Chapter 39 …
Elena first met Sheryl when she was ten years old.
[Father, I think that girl is glaring at me.]
[Sheryl? No, not at all.]
Count Joseph gently patted Elena, who was pouting. Elena clutched the hem of his trousers and hid behind him. The Count had attended a symposium held in Delosie, and Elena had stubbornly insisted on accompanying him.
It seemed that the headmaster of Delosie Academy, who was hosting the symposium, also had a stubborn granddaughter. A girl about Elena’s age was likewise hiding behind the headmaster’s legs, glaring at Elena.
[Maybe she wants to play with you, Elena.]
[No, she doesn’t.]
Elena stuck out her lower lip.
[If she wants to play together, she should ask to be friends. Not glare.]
[What about you, Elena?]
[What about me?]
[Do you want to play with her? Aren’t you curious why she’s glaring? Why don’t you go first and ask her to be friends?]
[…What if she says she doesn’t want to?]
[That could happen. Then you can just play with your father.]
Count Joseph, always gentle, patiently responded to young Elena. Encouraged by her father, Elena gathered her courage and approached the girl first. The headmaster nudged his hiding granddaughter forward.
[Sheryl, hurry!]
[Hello. My name is Elena Joseph. What’s yours?]
Elena spoke stiffly, her face tense. Sheryl glanced up at the headmaster. Only after seeing him nod did she answer.
[My name is Sheryl Davis. I’m eleven. And you?]
[I’m ten. Why were you glaring at me?]
[…I wasn’t glaring.]
Sheryl shook her head slightly. Her blonde hair swayed prettily.
[Then what?]
[…I wanted to play with you. But Grandpa said I had to behave while we’re here. I was waiting so I could ask you to play later.]
[So you weren’t glaring—you were going to ask me to be friends?]
[That’s right.]
Sheryl nodded. This time, she extended her hand first.
[Do you want to be friends?]
[Okay.]
Sheryl clasped her hand. From that day on, the two were inseparable, until the day Count Joseph died and Elena left for Rebunto.
Overwhelmed by reality, Elena had even forgotten about Sheryl. And yet, Sheryl had appeared here.
Elena beamed with delight. She used to think Sheryl resembled the headmaster, but now she looked far more like her mother.
That was why Elena hadn’t recognized her at once.
“Even if you received help from a chaperone, I think it’s wrong to decorate it as your own achievement. Don’t you all agree?”
Camelia protested, her face flushed red. Sheryl frowned, about to retort, but Elena was faster.
“Then I’ll speak honestly. As Miss Camelia wishes.”
“Go ahead.”
Camelia lifted her chin arrogantly. Elena realized that Camelia harbored hostility toward her for no particular reason. No matter what explanation she gave, Camelia would dislike her anyway.
Elena’s task was simply to prevent the other young ladies present from misunderstanding.
“In truth, I only heard about today’s gathering yesterday. It was arranged by Madam Hazel, our chaperone. I had to begin preparations in a hurry this morning, so it may be lacking in some respects. Madam Hazel accompanied my younger sibling to the Imperial Palace, so I had no opportunity to seek her advice.”
“Mad… Madam Hazel went to the Imperial Palace?” Camelia asked uncertainly.
“Yes. Right after breakfast.”
“So the misunderstanding is cleared up now, Camelia?” Sheryl shot back sharply.
“Then would you kindly take your seat? This gathering is meant to be pleasant, but you’re being rather disruptive.”
Just like always. Even if her face had changed a little, Sheryl was still Sheryl.
We’ll probably get a chance to talk alone later, Elena thought, her heart swelling slightly.
“Ah, Miss Elena. As a token of gratitude for inviting us to the tea party, I prepared a small gift.”
Unable to bear the awkward atmosphere, one of the young ladies stepped forward. Elena received the embroidered handkerchiefs they had brought.
“It’s nothing much, but please accept it as a sign of our feelings.”
“Oh my.”
Elena smiled sweetly.
“This is the Belloc style.”
The young ladies exchanged glances. She didn’t seem to be the simple country bumpkin Camelia had implied. Embroidery in the Belloc style had traditionally been used only by high-ranking nobles and royalty.
It wasn’t something a mere provincial girl would recognize.
“Moreover, it appears to be from the early period of the Belloc style. I’ve heard it has become fashionable again since the former Empress favored it. To give me such a precious gift…”
Elena’s cheeks flushed. The young ladies admired her knowledge.
The Belloc style had early, middle, and late periods. It was impressive enough that she recognized it as early style, but to even know about the former Empress—such subtle details were something only a well-bred lady would notice.
The young ladies cast sidelong glances at Camelia.
Camelia bit her lip hard.
Nothing was going the way she intended. It was obvious what those girls must be thinking. They were probably criticizing her silently, despite knowing nothing!
Camelia gulped down her tea.
Fortunately, the tea party ended without further incident. Elena gifted each attendee a bouquet of aurora roses and baby’s breath. All of the young ladies—except Camelia—left with bright smiles.
Elena had been looking forward to spending time with Sheryl, but Camelia remained behind as well.
“Why aren’t you leaving?” Sheryl asked.
Camelia frowned.
“If you’re saying that, why don’t you leave, Sheryl? I stayed because I have something to discuss with Miss Elena. Something that must be said.”
“So do I. I have something to say as well, so don’t think of interfering.”
Camelia and Sheryl glared at each other before turning their heads sharply away. Elena stood awkwardly between them. It felt like receiving good news and bad news at the same time.
Elena signaled subtly to Sheryl before addressing Camelia.
“It would be best if we spoke first, Miss Camelia.”
“I would prefer to speak privately.”
Camelia glanced at Sheryl.
“I’ll show you somewhere else, Sheryl.”
Sheryl gestured as if to say, Do as you like. Reassured, Elena left the Audrey Hall with Camelia and led her to an empty drawing room.
A perceptive maid swiftly prepared refreshments.
“You said you had something to discuss.”
“…You’re marrying Maxim?”
“Yes. That’s the plan.”
“Ha.”
Camelia glared at the shameless Elena. How could she sit in a position that didn’t suit her so brazenly…? Camelia gripped her teacup tightly. Her heart boiled with anger.
Compared to Rosalyn—and compared to Camelia—Elena was far too lacking.
“Did you know that Maxim once had another fiancée?”
“…Yes. I heard.”
Rosalyn Dellant, wasn’t it? Elena faintly stiffened, recalling what Crown Princess Penelope had told her. And then she remembered that the woman before her was named Camelia Dellant.
“That fiancée was my sister. She’s dead now.”
Camelia spoke coldly.
“Do you know how my sister died?”
Elena pressed her lips together. She did not want to speak of such matters. It was far too painful a story to be reduced to gossip. But Camelia clearly felt differently.
“They say if an expensive-looking house is being sold cheaply, there’s always a reason, Miss Elena. Maxim is the same—he looks like an expensive man. Don’t you think there must be a reason he ended up so… affordably with you?”
Camelia spoke with regained composure, her face elegant. The smile on her lips was sickeningly lovely.
Elena’s hands trembled as she understood the implication. It was a metaphor meant to emphasize that Maxim did not suit her. The expensive house was Maxim—and she was the discount.
“For the advice… thank you.”
“You shouldn’t thank me yet. Shouldn’t you know why his value was marked down?”
“That story…”
“Did you know that Maxim once attempted suicide?”
She hadn’t known that.
