Chapter 77
Sitting upright was tiring, as the train jolted every so often, so after lunch she had meant only to lie down for a while—yet she must have dozed off. When she blinked awake, feeling the bustle around her, darkness had already fallen outside the window, and voices drifted in from the corridor. Yulia sat up in surprise.
“Have we arrived already?”
“Not yet.”
Ah, that’s right—it had taken a full day’s ride to come here as well, she remembered. With a sigh, she let herself flop back down again. Oddly enough, there was no hard bump against her body this time. Reaching out, she realized she was lying not on the seat she had been in earlier but on a bed. Cayente must have called someone to switch it while she slept.
“Planning to sleep straight through till morning?”
“I feel like I could… but I’m hungry.”
“No wonder. It’s already past dinnertime.”
So she had slept comfortably enough—but to learn she had missed dinner made her uneasy. Surely Cayente had waited for her, only to end up skipping his own meal. This time she sat up properly and adjusted her crumpled dress.
“Is it that late already?”
“Wait. I’ll have them bring something.”
“Is that possible? I thought meals were only at set times?”
“That’s what money is for.”
With a casual tug of the cord, Cayente summoned a steward. A few gold coins later, the table in their cabin was soon laden with food.
“You should have woken me. What a waste of money.”
Her smile carried both apology—for the needless expense and for making people work twice when they were probably resting already. Cayente, as ever, answered offhandedly:
“Isn’t this what money’s for?”
To do as one pleased, he said. Almost as if he had guessed she would feel guilty, he added that the chefs would be happier for the unexpected bonus of work.
“Thank you. Brother, you should eat too.”
Dinner was mashed potatoes, a salad of assorted vegetables, small buttery rolls, and a roasted cut of meat almost the size of two fists. Cayente only picked at his food, but each time Yulia’s plate grew empty he silently carved more meat for her. She kept eating until her stomach was so full she couldn’t manage another bite. She meant only to rest for a moment afterward, yet drifted into sleep again—and when she awoke, it was morning.
“Mm… have we arrived?”
“I was about to carry you off, but you woke right on time.”
He had actually considered carrying her? Yulia was relieved she had managed to wake with the train’s final jolt instead. Surely there were plenty of eyes waiting outside—one more scene for gossip, and there had been enough talk already even before the wedding.
“Madam!”
“Lucy!”
“I missed you so much, Madam! How could you take such a long honeymoon?”
The first to dash up as Yulia stepped off the train was Lucy, tears welling as she clung to her mistress’s hand. Yulia had expected her mother and Ian to be there as well, but instead it was Henry and several servants of the Clu estate who followed.
“Welcome home, Madam.”
“Yes, I’m back. Ah—we bought a few things, so there may be extra luggage.”
“Of course.”
“Lucy, I brought you a present too.”
“Really? Thank you, Madam!”
As the servants packed up under Henry’s direction, Yulia scanned the surroundings again. Knowing her mother and Ian, she would have expected them to rush over, demanding what gifts she had brought them before anything else. Their absence pricked unease in her chest.
She had thought they were doing well enough on their own—but was that not the case?
“Lucy, what about Mother and Ian?”
“Master Ian is working at the office, and Lady Lorina was invited to a tea party.”
“I see.”
It was reassuring that they were keeping to their routines. Still, a heavier worry rose in her mind. Her family seemed well enough—but what of her father?
“Any news of Father?”
“I don’t really…”
“Uncle Henry, have you heard anything of him?”
When Lucy shook her head, Yulia asked Henry directly. He shifted uneasily before answering.
“There is nothing I can say of the Baron, Madam. And perhaps you should drop the ‘uncle’ now. I don’t mind myself, but others might…”
“Yes, of course, Henry.”
Smiling faintly—trying to grow accustomed to being addressed as Madam—she turned to Cayente, who was overseeing the unloading of their luggage.
