Elena stared at herself carefully in the mirror.
When she was still human, Elena was undeniably beautiful and very slim. Although she had no memory of her past life as a child, facing the table in Lurendon, it was difficult to gain weight. So now, even though she had gained a little weight, her figure still looked within the normal human range—something to be thankful for.
What needed attention was her deep red skin, as the color red always made people think of blood, and at a glance, it didn't look human at all.
"I wish I had some foundation," she thought. In her mind, if she could cover up the skin color, hide the fangs, and wear a veil, it shouldn't scare the servants.
She searched her vanity, finding a bottle of almond rosewater, a jar of cream made from pig fat, oats, and rosewater—handmade skin care products based on a formula from a book; a small bottle of rosemary flower water for washing her hair, a bottle of olive oil with thyme for hair care; a bottle of elderflower water for washing her face; a jar of skincare balm made from one part beeswax, four parts olive oil, and a little rosewater for daily use; and a bottle of glycerin, used to moisturize her face during winter.
Lurendon didn't encourage makeup, as the queen openly declared it vulgar. Most people favored natural beauty, believing makeup was a form of disguise that could also harm health. Only those of low taste and dishonesty wore makeup. Thus, "cultured" women relied on pinching their cheeks or biting their lips to make their faces naturally blush.
The only thing Elena found in the vanity that could cover her skin was loose powder. However, it wasn't really powder, but rather starch taken from a laundry starch box and poured into a powder jar, with a touch of orris root for fragrance.
Her mother had always insisted on making her own cosmetics and skincare products, telling her, "If you don't know the ingredients in the products sold on the market, don't use them."
Elena had also heard of face powders made with white lead, blushes containing sulfurated mercury, and even some with mercury. Everyone knew those things were toxic, though no one seemed to know who would buy them.
When Elena was young, she watched her mother apply makeup, which was simple—first she applied balm, then dusted powder over it. The result was similar to foundation, though much whiter and not long-lasting.
The problem was that she hadn't washed her face, and there was no running water at home. The water everyone used was bought from street vendors, and merchants transported it from local wells to each household. However, her mother always thought it had a strange taste, so the tea water she bought came from a far-off place called Epsom, which was said to have spring water, though it was more expensive.
If she wanted to wash up, she certainly couldn't go directly to the kitchen, where the water was. The kitchen was in the basement, and not to mention how many people she'd encounter between her second-floor room and the basement, but the kitchen belonged to the head chef, much like how the master of the house wouldn't enter the servants' bedrooms freely. Mrs. Campbell wouldn't casually go into the kitchen either, and young Elena could blur that boundary, but at fourteen, she couldn't do that anymore.
But even as a weakened version of a vampire, she still couldn't accept not washing her face before applying makeup!
In frustration, she tugged on the bell rope in front of her bed.
The sound traveled through the mechanical system to the basement, the harsh ringing startling the servants who were having breakfast in the servant's hall.
"It's Miss Elena," a servant, Mary, reminded the others in the silence, "I don't think it's her ghost ringing the bell, is it?"
There weren't many servants in the Campbell household—two housemaids who did most of the cleaning except for the kitchen, one head chef who prepared all the meals for the family, one assistant cook who washed dishes, cleaned the kitchen, and helped the chef with ingredients, and one coachman who handled the horses and the carriage.
The head chef was undoubtedly the highest-ranking among them, but she had only worked for the Campbell family for a year and hadn't built enough of a rapport to mediate the servants' gossip. Mary, who had worked in the house the longest, understood the situation and could sarcastically comment.
"Miss Elena hasn't eaten anything for more than a day," the head chef stood up and said. "I'll check if there's more food."
Breakfast in the Campbell household usually consisted of homemade bread by the head chef, which was prepared the day before. Since the stove needed to be cleaned of ashes, coated with graphite, heated, and then the water boiled, by the time the stove was ready, it was practically lunch. Therefore, the chef prepared bread the day before so that it could just be reheated.
Not all chefs made bread themselves, but this one, who had tried every bakery's bread nearby, chose to bake her own. She could tell that many bakeries added chalk powder or alum to the bread, or perhaps even added some to the milk. Bread made with additives could deceive those who had never tasted proper bread, but anyone who had eaten good bread could immediately tell the difference.
The milk the chef used for the bread came from a street vendor's cows, who brought fresh milk to the side door of the house. The women who milked the cows worked long hours for very little money, but Mrs. Campbell would give them a little extra tip to ensure they brought the best cows.
Oatmeal was already cooked on the stove, along with toast, bacon, eggs, and other common foods. To compensate for Elena's lack of food the day before, the chef had even heated a bread roll, some smoked black cod, and a slice of toast with orange marmalade, and, of course, homemade wine.
Mrs. Campbell didn't trust any food she couldn't see the ingredients of, and neither did the head chef.
The assistant cook and Mary quickly carried the tray and water jug up to Elena's room, taking the back stairs. They knocked on the door.
