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Chapter 18
Although that was the story she had heard from Carol, the real reason Eugenia came to the Flanagan estate was because of the successive deaths of her cousins.
When Aileen died, the Flanagan household naturally sent Eugenia a notice of death. However, due to the nature of her work, which required her to move from place to place, the letter wandered around aimlessly for quite some time. By the time it finally reached her, the funeral had long since ended.
Even so, Eugenia planned to visit the estate, albeit belatedly. She intended to come as soon as her current theater work was more or less wrapped up—but then another letter arrived, informing her that Anne had died.
The news that her cousins had died one after another left Eugenia stunned. She hastily wrapped up her work and rushed to the Flanagan estate, but because the notice itself had arrived late and she had been in a city quite far away, she only arrived after Anne’s funeral had already concluded.
“Your name was Ellie, right?”
It was about two or three days after Eugenia had arrived at the estate. Claiming she had a headache and wanted to be alone, she had asked to have tea in her own room rather than with the others. When I, the maid in charge of serving her, entered with a tray holding a teapot and teacups, she suddenly spoke to me.
Until then, she hadn’t paid me any particular attention, so it felt rather abrupt. Still, I answered politely, as a maid should.
“Yes, miss.”
“It’s nothing serious. I just have something I’d like to ask.”
I tensed slightly. Eugenia’s room was right next to Ian’s. Because of that, I had been very careful not to get caught talking with him.
But perhaps, on her very first day here, Eugenia might have overheard a conversation between Ian and me. If that were the case, she might already have realized that our relationship wasn’t simply that of a maid and a distinguished guest—unless she was particularly slow-witted.
“Who are you really? Is the Count of Penwood actually who he says he is?”
I had been afraid she might say something like that. So when instead she said, “I’m curious about what’s been happening in the estate lately,” I nearly felt the tension leave my legs altogether.
“What… exactly do you mean?”
“Why are you so stiff? Relax—I’m not trying to scold you.”
Eugenia smiled, as if to ease my tension, then quickly changed her expression and continued,
“I’m talking about Aileen and Anne’s deaths. Anything is fine—just tell me whatever you know.”
Why is she asking me? Didn’t her family tell her already?
Suspicion came to mind first. I studied her expression, but it was difficult to read her intentions.
“I only joined this household after Miss Aileen’s funeral, so I don’t know much.”
“Oh dear, I picked the wrong person to ask. Alright then—what about Anne?”
“Miss Anne passed away after falling into the pond between the east and west wings.”
“I’ve already heard that much. They said Aileen had a chronic illness, and Anne slipped from the balcony.”
“That’s what I’ve heard as well.”
I deliberately answered as if I knew nothing. Eugenia was a relative of the Flanagan family. As a servant, I needed to be careful about what I said.
Eugenia fell silent. She stared at me intently for a moment before speaking again.
“Are you taking me for a fool too?”
“…Pardon?”
“Aileen was the healthiest of all of us since childhood! A chronic illness? That’s laughable.
And Anne slipped from the balcony? Just use your eyes and look!”
Eugenia grabbed my arm roughly and dragged me out onto the balcony through the open window. From there, the west wing building could be seen clearly.
“Look at the balconies over there. They have the same railings as this one. Take a proper look at them!”
She tapped the iron railing sharply with her hand.
“They come up above the waist—chest-high for someone shorter. And you’re telling me someone could just slip and fall over that? You actually believe that? Even the police did?”
This is really troublesome…
Eugenia was far from dull. Once again, I was reminded how difficult it was to play the role of a maid.
‘I can’t just go around talking about things the family is trying to keep quiet. If I get thrown out for having a loose tongue, I’ll be in trouble too.’
“I’m only repeating what the master told us…”
When I replied in a small, hesitant voice, Eugenia finally shook her head.
“Forget it. If you don’t know, then fine.”
She released my arm, and I sighed inwardly in relief.
“But, Ellie.”
Just as I was about to gather the tray and leave, she spoke again.
“There’s a rumor those two died because of a ghost. Have you heard anything like that?”
“I’ve heard such talk briefly among the maids, but Madam Jenkins and Mrs. Pierce scolded us, saying it was nonsense.”
I gave the safest answer I could think of. Eugenia let out a small scoff.
