Why The Maid Inherited The Duke's Legacy- Chapter 7
<7> Seven Years of Searching
Meanwhile, Ranelli, left alone, began playing with scraps of cloth. Remembering how her mother used to make dolls, the child’s small hands worked with surprising deftness. She stuffed white fabric with scraps, shaping it into a round form, then inserted a stick for the neck and tied it off with string—forming the doll’s head and body. Another stick crossed over the first, tightly bound, became the skeleton for arms. Using all the imagination and skill she had, Ranelli twisted, tied, and cut the fabric. She didn’t know how to sew, so she couldn’t make clothes like her mother did. Still, the grotesque little figure had something resembling a head, limbs, and a torso.
"It needs eyes, a nose, a mouth."
If she had ink and a pen, she could draw a face. But she knew such expensive things weren’t for her.
"Ah, I’m hungry."
The sun had already passed its peak. Her stomach growled like a dragon’s belch. Unable to bear the hunger any longer, Ranelli carefully climbed down the ladder and hid near the barn entrance, peering out for any sign of her mother. She was a well-behaved child, so at first, she just paced near the barn, idly crushing scattered straw underfoot.
"Mommy… I’m hungry…"
But no matter how long she waited, her mother didn’t come. Ranelli clutched her growling stomach and stomped her feet in frustration.
"Why is Mommy so late…?"
Even the most patient child has limits. Eventually, Ranelli crept out of the barn and wandered a little farther. Still, her mother was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, fear gripped her. This place was unfamiliar, and no matter how long she waited, Mommy didn’t return.
"Mommy… Mommy…"
Panic set in. Hunger and fear overwhelmed her, and she began to sob quietly, her muffled cries so much like Ivnia’s. Ranelli wondered if she should go look for her mother. But then she remembered Ivnia’s warning—stay put—and hesitated, torn. Unable to decide, she hid behind a tree near the barn, tears dripping silently.
Then—
"Hey, who are you?"
Ranelli jumped and turned. An old man, as tall as she was, stood leaning against the barn wall, a massive pair of shears slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, he carried a heavy-looking ladder.
"Uh… mm…"
Ranelli clamped her mouth shut, trying to stifle her sniffles, and stared up at the gardener with watery eyes.
"What’s a kid doing out here alone? Lost like some stray foal?"
The gardener’s voice was too loud, too sharp, too rough. Ranelli flinched, stumbling back until she landed hard on her bottom. The old man clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"Tch. Kids—always crying, always falling over."
He stomped over, hauled her up, and dusted off the grass and dirt clinging to her dress. Ranelli watched him warily, tears still silently rolling down her cheeks.
"You think swallowing your tears does any good? Open that tiny mouth and wail properly! Like some starving runt—tsk. Where’d you come from?"
Ranelli’s eyes darted around before she pointed at the guesthouse. The gardener stared at it for a long moment, then nodded as if he understood.
"Ah. Ivnia’s kid."
Ranelli’s eyes widened at her mother’s name. She wiped her face with her sleeve and relaxed slightly.
"You know my mommy?"
"She’s not back yet? Lunchtime’s long past. You eaten?"
Ranelli shook her head glumly. Her stomach growled again, louder this time. The gardener’s face twisted into a scowl.
"What kind of mother lets her kid go hungry? Leaving you alone like this!"
Then, as if struck by a thought, he grew even angrier.
"Those bastards—keeping her working this late? What’s the kid done to deserve this?"
He launched into a stream of curses, then dumped his tools under a tree and waved at Ranelli.
"Come on! Gotta feed you!"
Ranelli hesitated.
Mommy said not to follow strangers.
But Mommy, who’d promised to return soon, still wasn’t here. She wanted to know if Mommy was okay. Normally, she’d never go with a stranger—but she was scared, and so, so hungry.
Mommy broke her promise first.
Resolved, Ranelli scampered after him and grabbed his hand. The old man blinked down at the small, soft fingers clutching his, his expression shifting between surprise and gruff resignation. Finally, he didn’t shake her off—just adjusted his stride to match hers.
"Hmph. Don’t go following just anyone, you hear? What if some rotten bastard hurts you?"
"I wouldn’t follow bad people…"
"Stupid brat, how’d you know who’s bad?"
"I don’t know."
