The Maid Under the Stairs - Chapter 39

< Chapter 39 >

“It’s nice because it’s small and cozy. It has an atmosphere like a villa of an old wealthy family, with a sense of heritage.”

As Irina fluttered a glamorous Southern-style silk fan and looked around the villa, she said. Meanwhile, Mary had laid out various creams, cookies, honey, and strawberries, specialties of Isle of Wight, on the first-floor dining table.

“Hey, pretty ladies over there, we’ve finished preparing tea and snacks, so please come over here!”

Upon hearing Mary’s spirited voice, Mabel felt dazed.

She had spent dreamlike days with William Edmundstone in this villa for the past few days. After spending nights together and receiving love confessions from William, their walks and meal times together became even sweeter, as if adding a spoonful of honey. Furthermore, his expressions of affection towards her became bolder as days went by.

However, as Mabel feared, as summer came to an end, William had to leave temporarily for the Westminster Parliament House, promising endless love and letters to his lover.

However, not even half a day after his departure, the villa, which had been filled with passion, suddenly became bustling with the noise of unexpected visitors.

“Oh, come on, I was planning to send a letter in advance, but Irina rented the entire ship in a big way. So, we had to change the plans for a surprise visit by these noble ladies, hehe… But Mabel, are you mad at us for coming without notice?”

Mary asked, watching Mabel’s reaction. Mabel’s expression didn’t seem too good when they first arrived at the villa.

“Oh, no. I was just surprised. It’s nice to see you all here!”

Mabel sincerely enjoyed meeting her friends again, although she was worried that if their friends had arrived a bit earlier, they might have seen her and William sharing a passionate farewell kiss.

Thanks to their frequent conversations about her fears throughout the summer with William, Mabel found the courage to meet her friends again.

“Were you here alone all this time? Weren’t you scared? Did you hire someone to take care of the house?”

“Uh? Um, well… the islanders are very innocent and nice, haha…”

Mabel awkwardly replied to Irina, who was still scrutinizing every corner of the villa with sharp eyes.

“Wow, this cream is delicious. The sweet flavor melts in your mouth and spreads at the end…”

Luckily, Mary didn’t notice any awkwardness in Mabel’s response and praised Isle of Wight’s sweet cream while rolling her feet under the table. There was a chunk of strawberry cream stuck to the corner of Mary’s mouth.

Seeing that, Mabel remembered the day she and William tasted Isle of Wight’s strawberry cream together.

It seemed like William was determined not to give her a chance to say something like, ‘I’m just a maid…’ as if he wanted to prevent it. He spread a thin layer of sweet cream on bread for Mabel who came down for breakfast.

‘Um, it’s smooth and sweet.’

Mabel, wide-eyed at the unexpected flavor, forgot her embarrassment of being fed by him and said. Then William lifted the corners of his mouth and lightly licked the sweet cream from her lips.

‘It’s because of the cream.’

William whispered in a low, simmering voice near her lips.

‘I can take care of it.…’

Mabel’s cheeks and ears flushed at William’s skillful and seductive kiss. Although she had spent the whole day in his arms, she still felt embarrassed by his small gestures. William silently watched Mabel’s flushed face. Then he lightly kissed her cheek and grazed past her ear, kissing it softly this time.

‘There isn’t any cream there…. huh.’

‘There wouldn’t be any, it’s so sweet.’

As she felt his soft lips and let out a slight moan, William awkwardly replied, continuing to kiss along her neckline.

Without even sitting properly at the dining table yet, he explored Mabel’s skin eagerly. Mabel felt like she might burst into laughter at the ticklish sensation, but she had to hold onto the edge of the table and catch her breath due to the overwhelming heat emanating from him.

“Well, well done. You’ve cleaned almost every nook and cranny here. Amazing, really.”

As Irina looked around the table where they were sitting, Mabel was startled and snapped out of her reminiscence with William.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“No, did you clean up everywhere by yourself while you were alone? It must have been difficult to clean in between these places. We should send our housemaids here for a visit.”

Irina continued to gaze around the table, her tongue clicking.

It was true that Mabel had started cleaning the villa in the afternoon to distract herself from the emptiness after William left. Yet, she felt flustered at the thought of Irina discovering any traces of her actions.

