Chapter 1049

Jessica's expression shifted, her face twisting in irritation.

“How many times must I tell you? Stop nagging me! You’re so annoying! People like you are intolerable. If I were the lady of the house, I’d never keep a servant like you!”

“Then return and become the lady of the house. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of obedient servants to dote on you there,” Selma retorted instantly.

Jessica scoffed, lifting her chin. “Of course I’m returning! Do you think I’d stay here to look at the sour face of an old servant like you when I could be living comfortably?”

“Go then. Don’t bother packing your clothes—what need have you of them when you’ll have every silk and satin imaginable waiting for you at Ironridge Estate?” Selma replied tartly.

Jessica’s head snapped up, and she pointed an accusing finger at the older woman. “I warn you—don’t you dare touch my clothes! Once they’re given to me, they’re mine!”

Selma laughed. “Look at you, clinging to something so trivial. Do you think you can even wear those clothes back at the estate? Not even the servants would be caught dead in such cheap material.”

“Whether I wear them or not, they’re mine, and I’m taking them!” Jessica retorted sharply.

“Fine,” Selma said with a dismissive wave. “I’ll gather them for you so you can leave.”

“Stop!” Jessica sprang to her feet, her posture fierce, like a tigress defending her den. “Don’t touch my things! I’ll pack them myself!”

Without waiting for a reply, she stormed to her room, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. Leona exchanged a glance with Violet, who nodded slightly for Leona to follow. Rising, Leona trailed after her cousin.

The room Jessica had occupied was small, and Leona could take it all in at a glance. It was far from tidy—mud streaked the floor, and a brand-new outfit hung over a chair, faintly reeking of sweat. On the ground lay two pairs of shoes—one plain but new, the other a pair of mud-caked sandals. They were haphazardly tossed aside, as if kicked off upon entry.

Jessica scooped the dress from the chair and clutched it to her chest. The garment was plain, without embroidery or patterns, made from unremarkable fabric. Yet, the stitches were fine and meticulously executed.

Leona tilted her head. “Is that dress particularly precious to you?”

Jessica sneered. “Precious? Hardly! Selma dug out some old scrap fabric to make it for me. That old hag acted as if parting with it were a hardship. Hmph, I’m not leaving it for her to reclaim.”

Leona stared, wide-eyed. “Jessica, did you just curse?”

Jessica smirked, then replayed her words. With a dry laugh, she replied, “If you find it crude, cover your ears. It’s not your place to police my speech—I didn’t insult you.”

Leona blinked, clearly startled, then nodded dumbly. “Oh… All right.”

Jessica huffed, hugging the bundle of clothes tighter. “It’s that old hag’s fault. She’s rubbed off on me. Ugh, if I go back to Ironridge Estate and let something like that slip, Madam Margaret will find another reason to criticize me.” Leona’s brow furrowed. “Jessica… Are you sure you even want to return?”

Jessica scoffed and strode toward the door, her tone sharp. “Of course I’m returning. I owe more money than I can count. How am I supposed to repay my debts if I stay here? Besides, what’s so great about this place? It’s going to fill up with bitter, abandoned, angry women. I’d suffocate in the misery.”

With that, Jessica sought out Hannah to say goodbye and offer thanks.

She barely acknowledged Violet, though before leaving, she cast Violet a long, deliberate glance and said, “Don’t worry. Soon, this place will be bustling with people.”

Violet hummed softly and offered no reply. She had learned to let time unfold.

When Jessica finally departed, she strode past Selma with her head held high, though she glanced back repeatedly. A glimmer of unshed tears appeared in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

Thus, Skye Embroidery’s first resident departed, and its second moved in.

On the third day after Jessica’s departure, before sunrise, an older woman with streaks of gray in her hair stood hesitantly at the workshop gates. She clutched a small bundle to her chest, her eyes hollow and uncertain.

Several times, she reached out to knock. Each time, her hand wavered and fell.

“Go on, step inside.”

A voice startled her. She recoiled, ready to flee, but her path was blocked.

Jessica stood there, dressed in a luxurious gown, her hair elaborately styled in a towering updo. Behind her, two maids carried armfuls of parcels.