"What are you doing?"

Maxine blinked and found herself back in the present, facing the window while holding the curtains.

"I asked what you are doing, Max," asked Oscar's voice once again.

Maxine cleared her throat. She had been staring out into nothing for quite some time, perhaps longer than necessary. And to be caught not doing anything by Oscar himself would prove that the rest of her day would not be as good as when she awoke that morning.

Albin had risen earlier than her, giving her enough time to carefully work on her bandage around her chest and put on the uniform that Molly had fixed for her for it had been such a real struggle to be alone to do so since she came to the household. She even found herself whistling as she walked to the kitchen to have her breakfast with Molly, Lottie and Fanny. In fact, she had not seen Oscar until this very moment when she came back to Nicholas' room to fix it after he disappeared into his study to work.

"Are you deaf?" Oscar asked, voice growing nearer as he approached Maxine.

Maxine whirled around, face flushed. "I am sorry, sir. I was—I was curious of something I saw outside the window."

Oscar frowned and looked out into the street. When he turned to face her once again, his eyes were narrowed. "You have been neglecting most of you duties for days. I am this close," he uttered, lifting his hand to show her the small space between his forefinger and thumb, "to reporting your incompetence to his lordship."

Maxine blinked. "I am sorry, sir. I try my best."

"Then stop staring into nothing and work! Have you shined his boots?"

"I—I shall do that after—"

"Brushed his hats?"

"That I shall be doing the moment I—"

"Aired the slippers?"

"I am yet to set—"

"Have you sent missives to the tailor and the perfumer?"

"I will immediately do so—"

Oscar's eyes flickered with annoyance and impatience. "Is there anything you have done that is of significance?"

Maxine bowed her head with guilt. She had honestly found it difficult to keep track of everything a valet ought to do. It was hard enough to run around the household, waiting on Nicholas and his brothers for the past few days that she had neglected everything Oscar had mentioned. Yet it had been two days since Nicholas had any visitors. She should have done everything by then.

But Nicholas was no easy master as she had finally realized. He was nice, yes, and a very understanding master. But he had many needs that needed her assistance. Shaving, tying his cravat—although the two of them were yet to master it, putting on his boots, sorting his missives, getting him food and drinks, calling Albin or Oscar for other matters specific to their tasks, arranging his clothes, re-arranging them when he was not pleased, repeating the process if he changed his mind—to summarize it all, Maxine had concluded that she ought to have chosen a lady's home to serve for a lord such as Nicholas Everard was too much of a dandy than she would have wanted.

"You have traveled all the way from Theobald to work here in Wickhurst and decided to walk into our doors without further invitation," Oscar's voice said, drawing her to the current situation, "or have you forgotten? Did his lordship's baffling fondness toward you gotten into your head that you think you can simply ignore all of your tasks?"

Her eyes widened. She may not have had so much experience being a valet—in fact, she may have lived all her life being served and not the other way around—but she hated how Oscar was seeing her at the moment. But it was his job to see her that way—it was his job to maintain order in the household.

And she was not doing her job perfectly well in a way that would suit the standards of the perfectionist butler.

"I understand, Max, that you do not have the experience of a valet, but it would ease how I view your actions if you show me that you try your best instead of dallying with the maids longer than necessary or staring blankly at nothing as though you are having a nap with your eyes wide open!" Oscar's patience was apparently at its limits.

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she uttered, squaring her shoulders. "I promise—"

"Make no such promises," Oscar snapped, staring her up and down with his cold, dark eyes. "I opt that you show me."

"Yes, sir."

Oscar looked around the room. "Arrange his lordship's clothing in the dressing room after you are done with the bed. And if he still does not need your services once that is done, promptly send missives to the tailor and the perfumer."

She nodded. "And I shall air the slippers and brush the hats thereafter," she said, "if his lordship does not call for me, that is."

Oscar gave a short nod. "And do not forget to close the curtains after—"

"—desired temperature is achieved," she finished, eliciting a satisfied nod from Oscar.

When the butler did not make any move to leave, Maxine swallowed. "I promise not to stare into blank space once you leave, sir."

Oscar pursed his lips, sharply turned and walked away.

Maxine sighed. She shook her head, nagging at herself inside her head.

Stay focused, Maxine. Stay focused.

It had been two days since she found Amelia Trilby's photo on the Herald. And since then, she could not think of anything else but the desire to pack her bags and find the woman in Willowfair.

But how certain was she that Amelia Trilby was her mother? What she felt when she saw the woman may not entirely signify anything. Mayhap she was simply too desperate to find her mother—that if she found Amelia Trilby and was facing her she would find herself disappointed.

Or mayhap she was correct.

Yet she would never know the truth unless she searched for it on her own.

There must be a way for her to find a connection between the woman and her father. Once she found it, she could go and find Amelia Trilby.

