivian would not.
Knowing Irene's nature, Vivian asked, 'Irene, how long have you been here?'
'Two months, Lady Vivian.' Irene kept her head down.
Vivian smiled thinly. 'Then you should know about "boundaries," and that I dislike being disturbed.'
'Besides, Hahn didn't order you to bring that letter in at once—someone put you up to it. Who?'
'Although the nations of the Northern Continent have abolished slavery and preach human rights, don't forget: you aren't legally a person, so the protections don't cover you.'
'For others the worst I can do is dock wages, reassign them, publicly shame them, or give a poor reference. But you're private property. Tell me and I'll lighten your punishment.'
'And what did you hope to gain?'
After a silence Irene named the Instigator: 'Housekeeper Freya. She promised that if she succeeded, she'd make me someone useful to Count Altair.'
Vivian laughed softly. 'Such a simple reason. I thought Altair liked you sisters.'
'Go and tell Hahn to wait in the drawing room; I'll be there shortly.'
…When Vivian, now dressed, entered the drawing room, Hahn was already standing by. She took the main sofa and spoke curtly: 'I want authority to deal with Freya.'
Hahn, unafraid, replied calmly, 'Freya became Count Altair's personal property half a month ago; her disposition is not mine to give.'
Vivian's voice hardened. 'I am the Countess of Sheffield—Altair himself has said so, and you know I have that authority.'
Hahn nodded. 'True, which is why you are Lady Vivian now. But you forget: by law a marriage not approved by elders only becomes valid once the man reaches twenty-one. Until then Altair cannot sanction a marriage on his own.'
'So, Lady Vivian, you are not yet "Countess Sheffield." I can assist in many ways, but I cannot hand over the earl's private property.'
'And you overlook the one essential duty of a countess—a duty your particular situation makes impossible to fulfill.'
Vivian eyed him. 'Whose decision is this—Altair's?'
Hahn shook his head. 'The earl loves you; this is not his wish. Indeed, he doesn't even know. You remain here only because of his affection for you.','
'The commission was relayed through Count Strauss; the originator is not for you to know.'
Vivian lowered her gaze. 'So Vera, Irene—even Freya—were all placed here?'
'Freya was not,' Hahn clarified. 'She was pure chance.'
'Please keep this confidential; the earl is still young—no need to burden him with worries.'
…As Vivian offered no further reply, Hahn turned to leave. Behind him she said, 'I still want authority over Freya—and the title Countess of Sheffield. I can compromise on that other matter.'
'How does that sound, Steward Hahn? I'll cooperate in carrying out the task.'