Despite finding a long-sleeved shirt, the marks on her wrists couldn’t be concealed. After much deliberation, Henry Clark could only wrap her wrists with two silk handkerchiefs, then sat down in front of the dressing table. Looking at the face in the bronze mirror, her slightly swollen eyes did nothing to diminish her striking beauty; instead, they made her look even more delicate and pitiable. Her unpowdered skin was clear and fair, without a trace of sallow dullness. Yet at this moment, she gripped the rouge box in her hand tightly, barely restraining the urge to smash it against the mirror.

No wonder people say beauty brings disaster... For a woman, if she lacks family background or the ability to protect herself, or unless she meets a truly rare good man, most stories end in tragedy. When Mrs. Grant had once said this to Mrs. Carter in passing, she had been too young to understand, but now she finally did!

“Miss Han, I’m here to help you wash and dress.”

Hearing a voice behind her, Henry Clark collected her emotions and called for the person to come in without turning her head. Seeing the reflection of the person entering in the bronze mirror, she was momentarily startled before recalling that this was Little Amber, the maid originally assigned to cleaning, now sent to help her dress. She thought of how Charles Bolton, in order to cover up Olivia Bolton’s death, must have either dismissed or sent many maids and servants to the estate, so now there were only a handful left in the house. Her thoughts stirred, and she handed over the comb in her hand.

Little Amber was only a cleaning maid and had never done such close personal service before. She nervously combed a few strokes, even accidentally pulling out a few strands of Henry Clark’s hair, and was so frightened she trembled. Seeing Henry Clark instead guide her patiently and speak kindly, she relaxed a little, carefully styling her hair while distractedly answering Henry Clark’s questions.

“Is the household managing to keep up?”

“Of course not. With the madam gone and Mrs. Carter following her in death, the master dismissed many people in anger. Suddenly, there are so few left. Fortunately, Mrs. Smith has been running around managing everything, and even borrowed a few people from Mr. Brooks to help with the cleaning.”

“Now that Mrs. Carter is gone, the household really can’t do without Mrs. Smith. I’ve been ill too—thank goodness for her competence.”

“Yes, but I heard Mrs. Smith was just having her little maid help pack her things, and even tidied up some clothes for her son William Collins. Is she planning to go somewhere? If Mrs. Smith leaves, the house will be in even worse shape…”

The speaker was unintentional, but the listener was attentive. As Henry Clark chatted idly with Little Amber, she couldn’t help but clench the jade hairpin in her hand upon hearing that Mrs. Smith had even packed up for herself and her son.

Since the people sent by the two marquis households would arrive soon, and there was still a mess to clean up, Mrs. Smith spent the entire day running back and forth, utterly exhausted, but feeling unusually light and cheerful inside.

Mrs. Grant was not a good mistress. In other households, when a young lady married, she would bring a maid as part of her dowry, usually to be promoted to a concubine or married off to a capable steward in the husband’s family, thus keeping power firmly in hand. But Mrs. Grant would immediately and mercilessly send away any maid who caught Charles Bolton’s attention, and even for those who remained, their marriages were left to their own preferences. Of the six maids, only she and Mrs. Carter had managed to become housekeepers in the end. Unlike Mrs. Carter, she was not blindly loyal and always put herself first. She was also less efficient than Mrs. Carter, so she was never favored by Mrs. Grant. Now that Mrs. Grant was dead, she had finally gotten rid of the troublesome Mrs. Carter and avenged herself. Even her steps felt lighter.

“Where is the master?”

Seeing Little Amber gesture toward the east wing, Mrs. Smith was momentarily surprised, then revealed a mocking smile. She walked slowly to the door of the east wing, coughed lightly, and then called out, “Master, I have something to report.”

“Come in!”

Mrs. Smith had expected Charles Bolton to be eager to consummate his desires and to delay a while before coming out to see her. She hadn’t expected to be called in right away. Imagining she would see that usually prim and proper girl in bed, she smirked and lifted the curtain to enter. But as soon as she stepped into the southern room, she froze.

There was nothing like the harem scene she had imagined. On the kang by the window was a table, with Charles Bolton and Henry Clark sitting across from each other. There were four small dishes on the table, and Henry Clark was pouring wine for Charles Bolton, not even glancing up at her! At that moment, the lightness and joy she had just felt receded like the tide, replaced by shock and anger.

“Master, you…”

When Charles Bolton had first come for dinner, he still felt some regret at not being able to enjoy her beauty. However, as Henry Clark smiled and explained the personnel matters of the marquis household that Mrs. Grant had once mentioned—who could speak before the Dowager and Marquis Wuning, which officials the Gu family had among the civil servants, and even mentioned in passing that there would be a capital inspection this year—his desires were gradually replaced by ambition. After a couple of cups of wine, he was already feeling elated. Now, seeing Mrs. Smith staring fixedly at Henry Clark, he frowned in displeasure and put down his chopsticks.