Sold for Bread: The Maid’s Gamble
Chapter 9: The Rivalry
Having thought it through, I slept especially soundly that night.
For once, my dreams were peaceful. I pictured myself in a new dress, walking through the Maplewood Suite with confidence, maybe even laughing.
When I woke up, I applied blush evenly, put on lip balm, and prepared myself for a new battlefield.
I spent extra time at the cracked mirror, pinching my cheeks for color and smoothing my hair. If I was going to compete, I’d better look the part.
Lillian must have gotten the news too. Lately, she dressed especially brightly.
Her dresses were suddenly starched and spotless, her hair curled just so. She wore a splash of lavender perfume and borrowed a silk ribbon from Mrs. Carter. The message was clear: game on.
When we met, our intentions were clear in each other’s eyes, and any previous camaraderie vanished in an instant. She looked at me with open wariness.
Lillian flashed me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. My stomach twisted, but I smiled back—two actresses in a play neither of us had auditioned for.
Before the contest for concubine maid, we became true rivals, each showing off our skills.
The air was thick with tension. Every chore became a contest—who could iron the smoothest shirts, arrange the prettiest flower vases, make the strongest coffee. The other maids watched from the sidelines, whispering and keeping score.
Whenever the young master returned, Lillian was always one step ahead, serving tea and water, helping him change clothes, sticking close to him, giving me no chance to approach.
She’d wait outside his door, tray in hand, ready to sweep in and claim every task. I found myself relegated to the background, fetching towels and folding napkins while she shone in the spotlight.
I, meanwhile, put even more effort into making tea and snacks for the young master, creating new varieties tailored to his preferences, earning his endless praise.
I doubled down in the kitchen, testing new recipes—lemon squares, shortbread, even a cinnamon-apple tart I remembered from home. When Caleb tasted my treats, his eyes lit up, and I knew I’d scored a small victory.
