Chapter 14
A young girl’s voice echoed from the room.
Anastasia’s eyes darkened. She handed her suitcase to one of the maids. “Take this upstairs for me,” she instructed.
Without another word, she headed up the grand staircase and walked straight to the guest bedroom. As she reached the door, she saw a strikingly dressed girl perched on the edge of the bed, giving orders to the maids as if she owned the place.
The clothes Anastasia had neatly hung in the wardrobe the day before were now piled carelessly on the bed. Her suitcase, which she’d tucked in the corner, had been dragged out and dumped in the middle of the room as if it were rubbish.
Anastasia’s eyes flashed with cold anger.
“Ma’am?!”
The two maids froze when they saw her, their faces draining of color. Caught holding her belongings, they didn’t know whether to drop them or put them back, and just stood there, awkward and silent, glancing nervously at the girl on the bed.
Anastasia followed their gaze.
She’d recognized the voice from downstairs-it belonged to Alice, Mary’s daughter.
Mary’s husband had been the Lancaster family’s chauffeur. Years ago, he’d died saving Lady Lancaster in a tragic accident. Ever since, Mary and her daughter had enjoyed a special status in the household, set apart from the other staff.
Though Alice was technically a servant’s daughter, Lady Lancaster treated her almost like family. Over time, Alice began to see herself as a member of the Lancaster household-half heiress, half guest.
In her previous life, Alice had made Anastasia’s days here a living hell.
“Who gave you permission to touch my things?” Anastasia’s voice was icy as she surveyed the mess in her room from the doorway.
The two maids shifted uneasily, lips parting but no words coming out. Shame kept them silent.
“Are these yours?” Alice rose from the bed, eyeing Anastasia up and down. “Why are your things in my room? Are you new here? Hasn’t anyone told you this entire wing belongs to the family? Staff aren’t allowed in these rooms without permission.”
Her tone was lofty, as if Anastasia really were just another housemaid.
But anyone could see Anastasia’s poise and tailored clothes set her miles apart from the staff. To mistake her for a maid, you’d have to be blind-or, more likely, doing it on purpose.
And Alice didn’t look blind, not by a long shot.
Especially since the maids had just called her “Ma’am.” Alice wasn’t deaf, either.
Anastasia lifted her gaze lazily, ignoring Alice, and turned to the maids instead. “You don’t recognize me? Is this a new maid?”
Alice’s expression faltered. She glanced down at her expensive outfit, so obviously unlike anything the staff wore.
“I’m not a maid!” she snapped.
“Oh? Then who are you?”
“I’m Alice!” The way she said her name-guarded, but with a hint of pride-made
it sound as if Anastasia should know exactly who she was.
Anastasia simply folded her arms and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Alice? Sorry, I don’t recall anyone by that name. Is there another Lancaster living at Rosewood Manor I haven’t met?”
“You-!” Alice’s cheeks flushed with humiliation. She gritted her teeth. “My mother is Mary!” ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsá´› ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ ÍŸ.net
“Oh, Mary’s daughter?” Anastasia feigned realization, her tone mild, though inwardly she scoffed. The way Alice had said it, you’d think she was the Queen, not the child of a housekeeper.
She kept her expression neutral. “Well, even Mary’s daughter isn’t the mistress of Rosewood Manor. Who told you you could come into my room?”
That last line was a slap in the face, and Alice felt it.
Swallowing her anger, Alice forced a challenging smile. “Mr. Lancaster himself said this room was mine!”
Harrison said that?
Anastasia didn’t believe a word. If Harrison truly intended this room for Alice, why would he have assigned it to her?
She listened to Alice’s bluster, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips. “You just said yourself, this is the family’s wing. Before you start making wild claims, you might want to remember your place. Out of respect for Mary, I’ll pretend you just lost your way this time.”