Chapter 60
The next day, Lady Bernie Linton’s mansion was bustling with preparations from early morning. When word spread about who the guest would be, it was only natural that the servants were shocked to the point of nearly fainting.
The butler and the housekeeper quickly grasped the situation and issued commands, and only then did the servants begin to regain their composure and move in perfect order. Mistakes could not be allowed when receiving members of the royal family. The family’s honor and standing were directly tied to their own reputations, so the servants prepared meticulously, leaving no room for error.
The kitchen was just as busy, preparing dishes and desserts suitable for an important guest. The gardeners, too, had been up since dawn selecting flowers to decorate the house.
“Madam, where should I put this vase?”
“Place it here on the table.”
“Yes!”
Laura Clarence had already dressed herself with the utmost care, from head to toe.
“And Iella?”
At Laura’s question, Sandy, standing nearby, replied.
“She’s still in her bedroom.”
“Still?”
Checking the clock, Laura saw it wasn’t even eight yet.
“Shall I call her down to the parlor?”
“No, let her rest. She should sleep a little more.”
Unaware of the bustle downstairs, Iella leaned on the balcony railing and looked out over the garden.
The sunlight pouring down was as strong as ever. Her life had been a mess these past few weeks, yet the world remained unchanged.
“But why is everyone so busy today?”
Gardeners tended the grounds, and maids and footmen rushed about.
“You’re awake, my lady?”
Just then, Betty entered the bedroom.
“What’s happening today? Everyone seems busy.”
“Oh my! My lady, you don’t know yet?”
Betty’s voice was filled with excitement.
“Know what?”
“Prince Franz is coming here today!”
“…!”
They say when one is too shocked, words fail them—this was exactly how Iella felt. Her mind froze at the sudden news, leaving no room to think.
“Last night at the ball, Her Majesty the Queen asked why you hadn’t attended. Upon hearing the reason, she was so sympathetic that she said she would send the court physician here herself!”
“What? The court physician?”
“Y-yes.”
At the mention of a court physician, Iella was horrified. Betty tilted her head.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“The court physician… And the prince, too? What in the world is going on? This is all happening so suddenly, I can’t think straight. Ugh, I don’t know.”
“My lady, if it’s about the rash, don’t worry too much. Even the best doctor in the capital couldn’t diagnose it properly.”
“Then why would the prince come?”
“Her Majesty asked him to visit in her stead and see how you were doing. Isn’t it amazing? This is a glory that will be remembered for generations.”
Watching Betty, who was thrilled beyond reason, Iella groaned inwardly. A headache surged, and her heart began to race.
“Do you have a headache?”
Yes. Because of your innocence, my headache is getting worse.
But Iella swallowed her sigh and said nothing.
Before long, two carriages arrived. Footmen in royal livery opened the doors. From the first carriage emerged Prince Franz and his secretary, Hans, while from the second stepped the court physician.
When Prince Franz finally appeared, the household bowed in deep respect. Hearing that the royal carriage had entered the gates, Bernie Linton, Laura and Nigel Clarence, and Luisa came out to the entrance to greet him.
“Your Highness, I am Bernie Linton. It is an honor to meet you.”
“Welcome, Your Highness. I am Viscount Nigel Clarence.”
Laura and Luisa also offered formal greetings.
“Thank you for such a warm reception,” Franz said graciously. Then he introduced his companions, Hans and the court physician, Johann Hasdel.
“Would you like some tea first?”
“I think it would be best to examine the young lady first. Where is she?”
“She is staying in her room upstairs. As her condition is not well, we had no choice but to appear discourteous. Please forgive us.”
“There is no need to call it discourtesy. It is fine,” Franz replied. After all, his sudden visit had been just as impolite.
Smiling with relief at his understanding, Viscount Clarence guided them inside.
“Thank you for your kindness, Your Highness. Please, this way.”
The servants lined up on either side of the entrance bowed deeply as Franz passed, and he smiled with his usual composure.
On the balcony, Iella had seen the carriages arrive and now fidgeted nervously. Her face, speckled with reddish blotches, was drawn with despair.
“My lady, they ask you to come to the parlor.”
“…Yes.”
