12 Episode
“Again, again, again—you say such wicked things.”
“Aren’t families supposed to know one another best and guide each other?”
“You eagerly lap up every strange rumor, but my words you don’t even hear in passing, do you? Real family supports and protects. Business may be important, but asking someone to take an arrow for it is downright inhuman.”
“Benedict would agree with me.”
“No, he wouldn’t. Even when he acts curt, the young master thinks of you far more warmly than you imagine.”
Annette stuck out her tongue in disbelief.
“That’s impossible.”
Lest anyone misunderstand: Benedict and Annette did not have a bad relationship.
They tattled on each other to their mother at the slightest chance, stole or hid each other’s things to cause trouble, constantly traded barbs… It wasn’t a warm, soothing exchange like a bowl of chicken soup when you’re ill, but they were family, and the only siblings who truly understood each other.
“Mav, you look at Benedict with far too rosy a gaze.”
“It’s not just him. I’ve watched you and the young master for more than ten years now—I know you both well. Inside, you’re each warm and good-hearted. If you weren’t, I would’ve gone home long ago to look after my own children.”
For the record, Maeva already had three children back home: Lennard, Jean-Luc, and Mathilde. They had grown up alongside the Bonnel siblings, but as Maeva began drifting from place to place around age fifteen, they eventually lived apart.
“Are they doing well?”
“Troublemakers, all of them. I got a letter from my youngest a few days ago. She asked me to send you her regards.”
“You should invite them to visit sometime.”
“Invite them? They’d only add chaos to chaos. Anyway, Young Master Benedict really does need to settle down soon.”
As always, it ended in worries about Benedict. At times, Annette felt Maeva fussed over him more than her own children. And this contrasted sharply with her opinion of Gervais.
“Since you went and caused a stir by announcing an engagement to Lord Gervais of all people… the young master, at least… hmph.”
It wasn’t new, but even Maeva gave Gervais a poor assessment. Annette didn’t think he was the most promising gentleman in Lenore either, but affection bends the arm inward—sometimes she felt a bit sorry for him.
“I told you not to talk like that.”
“What did I say?”
“Gervais is a good man.”
“Honestly, my lady, if the only word people can attach before a man’s name is ‘good,’ then you know well that proves he’s nothing remarkable.”
“House Alderfrude is respectable enough.”
“A hollow coconut is still empty when you crack it open.”
Maeva scoffed openly.
“They say romance died the day Emperor Naupulsten turned back at the Bransong River. I suppose they were right.”
“You don’t even believe in that romantic nonsense wandering poets spout. What’s strange is you, my lady. Since childhood you’ve always thought hard about what matters, and you’ve always made the clever choice—yet you treat marriage so lightly that sometimes I wonder if this isn’t all some prearranged card trick…”
Annette scrunched her nose and replied tersely.
“Mav, I didn’t choose lightly. Men are men—they’re all the same. As long as he has a tolerable face and the honesty not to stab me in the back, that’s qualification enough. Besides, Gervais makes me feel at ease. He doesn’t scheme. He’s always sincere.”
“You only say that because you’re young. When love fades, most men start thinking other thoughts. You need someone clever enough to stay with even then.”
“Then Gervais is suitable. He’s kind and loyal.”
Maeva still looked unconvinced, but Annette didn’t push further. Instead, Maeva grumbled, for once shifting her complaints toward Benedict.
“What was the young master thinking, introducing such a man to my lady…”
And then—proving the old saying that speaking of tigers brings them to your door—Gervais arrived at the estate without warning, accompanied by an unexpected guest.
“Annette!”
The person beside him was Letitia, whose eyes were so wide that even when she laughed and they folded, they still seemed larger than most people’s. Impatient, excitable Letitia.
Maeva naturally rose and returned to her duties, and Annette blinked in surprise as the pair approached. Gervais, dressed in a brown vest and trousers with a short top hat, beamed as he explained.
“We happened to meet on the way. She was out shopping.”
“Ah—long time no see.”
“Isn’t it fate? Thank you for having us!”
Letitia, inventing a destiny that didn’t exist and an invitation she’d never received, cheerfully admired the estate’s bright summer garden.
“Lord Gervais says Annette hasn’t been going out lately, so he’s worried. I brought tickets for a popular play—will you come with us? On such a lovely day, staying indoors wastes one’s life and soul.”
Gervais chimed in to support her.
“Yes, they say it’s a wonderfully romantic play. Benny went off on a hunting trip—no reason for you to stay cooped up here.”
Benedict had not gone for pleasure, but Annette didn’t bother correcting him.
On another day she might have refused, but she felt strangely capricious. Letitia was exhausting, but perhaps Annette had been too cautious all this time… It was stifling, the weather was delightful, and she had many reasons to say yes.
Annette and Gervais rode together in the Garnier carriage toward the city.
Letitia, being a true native of Lenore, knew every corner of the streets: antique shops, tea rooms, bakeries, and even second-hand stores where no noble lady would normally set foot. Is she short on money? Annette wondered. Letitia always dressed neatly and kept up with trends, so Annette had never thought House Garnier might be struggling. A small twinge of pity stirred in her.
During their shopping, Annette offered Letitia small favors—gifted her a shawl, a perfume, and a hat.
Of course, there were moments when Letitia grated on her nerves.
“There’s a boutique in Chavin?”
At first, Annette suspected Letitia was mocking her hometown, but soon realized Letitia simply knew nothing about Chavin and imagined it some rustic village clinging to a stream.
She was innocent in many ways, and when she kept asking whether Annette was having fun, Annette replied that she’d been enjoying herself since she had no close female friends in Lenore yet. Letitia practically leapt with joy—“We’re friends?”
After shopping, the next stop was the play: Charlotte’s Day, in which a friend of Letitia’s had a supporting role.
It was a melodrama about a dancer, Charlotte Duhamel, who takes her own life after being cast aside by the troupe master, Albrect.
The only Charlotte Annette knew was her childhood friend in Chavin, a terrible singer with the temperament of a tiny demon—so she struggled to relate from the start.
Letitia spent the performance alternately laughing loudly and sobbing. Her reactions were so exaggerated that a complaint came from behind them.
“Honestly… could you please watch a bit more quietly?” The man’s voice was oddly familiar—unsettling even—and though Annette glanced back, it was too dark to see.
“That was so sad…”
The actors took their bows and the curtain fell. Gervais and Letitia were already in tears.
“How much must she have loved him to make such a choice? Albrect abandoned love for money—choosing a woman he didn’t even care for.”
“My thoughts exactly, Miss Letitia. Thank goodness the story isn’t real.”
Annette wondered how long she’d have to endure the pair’s excessive emotional outpouring.
“My friend played the role of ‘Natalie.’ Shall we go greet the actors? Charlotte’s actress and Albrect’s actor too!”
“Yes! I’d love to!”
Annette had no intention of following along any further. She waved her hand dismissively.
“You two go ahead. I’m heading back.”
“Heading back?”
“I had a lovely time. But I want to get home and finish some work.”
But Letitia wasn’t about to let her escape.
“Oh—no! Absolutely not! I made reservations at a famous restaurant called Maude Baie just for you two. They’re known for their brisket. You won’t regret it! Please stay just for dinner! You gave me so many gifts—I’d feel awful if I didn’t at least treat you to a meal. And it’s to celebrate our becoming friends!”
It became very clear why Letitia had so few friends.
