"Ugh, it's cold."
Emily shuddered and lowered the bucket into the well. After a moment, a loud splash echoed from below.
Turning the winch with practiced efficiency, she raised the bucket—now brimming with icy water—to the surface.
When the flood had swept through the village, this well had been buried along with everything else. But thanks to the engineering corps prioritizing its restoration, the villagers soon had clean water again.
Emily blew on her frozen fingers and surveyed the village around her.
"Truly... the summer feels like a dream now."
The peaceful settlement that had stood for hundreds of years had been swallowed by mud in a single night.
The little chimneys that once released the warm scent of baking bread at midday. The stream where chickens, ducks, and dogs wandered together. The lawn where children frolicked in the afternoon sun—all of it had turned to ruin overnight.
Emily, who had run in horror to this place—where, as they whispered in the church, hell itself had spread—had collapsed to the ground the moment she arrived.
It had been even more terrible when she learned that her ladyship was trapped somewhere within.
She had tried to calm her sobbing mistress, but ended up sobbing louder herself.
"Phew..."
Even now, the memory made her heart pound.
Emily shook her head and glanced around the village once more. Compared to summer, it looked almost pristine—cleaner, even.
At first glance, it had begun to resemble a much larger settlement, nearly urban. Almost like Cambon.
This was the result of the engineering corps constructing new houses to replace those completely destroyed.
The roads had been widened as well, and the muddy paths were now paved with durable stone.
It was no wonder people joked that things had become *better* than before the Great Flood.
"Sister!"
A little girl emerged from Mr. Severton's house, waving enthusiastically. It was Emily's younger sister.
"Need help?"
"Rosie? What about the kitchen work?"
"I've finished. The mistress gave me permission."
Rosie was three years younger than Emily. After Emily decided to leave for Blissbury, the Severton family had begun searching for a new maid. Emily had asked cautiously:
*"If... if possible, could my sister take the position?"*
The Severtons had been delighted. And Emily, too. There weren't many households in Feltham that could afford a maid. Her sister would likely have been sent to Cambon otherwise—and frankly, few families there treated their servants as kindly as the Severtons did.
So until Emily departed for Blissbury next year, the sisters would remain at Mr. Severton's house together, with Rosie learning the work.
Rosie quickly helped Emily draw more water. Like her elder sister, she was efficient.
Only...
"But, Sister, Lady Eloise has been sitting outside all day again. That Sergeant Thornton probably just isn't coming ba— *Ow!*"
Rosie received a sharp flick to the forehead, full of feeling.
"Can't you hold your tongue?"
Rosie opened her mouth to protest, but seeing Emily's genuine anger, she fell silent.
Emily clicked her tongue.
Her sister was quite competent at her duties. But her complete inability to read a situation was utterly insufferable.
"You'll carry the water inside."
"Sister? *Sister!*"
Emily left Rosie calling after her and hurried toward the house. Snatching up the thick shawl she'd left by the entrance, she headed for the village gate.
Her ladyship, who claimed she was going for a walk, was probably still sitting on that bench at the village entrance.
Emily knew the book in her lady's hands had been open to nearly the same page for several days now.
*Damn Ryan Thornton!*
Emily cursed silently.
Just a few weeks ago, that name had been second only to God in holiness for her.
And no wonder—he was the one who had saved her ladyship in that chaos. But now? Now everything was different.
Even though Eloise said nothing, it was obvious. Her lady and Sergeant Thornton had undoubtedly harbored secret feelings for each other.
Otherwise, after the Sergeant's hasty departure for the capital, her ladyship wouldn't sit about with a face suggesting the entire world had grown tedious.
But then—for three weeks—letters from Sergeant Thornton arrived from the capital every day.
Those were the only moments when Eloise, who had been wandering about as though she'd lost her bearings, regained any vitality.
Then, one day, the letters simply stopped.
From that day forward, Eloise announced each morning that she was going for a walk. And until the postman from Cambon arrived, she sat at the village entrance, pretending to read.
Today would be no different.
Emily hurried toward the gate. Seeing a figure approaching from the opposite direction, she couldn't help but frown.
It was Julia.
*She was at least somewhat tolerable in Blissbury.*
More precisely, while Richard had been present, everything was fine. But when Ryan Thornton left, Richard and Philip received their own summons three weeks later and departed for the capital as well.
Since then, Julia had grown irritable. And little wonder—Philip, who had left alongside Richard, had proposed to Abigail before his departure.
The Ogilvy household—and all of Feltham—had been overjoyed.
*Abigail Ogilvy received an offer? From a sergeant stationed in the capital, no less!*
Philip, like Ryan, had been an excellent prospect. After the summer ball, many women who'd found Ryan too difficult to win had shifted their attention to Philip instead.
But Philip, paying no heed to the other women, had knelt before Abigail and proposed.
**"From the very beginning, I saw only you."**
When word spread of what he'd said, every girl in Feltham spoke of it with dreamy expressions, sighing about how they envied Abigail.
Everyone had assumed that if anyone would remain unmarried, it would certainly be the lame Abigail. Yet she had not only found a match—she had secured the partner everyone had dreamed of claiming.
Mrs. Ogilvy was beside herself with joy.
Julia was not.
"Why *her*? What's so special about my sister?"
She had grumbled this when the village girls gathered—unable to contain herself.
At another time, some might have supported her. But not now.
"Julia, she's your *sister*. Shouldn't you be happy for her?"
The faces of those who spoke were full of bewilderment—and poorly concealed malice.
While in Blissbury, Julia had hinted to everyone that she shared a special connection with Richard.
But Richard maintained warm relationships with *every* woman in the village—from the six-year-old girl to old Mrs. Bow, well into her eighties.
Richard was simply one of those men who treated all women with unfailing courtesy.
Julia, believing herself to receive special treatment, had behaved arrogantly. And the fact that she—unlike her despised sister—had received no offer brought the other girls considerable satisfaction.
If that had been the end of it, Emily would have had no particular reason to despise Julia.
But Julia, ridiculed by everyone, had finally lost her composure and shouted:
**"What do I care! I'd rather live alone than end up like Eloise—*abandoned* by Sergeant Thornton!"**
Those words spread through Feltham like wildfire. They probably reached Cambon as well. Why else would the Cambon wives suddenly begin visiting Mr. Severton's house, seeking out Eloise without apparent reason?
The rumor had become a source of great shame for her ladyship.
There were even whispers in the village that Eloise and Sergeant Thornton had done something *improper* before any wedding.
Of course, whenever Emily heard such talk, she made a point of "accidentally" splashing dirty water at the speakers' feet. And when no one was watching, she spat demonstratively in their direction.
She wanted to do the same now.
When Emily made a show of preparing to spit, Julia retreated in alarm.
She knew how much Emily despised her—and that without witnesses present, this maid was capable of following through.
Emily giggled deliberately at Julia's flinch.
Realizing she was being mocked, Julia straightened and raised her voice.
"Emily."
"What?" Emily muttered.
"What sort of tone is that? I hear you're going to Blissbury. Have you completely forgotten your place?"
"Say whatever you like," Emily replied, curling her lip. It was a clear sign she was about to spit for real.
Julia took several more steps back. Then, smiling with undisguised malice, she spoke.
"I feel *sorry* for Eloise, truly I do."
She giggled.
**"Sergeant Thornton left because he was summoned by a woman named Sylvia."**