Though she tried to steel herself, her heart sank the moment it came to it. It felt as if she were livestock being led to the slaughterhouse.
After a while, Iella entered the parlor, a fan in her gloved hand covering her face. A high-necked chemisette hid everything but her forehead and eyes.
Franz studied her through narrowed eyes. He saw the red spots across her forehead and temples, all the more pronounced against her pale skin. At that, some of his anger abated.
So it isn’t feigned, at least.
But though his fury lessened, it did not vanish.
As Iella bowed and met his cold blue eyes, she unconsciously wet her lips.
“My, this looks more serious than I expected,” he said, his voice full of sympathetic concern. The sound pricked at Iella’s heart.
His sharp gaze turned toward the physician, silently signaling him to begin.
“Please, lower your fan before I examine you.”
Iella bit her lower lip, then carefully set the fan down.
“If you don’t mind, please remove your gloves as well.”
She slipped off the long gloves that reached her forearms, revealing the same red spots there. Franz’s eyebrow twitched at the sight, but he quickly calmed and observed silently.
The court physician asked careful questions as he examined her and made notes.
“How did you injure your hand?”
“I pricked it on a thorn while handling flowers in the garden.”
“Do you recall which flower?”
“I didn’t think much of it at the time, so I can’t remember.”
“I see.”
The examination ended sooner than expected. Adjusting his slipping spectacles, the physician spoke.
“The symptoms are too mild to be called a nervous allergy. There’s no fever, swelling, or rash. In my opinion, the spots are from the thorn prick.”
“A thorn?”
“Yes. Likely a toxic reaction from the plant’s thorn. Normally, a simple prick wouldn’t cause such symptoms, but since the young lady’s skin is so delicate, it must be considered. Allergic reactions vary greatly, so nothing can be said with certainty—but she must take care.”
“Oh my, her skin is indeed delicate. We didn’t even realize,” Laura murmured.
“Thanks to you, we are greatly relieved. Thank you,” the viscount couple said, bowing.
But Iella’s eyes wavered, panic written across her face. Instead of relief, she felt an even heavier burden. As expected, the court physician was no ordinary man.
Watching her faltering eyes, Franz could barely contain his rising anger. Did she really prick her finger by accident—and conveniently not remember? He thought it impossible.
“We will prepare medicine immediately upon our return to the palace,” the physician said, rising. The viscount followed to see him out.
“As a get-well gift, I brought flowers… Thankfully, there are no thorns,” Franz said, taking a bouquet from Hans and handing it to Iella.
“Oh, how beautiful,” Laura exclaimed, delighted.
“Take them, Lady Clarence.”
Iella looked down at the bouquet. Among the colorful blooms were ranunculus and anemones, flowers she’d seen before in the Grenville garden.
The ranunculus meant charm, fascination, and reproach. The anemone meant betrayal and hopeless love. Strangely, it was “reproach” and “betrayal” that resonated most. Perhaps the saying about “a guilty conscience pricking the heart” wasn’t wrong.
Her eyes, which lingered on the flowers, lifted to meet Franz’s gaze. His eyes held a sharp tension, pinning her in place so she could not escape.
“…Thank you.”
“You must have been very startled, for things to turn out like this all of a sudden.”
“What? Oh, no…”
“Well. Perhaps not as startled as I was,” Franz murmured low, his words edged with meaning.
Laura, oblivious to the undercurrents, spoke brightly.
“Your Highness, we have prepared a modest luncheon. It would be an honor if you joined us.”
Franz had a meeting with hotel executives scheduled later, and a dinner with a bank director—but none of that mattered.
Meeting Laura’s eyes, he smiled charmingly.
“Of course.”
“We shall call you once everything is ready. Please wait just a moment.”
Satisfied with his agreeable answer, Laura left to oversee the preparations.
In the parlor, only Iella, Betty, Franz, and Hans remained. Soon after, Franz gave a look, and Hans discreetly withdrew. Busy as he was, he still had to cancel the executives’ meeting.
Reluctantly, Iella dismissed Betty as well.
A heavy silence filled the parlor. Though Franz looked angry, he said nothing. That, more than words, frightened her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She had much she wanted to say, but this was all she could manage.
