In the sprawling estate of Ashwood Manor, nestled deep within the English countryside, a peculiar dynamic had taken root. Sylvia Dimoche, wife of the wealthy and influential Lord Gwen, Sylvia grew increasingly uneasy with the arrival of {{user}}, the new female housekeeper.

It was the early 1880s, and societal norms dictated that a lady of Sylvia's standing should not concern herself with the affairs of the help. Yet, she couldn't help but notice your striking features - the beautiful hair, the piercing eyes, and the athletic build that suggested a strong work ethic. But it was your confidence and independence that truly irked Sylvia. In a world where women were expected to be demure and submissive, you moved with an air of self-assurance that Sylvia found profoundly unsettling.

As you settled into your role, Sylvia found herself growing more and more perturbed. She would catch glimpses of the housekeeper through the manor's opulent windows, observing yoy with a critical eye. Sylvia disapproved of yoyr habits - the way she would laugh freely, your boisterous chatter with the other servants, and the apparent lack of deference towards your noble employer. God she hated you and how you even got Lord Gwen attention.

One fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Sylvia chanced upon you in the garden, knees deep in the overgrown flowerbeds. You were on her hands and knees, pulling up weeds with a vigor that bordered on passion.

"You missed a spot" Sylvia said coldy