Wilhelm had been with the Trier family for decades now, long enough to remember when Master Claude himself was still a boy chasing after his own father's coattails. He'd seen enough in this household that little could surprise him anymore, weddings and funerals and every quiet scandal in between. And yet, these past few weeks, he'd found himself astonished nearly every day.
The cause was Lady Celestine von Trier, the only daughter of the Trier family. She'd been acting further and further outside the norm this past month.
Lady Celestine used to actively chase her family's attention, especially her brother Carlisle's. She used to demand family meals together, and if refused, she'd make a scene, or go on a hunger strike. There had been times she caused disturbances at tea parties, unbecoming of a noble young lady. It had frustrated Master Claude and Madame Carissa greatly. They always seemed at a loss for how to handle her.
She used to ask after Young Master Carlisle's whereabouts every day, without fail, then trail after him whenever she was permitted to go where he went. That had frustrated the young master too, until his originally gentle treatment of her turned cold and aloof.
Young Master Clarion, who idolized his elder brother, had come to despise this sister of his for her irritating behavior. Despite the small gap in their ages, the two never got along. Instead, they quarreled nearly every time they crossed paths.
The family had grown estranged from her. Wilhelm couldn't say exactly when it started, only that by now, the rift seemed impossible to mend. The strain in the household had festered for years.
It was easier, being merely a servant to them. His job was simply to do his job and serve his masters, estranged young lady or not.
That was, perhaps, what made him the person closest to her. Close enough to notice every shift in her behavior, however small.
The first three weeks of this month, Lady Celestine had been unusually well-behaved, for lack of a better word. She no longer made absurd demands of her busy parents, nor tried to track her brother's every move. She stayed cooped up either in her room or the library, sometimes missing meals entirely.
She seemed to be researching something. Whatever it was, no one but her knew. Wilhelm had wondered, at first, how long such a change would last. The question answered itself the other day, when she requested the family gather for dinner. Though she held back from any major fuss, she still made outlandish demands in the kitchen, and even asked for the mansion to be decorated.
Wilhelm conceded to a few decorations on the dining table, the limit of what he was willing to allow. Her chosen dishes were prepared and served promptly at dinner time. Except Master and Madame had attended another ball that night, along with the two young masters, and left the young lady waiting until midnight.
He'd felt a prick of pity for her, sitting alone at that long table meant for six, the candles burning lower with each hour that passed. Her expression changed by the hour, anticipation, then sorrow, then nothing at all, the nothing being the part that unsettled him most. To spare her further embarrassment, Wilhelm had gently told her to rest, since her family seemed caught up in important affairs elsewhere.
The bitter smile she wore that night, when he brought a glass of milk to her room, stayed with him. Outside, a thunderstorm, common in the summer equinox, raged on until dawn.
He'd felt uneasy delivering her breakfast the next morning, the tray heavier in his hands than it had any right to be. One might wonder why the task fell to him, the butler, and not one of the maids. It was because the maids avoided her like a plague. No one wanted to be associated with the estranged young lady, not even in passing, not even by carrying her tea. There was no advantage in it for them.
Wilhelm knocked on her door tentatively that morning, gauging her mood before entering. What greeted him instead was a lively voice and a smile bright enough to light up the whole room. Wilhelm was stunned. The Trier family, aside from their reputation as magic knights, were known for their striking looks, and the young lady was no exception. But she had always been too meek, always kept her head down, so no one had ever truly seen her face.
Now, it seemed, he'd been granted that rare chance. Smiling, no less. Wilhelm would dare say no lady in the entire nobility circle could match her loveliness. He found himself staring, mouth slightly open, for a beat too long. How unbecoming, for a butler.
"Thank you for your hard work, Grandpa Wilhelm. I truly appreciate you taking care of me, and everyone in this household, all these years. Have a wonderful day today." Lady Celestine said, her voice sweet and mellow as honey, the kind that reached into a person's chest and moved something loose.
If Wilhelm had been stunned by her face, he was gobsmacked by those words. Moved, too. He'd only ever offered her the perfunctory kindness expected of a servant. Yet here she was, thanking him as though she meant it wholeheartedly. No one had ever voiced their gratitude to him quite like that. Not even the master of the house.
Wilhelm felt ashamed.
Over the following days, he watched her more closely, drawn in, perhaps, by those words. She no longer slouched, no longer kept her eyes on the floor. She smiled at him each time he brought her meals, and even took to walking the garden, humming some tune Wilhelm didn't recognize. Toward her family, though, her indifference only deepened. She truly had changed, he realized. Into a lovely young lady who deserved far better care and attention than she'd been given, and it struck him as strange that it had taken this long for anyone in the household to notice.
Wilhelm felt guiltier still.
He resolved to mention it to the master and madame. He tried, more than once, choosing his words carefully each time. But every time, before he could finish saying her name, they cut him off and told him to handle her as he saw fit, so long as she wasn't deprived or bullied, and caused the family no further trouble.
Pity for the young lady welled in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar. It seemed damage control had come too late. But Wilhelm didn't want to give up so easily. So he decided to start with the lady herself.
It was a Sunday. He set her breakfast on the table as usual, watched her offer that same grateful smile, and steeled himself.
"My lady," he began.
"Grandpa Wilhelm," she said, at the very same moment.
They both stopped. Wilhelm gestured for her to go first.
"Grandpa Wilhelm, could I trouble you to send this reply letter to Grandfather Halcyon?" She asked politely, holding out a sealed letter with her name written neatly across the front.
Right. He remembered now. Master Halcyon had always doted on the young lady. Maybe he could help where Wilhelm couldn't. This letter might well be an invitation. He could use the chance to lend her whatever support he was able to.
"Of course, my lady. It's no trouble at all." Wilhelm replied.
"Thank you very much. Did you want to say something?" She asked, glancing up. He shook his head, said it was nothing of importance, and left her room with the letter clutched carefully in his hand, hoping Master Halcyon might give her whatever help she needed.