An unexpected feeling

chapter 4

The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed after a long bath. To my delight, Lucius had already left the house, leaving the entire day free and quiet. I smiled to myself as I walked down the long hallway toward the kitchen, my mind still replaying the events of last night.

Halfway there, I collided with something solid—Lucius’s hard, broad chest. Even though he wasn’t there now, the memory of his towering presence made me feel small and fragile all over again. Shaking off the thought, I continued down the corridor. That’s when I noticed a heavy wooden door on my right, slightly set back from the others. Curiosity tugged at me. I reached for the handle, fingers brushing the cool metal—

“Rose!”

Madam Maddie’s sharp voice stopped me cold. She was hurrying toward me, her apron dusted with flour.

“Yes, Maddie?”

“What are you doing there?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she glanced at the door.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, stepping back. “I was just… curious.”

“You must never open this room. In fact, don’t come near it again.”

“But why?” I pressed gently.

“Just do as you’re told, alright?” Her tone softened, but the warning remained firm. “Now come—let’s do some cleaning, and then we’ll cook. Your favorite part.”

“Cooking!” I grinned, falling into step beside her as we headed to the kitchen.

A few hours later, the house smelled of fresh bread, stew, and lemon polish. We had finished most of the chores when Maddie began packing portions of food into several metal cans. As usual, she prepared to leave.

“Madam Maddie, are you leaving again today?” I asked.

“Yes, my dear. I have to take food to the workers.”

“Workers?” My interest piqued. “You mean the people who work for Sir Lucius?”

“That’s right.”

“I’d like to follow you, please,” I said earnestly. “This house feels so empty and boring without you here.”

“Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“No, no, please,” I pleaded, clasping my hands. “Take me with you—at least let me help with something. Anything. I’d also love to meet the workers.”

She studied me for a long moment, then sighed with a small smile. “All right, let’s go.”

“Thank you, Maddie!” I threw my arms around her in a quick hug.

The carriage rattled along a dusty road until it reached an enormous farm that stretched as far as the eye could see. The air was thick with the scent of wet wool, hay, and earth. Dozens of men and women moved purposefully across the fields.

At one end of the property, a large rectangular pit had been dug and filled with water. Several workers stood inside the waist-deep pool, scrubbing sheep with rough brushes and buckets of soapy water. The animals bleated in protest, their thick fleece darkening as it soaked. Other men waited on the dry banks, ready to receive each freshly cleaned sheep. They lifted the dripping animals out, guided them toward drying pens, and checked their coats before letting them join the resting flock.

On the opposite side of the farm—where our carriage finally rolled to a stop—another group tended to a herd of powerful horses. Some were grooming coats until they gleamed, others were exercising the animals in wide circles or repairing tack.

Maddie and I first distributed food to the horse handlers, who accepted the cans with quiet nods of thanks. Then we moved toward the sheep-washing crew.

I handed a can to a tall Black man with calloused hands. He snatched it from me roughly, his expression hard. The next man did the same—almost ripping the container from my fingers. I blinked, confused.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked the group. No one answered.

“Madam Maddie,” one of them called out, “what is this girl doing here?”

“She lives with us back at the house,” Maddie explained calmly. “Her name is Rosemary. She’s just here to help me today.”

“Hey, Rosie,” a burly man with a scarred cheek grinned, “you better watch your step so you don’t slip and fall. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty white skin of yours.”

The others burst into laughter.

“I bet you’ve never done a real day’s work in your life,” another man added. He was white, broad-shouldered, with a weathered face that carried both deep sadness and barely concealed anger in his eyes.

“Please, stop picking on her,” Maddie said firmly.

“Hey—I do hard work!” I shot back, heat rising in my cheeks. “Want me to prove it?”

Before anyone could respond, I kicked off my shoes, hiked up my skirt, and jumped straight into the water. The cold shocked my legs, but I didn’t care.

“Give me a sheep!” I called.

The men exchanged stunned glances, then roared with laughter. One of them pushed a compliant ewe toward me. I grabbed the wet fleece with both hands, scrubbing vigorously just as I’d seen them do—working the soap deep into the wool, rinsing, and finally lifting the dripping animal toward the man on the bank.

“Another!” I demanded, grinning now.

They passed me a second sheep, then a third. Soon we were all laughing

together—splashing, teasing, working in rhythm. For the first time since arriving in this strange house, I felt part of something alive and real.

“What is going on here?”

Lucius’s voice sliced through the noise like a blade. The laughter died instantly. Every head turned.

He stood at the edge of the pit, tall and furious, his dark coat billowing slightly in the breeze. Maddie froze. The workers stiffened.

Lucius’s eyes locked on me, cold and unyielding.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, stepping closer.

I swallowed hard, water dripping from my soaked dress.

“Rose.” His voice dropped lower, dangerous. “Does this look like a joke to you?”

He scanned the silent group, then fixed his gaze back on me.

“Do not—ever—let me see this happening again.”

He turned sharply to Maddie. “You. Back to the carriage. Now.”

Then, to me: “Rosemary. Get out of the water. We are going home.”

The farm fell eerily quiet as I climbed out, shivering, the joy of moments ago washed away under the weight of his stare.

Back at the house, the heavy front door had barely closed behind us when Lucius turned. His gaze pinned first on Madam Maddie, then on me—long, unblinking, unreadable. The silence stretched until it felt like the air itself was pressing down.

“Lucius, please,” Maddie began, stepping forward. “She was only having a bit of fun—”

“Stay out of this, Maddie.” His voice was low, final. Then those dark eyes shifted fully to me. “You. Follow me to my office. Now.”

He turned and strode down the corridor without waiting. I followed, heart hammering, the wet hem of my dress slapping against my calves.

Inside the office, he crossed straight to the tall windows and stood with his back to me, hands clasped behind him as though steadying himself. I stopped in the center of the room, unsure where to put my hands, my eyes fixed on the polished floorboards.

“What were you thinking?” he asked at last. The calm in his voice surprised me more than anger would have.

“Nothing… just having fun,” I whispered.

He turned slowly. “You could have been injured.”

“I’m not, sir. And I’m sorry if you thought I was doing something wrong.”

He took one step closer, then another. “Don’t ever do that again.” His tone remained quiet, almost tender. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. Do you understand?”

I could only nod, bewildered. He was so close now I could smell the faint cedar of his coat, the lingering trace of soap and tobacco.

“Please,” he said again, softer still. “Don’t do that again.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“You may leave.”

He stepped away, moving behind the wide desk and sinking into the chair as though the conversation had cost him something. I stared at him for a heartbeat longer—did he actually care? The question circled in my mind like smoke.

As I reached the door, I glanced back. He had already pulled a slim silver case from his pocket, tapped out a cigarette, and lit it with a quick, practiced motion. The first exhale curled upward, veiling his face. I slipped out and closed the door behind me.

In my room, after a hot bath, I collapsed onto the bed. For the first time since I’d arrived here, his voice had been calm, cool… almost caring. Was it real? Or just a practiced gentleness meant to keep me in line? The question kept turning over and over until my thoughts blurred.