Although she doesn’t answer the calls as swiftly as the other girls, she’s catching on quickly. There are many times I see her reach behind her and rub her lower back, but she doesn’t stop. She almost seems to be enjoying herself.
When I watch her, I find myself smiling. If Étienne could see her, he’d realize how wrong he was. Nathalie has far more drive and determination than he gives her credit for. If she works hard, she can have Louise’s job in no time.
I want to tell her that much, but even after two conversations, I still don’t know how to define this new relationship we find ourselves in. But I believe I can have dozens of conversations with this new Nathalie and I still wouldn’t be able to place her in the role as friend. One moment she was Étienne’s little sister, mooning over me. And the next, I was obsessed with her.
And now, here I am, still controlled by thoughts of her and she doesn’t even know it.
As I walk down the hall, I resolve to try harder to push Nathalie out of my mind. I’ve done it before. I can certainly do it again.
I can’t think of that now. I need to discover what is going on in my home. Inside the dining room, all fifteen of the servants are lined up near the wall, solemnly staring at Juliet as though she’s a general in the military.
And I can see why. My typically docile wife is commanding the room. She has the haughty air of a socialite. Someone who hasn’t worked a day in her life, but has no problem looking down upon the people who do. I’ve never seen her project airs like this in front of me.
Until now.
Crossing my arms, I lean against the doorway, and watch, careful not to be seen by anyone.
Juliet holds a single fork in the air. Slowly, she turns it between her fingers, treating the utensil as though it’s a crown jewel. “Tasks may seem menial, but they’re necessary. Because you see, if one of you did your work when you should have, none of us would be here right now.” Closing her eyes, Juliet shakes her head and looks on with disapproval. “I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed. Whoever failed to do their chore properly won’t be punished. Truthfully. Simply speak now and this matter will be over.” The room descends into a heavy silence that you only find at churches during prayers or trials for murderers. When you think about it, that’s what this is. A trial, and Juliet is judge and jury.
No one confesses, and I’m almost relieved that not one person believes Juliet’s words. Nothing about them ring true.
Juliet sighs. “Very well.”
With the fork still raised, she walks over to the first servant in line and smiles at the girl. “Does this fork look clean to you?”
The girl shakes her head.
Juliet continues down the line. One by one, they all shake their heads.
When Juliet gets toward the end, though, a young lady, who I believe works in the kitchen, answers differently. “Yes, ma’am.”
Juliet’s hand snakes out and grabs the back of the servant’s head. The young woman’s eyes go wide as Juliet jerks her forward, until her nose is inches away from the fork.
“Look. Does it appear clean?”
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
“You don’t see the fingerprint?” Juliet shoves the fork closer to the servant’s face.
The young woman flinches and swallows before she replies, “Y-yes. I mean, no.” She’s so nervous, there’s no possible way for her to get her words out.
Watching how Juliet treats the young woman is unexpected, and it brings forward memories of a scared, weak boy. A boy who frequently felt belittled and humiliated, and never good enough no matter what he did.
I’ve absolutely seen enough. “What are you doin’?”
At once, Juliet pulls back from the servant. A wash of relief comes across the young woman’s face, only to be replaced by wariness as she sees me approach. I know I may not have the softest approach with words, but does she think I’ll do the same thing as Juliet?
Not once have I ever raised my voice or laid a hand on my staff. To demean someone is one of the lowest things you can possibly do.
“Asa, dear, you’re home,” Juliet breathes.
I regard her for a long second before I look to my head butler, Lemrich, with regret that I didn’t arrive sooner. Solemnly, he dips his head in acknowledgment. I face the room. “My apologies, everyone. You can all resume what you were doin’.”
Silently, as everyone walks out of the dining room, their gazes flit between me and Juliet. Lemrich is the last to leave, and when he does, he closes the door behind him.
Confused and angry, I face my wife, only to find her twirling the fork between her fingers. Her face is serene but perplexed, and her brows are slightly furrowed. Why does she look that way?
What moves behind her eyes?
“You will not treat anyone in my home in such a manner,” I state calmly.
Juliet lifts her gaze and looks at me. She blinks several times, as though I’m not in focus. She doesn’t give me a reply. I repeat myself, and she unnervingly stares at me. Her grip on the fork tightens until she’s holding the fork more as a weapon than a prize.
Cautiously, I step forward and repeat myself one last time. “You will not treat anyone in my home in such a manner.”
Slowly, I reach forward, and with my eyes locked on hers, extract the fork from her hand. Juliet’s grip is surprisingly tight. There’s a slight struggle and I think she’s going to fight me when, abruptly, she lets go. When she does, clarity fills her eyes. Her shoulders straighten as she furtively looks around the room.
“Is that clear?” I prompt.
Her eyes fly back to mine, wild and frantic. “Yes, but please don’t yell at me. I can explain!”
My brows knit together. “Yell? Juliet, I didn’t y—” I step forward, my arms stretched as I attempt to reason with her.
But, right away, she steps back with fear in her eyes and extends a hand in front of her, palm up, as though to keep me away from her.
What is she doing?
Better yet, what is she thinking?
Her eyes well up with tears, and her already blue eyes become as vivid and bright as the ocean. “You were not here, Asa. You don’t know how they were. I want everythin’ in our home to be perfect for you and they wouldn’t answer me. Do you understand how disheartenin’ that was for me? Not only were they disrespectin’ me, but they were also disrespectin’ you.”
Slowly, I shake my head. Juliet’s conviction and words simply don’t align with what I know. “You are incorrect,” I state flatly. “They’ve never been disrespectful. Not once. What I saw was you bein’ disrespectful.”
Juliet’s eyes momentarily widen with shock. She didn’t expect me to be so straightforward with her. Is she going to cry now? Whenever Nat cried, I couldn’t bear it. It felt as if my insides were being ripped apart, and the only way I could stop my pain was to stop Nat’s pain.
What tears I’ve seen from Juliet have almost made me feel… irritated.
Briefly, her eyes close. She gives a small nod, and when her eyes open, I see the remorse and regret. “You’re right. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done what I did. If I upset you, I apologize.”
I don’t want to push the issue any further than I have. But her cold, icy demeanor to the staff isn’t something I can ignore. She was an entirely different person with them. She thought herself better than them.