MEREDITH
It doesn’t usually faze me that I’m the daughter of the head maid and the gardener of the Carrington Manor, but today I feel extra self-conscious about it. Maybe even embarrassed, which is something I never felt about my situation before.
“The stairs and the banisters still need a lot of cleaning,” my mom, or Madame Kya as everyone calls her, tells me sternly as we both stop at the bottom of the grand staircase. She pushes a bucket full of a strong, smelly cleaning solution in my hands then throws rags at my feet. “And please, do not try to show off or anything. Keep a low profile. I don’t want any guests seeing you.”
“Of course,” I mutter, but her last words stung a bit.
With that, she leaves me alone. I just take the cleaning stuff in my hands and start working my way up the stairs. A couple of early guests pass by, so I keep my head down as I run the wet cloth along the banister.
The Mansion is in full glam, its fifteen bedrooms accommodating guests from around the world to celebrate the birthday of Celeste, Duke Jared and Duchess Elena's only daughter. She's turning eighteen today, and she's going to have the grandest celebration as their only heir.
Again, I don't mind being a servant. But how can I not feel a tiny bit jealous?
". . . maybe you'll meet your mate there. . . ."
". . . hope so, I'm turning eighteen and I need him. . . ."
The familiar voice shakes me out of my reverie. It's Celeste and her friends.
Instantly I scoot closer to the banister and pretend to be rubbing at a tough spot with my face so close to the wood. Still, this doesn't prevent them from seeing me.
Instantly, Celeste’s face turns sour. I hear her friends gasp when they look at me, and I avert my gaze.
“Who are you?” one of them asks, kneeling beside me to give me closer look. “You’re just so. . . .”
“Pretty,” another one of them says, and to my surprise, they all smile at me.
All except Celeste, who remains there with her arms crossed. With her black hair and dull gray eyes, she looks a bit like a crow. “Don’t you remember the rule for servants? You’re not allowed to roam around here. Especially you.”
Her friends all turn serious, stepping away from me now like I’m suddenly carrying an infectious disease.
With a swift and casual manner, Celeste kicks the bucket of cleaning solution, letting the brown stuff splash all over the pristine marble stairs.
"Bye, Meredith," she simpers, turning around and leaving with a smile.
The splashing and the clattering of the bucket alert Mom within ten seconds.
By the time I gather my thoughts enough to move, she's already thundering up the wet staircase, brandishing a broom.
And she brings down the wooden handle on my arm.
Blinding pain shoots up my body. I gasp and fall to my knees. "Mom!"
"What did I tell you?" she hissed, grabbing me by the hair and dragging me down the stairs, straight into the kitchens. She shoves me inside the storage closet, shaking with anger. "What did I tell you?"
I open my mouth to say that it was Celeste, but I don't get the chance to do so. Mom's hand is swinging, and she gives me a hard slap on the face, causing me to fall on the concrete floor.
"I will clean up the mess you made," she says in a quivering voice, "and you go to the kitchens and make yourself useful. Without anyone seeing. Understand?"
* * *
The thing is, I think my mom hates me. Even when I was a child.
Why? I don't know. I don't think I want to find out either. Perhaps it was the pressure of being cooped up in a manor with so many things always needing attention. Perhaps because of my appearance and how it could affect our work.
There's no other way to say it: I look different.
I have bright blonde hair and big bright green eyes, a small nose and full lips. My dad always says that I look like a doll, and in a way I think he’s right. I look like the porcelain dolls that Celeste has in her bedroom, minus the fancy dresses and the makeup.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not tooting my own horn or anything, but I have always liked my appearance. As a maid who works in a big mansion filled with gorgeous people all the time, it’s easy to get lost in comparison.
But for some reason, I do manage to stand out among the mysterious, rich crowd. Whenever I serve at parties, I get compliments, and whenever this happens, Mom makes sure to leave a mark on my face to ‘keep me in check’.
I’m starting to hate how I look.
With a sigh, I just shrug it off and continue to mix the batter for the thousand cupcakes we're supposed to be baking for Celeste's birthday.
I'm about to pour a batch into the molds when the backdoor opens and in comes my dad.
Dad. The only one who cares about me genuinely.
"Pumpkin!" he beamed as soon as he sees me. He washes his dirt-smeared hands by the sink and gives me a kiss on the forehead. "How are you doing?"
I smile. "I'm good, Dad."
"Oh, you're about to get a lot better." With a gentle laugh, he scurries towards the pantry, taking a small brown paper bag and hurrying back to me. "Close your eyes."
Sighing but still grinning, I obey. I hear a crumpling sound before he says, "Now open."
"Okay, if this is another. . . ." I trail off, tears welling in my eyes. "Dad."
On his hand is a small chocolate cupcake with a single pink candle. On the surface of the little thing is a poorly written message in pink icing: happy birthday, pumpkin.
My heart swells. "Oh, Dad."
I run into his arms, taking the cupcake and putting it on the counter so I don't crush it. He remembered that it was also my birthday today, when everyone else is busy with Celeste, even my own mom. Dad remembered.
"I love you," he whispered, and I'm so filled with joy that I can't say it back. He breaks away and holds me at arm's length. "You deserve to be--"
"Darryl!" Mom's voice suddenly erupts from the backdoor. "Darryl, Miss Celeste says she wants the roses in the other flowerbed!"
Dad sighs. "Be right back, pumpkin. Go eat your cupcake."
I watch him leave, still bubbling with delight. I take the cupcake and look at it, warmth filling my heart. Hunger also spikes up and rears its gluttonous head.
Shrugging, I take out the candle and peel back the paper. But just as I'm about to take a bite, Celeste storms in and yells, "Oh, you little thief!"
I set down the cupcake. "What?"
She stomps inside and points at the batter. "That's one of my cupcakes! No wonder they're taking so long to get ready. You've been eating them." She slams her hand on the counter. "Did you know it's illegal and punishable to steal something from the Duke's family?"
"No! Dad gave this to me. I didn't steal anything!"
"Right." Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "We'll see about that."
Fear engulfs me when she turns around. "Don't tell my mom," I blurt out. "Just don't--"
"I'll do you one better." Celeste positions herself by the intercom, keeping her eyes on me as she says, "Get Duke Jared and Duchess Elena in here. There's someone breaking the law of the manor."