"Just leave it at the door," Elena, the Campbell family's eldest daughter, said as she came out. "She doesn't want to see anyone."
Mary and the assistant cook hurriedly placed the tray and water jug down, then disappeared down the hall.
Once the hallway was quiet, Elena stealthily opened the door. It wasn't that she didn't want to respond, but her voice had become incredibly unpleasant, and speaking might make them think "a monster had eaten Miss Elena."
She brushed her teeth with a homemade toothpaste made of squid bone powder and myrrh, poured hot water into a basin, washed her face, and then wiped her body with a soft towel. She washed the towel and rinsed the basin, then poured the dirty water into the waste bin. This was a routine she had grown accustomed to.
After breakfast, she was happy to find that her sense of taste was still intact, and then she began to dress.
Her nightgown was a sleeveless cotton shirt, with a short jacket of the same material. She first put on long socks, which had no elastic and had to be tied with silk ribbons, followed by pants—though they were open-crotch pants, which were a bit awkward, especially after putting on several petticoats, as taking them off to go to the bathroom would be cumbersome. Wait, did she even need to go to the bathroom?
Elena thought for a few seconds, then decided to put the question aside.
Next came the corset, a sort of early underwear. She wore it loosely, as she was only fourteen and no one would scrutinize her waist to see if it was slim enough. She then tied the petticoats, starting with a white cotton slip that was easy to wash, followed by a warm fleece slip, then a starch-coated corded slip for shaping, and another outer slip to smooth the surface of the outer skirt.
After she finished layering her undergarments, Elena opened her wardrobe.
In the morning, she would typically wear a simple and comfortable day dress, like loungewear. If she were to take a walk in the park, she had a special walking dress that was shorter than a regular dress and allowed for more freedom of movement—similar to casual wear. In the afternoon, if Mrs. Campbell had guests or they needed to visit someone, she would change into a more formal afternoon dress, which was more elaborate than the day dress. The most elegant was the evening dress for dinners.
Of course, only the outermost layer of clothing needed changing—the inner layers stayed the same.
The reason for so many outfit changes was that laundry was a hassle. The smoke pollution in Lurendon was severe, and the stoves and open flames produced coal dust. Curtains needed to be washed, floors wiped, and carpets constantly beaten. Without washing machines, laundry was done manually by the laundry workers, and every Monday, the housemaids would collect dirty clothes, sheets, tablecloths, pillowcases, aprons, etc., and send them to the laundry house to be washed, starched, and dried. Changing outfits frequently helped keep clothes from getting dirty too quickly.
Early spring was still chilly, so Elena wore a long-sleeved day dress that covered most of her skin. She tied her hair into a bun and wore a hat. Following her mother's makeup routine, she applied white powder to her face and neck, which indeed covered the deep red base color, though some red still showed through. Using lead white might have been more effective, but even as a vampire—albeit a weakened version—she could never tolerate the toxicity of lead.
She'd have to make do for now.
She donned gloves and prepared to go find her mother, whom she hadn't seen since she woke up.
At that moment, Mrs. Campbell was in her eldest daughter Janet's room, talking to her.
"…So Elena has become… the Black Carthy goddess?" Janet's eyes widened. "If Father finds out, he'll be furious."
As the second son of a noble family, even without inheriting the noble title, Mr. Campbell was very particular about "respectability." If Elena's situation were revealed, it would undoubtedly ruin his reputation.
"That's what I'm worried about," Mrs. Campbell replied. She hadn't hesitated when it came to saving her daughter's life, but now that she had saved her, she wasn't sure how to handle the aftermath. "The main concern is the servants and their curiosity…"
Servants had their own circles, and Mrs. Campbell couldn't be sure that everyone would keep quiet. Once the servants knew, it wouldn't be long before the master of the house found out.
"That's why I agreed to let Elena lock herself in her room and not come out," Mrs. Campbell said. "I really need time to think about how to deal with this."
"There must be others who have handled similar situations," Janet suggested. "Maybe we can ask for help."
Mrs. Campbell hesitated. She didn't want to get involved with those mysterious people again.
Just then, the door was softly knocked, and the unfamiliar yet familiar Elena entered.
Mrs. Campbell and Janet both jumped in surprise. Mrs. Campbell was astonished by how much better Elena looked than she had imagined, thanks to the makeup. Janet, who had never seen the mysterious healer, Vera, was seeing her sister in this condition for the first time. She could hardly recognize her little sister.
Poor Elena had gained some weight, but at least she could still fit into her dress. Her face was pale, and it was obvious she had applied a lot of powder, giving it an eerie red tint. She smiled faintly, without showing her teeth, her smile much more demure than before. Then, she put on a veil.
"Vera—I mean, the person who helped me cure this—gave me the address for a club," her voice had changed completely, poor Elena. Janet felt sad. Her sister had been so sick, but now she was worried about how their father would react when he came home.
"I want to go see it," Elena finally said.
"Of course," Mrs. Campbell immediately agreed. "Sweetheart, I'll go with you."