“So... everyone only has to work eight hours a day, five days a week?” The head maid, Mrs. Voss stared at the new payment schedule in disbelief.
Beside her, the head butler was reading the documents with a look of fascination. “It is an intriguing proposal, Your Ladyship. But what exactly do you mean by the ‘standardization of hourly pay’?”
Miller also looked at Francesca, his eyes full of unspoken questions. She smiled and smoothed her skirts. “It means that people will be paid for the specific hours they work, rather than a vague, fixed rate. For example, a gardener currently earns 16 Shella a week for working seven days a week, from sunrise until sundown.”
“He exhausts himself,” Francesca continued, tapping her cane against the floor for emphasis. “With this new system, we take that weekly pay and break it down. It comes to approximately 0.4 Shella per hour for an eight-hour shift. Under my plan, he will still earn his 16 Shella, but he only has to work those eight hours over five days to get the wage he needs.”
“So, we aren't actually changing the total salaries,” Miller said, the gears turning in his head. “We are simply making the conditions of how he earns that money clear and consistent?”
“Exactly,” Francesca replied. “This might look like we are paying the man more for less work, but if we look at the bigger picture, the current model is a disaster. Our weekly laborers burn out, which forces us to constantly hunt for new faces.”
She leaned forward, her expression turning sharp. “Hiring new strangers is a security risk. Training them takes up the time of our experienced workers, and we have to pay those new people while they are still learning how to do the job. By disregarding the well-being of our workers, we are actually spending more money in the long run.”
“I... I see,” the head maid whispered, nodding as the logic began to take hold.
“The same principle applies to the monthly workers,” Francesca added, closing the ledger. “In fact, I think we should move everyone to a monthly pay cycle. Having a tiered hierarchy for when people get paid only creates confusion during our large financial transactions.”
Miller looked at the list of staff members, specifically the ones who had thrived under his aunt’s corruption. “So... you aren’t going to dismiss the workers who were loyal to Aunt Maria?” he asked, sounding confused.
Francesca’s smile took on a mischievous, cat-like quality. “Why should I go through the trouble of firing them? They’ll quit all on their own.”
“How?” Miller was more curious than ever now.
“You’ll see,” Francesca giggled to herself, the sound light and mysterious as the meeting in the drawing room came to an end.
With the newly revised contracts distributed to every worker in the castle, the majority signed immediately, and a month slipped by in a blur of activity. Though Francesca’s responsibilities had officially increased, she still managed to enjoy her time tucked away in her room, orchestrating the household's changes from the comfort of her bed or study chair.
“Sigh... that was another exhaustive meeting,” Miller muttered to himself as he walked the quiet corridors. He rubbed his temples, the weight of the road construction issue still pressing down on him. Despite their new funds, they still hadn't reached a solid solution for the logistics.
As he turned a corner, he spotted a group of maids chatting near the grand stairway. Usually, he would have walked right past, but a name caught his ear.
“Mister Randell quit? Just like that?” one of the younger maids whispered, her eyes wide. “Wasn't he Miss Maria’s most loyal butler?”
“Shh! Don’t say that woman’s name out loud,” an older maid replied, glancing around nervously. “Don’t you know what she did? As for Randell, he quit voluntarily. He claimed he was sick of having his work ‘tracked’ and only getting paid for the hours he actually put in.”
“Serves him right,” the first maid replied, crossing her arms. “He used to slack off all day back when the old system was in place. Now that he has to do the bare minimum, he thinks it’s too much? It’s pathetic.”
“Exactly,” the second maid chimed in. “The working hours are lower and the pay is actually more consistent. How can he complain that the work is ‘too much’?”
“Apparently,” the older maid said, leaning in closer, “he used to just fool around with the younger girls while he was supposedly on duty. Now that he has to actually fulfill his role to earn his wage, he decided to quit and try his luck at another noble household.”
The younger maids gasped, venting their frustrations about how much extra work they had once done to cover for Randell’s laziness.
Miller didn’t stay to hear the rest. He continued up the stairs toward his own room, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
So that’s what she meant, he thought. The ones who fed on the corruption can’t survive in a system that values honest labor. She didn't have to fire them; she just made it impossible for them to hide.
“Yawn~”
Francesca let out a long, satisfied stretch as she stared up at the high, vaulted ceiling. She was sprawled across her bed, a romance novel propped open in one hand and a plate of fresh fruit within arm's reach.
“This is the life,” she muttered to herself, a look of pure contentment on her face. “I’m healthy, the household is finally running like a clock, and I’m back to lounging in bed after finishing my work. This is exactly what a perfect shut-in life should be.”
Knock, knock. There was a knock at the door and a voice came.
“My Lady... it’s Stella.”
“Come in,” Francesca replied, her eyes never leaving the page of her book.
The heavy door creaked open. Stella stepped inside, but she wasn’t her usual cheerful, saluting self. She was fidgeting with a rolled-up report in her hands, her movements jerky and nervous. Francesca, sensing the shift in the air, lowered her book and looked over.
“What happened now, Stella? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“My... My Lady,” Stella began, her voice small. She looked down at her boots for a second before snapping her head up with sudden, protective determination. “There are malicious rumors spreading about you! And they are spreading fast!”
The book slipped from Francesca's hand. “What?!”