Work Text:
May Rin slipped her heavy glasses up, off her face for a moment, to wipe at the hot, itchy spots they'd created either side of her nose in the late-day July heat. She stood with her eyes closed, face turned to catch the sudden breeze rippling through the last dry sheet still hanging on the line from a hard day of doing laundry. She kept her balance by holding onto the clothes line with one hand, feeling the tiredness wash through her, glad her hard day's labour (which had technically started late the night before) was nearly at an end.
One last push and then I can have a nice, long sit-down, and maybe a nice cup of tea.
It was hard but purposeful work, work she wasn't ashamed of she was doing now. Work that didn't torment her conscience the way she'd been tormented in the days when the Qing Bang forced her to be practically married to her sniper rifle. But one thing hadn't changed: the overwhelming sense of isolation.
An assassin is alone nearly all the time, unable to make lasting friendships or serious, lasting love relationships. It was too dangerous in far too many ways. Plus that damned Haku, he'd have never let her have any friends. That life hadn't been her choice, but she'd seen no way out of it either, not until the dark butler had come along and changed everything for her.
She never did ask what happened to her old boss who had kept her like a slave. One day he was there, the next he was nowhere to be found. She suspected he no longer lived. Either way, Lau was the one giving the orders a week later, and it had been a big improvement. He was no saint either by all the rumours she'd heard, but he didn't seem to be as willfully malicious to those who worked for him, so that really was an improvement for everybody involved.
If her old boss was dead, that was alright with her. One of the things that made her so good at her job was she suspected plenty, but knew how to keep her thoughts and suspicions to herself.
For instance, she suspected a lot of things about the man who'd set her free and given her this job as a maid too—all humans have their secrets of course, things about themselves they'd rather keep quiet. But you can't live in the same household with a small number of people without discovering things about them, seeing things you're not supposed to, stumbling across closely-guarded secrets...but Mei Rin knew how to keep her eyes open and her mouth shut, qualities which were much appreciated in a household full of folks with sticky pasts, like the Phantomhive's.
It seemed she was feeling unusually emotional today. Maudlin. Sentimental. She supposed it could be because today had been an anniversary of sorts. It had been exactly one year ago today, that the startlingly handsome butler had stopped her killing the little earl, shooting him right in his own bed. A year ago today he'd laid his hands on her shoulders and turned her life around, and in a sense, set her free.
A whole year, she sighed. A better year, a freer one as well, but still a lonely one. She was all alone in this house too-- not literally of course. There was the gardener-boy, the soldier-cook, and that lovely old Japanese man who'd once been the Phantomhive's head butler, back when they'd had over 30 servants to keep the place properly. She had all three of them for company. They were good ompany too, good for idle chats and a couple hands of cards sometimes. And she got to set eyes on the beautiful butler several times during the day as well--always a treat. And their young master was generous and pretty kind too, as nobles went. Kind, if a little distant, but one learned to expect that of the nobility. You don't make friends with the help, of course, though young Ciel was closer than most to his servants. He treated them very well, really. It felt much more like a big family than an employer-employee relationship. They all looked out for each other which was really rare.
She was still the only woman in the household though, and sometimes that made it difficult to endure.
It wasn't that bad though; she was used to being alone. Just... sometimes she really missed having other women around to talk to, about well, the kinds of things that women care about. And sometimes she missed the family she'd once been part of, in the now distant past. By co-incidence this day, the day the butler had approached her a year ago, had also been her mother's birthday.
So then, she mused as she hand washed her stockings and underthings and hung them up to dry in her room, I have two reasons for feeling a bit wistful on this day.
She was just about to open the window over her bed, to see if she could tempt the garden cat to come visit her, when she spotted something large and square that didn't belong, sitting atop her dresser. It was something about the size of a hat box wrapped in tissue paper and held together with a large green silk ribbon.
She carefully untied the beautiful wide ribbon, thinking of all the things she could do with it, and carefully pulled back the tissue paper. Inside was a china plate holding a myriad of sweet treats: bonbons, marguerites, petit fours and macarons, and atop those, carefully balanced and wrapped separately to ensure its safety, a matching cup and saucer, filled with hand-made chocolates and a small packet of loose tea-darjeeling, monsoon flush-her favourite! Just beneath the cup, atop the saucer, was a small envelope of heavy, deckle-edged paper. She eagerly slipped out and read the short note inside, knowing both the sweets and the note bore the hallmarks of having come from the handsome butler who'd changed her life not so long ago.
It was short, a formal note which claimed it came from the young master. It thanked her for her joining the household and extended a wish that she was finding contentment and happiness in her work now. It also suggested that if she might like a little extra time off, or perhaps a small bonus to do a little personal shopping with, she should speak to the butler about it. It had been signed by the young earl himself, but she recognised the beautiful handwriting of the rest of it, which was very different from the young lord's scribbled signature: the note had really come from the Phantomhive butler, just like the china, the biscuits, the chocolate, the beautiful silk ribbon, and the tea. She could almost hear his voice in her head, saying If a butler of the Phantomhives couldn't keep track of something so simple as an anniversary or someone's favourite tea, what would become of us?
May Rin smiled at that as she sat on the edge of her bed, petting the garden cat and munching on a lavender macaron as the sunlight of another busy workday slowly faded. Such a generous gift. Who went around giving their servants fine china and expensive tea? Or made them exquisite biccies or lovely choccies? Sebastian could be a nightmare to deal with when he was angry, but he could also be a right dear when he put his mind to it.
Mey Rin stood up, stretched hard, then went to get her nightgown out of her chest of drawers. It was lonely, being the only woman at the Phantomhive estate, yes, it was. But then again, she was genuinely appreciated here and needed. Really needed. And she found, on reflection, it really was quite a satisfying life.
Yes it was.