Chapter 15 The Terrible Madame Brown
There was no greater hell than etiquette lessons.
Oscar stood with his back perfectly straight in the Salon of the Dawn. Facing him was an elderly woman, her grey hair pulled tightly back, watching him with a severe gaze.
The infamous Madame Brown.
The young lord had, of course, received etiquette lessons before. He knew customs and conventions; he knew how to present himself properly. But learning the waltz and the precise angle of a bow was quite another matter.
He would have much preferred training with a sword, a bow, or even a spear—which he detested—rather than continuing to execute painstakingly measured steps. The duchess had not lied when she said “as soon as possible.” And now he was once again walking in a straight line.
“You are distracted, young Lord.”
“I am listening very carefully, Madame Brown.”
“Do not lie to me, my Lord. I know these lessons are not the most entertaining, but as a future duke, you must present yourself properly.”
Her long ruler snapped sharply against his fingers.
“Come now, let us begin again.”
The moment he was dismissed, Oscar slipped away to train. After spending a good hour standing at attention, he had hoped for a light solo session. Unfortunately, Sir Rossi was there to greet him, and Oscar’s morning continued in sweat and pain.
Though he now handled Günther’s pace quite well, the commander nearly overwhelmed him. Different techniques, different muscles at work. When lunchtime arrived, Oscar could already feel the stiffness setting in.
At lunch, Lady Brynn was absent, occupied with other matters, according to Brennan. Oscar ate in silence, though he felt noticeably less tense.
He was on his way to the library when Abélie called out to him. Now looking rather smart in a formal uniform that was far too large for her, she waved enthusiastically.
“Young master!”
He raised an eyebrow.
“And is that how you’re taught to greet your employer?”
“Oh, but you know, now that I’m a majordomo, we’re much closer, you and I!”
She wore a grin as proud as a peacock’s. He sighed.
“Didn’t Brennan teach you etiquette?”
“Not yet, but he did give me a terribly boring two-hour lecture on the duties of a majordomo—their purpose, how to serve one's master properly, and so on,” she rattled off, counting on her fingers.
Deep down, Oscar wondered whether it was even possible to make her into a distinguished majordomo.
“And so, what do you want?”
She glanced left and right down the corridor, resuming her suspicious mannerisms.
“Well… You have an office now, don’t you?”
He regarded her sceptically, then turned on his heel and led her there.
The office assigned to him was spacious, well-lit, and overlooked the courtyard. He sat down on a sofa. Abélie remained standing; Oscar acknowledged this effort at protocol and crossed his legs.
“I have some juicy news, young master!”
“And what news might that be?”
“Yes, sorry. Do you remember Ruth, the client who was crying?”
“The one whose brother disappeared?”
She nodded; her memory was impressive and perfectly suited for gathering gossip, he had to admit.
He gestured for her to continue.
“I discovered, by listening to rumours here and there, that Ruth’s brother—the delinquent who disappeared—is not an isolated case. At least a dozen other delinquents and troublemakers have vanished over the past few months. Possibly even over the past few years.”
“Oh? And none of this was ever reported to the authorities?”
“Not to my knowledge, no. Quite the opposite, actually — I believe it was hushed up.”
Oscar raised an eyebrow and uncrossed his legs, suddenly serious.
“What do you mean, ‘hushed up’?”
Abélie shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not embarrassed, merely searching for her words.
“Let’s just say… according to the servants I’ve spoken to, these disappearances never prompted any serious investigations — nor any reaction from Her Grace.”
“That is indeed curious. But were these troublemakers all part of a criminal organisation?”
“Not that I know of. You know, young master, my investigation has only just begun. But they were all more or less known in the area — mostly for terrorising honest folk and committing petty thefts here and there. In short, scoundrels. Of course, they were reprimanded several times by the guard—at least all those who disappeared—but that never stopped them.”
“According to you, these petty criminals all vanished at different times, without leaving any trace, and without anyone being concerned — except their families, like this ‘Ruth’ and her brother?”
“Exactly. Say, young master, you really are quite perceptive.”
He noted the irony but chose not to comment. Instead, he continued.
“These individuals were apprehended by the guard, yet continued their activities… What kind of crimes did they commit?”
“I’m still working on that. But as for Ruth’s brother, Michael, he stole bread from time to time and started fights, if my information is correct. For each theft, he was sentenced to community labour. Still, few people liked him. He was hot-tempered, difficult, and selfish.”
“Something of a parasite, then.”
“One could say that, yes. The servants seemed to pity the poor woman more than anything. Still, she is inconsolable — and it is strange.”
The young majordomo adopted a suspicious pout. It was hard to tell whether it gave her a genuine air of a detective or simply emphasised her usual immaturity. Oscar had noticed over time how much she enjoyed exaggerating her expressions.
He sighed and reflected.
“All of this proves nothing. It is odd, certainly, but difficult to draw any conclusions. And I cannot question Sir Rossi about it—he would likely fail to understand either my curiosity or my concern, not to mention that we do not yet know all the secrets of this place.”
She smiled knowingly — the very smile that prompted another weary sigh from Oscar.
“Are you suggesting, young master, that Sir Rossi is involved in all this?”
“No, not at all. We don’t know what is happening here. Perhaps these troublemakers left to seek love and fortune elsewhere; perhaps they decided to found a miniature criminal society far from us—it’s impossible to say. And I do not intend to pursue this further without good reason.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you find something far more concrete.”
This time, her smile turned almost sly. Oscar sincerely hoped she managed to conceal her expressions better when gathering testimonies.
“Of course, sir. You can count on me—your faithful majordomo!”
He nodded. She exhausted him, but her goodwill was undeniable.
“Oh, and Abélie?”
“Yes?”
“Do not forget to follow Brennan’s lessons to the letter.”