I hummed a simple melody as I cooked a soupy porridge in a pot over the fireplace. The gentle crackle of the fire was a comforting backdrop to the rhythm of my tune. Behind me, Mum, Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa sat at the dining table, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the aroma of the meal.

I stirred the pot one last time before ladling the steaming porridge into bowls. Turning around, I served everyone with a smile on my face, the warmth of the fire mirrored in my cheerful demeanour.

"You seem rather chipper today," Grandma noticed, her wise eyes twinkling as she accepted her bowl.

I could not help but beam. "I suppose I am," I replied, setting down the last bowl before Mum. "It's just a good day, that's all."

Grandpa looked up from his bowl, a curious smile on his face. "And what makes today so special?"

I shrugged, trying to play it off, but the excitement bubbled up anyway. "I got a new job yesterday."

Mixtures of surprise and praise erupted in our small home. Mum got out of her seat and wrapped me in a bear hug. I hugged her back, a wide smile I could not hide beaming on my face. "Congrats, Claire," she said, releasing me from her arms while sharing my smile. "What is it? Where do you work?"

I took a deep breath, the air squeezed lovely out of me. "Well," I began, "I will work as a caregiver, and it is at this manor."

"A manor?" Dad's chestnut eyebrows raised, his surprise evident and his curiosity piqued. "How did you get such high of work?"

"Well, you know..." An embarrassed blush rose into my face, as I looked at the dirty ground, twisting a shoe on the stone floor. "I was just persistent and determined, just like you all taught me last year."

"Aw," my family said.

"Oh, I love you, Claire," Mum said, hugging me again. The rest of my family joined in the hug. The warmth of the family moment wrapped around us just as snugly as the heat from the fire. Yet, I could not think of how much I missed feeling this warm feeling with my family. When was the last time I felt like this? Did my family only love me because now I had a job, so I could finally pay them back?

My face contorted as I tried to hold back a tear. My family slowly released me from the hug and sat back down.

"Claire, are you okay?" Grandma inquired. "Come, sit down and eat with us." She pulled out the last chair, dusting it off with her hand.

I shook my head, slowly walking away. "No, no. You all can eat. I need to get to work." I felt all eyes on me as I opened the door.

"Okay, deary, if that is what you think is best..."

***

Walking up the ramp to the Windsor Manor, I used the heavy iron knocker politely on their front door and stepped back, awaiting someone to open the door. I smiled to myself as I was both excited and nervous about the work. What exactly were my tasks and responsibilities? How many hours were I expected to work each week? And most importantly: How much money would I get? When I helped out at my parent's bakery, starting at the earliest age of four, I would work around eight hours every day and get my day's pay—one shilling and fourteen pence—from my family after we ate dinner at our oval-shaped wood dining table.

The door opened, and Countess Windsor greeted me with a silent eye roll before shutting the door in my face. Luckily, I caught the door before it fully closed. "Wait!" I chimed.

"Leave, girl. We do not need you."

"But your husband and Viscount William said I got the job yesterday."

She raised an ebony eyebrow. "They did?" She paused a moment. "Give me a second; I must talk to them." She left, leaving the door ajar. I looked around, waiting for a second before entering and following the sound of her irritated voice and stomping heels. "Marcus! William! We have to talk. Right! NOW!" she screamed, her voice echoing throughout the entire house as she paced past the stairwell and down the hallway as if we were going to the dining room, except she went under the left arch.

Footsteps scrambled down a flight of stairs before Earl Windsor caught sight of me in the foyer, lamely lagging behind his wife. He composed himself, dusting off his clothes and patting his forehead with a handkerchief.

"We should not keep my wife waiting, " Earl Windsor said, putting the napkin back in his chest pocket. "She is quite impatient and particular in how things are run around here."

Earl Windsor entered the withdrawing room before me. There were two identical bookshelves embedded into the wall, each accompanied by a nearby chair. The room had a reflective quality, enhanced by two wall sconces and two vases placed on or above the fireplace, which was positioned between the bookshelves. At the centre was an oval mirror with a small clock beneath it. Above us hung a grandiose chandelier, with the candles' flames reflecting beautifully off the crystal prisms. 

The Earl waved to a tall chair angled toward an identical chair his wife was sitting in. However, the Countess huffed, breaking my moment of admiration. "Marcus, sit down, and you, I thought I told you to wait outside.

I quickly took a seat in a nearby short chair as the Countess crossed her arms pointedly at the sight of me. "You did not," I sheepishly said.

"Oh, never mind." She waved the discourse away with her hand.

We waited a few seconds before Viscount William rolled himself inside. He situated himself between his parents so that his back was to the fireplace. He looked at me, puzzled, which I thought was strange because he had accepted me as his caregiver yesterday, so why would my presence be different to him today? It was only after he spoke that I realised why he was confused.

"Why are you sitting on a footstool?"

I glanced down at what I was sitting on and looked over to Earl Windsor's chair to see that he had the same thing at the foot of his chair as well. I had not seen it when I was scrambling to find a seat. A blush encompassed my cheeks as I quickly stood.

"There are a couple of chairs over there," the Earl informed, pointing to a chess table with two chairs. I took one, moved it to the group, and promptly sat down on it, clutching the skirt of my dress in embarrassment.

"Now that she is..." the Countess side-eyed me, her mouth scrunched up in disgust with a touch of mirth, "...taken care of. What is this I hear about this brat being the caregiver of my son?"

" Beatrice, she is not a brat! Likewise, William said he did not mind it."

The Countess snapped her head to the Viscount who just sighed. His blue eyes looked as dead as ever. At the sight of her son, I saw her body soften, her face tensing with worry. "Is this true, William?" she spoke softly.

He shrugged his shoulders. "As I have told you before, I do not want a caregiver, but I am fine with Miss Becker."

The Earl raised an ebony eyebrow and leaned forward in his seat toward his wife as if to say, "See?" He then motioned to me. "We all discussed this when you were gone."

"So that is why you sent me out. You were talking behind my back!" The Countess jabbed her finger at her husband like she was unsheathing a knife.

The Earl sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "Beatrice, I wanted to give William the chance to decide on his own without your input. I think your idea of it being his choice is a good idea, so I wanted to honour it." The Countess's eyes flashed with anger. But before she could say something, he continued. "I knew you would be upset," The Earl said gently. "But I also knew that William's comfort and wishes needed to be considered first."

The Countess's gaze shifted back to me, and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. "I still do not understand why it has to be her."

The Viscount cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Mother, are you not the one who proposed to get me a caregiver? Why are we going around in cycles? No one wants to take care of a cripple like me. She has been the only one who has expressed interest, so just let this stupid discussion be finished! I just want to be left alone!" The Viscount slammed his hands upon his wheels and pushed himself out of the room, leaving his words ringing throughout it.

A tense silence fell over the room as the Countess processed her son's words. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Very well," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If William is okay with Miss Becker being his caregiver, then I will accept it. But know this"—she turned to me with a stern look—"I will be watching you closely."

I nodded, feeling the weight of her scrutiny already. "Of course, Countess Windsor. I only want what's best for Viscount William."

The Earl exhaled in relief, leaning back in his chair. "Good, then it is settled."

The Countess stood abruptly, smoothing her dress. "I need some fresh air," she announced before sweeping out of the room.

The room, which had been filled with tension, began to feel a bit warmer. The fire crackled softly, and the chandelier's light cast a gentle glow over us. For the first time, I felt a sense of belonging in this grand, imposing house. The path ahead was uncertain, but I was determined to walk it with grace and determination.