A Handmaid’s Guide for Revenge

Margarita Grey.

A woman known for her extravagance, and the third wife of the Earl of Grey.

Unknown origin, unknown occupation, unknown maiden name.

Shrouded in mystery, she suddenly appeared on the social scene as the Countess of Grey. Unsurprisingly, society’s opinion of Margarita was not favourable.

The general consensus was that she was a lowly woman who had been lucky enough to become a countess.

Soon, however, Margarita was a staple of any social gathering. Luminaries1 from all walks of life – literature, music, painting, philosophy, and fashion – came forward to sing her praises.

It was a very clever approach.

Every social gathering has a core group of luminaries, and the quality of that group is measured by the writers and musicians you can bring in.

So when Margarita begins to gain the support of the luminaries, even the nobility can’t keep her out of their circles. Margarita has slowly seeped in from below, creating a foundation that can never be uprooted.

Nevertheless, there remained a cynicism about Margarita’s commoner origins, a group that believed she had been wooed into society with her face.

Like this redheaded viscountess here.

“Mrs Grey, next time I’m holding a salon on the theme of art, and I’m inviting some new painters, like Ropiello and Kaen, and I wonder if you’ll be there?”

“New painters?”

Margarita scoffed coldly.

“If I can be of any use to the Viscountess of Baté in her studies of Ropiello and Kaen, I’ll be there.”

Ropiello and Kaen were not newcomers. They were already elders in the art world. The Viscountess of Baté knew this, but she lied to Margarita in order to get her to give the wrong answer and make fun of her limited knowledge.

The Viscountess of Baté’s face flushed red as she realised what she was doing.

“Well, I suppose the Countess of Grey knows a good deal about art?”

“Of course, and I can give you a private lesson, if you’d like, Viscountess Baté.”

Margarita smiled gracefully as she said that. It was a smile that lifted the corners of her lips, and it was terribly aristocratic.

As she turned to leave, she heard Viscountess Baté’s indignant voice behind her.

“Were you laughing at me, now?”

She turned to leave without a response, but the Viscountess grabbed her by the hem of her dress and pulled her back.

‘There is no time.’

Margarita’s brow furrowed and then loosened. Apparently, she wasn’t in the mood to let her go gracefully.

“Madam. It seems that you’re a bit disappointed to send me off this early…”

Should we have a little private talk?

She whispered into Viscountess Baté’s ear, and her face contorted strangely.

“What are you talking about…”

“I mean Kaen, isn’t he a little too famous to be in a salon the size of yours? I’ve always wondered how you managed to get him in.”

The viscountess’s face began to flush red.

“It’s just, it’s just, I’ve asked him so many times…”

“Many times.”

Margarita smirked.

“You’ve met him several times?”

“Well, I have, but isn’t it obvious, we have to meet to convince…”

“Yes, that’s right, that’s fair.”

She smiled brightly and looked around the back of Viscount Baté. There were a number of ladies gathered there who were coming out of the salon.

“I hope you two have a long association.”

Margarita clasped the hem of her skirt and bowed lightly.

All it takes is one word to ignite suspicion.

As soon as she turned, she heard the ladies chattering.

“Viscountess Baté, did you have any personal acquaintance with Kaen?”

“I’ve heard that Kaen has found his muse and is working hard on his art these days…”

No one cares if it’s true or not. An interesting story has appeared, so they bite.

‘I guess I won’t be invited to this salon for a while.’

It didn’t matter.

Anyway, she participated in the salon today to meet the rising star of the social circle, the Baron of Labourg, so there will be no chance to build a relationship with that lady in the future.

‘If you want to be close to the gentlemen, it’s better to keep a little distance from the ladies.’

Most gossip comes from the ladies, but the dirtiest rumours start with the gentlemen.

Margarita wanted it.

The dirtiest stories to be buried at the bottom of society.

“My lady, your carriage is waiting at the door. Shall I take you to the same place today?”

“Different place tonight. A limited edition wine has arrived at ‘François’s Night.’”

“Very well, I will take you to ‘François’s Night’.”

The maid waiting outside the salon bowed politely and informed the coachman of their destination, while Margarita climbed into the carriage and looked out the window.

The sun had already set and the sky was darkening. It was time for the other ladies to return to their mansions, but Margarita’s day was just beginning.

“Cigar.”

The maid lit a cigar and placed it in her hand.

Margarita held the smoke in her mouth and spat it out. The rich, woody scent of the cigar filled the carriage.

“Haa…”

The maid squinted at Margarita as she leaned against the carriage’s backrest. There was a subtle twist in her eyes, as if she was looking down on something trivial. Margarita recognised it immediately, but didn’t bother to rebuke her.

A woman who smoked several cigars a day, a woman who went in and out of nightclubs where men smoked cigars, where noblewomen were deliberately avoided.

‘I’m sure I don’t look good to anyone.’

She takes another drag from her cigar.

The wood-flavoured cigar, the plunging dress, the mild-mannered manner of speaking and the debauched company she usually kept – it was all carefully planned.

Last year she hadn’t made it to the capital because Count Grey had caught her, so this year she would have to be more diligent.

“My lady, we have arrived.”

The night clubs were brightly lit, attracting shabby moths. Margarita gave instructions as soon as they stepped out of the carriage.

“Put a bottle of our limited edition wine on every table.”

“Yes, yes?”

“What are you doing? It’s not my job.”

The employees who greeted her at ‘Francois’s Night’ looked at her in amazement and quickly started moving. Meanwhile, she entered the club full of self-proclaimed gentlemen, wearing black lace gloves with graceful movements.

“Oh, Margarita, you’re here tonight.”

“I’ve been dying to see you. Last time I heard you were coming to the Chateau, I waited all night, and what a shame I didn’t get to meet you.”

Margarita was greeted by a number of gentlemen as she entered, and she quickly nodded and bowed in return. Her demeanour was gentle, but her eyes shone with the keenness of a hunting dog.

‘Who was involved in my mother’s death?’

She covered her face with the fan in one hand and held out her free hand to them. The strangers showered her with passionate kisses on the back of her hand. Margarita smiled brightly, lending them all the back of her hand in fairness.

‘The real murderer of Countess Diana was most likely the Earl of Grey.’

‘But we can’t just catch one culprit and be done with it, can we?’

The man who ordered my mother to be framed, the man who actually framed her, the man who gave false testimony, the man who killed her.

I couldn’t leave any of them alive.

So I must know.

‘What did the real murderer of the Countess want to hide that he had to frame a maid and execute her in just one day?’

The answer may lie in her mother’s death.

Margarita was ready to do anything to take revenge on those who brought her mother to her death.1

a person who inspires or influences others, especially one prominent in a particular sphere.