Chapter 5 - A Different Kind of Uniform
The next morning, sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the grand dining room.
Beatrice woke up late—a cardinal sin for a staff member. Her head throbbed, and her cheek was swollen and purplish-yellow, but she quickly sat up, pulling her hair back. She put on her familiar black maid’s dress, tied her white apron tightly around her waist, and hurried down the back stairs toward the kitchen.
She expected to find Mrs. Gable, the head housekeeper, waiting with a list of chores.
Instead, when she walked into the kitchen, the entire staff was standing in silence.
Mrs. Gable stepped forward. She wasn't holding a mop or a roster. She was holding a large, elegant box tied with a satin ribbon.
"Beatrice," Mrs. Gable said softly, her eyes shining with unusual emotion. "Mr. Rossi left strict instructions this morning."
Beatrice shrank back slightly. "Instructions? Am I... am I being fired?"
"Fired?" Mrs. Gable let out a soft laugh. "Child, you're not a maid anymore."
She handed the heavy box to Beatrice.
Beatrice opened the lid with trembling hands. Inside lay three exquisite silk dresses, custom-tailored cardigan sweaters, and soft leather shoes—none of them black, none of them aprons. Taped to the top dress was a handwritten card in bold, firm penmanship:
You are no longer staff, Beatrice. You are Lily’s governess and a protected member of this house. Take off the apron. Join us for breakfast in the sunroom. — Leo
Beatrice stared at the card, tears pricking her eyes. "I... I can't accept this."
"You will accept it," a deep voice spoke from the kitchen doorway.
Leo stood there, wearing a dark gray suit, looking imposing and striking. He walked into the kitchen, making the stainless-steel counters seem small.
The other staff members bowed their heads slightly and quickly excused themselves, leaving Leo and Beatrice alone.
Leo stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over her torn apron and bruised face. "You saved my daughter's life, Beatrice. You will never wear a uniform in this house again."
"Mr. Rossi, I'm a janitor's daughter," Beatrice said, her voice shaking with vulnerability. "I don't know how to wear silk dresses. I don't know how to sit at your table. People like me... we stay in the background."
"Who taught you to think so little of yourself?" Leo asked softly.
Beatrice lowered her eyes, staring at her worn shoes. "The world, sir. Every time I walk into a room."
Leo reached out. His thick fingers gently took hold of her apron strings at her back. With one firm pull, he untied the knot. The white apron fell away, dropping onto the tile floor between them.
Beatrice gasped softly, her eyes flying up to meet his.
"The world is full of fools who only see the surface of things," Leo said, his voice deep and resonant. "I am not one of those fools. In this house, you step into the light."
He took the box from her hands, set it on the island counter, and offered her his arm.
"Now," Leo said, "my daughter is waiting for her shortbread, and she refuses to eat unless her favorite person sits beside her."
May you like
Beatrice looked at his extended arm, then up at his solid, unyielding face. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel small. She didn't feel invisible.
She reached out and placed her swollen, bruised hand into the crook of his elbow.