“Seems like you don’t know much since you’ve only just arrived.”
“Pardon?”
“There really is a ghost in the Flanagan estate.”
She said it with a seriousness that made it hard to take as a joke.
“And I’m thinking of catching it. Catch it and—well, not ‘alive,’ since it’s already dead—but I’ll strip it down to its shell all the same.”
I didn’t know why she was telling me this, but one thing was certain: Eugenia harbored deep suspicions about her cousins’ deaths.
And although her approach differed from mine, it seemed she was also determined to uncover the truth.
Within a few days, Eugenia appeared to have gathered quite a bit of information. She went around interrogating not just me but every maid she could find, pressing them to tell her what they knew.
Some maids were less cautious, and others likely thought it wouldn’t matter to share a little. As a result, Eugenia even came to learn that Aileen and Anne had committed suicide, and that the Flanagan family was hiding it out of shame.
“It seems Miss Eugenia is investigating her cousins’ deaths.”
Ian told me this when I went to clean his room. I let out a dry laugh.
“You’re late, Informant Ian Quaid! I already knew that. If you want your 15 flin, you’d better gather information a bit faster.”
“Since she’s conducting the exact same investigation as you, I almost feel like there are two of you now.”
“It’s fine if you confuse her with me, but don’t let that confusion turn into a mistake.”
“As if I would make that kind of mistake.”
“Yes, yes. Of course you wouldn’t.”
I replied sarcastically, and Ian smiled faintly.
“Perhaps it’s actually a good thing. What one person was doing alone is now being done by two. We might uncover the truth faster.”
“That would be nice, but I’d rather nothing happen at all. More than anything, if our identities are exposed, we’re in serious trouble. From what I’ve seen, Eugenia is quite sharp.”
“In that case, I should enjoy this while I still can.”
With that, Ian picked up a bottle of Lady Leovil liquor from the night table. I stared at him in disbelief.
“Ian, how many bottles have you stolen already?”
“Why? Do you feel guilty about causing losses to the Flanagan family?”
He grinned shamelessly.
“And I’m not the only one drinking it. Yesterday, when I went to sneak another bottle, I saw Miss Eugenia taking one from the liquor storage.”
“Eugenia drinks?”
“She seems quite knowledgeable about fine liquor. Looks like she’s had plenty.”
I personally didn’t drink, as it didn’t suit my taste, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong with a woman drinking. After all, in dining halls, both men and women of age drank freely. The idea that “a woman drinking is shameful” belonged to a much older generation—like my grandfather’s.
The problem was that such thinking still existed in the Flanagan estate.
Suddenly, I remembered that Anne had drunk alcohol for the first time the day before she died. And then—the painting in the study…
Among the Punished Alice series, there was a painting of a child being harshly punished for drinking. “Alice, obsessed with eating and drinking, suffers terrible stomach pain.” In that painting, Alice held a wine glass in her hand.
For a moment, an ominous thought crossed my mind, but I quickly shook it off.
It’s just a coincidence. There’s no guarantee Aileen and Anne’s deaths are related to those paintings. I can’t let myself be swayed by nonsense about ghostly curses.
However, what truly stirred the estate into chaos wasn’t the matter of alcohol. (Though, not long after, that too would become an issue.)
“Eugenia Jenkins!”
A few days later, Edward spotted Eugenia passing through the main hall of the east wing and shouted angrily.
(Edward often emphasized her surname “Jenkins” when addressing her, clearly intending to highlight that she was not part of the Flanagan family.)
“What exactly have you been doing?”
“What do you mean, uncle?”
Eugenia deliberately emphasized the word uncle in return. Her expression showed she had little regard for Edward, whose face was flushed red with anger.
“You said you’re going to a party at the Simmons estate?”
“Oh, that?”
She responded as if it were nothing. Edward seemed to grow even angrier.
“That’s not all! I hear you’ve been going around asking for invitations to various parties—not just for yourself, but for Jane and Delia as well! Have you no shame, behaving so boldly as a woman?”
Eugenia did not answer immediately.
But it wasn’t because she felt remorse or was intimidated by Edward’s anger.
The corner of her lips slowly curled upward.
It was unmistakably a smirk—one that openly mocked the man standing before her.
