The sound of plates smashing against the ground and walls echoed throughout the room.
"You are all useless pieces of trash," Elisabeth scolded the maid who had just come to report. Anastasia had refused to eat the snacks Elisabeth had instructed her to bring to class. Frustrated, Elisabeth had sent her maid to the kitchen to handle the matter.
Elisabeth's plan to make Miss Maria despise Anastasia had failed, and her frustration only grew. She still wanted Anastasia to suffer. Anastasia's impeccable etiquette meant that all the rumors Elisabeth had worked so hard to spread would be dismissed as baseless.
I cannot let her shine, Elisabeth thought bitterly. Within the Duke's residence, she could act as she pleased, but outside, appearances mattered. Out there, they had to appear as the perfect sisters. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel-fire.net
Elisabeth couldn't stand the idea of sharing her stage. She had ordered that an extra herb be added to Anastasia's food, hoping it would subtly cause discomfort or illness. Who would have thought those fools in the kitchen couldn't handle such a simple task?
"Forgive me, my lady," the maid stammered, trembling. "But that maid threatened to hit the gong. If news of this spreads in Bex, the Duke's household will face a scandal."
"Fool!" Elisabeth's face contorted with rage. She slapped the maid hard across the face. "Why didn't you just tie up that foolish maid? If she never leaves the residence, how can she possibly hit the gong?"
"My lady..." The maid lowered her head, feeling wronged but too frightened to protest further.
"My lady," a calm voice interrupted. It was the old nanny, standing quietly at the side.
"What now?" Elisabeth snapped at her.
"You must calm yourself. Anger is not good for your health, and as a lady, you must always maintain your composure," the nanny said firmly. She had been hired by the Duchess to teach Elisabeth how to embody the grace and poise required of a noblewoman in Bex Royal Capital.
"No one is here," Elisabeth muttered, frowning. She understood the lessons; she would never let her anger spill out publicly. A true lady uses her words, not her fists. It was unladylike to resort to physical violence.
Of course, punishing a servant was acceptable but doing it herself showed a lack of self-control. The proper course of action was to have another servant administer the punishment on her behalf.
"You are not always as alone as you think, my lady," the nanny warned gently. "Even when you believe no one is watching, there may be unseen eyes. Habits formed in private can unconsciously reveal themselves in public."
Elisabeth froze. The nanny's words stung, but as Elisabeth thought about it, she realized the truth. If she allowed herself to lash out whenever she was angry, one day she might do it instinctively, even in public.
"Leave," the nanny instructed the trembling maid.
"With your permission, my lady," the maid said, bowing deeply before scurrying out of the room.
"The kitchen staff was not entirely wrong," the nanny continued. "Even if the maid threatened to hit the gong, she wouldn't need to leave the residence to do so."
Elisabeth frowned, unconvinced. There was no gong in the resident, even if there was her mother was the one in charge of the household. Rosa would not be able to get her hand on it
"Have you ever wondered why that girl is still alive, despite being such a thorn in your mother's side?" the nanny asked, her voice quiet but firm.
"Many times. But isn't it just because she's useful? An extra servant is always helpful," Elisabeth replied dismissively.
"You are still young," the nanny said, shaking her head. "The empire has rules. If that girl had died shortly after her mother, people would gossip. Even if the Duchess had nothing to do with it, rumors would spread like wildfire."
Elisabeth's eyes narrowed. Gossip was fleeting, she thought. In a day or two, something else would capture people's attention.
"But gossip damages reputations," the nanny said as though reading her thoughts. "Your mother's reputation would be destroyed, and as her daughter, it would ruin your prospects. No noble household would want to marry their son to the daughter of a cruel, vicious woman."
"Are you trying to scare me?" Elisabeth demanded. Sometimes, she felt the nanny exaggerated to appear wise.
"In the third year of Emperor Nathan's reign, he introduced a law: noblemen could only marry one wife. Emperor Nathan, influenced by a foreign religion, believed this would eliminate the strife caused by polygamy—the infighting between wives, and the dangerous rivalry among their children.
Although the law angered noblemen, women welcomed it. However, some women grew too bold, and their disobedience caused backlash. Emperor Nathan's successor, less disciplined than his father, introduced a new law permitting noblemen to keep one mistress within their household. The mistress's son could not inherit the family's property unless the wife has no sons but they were otherwise treated as legitimate," the nanny explained.
Elisabeth finally understood. If a mistress's son was treated almost as an equal, then harming a mistress daughter would cast the Duchess as intolerant and cruel—a poor example of a noblewoman. A daughter of such a woman would be considered unfit for marriage.
After all a daughter would be married off, so the wife should be able to tolerate her for a few years.
"But Mother makes her serve at family parties," Elisabeth argued, worried that people might already see her mother as cruel.
"That can be easily explained. It shows there were not enough servants, and as one of the hosts, it is natural for her to step in to ensure the guests were properly served. It's the perfect excuse," the nanny replied.
Making things difficult for the child of the mistress was not uncommon. No noble wife could point accusing fingers about this, but the case of poison or murder was different.
Elisabeth took a deep breath. "I'll be more cautious," she said finally. She realized now that, while the nobles pretended not to see what was happening, everyone was aware. If rumors spread of Anastasia being poisoned, with or without evidence, her mother's reputation—and by extension, her own—would be irreparably damaged.