What was the word to describe it?

Unreasonable.

"Unreasonable or bloody dammed, infuriating," Erin spat to herself, unable to decide.

A toxic mix of warm water steam and irritation polluted around her. She stomped into her bathing quarters, and her handmaiden, Miria, hurried behind her, assuming her post by the bathtub. In hostile movements, she shoved a crumpled letter into the quiet maid's chest and then preceded to rip off her clothes.

Whip!

Miria stumbled to the side to give her space, but she was too slow. The backlash of Erin's dress whacked her.

"...Ugh!" Erin angrily groaned, tossing the last of her undergarments to the floor. And when the handmaid tried to assist, she shoved her off.

SPLASH!

Hot water splattered on Miria's frowning face as Erin aggressively stomped and plummeted downwards.

Nothing was going how she planned.

For days straight, she had avoided him, unsure what to do with him. However, being unsure didn't mean she had done nothing. Rather, she contemplated, schemed, and bullied. She had his pillows filled with rocks, bedsheets powdered with flour, and shoes filled with glue. There was more she did- yes, every indirect trick she had done. But the result? He was still alive and well.

And well was an understatement. He was beloved and adored by everyone. When he smiled, they swooned. When he walked, they followed. When he spoke, they gathered. She saw it. She had watched him from windows and had others keep close eyes on him. The way they flocked and regarded him was as if he was more than a butler. Worse, they were even throwing a sort of endurance party for him on their only day off in the year.

It was hair pulling out maddening.

Glaring, she leaned her arm over the bathtub's rim. He really wasn't going anywhere, and one of the reasons he wasn't going anywhere was because of the letter---a letter she hoped from Sabina that turned out to be much more maddening.

"Maid!" she shouted, angrily motioning for soap.

Miria quickly nodded, turned, and then turned back. In her hands, was the crumpled letter Erin had forced on her.

"Ah, that letter." The moment Erin caught a glimpse of it, she scrunched up her nose and bared her teeth.

She'd start the day reading it over and over, and she'd end the day reading and reading it over. Thus as the days passed, her anger grew unchecked.

"That is a letter from my mother, handmaid. I read it every day now. Hoping the next day after the next, it will make sense. Genuine, rational sense."

Exhaling sharply, she turned a blank stare to the walls. Although the fragrances and oils were graciously poured into the water to ease her, she was simply far from it. Her eyes shimmered like the hilt of a knife as she glared.

"Dear Erina," she said, starting in a high-pitched mocking tone. "I would like to start this letter by sending you my best wishes. With that out of the way, it must be acknowledged that you have pushed your father to terrible extremes. I initially wrote this letter quite differently, but due to the other night's circumstances, I have added in a few parts of relevance." She paused for emphasis.

As she did, her puzzled audience sent hesitant glances her way.

"First being that your father expects you not to upset him." She shook her finger to the beat of her words. "Please do not cause trouble. I say this for your sake. Now, enclosed you shall find a list of rules and expectations he requests. Adhere to them wisely. Especially make note of our request that you do not cause trouble for the staff, most specifically, towards Mister Ezra Radcliffe. Although we've just met him, we believe he is a perfect fit for our manor. He's a respectful and honest man who will take care of our estate and service the Sutherton name well."

She stopped again with a squint of her eyes. "And get this, maid!" She scoffed. "We have informed him that he has full reign to do as he wills. We know how dramatic this may seem, but we have enacted these strict measures for your sake. Try to be on your best behavior while we are away. Love most sincerely, Lord and Lady Sutherton."

Miria swallowed, visibly confused as to why she was receiving a monologue of the letter. Standing stiff, she remained in place awkwardly holding onto the crumpled letter and awaiting to complete the order for scrubbing.

Despite the tension, Erin simply continued to rant, speaking with a cold stare. "I thought maybe it was forged. But how silly of me to believe so!" She threw her hands up. "I can't decide if they are just stupid or despise me so much that they will make a fool of themselves on every account!"

With heavy eyes of iron, Miria drew a long blank.

"Or maybe they are both! Stupid and spiteful fools!" She turned her gaze to the bathwater.

Petals.

