Her Graceful War Song (Carissa Sinclair) novel Chapter 1049

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

"How many times do I have to tell you? Stop nagging me! You're so annoying! People like you are impossible to tolerate. If I were the lady of the house, I'd never keep a servant like you around!"

"Then go on back and become the lady of the house. I'm sure you'll find plenty of obedient servants to dote on you there," Selma shot back without missing a beat.

Jessica scoffed, lifting her chin. "Of course I'm going back! Do you think I'd stay here to look at the sour face of an old servant like you when I could be living a life of comfort?"

"Go on, then. Don't bother packing your clothes—what need do you have for them when you'll have every silk and satin you could wish for 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'm warning you—don't you dare touch my clothes! Once you've given them to me, they're mine!"

Selma laughed and scolded, "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 already."

"Stop right there!" 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 response, she stormed off toward her room, her footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. Leona exchanged a glance with Violet, who gave her a slight nod to follow. Rising, Leona trailed after her cousin.

The room Jessica had been staying in was small, and Leona could take it all in with a single glance. The room was far from tidy—mud streaked the floor, and a brand-new outfit hung over the back of a chair, reeking faintly of sweat. On the ground were two pairs of shoes—one plain but new, the other a pair of mud-caked sandals. They were haphazardly tossed aside, as if they had been kicked off the moment someone walked in.

Jessica scooped the dress off the chair and clutched it to her chest. The garment was plain, with no embroidery or patterns, made from the most unremarkable fabric. Yet, the stitches were fine and meticulously done.

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

Jessica sneered. "Precious? Hardly! Selma dug out some old scrap fabric from the bottom of her chest to make it for me. That old hag acted like it was such a hardship to part with even that much. Hmph, I'm not about to leave it behind for her to reclaim."

When Jessica finally departed, she strode past Selma with her head held high, though she couldn't help but glance back every few steps. There was a glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away.

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

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

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

"Go on, step inside."

A voice came from behind her, startling her. She stepped back in fright, ready to flee, but her path was blocked.

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