But she would not do so now. She had no money and she would not survive another journey to Willowfair. In addition, she was not yet certain what to say to the woman. "I believe I am your child," would be brutally embarrassing, of course.

She brushed the thoughts of Amelia Trilby out of her mind. She would find more time to know more about the woman. For now, she had to please Oscar by doing her work and save money all the same. She would have to be very thrifty as she was not planning to stay long in Wickhurst. She was risking being found out with each day she spent here.

Once she had enough to survive in Willowfair and the moment that she knew more of Amelia Trilby—if the woman had any connection with her father at all—she would leave Wickhurst.

*****

"Prepare for travel, Max," Nicholas said the next day as Maxine helped him with his cravat.

Her hands paused but she dared not look up for it would merely render her speechless if she did so. "Travel, milord?"

"Yes," he said, voice more serious than she had heard him use before. "I plan to visit Devonshire very soon. Prepare to leave anytime."

"It would not be today, milord?"

"No," he said, taking the cravat from her hand. He pulled at it and threw it over to the bed. "Bloody hell, we shall never perfect this task."

"Apologies, milord. Albin does try to teach me every night and—"

"Fret not, Max," Nicholas said, voice lighter now. "I am not going out today. Should Max come by, do guide him to my office at once." At her confusion, Nicholas laughed. "I mean Maxwell, my brother."

Maxine cleared her throat and hesitated.

"What is it?" Nicholas asked.

"I—I have the afternoon off, milord. Albin shall be your valet for the rest of the afternoon."

Nicholas' brows arched. "Truly?"

"Yes, milord. I have to go to the tailor and the perfumer to follow up on my missives."

"But I thought you said you have the afternoon off."

"That is how I intend to spend my afternoon off, milord, as per Oscar's orders." She let out an awkward smile.

"Then it is not an afternoon off!"

"Well, we—uh, we refer to it as such, milord."

Nicholas shook his head. "Very well, off you go then."

Maxine nodded. "I shall call for Albin, milord."

When she reached the door, Nicholas called out to her. "While you are out to meet the tailor and the perfumer, Max," he said, "care to spend an hour or two on your own."

"Milord?"

Nicholas grinned at her. "Explore Wickhurst if you must, boy. You deserve that at the very least."

She blinked, surprised.

"You would find pretty women, I tell you."

She flushed.

"Now, go and get Albin."

"Thank you, milord," she said, jumping to her feet with excitement.

*****

Very much later, Maxine found herself roaming around the many streets of Wickhurst. She dared not enter Haram, a place that Molly and Lottie had warned her about. They both said that it was not a place anyone new in Wickhurst should wander into without experience.

"The place is filled of all sorts of criminals!" Lottie had said.

"You would lose everything in your pocket if you are not careful!" Molly had added.

It was not hard to find the perfumer and the tailor. Both shops were familiar of Nicholas Everard and his specific tastes and it was quite easy to talk with them in person than through the missives. She would have to pick up the orders after a fortnight.

Once her tasks were done, she finally had the time to herself. Nicholas had allowed her an hour or two and she knew the perfect place to spend that.

Merely fifteen minutes after she stepped out of the tailor shop, Maxine found herself looking up at the giant building two blocks away.

Molly had said that this was the largest library one could find in Wickhurst. But for Maxine, it seemed to be the largest one in the Town. She was not certain if anything could be larger than this giant white building of rocks.

Squaring her shoulders, Maxine climbed the steps that led to the large wooden doors. The man standing guard outside gave her a good look but did not stop her when she proceeded to go inside.

She nearly gasped with awe when she stepped into marbled floors and total silence enveloped her. At one side, rows and rows of books and scrolls filled a very large hall. At one side were tables and lamps and some people reading books in silence.

"How may I be of service?" asked the bored-looking man behind the stone counter in the middle of the entrance hall.

Maxine tried to smile. "I was informed that I would find all articles of the Town Herald here."

The middle-aged man looked at her for a very long time before he said. "You were informed correctly."

She smiled with relief. "Where would I find them?"

The man rolled his eyes and sighed. "Date?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You have to provide me with a specific date you wish to find."

"I do not precisely know, but I would appreciate if you can point me to the articles that date back more than twenty-five years ago."

The man let out a heavy sigh. He held up his hand. "Card."

Maxine blinked. "Card?"

"You would need a card to view anything in this library."

"I do not have any—"

"Then return once you have one."

"But where could I—"

"You must apply for it."

"Apply?"

"With legal papers. Name, residence and everything else."

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment.

"If you do not have the card, you can leave. If you wish to have one, prepare the necessary papers."

Maxine nodded.

She went home in defeat.

*****

"When did you return?" Nicholas inquired even before Maxwell took his seat.

"Minutes ago," he provided. "I departed for Wickhurst the very moment I received your note."

Nicholas nodded. "Well? What do you think of it?"

