MILND 57

Chapter 57

Chloe was supposedly two or three years older than Illina, which made her a junior by far compared to Jace.

I didn’t think she’d already be married at that age.

The thought of Chloe’s long letter resurfaced in my mind. It had begun with an apology for missing the reading circle, explaining that due to her husband and some business matters, she wouldn’t be able to go out for a while.

According to Illina, Chloe had been married just over a year.

Since Illina always addressed her as “Miss Chloe” instead of “Lady,” I had assumed she was unmarried.

She must have her reasons.

Normally, if one were a noblewoman, she would be introduced as the lady of such-and-such house. If she chose to hide it, then clearly there was something behind it.

In any case, Chloe missed the gathering because of her husband, and Jane didn’t come because she was busy with work.

Her escort, Rohan, had conveniently taken New Year’s leave as well.

Because of that, the porter who usually delivered groceries to the annex was replaced too.

It’s only the third meeting… maybe it’d be better to just stop here. Or perhaps I should travel somewhere instead…

I was lost in such endless thoughts when the viscountess, who had been chatting happily with Illina, suddenly turned to me as if remembering something.

“Come to think of it, will Miss Jane’s escort continue to attend the reading circle?”

“No, I’ll have to find someone else.”

It was awkward enough to have a man of unknown origins join a ladies’ circle. His presence was only excusable because it was the first meeting; for regular gatherings, another woman would be more suitable. Gossip wasn’t worth the trouble.

Yet the viscountess seemed disappointed, resting her chin on her hand as she murmured,

“That’s a shame.”

“…Do you wish for him to keep attending, Lady Viscountess?”

“Yes, I do.”

“…What?!”

Illina gasped, cheeks flushing red, both hands flying to cover her mouth. She looked like a teenager who had just stumbled upon a juicy piece of gossip. Worried this might cause a misunderstanding, I quickly smoothed things over.

“Well, he was certainly knowledgeable. He fit in with the reading circle rather well.”

It wasn’t mere flattery—Rohan’s breadth of knowledge was indeed impressive.

He was well-versed in the viscountess’s expertise in the arts, and also in the history I had only skimmed through at the academy. The way he handled any question so smoothly made me suspect he might be a scholar in disguise.

“Yes, exactly. A man of both letters and arms, I’d say.”

“…Letters, perhaps, but how do you know about the arms?”

“Just a hunch. And I imagine he must be handsome as well.”

Her baseless certainty left me flustered.

Does the viscountess actually know who Rohan is?

Otherwise, how could she sound so sure?

At that moment, Illina nodded vigorously in agreement.

“She’s right. He must be handsome.”

“…And what makes you think so, Illina?”

“Actors who hide their faces like that usually turn out handsome. I saw it in a play.”

…Could it be you’re also well-versed in romance clichés? She reminded me of one of my students back at the academy.

The meeting ended with nothing achieved but chatter, and I headed to the kitchen.

I wanted to thank the pastry chef for preparing today’s wide variety of treats.

Though I doubt he did it just for me.

Apparently, he always looked forward to guests at the annex. When visitors came, the main house supplied the cost of ingredients, which he delighted in using generously.

Since I had a small appetite, he wouldn’t have had much opportunity to bake otherwise. He couldn’t simply serve the staff without permission either.

That’s why Illina was particularly popular among the kitchen staff—she had a big appetite and responded with enthusiastic praise, making their work feel worthwhile.

This time, she had given glowing reviews of his special tart, and I was on my way to pass along the praise.

“Hm?”

But then I realized the kitchen was unusually noisy.

Normally, it was filled with the sounds of knives and stoves, not raised voices.

Peeking in, I saw not only the pastry chef but the cooks huddled together in heated discussion.

“So first we should go out and—”

“But it’s urgent now!”

“Let’s explain to the madam first.”

“But today’s menu—”

It didn’t look like they were reaching a conclusion. Since it probably wasn’t unrelated to me, I stepped inside.

“Is something wrong?”

“Ah! Madam!”

They immediately scrambled to greet me, but I waved them off.

“I could hear you from outside. Were you arguing?”

“No, madam, not arguing. Just…”

The pastry chef glanced nervously at the head cook.

The cook shot him a disapproving glare before stepping forward.

“My apologies, madam. It’s entirely my fault. The truth is…”

His explanation was lengthy, weighted with apologies, but in short: the dinner ingredients hadn’t arrived.

The supplier who was supposed to deliver at dawn still hadn’t shown up, nor sent word. The cooks had tried sending a servant to hurry him, and were even considering buying directly from the market, but—

“That fellow here spent all the emergency funds.”

The head cook glared again at the pastry chef, who quickly averted his gaze.

Apparently, the kitchen usually kept a small reserve of funds for just such emergencies. But the pastry chef, caught up in preparations for the reading circle, had spent it all.

It wasn’t money from the main estate, so the steward hadn’t intervened. Still, the cook hadn’t expected the reserve to be completely empty.

“The kitchen is your responsibility, Chef. But the mistake was the pastry chef’s.”

“I-I only wanted to make things nice for you and the guests, madam…”

“In this kitchen, the head cook’s orders are the same as mine. You will reflect on this.”

“…Yes, madam.”

I left instructions for the head cook to administer a fitting punishment, then glanced toward the storeroom.

“What ingredients were supposed to arrive?”

“A week’s supply of flour and butter… and mushrooms.”

“Mushrooms?”

“Yes, the ones you liked so much, madam.”

“…Ah.”

Some of the cooks looked away sheepishly.

That’s right… I had enjoyed that mushroom stew so much.

Just before the New Year’s banquet, I’d had a stew made from special winter mushrooms found only in the west. Its rich, savory taste had reminded me of shiitake mushrooms from Korea, and I had praised it highly.

“So today was meant to be the last time we served it, before the season ended.”

…So that’s why they didn’t tell me.

They had held back, thinking I would be disappointed.

But it wasn’t their fault if the supplier disappeared. Even with different ingredients, I knew they would cook wonderfully.

It’s touching they cared enough to hide it, but still…

Clearing my throat to disperse the apologetic air, I spoke.

“It’s not your fault. There’ll be another chance next winter—let’s look forward to it then. And also…”

I was just about to wrap things up with some words of praise when suddenly the kitchen door burst open and someone rushed in.

It was Anna, who had been tidying up after the reading circle.

With an urgent expression, she hurried over as soon as she saw me.

“Anna? What is it?”

“Madam, it’s… it seems something terrible has happened to Miss Jane.”