There were pretty little rose petals floating around and bobbing on the surface.

"Letter." She shot her hand out, requesting without looking.

Hurriedly, she was offered the letter, and she seized it with such aggression Miria flinched.

Clutching the paper, she sunk it underneath the water drowning it with fury and violence. As she did, the petals scattered as if to flee the attack. But much too few of them lost, catching on the surface of the beat-up letter.

"I've my wits end with this all!"

She continued shaking and strangling the soggy paper until it was turning into mushy sodden bits.

Huffing, she balled the mush in her fists and chucked it to the floor, and then proceed to snarl at the nearest body of mass.

"Maid, scrub me now! Why are you dawdling? You don't get paid to idle, stare, or offend and infuriate me with a slick mouth and coy smile, pretending as if the world is yours when really, you're at the bottom kissing feet and running like a dog, master first, you last!" She spat, without ever stopping for air. "I mean, with all those supposed accolades he's got, you'd think he would be trained to perfection! But the way he acts I'd be more convinced if all of his documents are a farce!" She slammed her fist against the bathtub's rim.

With a light cut of her eyes, Miria got to work scrubbing.

Her nails stabbed into her skin as her fists constricted. Squeezing hard, she sunk her into the walls. Her mind cultivated hatred with every passing second because she felt it; beads of water rained from her scalp, trickling down her forehead, along her nose, and gradually into the creases of her hard-pressed lips.

The feeling of the warm water in her hair reminded her of when she was drenched in tea and humiliated beyond what was reasonable. And what should have been humiliation once, came over and over again.

It was all one person's fault.

So, she left with one question; how to get rid of a man with the same resilience as a roach?

He was breaking records. After week one she had stopped counting, and no one got that far without crying.

It was like he was determined to stay. Such an idea seemed impossibly stupid to her. She made it clear she did not like him, and nothing about that had changed. If anything he was pushing her to drastic measures because nothing she did was working.

He would not sit still to be crushed.

It was almost admirable. Repulsively so.

"I must do something against this." She gripped the letter in her fist, water seeping into the envelope. "I must." With a huff, she threw the soggy letter into the air.

As it went flying, water spiraled and soapy rosewater splashed into Miria's eyes; Squinting with stinging eyes, the maid persisted on even as Erin moved and jerked in the water, enraged with anger.

"That awful man must be gotten rid of. I will not lose to some street slum lowborn!" Hissing like a wet cat, she continued complaining with loud gestures. "Maybe I should have rodents put in his food? Or maybe I'll burn his briefs and tear his clothes." She pondered deeply with a chewing of her claws. "Or maybe I should just have him strangled in his sleep."

PLOP!

Miria dropped the washcloth into the water. The concerning statement made her more than mute; she was gaping speechless.

Erin felt the eyes and turned a scowl her way. "Did I say to stop scrubbing?"

Quickly the maid shook her head and resumed washing. But just as she started, only a few minutes later of more grunts, insults, threats, and complaints, Erin was snappily shoving her away.

"That's enough," she commanded, bouncing up to her feet. As she stood, a flood of water rolled off her sizzling skin. "Towel." Heat vapors from the bathwater twisted and snaked around her body crawling from bare legs to her chest.

To Miria, the steam appeared more like fumes cooking from Erin's head.

"Did you not hear me?" Erin cut her eyes at the staring maid. "I will not repeat myself!"

With a nod, she quickly made her way to the towel rack and back to Erin who was stomping out of the tub, a puddle of water pooling beneath her feet.

As soon as it was offered, she ripped the towel from Miria's hands so forcefully that Miria lost her balance.

"I cannot let him do as he pleases. This is my home to command." Placing the towel atop her head, she rubbed her hair brutally, turning her kinky hair into peach fuzz. Once finished, she pushed the towel back into Miria who was just getting to stable feet.

With a smack of her lips, she strutted into the main quarter.

Sure, she admitted she misjudged him; the man was indeed crazy enough. But crazy would not be enough to stop her. She simply had to be crazier. Indeed, that had to be the solution.

She just wasn't thinking big---or rather, wicked enough.