“Anyway, Mabel, let’s talk. Today’s discussion topic is ‘Mabel, I understand you’re busy with your mid-novel, but with only a week left until the vacation, can you just write on the island like this?’ Alright, let me start first. Ahem.”

After filling her belly with a cup of cream tea, Mary cleared her throat and began to speak in a rhetorical manner like a street orator.

“According to the philosopher Francis Bacon, knowledge enslaved by imagination and conjecture is useless. All knowledge and information must be obtained through scientific experiments, he said. All things should be experienced and learned, treating our minds as Tabula Rasa (*Tabula Rasa, a Latin phrase meaning ‘blank slate’ used metaphorically in philosophical contexts), as the great British philosopher John Locke said….”

Philosophy classes were boring and seemed pointless, Mary lamented, and with that thought in mind, she disappeared somewhere, while Mabel, caught up in the idea of throwing a party, began quoting the words of philosophers.

“But our Mabel is now writing about young people’s lives overflowing with human experiences, especially about love and drama, in this little villa… What’s the best way to gain the most certain knowledge about life to write good stories? It’s through direct experience, isn’t it? How do you experience it? By opening a gathering where young people are invited, a party, in other words.”

Mary raised her voice, seemingly moved by her eloquent speech that started like a drama. Mabel, on the other hand, just looked at Mary’s verbose invitation to the party with a bewildered expression.

“Therefore, this speaker, Mary de Percy, shouts out: Oh, youth, where art thou? No, where’s the party?”

“After all the preparations you’ve made, just agree to attend the party.”

Irina, who had heard Mary’s speech on the boat ride to the Isle of Wight, couldn’t contain a sigh and started stirring her teacup in front of her.

When Mabel agreed to attend the party without resistance, Mary felt a bit proud. It was because she had notes prepared in her bag with several speeches to persuade Mabel. However, without dwelling on the disappointment for long, Mary became busy talking excitedly with her friends about the party plans on the Isle of Wight.

* * *

After spending quite some time at the villa, the friends finally returned to Irina’s family mansion where they were staying, only when it was time for dinner. Seeing off her friends with noise and excitement, the villa, once bustling with activity, now looked particularly lonely and cold.

‘Just this morning, this place was warmer and happier than anywhere else in the world.…’

Mabel caressed the chair where William often sat. Although they had only been together for a month, she had grown accustomed to his presence around her.

Next to his chair was a collection of Emily Dickinson’s poems that William used to read to her upon Mabel’s request.

‘Love is all there is, all we ever knew of love.…’

His low and gentle voice reciting Dickinson’s poem echoed vividly in Mabel’s ears.

‘Though it should suffice, we can only contain that love within the frames I possess.…’

He either looked into her eyes or kissed her forehead every time he read this short poem beautifully aloud. Mabel made an effort to remember every affectionate gesture he showed her.

William used to gaze at her with a face that seemed to believe their love, which blossomed on a remote island, would last forever. And every time she faced his pure and truthful expression, Mabel felt a pang in her chest.

“It’s just memories, like a dream on a midsummer night, Mr. Edmundstone.”

Mabel whispered, barely moving her lips. Even if her ambition had momentarily led her to delude herself, she reassured herself that he would be fine. He was a smart person, a remarkable person.

He would understand that it was just a momentary infatuation, even if it might sting for a while. After all, brief flirtations between a maid and the son of a wealthy family were common. Perhaps it was fortunate that he had met a woman without greed and naturally distanced himself from her.

Just like that, if he passed through woman after woman, he might eventually forget about her and live on as if nothing had happened.

As she barely blinked, a single tear trickled down her cheek. Before she knew it, Mabel’s face was drenched in tears. The Dickinson anthology, tossed aside carelessly, now sat on a single page of poems that depicted the poet’s heartache after losing love.

“I walked from sheet to sheet.

Slowly and cautiously,

Right next to my head, there’s a star,

And under my feet, it feels like the sea.

I didn’t know if the next step

Would be my last.

Some might call my hesitant steps

Experience.”

Mabel felt as if she had fallen into the abyssal sea visible between the sheets, just like in this poem. Just a little more, just one more day, two more days. Could she be a little happier on this island where her insignificance wouldn’t hurt anyone?

Tears of longing and pain flowed endlessly from Mabel’s eyes. Perhaps it was too late to dismiss it as a summer fling.