He let the silence reign for a little longer before he answered, "Nothing."

Nicholas looked scandalized. "Nothing!"

"Yes."

"Then why bother come here in haste?"

"Do you truly need a reply to that?"

"I bloody need all the reply you could provide, Max."

"I came in haste to make certain you did not make any foolish moves."

His brother stared at him incredulously. "Whyever would you think that?"

Maxwell shrugged. "Osegod's offer is rather convincing."

Nicholas scoffed. "You do not know me well then if you believe I would jump to such offer without consulting Benedict or the rest of the family."

"Relax, Nick."

Nicholas sighed. "But you are correct," Nicholas said. "His offer is rather convincing."

"Of course it is," Maxwell said. "But I do not like it."

"You and your conspiracy theories."

He shrugged.

"Do you believe that a business partnership with Osegod would do us harm? In what way? Politically? We are not into any political parties to begin with."

He did not offer a reply. His mind was racing to many things at once.

"For God's sake, Max, speak!"

"He could be behind the recent accident in the mines," he finally said.

Nicholas' face crumpled with disbelief. "How so?"

"He is a wise man and he knows that to make one agree to him equates to weakening that person's greatest assets. A strong man would not need allies. A weak one would need many."

"But this offer of partnership could also mean big business to us all."

"All I am saying is I do not like the idea at all. He is close to the Trilbys. And we both know he is no saint."

"No one is a saint, Max."

"We must consult with Ben and Levi. Are you certain you are the only one Osegod approached?"

Nicholas nodded.

Maxwell kept silent.

"What do you ken would happen if we do not take his offer?"

Maxwell shrugged. He did not have to for he knew Nicholas knew what he was thinking.

"Bloody hell," his brother cursed. "Osegod has finally set his eyes on us. Either way, should we take his offer or not, I fear for what would come next."

*****

Maxwell was on his way out the door when he saw the valet running toward the side entrance as though someone was lurking nearby.

He paused, thought hard and sighed.

He truly did not wish to have another confrontation, but with everything that had been happening around the family since Osegod's name came to the picture, he could not help but think of the worst things.

Whirling back around, he nearly bumped against the butler. "I am afraid I forgot something. I have to write a very important note. Would you care to send for writing articles to the parlor and hot tea if you may?"

"Yes, milord," Oscar said, briskly turning around to bid his request.

"And Oscar," he added, "do make certain the valet delivers it."

He caught the man's curious gaze but ignored it.

Once the butler was gone, Maxwell proceeded to the parlor and waited.

It was a tedious task, but he had to do this.

*****

Maxine was surprised when Oscar found her inside her room and said, "Good. You are back. Come to the kitchen and get back to work."

She jumped to her feet and followed him outside.

"I do not know what you have done, but you must have done something for him to request your service," Oscar was muttering as he pushed the tray into her hands. "Go take this to the parlor."

"Who are you—"

"Go!" Oscar snapped.

Maxine turned and walked out of the kitchen, noting Fanny and Molly staring after her with worry.

What the bloody hell was going on?

She had barely taken off her coat and she was once more in trouble?

But surely she was not, yes? She was to deliver...

She looked down with a frown. There was a piece of paper, a pen and an inkwell and a cup of steaming hot tea.

She stopped outside the parlor door, thinking hard. Nicholas would not ask for writing articles if he could do all his writing in his study. It simply meant someone else had asked for them.

But who could—

Before she could complete the question in her head, the door opened and she was once more standing before Maxwell Everard.

His eyes were glinting with impatience as he stepped back and ordered, "Get inside. Now."

Maxine squared her shoulders and walked into the room. She went straight to the table and set the tray on top.

"Do you need anything else, milord?" she asked, very much ready to leave.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," Maxwell said, standing too close in front of her.

Her gaze wavered.

"I do not want to waste my time giving chances, but I am giving you another one, valet," he said through his teeth, "tell me who you truly are."

Maxine blinked and cleared her throat. She squared her shoulders, straightened her back as if she could reach his height, an impossible feat. "Max, milord. I told you my name is Max."

When would he stop this? She thought it was merely one of his drunken stupors three nights ago, but now she was proven wrong. Her life had been rather peaceful when he was away. Why did he have to come back!

He took one step forward, his coat almost touching hers, but she dared not step back. She could never make Maxwell Everard see even for a mere second that she considered his presence overwhelmingly daunting.

"Then, please pray tell," his menacing voice whispered above her, his green eyes cold and knowing, "why would a woman be called Max?"

A/N:

Apologies for the lack of updates. I have been very sick lately (worst stiff neck ever for two weeks followed by days of fever) but I am getting better now. I am not pushing myself too hard as I still have to work despite being sick and the only rest I can give myself is when I am home. I hope to get better within the week. Next week, I hope, will be back to normal and daily updates MIGHT resume. Thank you for your patience, dear readers! 

-Greenwriter