Surely he was searching for her father, even if he hadn’t covered the Baron’s debts. Yet with all the money Cayente commanded, why hadn’t he found him yet? And if Father knew the matter had largely been settled, why had he not come back?
“We’ll have the rest of the luggage brought later. Let’s go ahead.”
“Yes.”
Her worries lingered, but when Cayente came to support her back with his hand, she stepped forward with him. They could search harder from now on. Surely, somewhere, her father was alive and well.
The Baroness, however, did not appear at the Clu estate even once that afternoon, too busy with her own affairs. According to Lucy, she certainly knew Yulia was due home that day. Cayente, unsurprised, dropped Yulia off at the estate and went on to his office. Left alone, Yulia practiced her cello until she could no longer stand the restless feeling. Finally, she stormed out.
Guided by Lucy’s directions, she rode by carriage to the new house. But even there, her mother was absent. Instead, Emma—the maid from their old residence—and a few other familiar faces came to greet her.
The Luperga family’s previous house had been in the west of Laroche. The new one was in the east. It was smaller than the old one; from the front gate, the entire building could be seen at once. But it was newer, cleaner. At least there would be no leaking roof in the rainy season, no peeling wallpaper to fret over repairing.
“You’re here already?”
“Mother? You’re back?”
“Oh—you came this morning?”
“Yes. I thought you’d be late into the night.”
“And all those bags?”
As the sun was setting, the Baroness finally returned, arms full of shopping bags she tried to hide behind her back. She looked flustered to find Yulia waiting outside instead of in the drawing room.
“Oh, these?”
“You didn’t buy them on Brother’s name, did you?”
“Of course not! What do you take me for? They’re gifts from some ladies I met today.”
“And why would they give you gifts?”
“Because… I’m your mother. And you’re Countess Clu.”
“Even so, all those gifts?”
Her evasive glances were too suspicious. Pressed further, it came out: the bags were bribes.
“Mother!”
“Heavens, why shout? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Now that everyone knew Cayente was close to the Emperor, requests had flooded in—introduce my husband or son to His Majesty, arrange a business meeting, at least help me secure work like Ian in Cayente’s office.
“Actually, you came at the right time. I was going to ask you—can’t you do something about this house?”
As if using Cayente’s name here and there wasn’t enough, the Baroness now complained about the house itself.
“Really, only ten rooms and two floors? Even some wealthy commoners live like this! Next door, actual sugar merchants live there. It lowers our status. Your own husband’s estate is twice this, isn’t it? Talk to him for me.”
“Mother!”
“What?”
“Don’t you realize how fortunate it is even to have a house like this? I thought you’d be managing things yourself—but you’ve even brought the old servants, and still it isn’t enough?”
“Of course it isn’t! You’re no minor countess—you’re mistress of the Clu textile fortune! And this is all we have?”
The Baroness seemed to have forgotten entirely that this marriage had only happened because they needed Yulia’s dowry to save the family. That she had no share in the Clu fortune as its mistress seemed to have vanished from her mind. Whatever Yulia said, her mother simply barreled on, deaf to reason.
“Aren’t you worried about Father at all?”
If anything could shake her, it should be this. But the Baroness snapped instead:
“What good is worrying about a man who ran off after ruining us? Do you know how mortifying it is, facing people? He couldn’t even manage a business everyone else succeeds at! He should stay hidden until he can crawl back in shame!”
Had she already forgotten why he had started that doomed business in the first place? Yulia felt only that saying more would wound her further. She pressed her lips shut and left the house.
“Madam, are you all right?”
Lucy, who had been watching silently with pity, helped her into the carriage with a troubled expression.
“Once we’re home, help me out of this dress. I feel stifled.”
“Yes, Madam. I’ll also bring the soothing tonic we still have left.”
“Please.”
She had come back from a long journey, but there was no sense of having returned home. The only place that felt like rest was now the house she would share with Cayente. Strange, she thought—after all the hesitation and worry she had had about this marriage, it was that very house that had become her refuge.
