Ivnia first came to Gelendzik out of desperate need.
She had known poverty since childhood. Losing her father early, she became the head of her household at fourteen, caring for her ailing mother. Her village was peaceful, but work was scarce, and her mother’s medicines cost dearly.
At seventeen, she traveled to the city and found work at the ducal estate. It was a stroke of luck; such a grand house rarely hired without references, and the terms were fair. Yet even fair wages were never enough. No matter how she saved, her mother’s bills mounted.
‘The poor thing, her mother is gravely ill.’
‘So young, and so kind… such a pity.’
Her gentleness and diligence had won her regard. Then small changes began to be noticed, pretty teacups, fine lace, embroidered pillows.
‘Ivnia takes more care dressing these days.’
‘She is at that age, I suppose.’
‘Yet she spends freely…’
Once she had taken every shift and overtime; now she took days off, attended plays.
‘Did she go out today?’
‘To the theatre with the others.’
‘Does she still send money home?’
‘It seems so.’
‘Then where does the rest come from? Her wages are nothing to me.’
Whispers turned ugly.
‘No honest work could earn that much.’
‘There are ways a girl can make money fast.’
Jealousy festered. Maids earned less than men; to see one of their own appear untroubled by hardship stung. Rumor became the easiest, cruellest weapon.
At first they laughed it away, until three or more voices spoke as one, and falsehood gained the weight of fact.
‘Seen slipping from the master’s chambers at dawn.’
‘Saw her walking hand in hand with the young master.’
‘That scheming girl sells herself to the masters.’
Money, secrecy, excitement, gossip spread faster than truth. Ivnia remained unaware, tranquil in the eye of the storm. But calm could not last. Stares multiplied; she found herself alone. Suspicion hardened into coldness, then cruelty. She could no longer pretend not to hear. Her face grew pale and drawn.
At last she went to the Duke, weeping, begging him to clear her name.
‘I beg you, declare it untrue. Only say the word…’
But the old Duke chose silence. His silence was taken as confirmation. She was not cast out, instead, people assumed she had risen through favour. They watched, wary, waiting to see what she would claim.
‘She wanted this all along.’
‘How did she catch his eye?’
Then, defying every expectation, she vanished in the night.
And now, rumour flared, she had returned.
❖❖❖
Next morning, the bell rang out. Ivnia woke early and hurried to the well, avoiding others. Her cottage had no fire; the crisp early autumn air was cool. She washed and dressed Ranelli.
“Mama… there are butterflies in my pocket…” The child stirred, half-asleep.
“I’m hungry…”
“I’ll bring breakfast. Wait here.”
She glanced around, still messy. “Don’t touch anything while I’m gone. Play with the scraps of cloth and I’ll be back. Promise?”
“Yes.”
Ranelli was used to being alone. Ivnia had always worked long hours; her grandmother, frail herself, could not always watch her. It broke her heart, but there would be more such days ahead. She had a cure to find.
“Be good.”
Stepping outside, she felt a heavy weight. Familiar faces would watch her come and go. How would they look at her? What would they say?
‘Endure. For Ranelli.’
She descended to the kitchens. The air was rich with cooking smells; hunger struck all at once. The hall was crowded, tables long, seating twenty at a time. She slipped in, hoping to go unnoticed, until heads turned.
“She has come back.”
“Shameless.”
“Who is she?”
“The one with the old master…”
The murmur rose like surf. Ivnia swallowed hard, shrinking. Her hands clenched white.
‘For Ranelli.’ She steadied her breathing, walked forward, stiff, unsteady, longing to run. She pressed a hand to her churning stomach.
‘If I run now, I can never return. I came knowing this. It is nothing compared to saving her.’
Dizzy but resolved, she joined the queue. Then a hand reached out, brushing, taunting. She cried out. Laughter erupted. She stared, eyes wide, searching for the culprit, faceless, hidden in the crowd.
No one helped. She stood alone, a rabbit in a pack of hyenas.
She turned away, reaching for bread from the basket, only for the assistant cook, broad and red-faced, to snatch it away.
“Staff only!”
Ivnia froze. “Surely service has not ended?”
“Never heard of you! We cannot feed strangers!”
“But, ”
She knew the house was generous; leftovers were common. This was petty spite.
“Please…” Her voice faltered. All eyes mocked her.
“Why do you stand there gaping?” someone snapped.