"Then how can you say you won’t follow ’em?"
"Mommy says bad people say bad things."
"And what if a bad person says nice things to trick you?"
"Then they’re bad."
"Cheeky runt. Just don’t follow strangers, got it? Next time, even if someone says they know your mom, you stay put."
"Okay."
"Tch. At least you listen."
Hartland sighed, his expression softening despite himself. What kind of mother would leave such a young child alone? Ranelli, oblivious to his thoughts, chattered brightly.
"I used to live in a log house on a hill with lots of flowers! Sophie and Anna are my best friends. I don’t like Charles—he’s always saying mean things."
"I hate noisy kids. You talk too much."
"I talk really well! The grown-ups said I’m the best at talking in the whole village!"
Unused to such cheerful chatter, Hartland grumbled under his breath. Ranelli, undeterred, took it as encouragement.
"Oh! Do you want to see the doll I made? I did it all by myself!"
"Why’s it got no face? Needs eyes, a nose, a mouth."
"I don’t have ink or a pen. I’ll ask Mommy later. Do you have any? Can I borrow some?"
"Don’t got that kinda stuff."
"Aww. Oh well."
"Where’d a shrimp like you learn to sigh like that?"
Ranelli decided Hartland was a good person. His voice was loud and scary, but he was definitely smiling. She remembered what Ivnia had said—real smiles reach the eyes. Hartland’s face was all wrinkles and scowls, but his eyes were laughing.
---
Arad, standing by the window with a lit cigar, suddenly spotted Hartland leading a child.
"Why is that brat with the gardener?"
He frowned, displeased. The kid was what—six? Counting from birth, that meant Ivnia had gotten pregnant the year after she fled.
"Ran off and set up house with some other man right away, huh?"
He’d imagined her living somewhere else, but never that she’d moved on with another man.
"Seven years I spent searching like a madman, and you just erased me?"
Had she said he was dead? Good riddance. If he hadn’t been, Arad would’ve made sure he regretted it. He muttered curses, picturing the faceless man who’d taken his place.
"If you’re gonna father a kid, raise her properly. Dying like some useless fool—pathetic."
What kind of man had Ivnia chosen over him? He almost wished he’d met the bastard, just to see.
---
*The Kitchen*
Hartland took Ranelli straight to the dining hall. Lunch was over, leaving only a few stragglers and kitchen staff. Ranelli gaped at the vast room—she’d never seen anything so grand outside the mansion’s main hall.
"Wow! It’s as big as two chapels put together!"
Her exclamation drew the attention of kitchen maids peeling potatoes and chopping vegetables.
"Whose kid is that, Hartland?"
Ignoring them, Hartland barked at a maid.
"Got any food left? Kid’s starving!"
"There’s soup and bread. Hey, you like plum jam?"
"I eat everything!"
Ranelli’s eager reply made the kitchen staff laugh. They bombarded her with questions.
"What brings you here?"
"Who brought you?"
"You Hartland’s kin?"
"What’s that in your hand?"
Hartland, annoyed by the attention, plopped Ranelli onto a chair and grumbled.
"Quit tiring out a hungry kid with your nonsense."
But they kept asking—who were her parents? How did she know Hartland? Ranelli answered brightly.
"My mommy’s Ivnia! Hartland brought me here to wait for her."
The moment Ivnia left her lips, the kitchen fell silent. The staff exchanged awkward glances. Hartland smirked at their discomfort.
"Flip-flopping like a fish on land, tsk."
Unheard whispers spread.
"She had a kid?"
"Now that you mention it, Selby did say something…"
"Ran off from maid work, then settled down quick, huh?"
The murmurs grew bolder. Hartland’s temper flared.
"Shut your damn mouths! Can’t watch your tongues in front of a kid?"
One of the older kitchen hands, usually deferential to Hartland, snapped back.
"What’d we say that was wrong? Just stating facts! Kid, how old are you? Who’s your father?"
"You’re acting like a fatherless bastard yourself!"
Hartland’s face turned crimson. He rolled up his sleeves like he was ready to fight.
"You done?"
"A real man knows when to shut up! You think she won’t remember this when she’s older?"
Ranelli, frozen mid-bite, looked between them. Then—
"WAAAAH! My daddy’s DEAD!"
She burst into loud, dramatic tears.
***
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