A Steward's conflict

Vance's pov

When Master Kent informed me he wished to hire new servants, I was skeptical.

The house already functioned adequately.

Additional staff meant additional responsibility.

Additional responsibility meant additional opportunities for mistakes.

Then I reviewed Catherine's application.

Hardworking. Dependable. Strong enough for physical labor.

Well regarded by the townsfolk. She appeared... suitable.

I approved her employment. Perhaps I should have burned the application instead.

There had been peace in Hawthorne Estate before she arrived.

Not happiness. I had long since accepted that such a thing had abandoned these halls years ago. But there had been an order. Silence. Routine.

Master Kent worked. The servants worked.

I ensured neither interfered with the other.

That was how this estate survived.

Then Catherine walked through the front doors.

...

The first thing I noticed about her was not her smile, nor the hopeful look in her eyes. It was the way she looked around.

Every servant entering Hawthorne Estate for the first time learned the same lesson. Eyes down. Speak when spoken to. Finish your duties.

She did none of those things. She studied every portrait. Every hallway. Every door.

Like a child dropped into a cathedral, convinced every mystery existed solely for her to solve.

I should have known then she'd become a problem. Not because she was malicious. Because she simply could not leave well enough alone.

Her first day passed without issue.

Her second… Less so.

I received word from Master Kent himself that the new maid had been rummaging through his library.

His library. The one room every servant had been instructed, repeatedly, to avoid disturbing.

I expected dismissal. Instead… Nothing.

Only a reminder to reinforce the rules. That surprised me.

Master Kent had once dismissed a groundskeeper for entering the west wing without permission.

Yet Catherine remained. Curious.

Agnes liked her. Of course she did. Agnes had a habit of collecting strays.

She saw broken birds where I saw workplace liabilities.

Thomas thought Catherine was amusing. Arthur said she reminded him of his younger sister.

The kitchen laughed more. I heard it during my rounds. The estate sounded… Different.

I disliked admitting it.

Then came the sketchbook. She stood outside the study clutching it like a guilty schoolgirl.

"I found something belonging to Master Hawthorne."

Found. A fascinating choice of words. Objects belonging to the master had an unfortunate habit of finding her.

I directed her toward the east terrace. Truthfully, I could have taken the sketchbook myself.

Instead… I let her deliver it.

Even now I cannot fully explain why. Perhaps I wanted to see whether Master Kent would send her away. Perhaps I wished to prove to myself she meant nothing.

So I watched. From a distance. Master Kent accepted the sketchbook.

They spoke. Longer than necessary.

Long enough that I found myself turning away before the conversation ended. That should have been the end of it. It wasn't.

Then she wandered into the storage rooms. Again. Finding another memory Master Kent had buried.

Another portrait. Another wound.

Some servants work at Hawthorne Estate for twenty years without ever seeing those rooms. Catherine had managed it in less than a week.

Remarkable. Or alarming. Possibly both.

I expected raised voices. Instead… When she emerged, Master Kent thanked her.

Thanked. Her.

I had not heard those words leave his mouth in years.

The others mistook the change immediately. They thought Master Kent smiled more. That he seemed less burdened.

I noticed something different. He slept even less. He lingered in places he usually avoided. He paused outside the kitchen longer than before. He watched the servants from the end of corridors.

Always when Catherine happened to be nearby. It worried me.

Not because she intended harm. Because she didn't understand the kind of man she was approaching.

Master Kent was not cruel. He was fragile.

Far more fragile than anyone realized.

The incident at the music room confirmed my fears. I found Catherine standing outside the door.

Listening. Again. Always listening.

Always looking. Always asking questions.

I lost my patience. Perhaps more than I should have.

She apologized before I even finished speaking. Then Master Kent opened the door.

I prepared myself to escort Catherine from the estate. Instead...

He corrected me. Not harshly.

Simply… Quietly.

"Cutting off her words serves no right."

I have served the Hawthorne family for nearly thirty years. Master Kent had never once corrected my handling of the staff. Not until her.

It stung more than I cared to admit. Not because I believed I was right. Because I realized he no longer needed me in quite the same way.

Later that night she found him asleep in the kitchen. I nearly stopped breathing. For one terrifying moment… I truly believed he had died.

Sleep had become so rare for him that seeing him motionless sent my heart into my throat. She looked confused when I checked his breathing.

Of course she did. She has known him for days. I have known him since he was a boy who hid behind his brother whenever guests visited.

She cannot know. She should never have to know. When I told her to leave him be… She obeyed.

Without argument. That alone surprised me. Then she smiled after I thanked her. A genuine smile.

As though gratitude from me was somehow worth earning. Ridiculous girl.

I do not dislike Catherine because she is incompetent. Quite the opposite.

She works diligently. The staff enjoys her company. Even Agnes says she brightens the house.

No. I dislike what she represents. Hope.

Hope is dangerous. I watched Master Kent survive the deaths of his family.

I watched him bury himself beneath ledgers and contracts because numbers could not abandon him. I watched him convince himself that loneliness was safer than love.

It took years to build those walls. This girl… This endlessly curious, impossibly stubborn young woman… Has begun climbing over them without even realizing they exist.

And I fear what will happen if those walls collapse. Not because Catherine will be hurt. Though she very well might.

But because if Master Kent allows himself to hope again… And loses it… I do not believe there will be enough left of him for me to save.