"Maid!" Routinely, she spread her arms out, waiting to be quickly draped and fitted in her underdress. Just as wanted, quickly Miria worked Erin's brassiere, step-ins, and a thin chemise undershirt slip-on.

She was barely finished before Erin started restlessly pacing, sucking her teeth, huffing, and plotting.

Blackmail, she wondered.

She had done it before.

But there was no real fun in it. It was too indirect, and this situation with the butler was...

"My lady?" He softly called, requesting her attention.

Unrelentless in her tug of war, she briefly glanced at him once, and then twice. There was something in his hands that on the second inspection, captured her attention.

"Thirsty?" There was a teacup in his hand.

She shivered in disgust on the memory of it.

This was very personal.

"Maid?!" With a crack of her head, she turned a glare to Miria.

She was right by the wardrobe preparing to gather Erin's other clothes. She had only made it a few steps out of her sight before more belligerent demands were shot at her.

"Evening dress. Soft corset. Dark color. Now." With a pompous wave, she turned away and set her glare onto the tea table. There, lunch had already neatly been set up for her. Silver platters, steaming porcelain cups, and seat cushions fluffed.

Miria glanced back once at Erin who perched herself at the table, and then back to the dress wardrobe.

Evening dress. Soft corset. Dark color.

Firm with a frown, Miria's eyes went over the rainbow of flamboyant frilly and flowy materials made of satins, chiffons, and silks.

Lady Sutherton had despised the idea of wearing any color darker than caramel brown. She also despised the idea of her daughter appearing anything larger than thin and anything other than spine straight.

Both of them were very aware of that.

Miria peered at the wardrobe again. Evening dress. Soft corset. Dark color. There was about one of those things she could make possible but neither would make her employer happy.

"Hurry up, I'm naked here!" Erin hissed as a cool draft tickled exposed skin.

Rapidly tapping her foot, she tore the silver platter open. There was an assortment of meats, fruits, and dessert plates on the platter but only cared for one thing: a sliver bowl of cooked chopped up stringy-looking grass-like herbs.

Miria picked up her pace, urgently and desperately flipping through dresses. Finally, she caught her eye on a dress that would satisfy one requirement and given her limited time, that seemed enough.

She hurried back but in that short time seething and dumping a bowl of greens to the ground.

"What is this?!" She angrily stood from her chair. "That is not the texture I asked for!"

Miria clutched the dress and stood still as Erin continued to roar.

"I said my vegetables are soft yet slightly rigid with a stringy texture. Think grass. I repeat, think grass!" She clutched her fists. "I say it all the time but it seems that you all must love to me complain! Ugh!" With a huff, she tore the dress

Still strictly frowning, Miria remained.

"Give me the dress." She tore the dress out of her hands. "I'll dress myself. Just go. Tell the kitchen cook he has one option do it right this time or be gone the next time."

Controlling her blinks, Miria nodded with a bow of her head and spun around.

"Oh, and do me a favor while you're at it, try not to bring back anything that you know might piss me off!" Erin raged as her numbed maid stared at the ground. "Now go and be on your way about it! Now!"

Again, Miria nodded with a bowed head before pacing away.

Tap. Tap.

She took a few hesitant steps forward.

"Mercy! That disobedient fiend has me all worked up!"

Miria presumed she threw a pillow.

Tap. Tap.

Another few hesitant steps forward.

Tap. Tap.

"Calm down, Erin. Calm. I am calm. I must be calm. I can't think to the fullest of my potential when I'm hotheaded. Like Sabina says think, reason, sense---oh to damn with reason and sensibility!"

Another few hesitant steps forward and---

---BAM!

Another pillow. Or perhaps a book.

Tap. Tap.

In just a few more steps Miria would be towards the door.

"What will I do? What will I do? I can't keep pondering to myself. I must have a permanent solution."

Tap. Tap.

Finally, she was at the doors. But she wasn't out of the room yet. Not yet.

Miria paused, glancing back.

Erin was too busy pacing back and forth, just as she had been for the past few days. She was finally too preoccupied with that to insist on another command. Thus, Miria released a quiet, strained breath as she opened the doors.

To her dismay, there was a familiar smiling man.

"Oh, hello Miria!" Ezra beamed.