Chapter 2
Beyond the heavy oak doors of the brilliantly lit dining hall, the estate’s corridors were equally bright and airy, filled with a gentle, elegant warmth. In the quiet of the east wing, Grace Miller stood in the corridor. At twenty-seven, the housemaid was beautiful like a movie star, possessing a softly rounded face, defined cheekbones, and dark hair arranged in a neat, low bun. Her fair, rosy skin was flawless, complementing her sophisticated black maid dress. The uniform featured a cinched waist, a slim fitted silhouette, a short A-line skirt, and a neatly tied white apron with a matching white collar and cuffs. She looked elegant, feminine, and entirely polished.
Standing beside Grace was Helen Sterling, Adrian’s seventy-three-year-old aunt. Helen wore a carefully pressed, immaculate formal dress, a simple pearl necklace, and sensible low shoes. Her fair skin bore the soft lines of age, but it was her hands that betrayed her vulnerability. They trembled visibly, a constant, involuntary shaking that she tried desperately to hide by clasping them together.
"I really shouldn't go in there, Grace," Helen said, her American accent fragile and laced with deep hesitation. "Celeste made it perfectly clear this afternoon. She said my presence would be a distraction. She told me to stay in my quarters."
"Miss Helen, with all due respect to the future Mrs. Sterling, this is your home," Grace replied firmly, her own American accent gentle but resolute. "You are the one who raised Mr. Sterling after his mother passed away. Your place is at his side tonight."
"But my hands," Helen whispered, looking down at her trembling fingers with profound shame. "Celeste said I would knock over the crystal. She said I would embarrass Adrian in front of the other families. I couldn't bear to bring shame to him, Grace. Not tonight."
"Mr. Sterling loves you," Grace insisted, stepping closer to offer a supportive arm. "He would be far more embarrassed by your absence than by a spilled drop of water. He had a chair placed specifically for you beside his own."
"Did he really?" Helen asked, a spark of hopeful light illuminating her weary eyes.
"He did," Grace confirmed with a warm, encouraging smile. "And the room is perfectly bright and clear. There are no dark corners, no shadows to hide in. We are going to walk in there, and you are going to take your rightful seat."
"I am frightened, Grace," Helen admitted, her hands shaking even harder. "Celeste can be so... severe when Adrian isn't looking."
"You don't need to look at her," Grace said, gently taking the elderly woman’s arm and guiding her toward the heavy oak doors of the dining hall. "You just look at Adrian. He is the only one in that room who matters. Are you ready?"
May you like
Helen took a deep, shaky breath, smoothing the front of her pressed formal dress. "I am ready. Thank you, Grace."
"It is my absolute privilege, ma'am," Grace said. She pushed the heavy doors open, leading the frail woman out of the quiet corridor and directly into the crowded, luminous brilliance of the evening dinner party.
