After exchanging a few conversations with some of the older servants during dinner that evening, Stella and Evelyn eventually retired for the night. The day's work had been exhausting, and neither had much energy left by the time they returned to the servants' quarters.
As expected, everyone was awake before dawn the following morning.
The servants prepared themselves for another day of work, moving through their usual routines in the dim light of early morning.
Then suddenly, a loud cry shattered the quiet atmosphere.
"Help! Somebody, help!"
The voice belonged to a woman.
Startled, servants began emerging from nearby rooms and corridors. Within moments, people were already hurrying toward the source of the commotion.
Stella followed along with the crowd.
The shouting appeared to be coming from the building adjacent to the servants' residence.
When she arrived, she found a young maid standing near the staircase entrance with one hand covering her mouth in shock. Beside her, another servant was trying to calm her down while repeatedly asking what had happened.
Curious voices filled the area as more people gathered.
"What happened?"
"Who was hurt?"
"Did someone fall?"
Unable to see clearly through the growing crowd, Stella stepped forward and pushed her way through the gathering servants.
The moment she reached the front, she froze.
At the bottom of the staircase lay Eliza Trinket.
The woman was unconscious.
Her body was sprawled awkwardly across the floor, while several servants knelt nearby in panic.
"She still has a pulse," one of them said after checking her condition. "She's alive."
A wave of relief immediately spread through the crowd.
Even so, confusion quickly replaced it, and questions began flying from every direction.
"Did she fall?"
"How could this happen?"
The servants exchanged worried looks while trying to piece together the situation.
Everyone except Stella.
The moment she saw the scene, realization struck her almost immediately.
There was only one person she could think of.
Evelyn.
Without drawing attention to herself, Stella glanced sideways toward her companion.
Evelyn stood among the crowd with the same composed expression as everyone else.
"There's no doubt about it," Stella thought.
A memory surfaced in her mind.
The previous evening, Evelyn had asked one of the servant girls to bring her some oil from the kitchen, claiming that her throat had been bothering her and that she needed it as a remedy.
At the time, Stella had thought nothing of it.
Now, however, the pieces were beginning to fit together.
"So that's why she asked for the oil..."
Her gaze drifted briefly toward the staircase before returning to Evelyn.
The latter remained perfectly calm, blending naturally into the crowd.
"But when did she even do it?" Stella wondered.
The stairs was completely clean.
There was no trace of oil, no puddle of water, and no visible sign that anything unusual had happened there.
That, however, only made the situation more troubling for Stella. If what had happened proved anything, it was that Evelyn did not trust her completely.
Otherwise, she would have mentioned something beforehand. Instead, she had acted entirely on her own.
Stella slowly approached Evelyn as the crowd gradually began dispersing. The two moved away from the scene together, neither speaking a word.
They communicated only through a brief exchange of glances.
Stella already knew, and Evelyn knew that she knew.
For a moment, Stella was on the verge of saying something, then her attention was abruptly drawn elsewhere.
The entrance doors had opened, and several people emerged from inside.
Leading them was an elderly man dressed in elegant, perfectly arranged clothing. His posture remained straight despite his age, and his composed expression immediately suggested authority.
Beside him walked a young man who appeared to still be in his late teens. He was remarkably well groomed.
Dark hair framed delicate features that seemed almost refined for a boy his age. Combined with his fair complexion and expensive attire, he carried the unmistakable appearance of someone raised amidst luxury from birth.
Behind the two stood a woman.
The moment Stella saw her, she understood who she was. The woman appeared to be somewhere in her middle years.
She was beautiful, not the youthful beauty of a young girl, but something more mature and dignified.
Her figure remained graceful, and every detail of her appearance reflected wealth and status. In one hand, she carried a folding fan decorated with what appeared to be golden patterns.
The resemblance between her and the young man was impossible to miss.
They shared the same eyes, the same refined features, even the way they carried themselves felt similar.
The elderly servant noticed Stella and Evelyn standing nearby.
Without saying a word, he gestured for them to move aside and lower their heads.
The meaning was obvious, the two girls immediately stepped aside and offered respectful greetings.
At that moment, neither of them needed further confirmation.
This woman could only be Marion Caden.
Just as Thomas had described, and as every servant who had spoken about her had described.
She carried herself with an effortless elegance that naturally drew attention. There was no need for her to speak loudly or demand respect.
Her presence alone accomplished that.
Despite being around her fifties, she still retained a considerable amount of beauty and an undeniable sense of dignity.
For a brief moment, Stella found herself observing her more carefully.
The woman passed by without sparing the gathered servants more than a brief glance.
Yet even that fleeting look carried an unmistakable sense of superiority.
Around her, the atmosphere subtly changed.
Servants straightened their backs.
Conversations ceased.
Even the lingering commotion surrounding Eliza's accident seemed to fade into the background.
For the first time since arriving at the estate, Stella felt that she was truly standing within the household of one of the region's great noble families.