After Florence had finished her visit, having chatted to her heart’s content and finally departed, Claisey stood there for a long while, staring blankly at the invitation to the Siwil Grand Duchy.
‘I really am blessed with good friends.’
Claisey sighed, feeling her affection for Florence swell anew.
When her eldest sister died, everyone pitied Merran, who had been left alone at only eleven years old. Even Claisey herself felt that way.
Claisey believed that because Merran’s pain was so massive and overwhelming, the child should be the top priority; in comparison, her own situation was not even worth mentioning.
Claisey was also just a sixteen-year-old girl. Yet, Florence was the only friend who truly understood that fact and tried to protect her.
“Is that woman gone? What about my aunt? Is she in her room?”
Just as Claisey was lost in the warmth of such a deep friendship, the sound of Merran’s voice in the hallway made her jump. She quickly shoved the invitation into her pocket.
*Don’t let Merran snatch that invitation away again!*
Florence’s warning echoed in her ears. Claisey rubbed her arms as goosebumps rose.
‘It’s a party at the Grand Duchy, so everyone will be dressed properly. No one will be coming in casual attire. If that’s the case, I have to prepare properly, too. If I ready the carriage and start getting ready to go out in the morning, Merran is bound to notice…’
Before she could even finish her thought, Merran pounded on the door.
“Aunt, is your friend gone?”
When she opened the door, Merran’s face, cheeks flushed like strawberries, appeared like the rising moon. Merran immediately darted her eyes around the room, inspecting it, before pouting her lips.
“Why does your friend always come to our house? Isn’t that very rude?”
“If we’re going to talk about rudeness, what about you? Did you get permission to come here?”
“I’m family with you, Aunt. Your friend isn’t family.”
“If you had stayed back in our hometown, you and I wouldn’t be family right now, either.”
Anger began to rise on Merran’s face. Claisey grabbed Merran’s lips, pulling them like a duck’s bill before letting go to change the subject.
“But why did Florence come by all of a sudden? Did she come to fight?”
“One must keep a close watch on the enemy’s movements. I came to see what was going on.”
* * *
That evening, Claisey lit a small lamp by her bedside and carefully examined the invitation.
The date stamped on the invitation was the 20th. Today was the 17th, but since it was already late at night, she effectively only had two days to prepare for the party.
‘To think it’s such short notice. Florence must have gotten this invitation in a hurry.’
Claisey furrowed her brows, scratching her forehead with the corner of the invitation. She had pondered it throughout dinner, but she couldn’t come up with a good way to attend without Merran finding out.
‘This party is one where you can’t even enter without an invitation. If I go first and Merran follows behind me, things will get truly complicated.’
For previous parties, it was fine if Merran arrived without an invitation. She could just state Claisey’s name and say they were together but had arrived late, and they wouldn’t be turned away.
But if they did that at a party like this, Merran would definitely be refused entry and have to leave in shame. Merran would be humiliated.
The problem wouldn’t end there. While Merran would be the immediate laughingstock, after a day or two, people would blame Claisey for it.
The pattern was obvious.
—*Oh my. Did she really come to the party in secret without even telling her niece? What a terrible aunt. It’s almost as if she did it on purpose to embarrass her niece. Though, surely that’s not the case.*
—*No, maybe that really is the case. There is that rumor that Miss Claisey killed Miss Merran’s mother…*
It was something she had already experienced for years back home.
Claisey was pouring all her love, guilt, and pity for her eldest sister into tolerating Merran. However, whenever people gossiped without knowing the truth, the anger and sense of injustice would sometimes grow stronger than her guilt, pushing the urge to reveal everything right to the tip of her tongue.
Claisey began to suffer, lost in her troubles.
* * *
“Aunt is acting strange.”
The morning of the 18th. Merran, having woken up earlier than usual, muttered to herself while washing her face.
Karen handed Merran a towel soaked in warm water and burst into a laugh.
“Goodness, Miss. Why are you suddenly picking on Miss Claisey in the middle of washing your face?”
“She’s acting strange. Ever since Florence visited, she’s been acting strange the whole time…”
“Why? Do you think the two of them are going to do something behind your back again?”
“Yes. They are definitely trying to ditch me and do something fun.”
Merran narrowed her large eyes as she handed the cold towel back to Karen. Karen shook her head, though she didn’t deny it.
“Well, Miss Claisey has been doing that often lately.”
“Is she going to leave me behind to go to another fancy party? A big one? Or maybe a small tea party with important noblewomen?”
Merran’s expression gradually clouded with irritation as she pondered. She remained standing there even after Karen went to dispose of the washbasin water.
Seeing her crestfallen appearance, Karen felt her heart ache and grumbled.
“No matter how much she tries to act well-mannered in front of others, Miss Claisey is simply not like your mother, Miss. If the Madam were still alive, do you think she would ever leave you behind when going to nice parties, banquets, or gatherings? Even if you threw a fit because you didn’t want to go, she would have coaxed you into coming. Because it would be good for your future. It would help you find a great fiancé and expand your connections in high society.”
Although she was employed as a maid on paper, Karen was originally Merran’s nanny, hired directly by Marie. After Marie died, Marquis Omal kept Karen by Merran’s side, and when Merran moved to the Claisey Count estate, Karen had followed her there to live.
However, strictly speaking, she belonged to the Omal family, and every decision she made was based solely on Merran.
To Karen, Claisey was not a member of the family she served; she was merely one of the relatives of Merran, whom she had raised like a daughter.
Merran sprawled sideways across the long sofa. Her long, soft blonde hair scattered in all directions, spreading out beautifully.
“Right. Mom would have done that. She wouldn’t have left me behind just to find a man of her own, like Aunt does.”
“The Madam would never do such a thing! She treasured you more than her own life, Miss Merran.”
Merran toyed with the feathers decorating the edge of a cushion and muttered.
“Anyway, I need to keep a close watch on what Aunt is doing for a while. No matter where she goes after ditching me, I’m going to follow her. If she’s going to take on the role of my mother, she needs to do it properly.”
* * *
The afternoon of the 18th.
Claisey wore a cloak so thick it made her look like a penguin and, quite conspicuously, left the house in a carriage. It was to test Merran.
Whenever Florence visited, Merran’s intuition became sharper than usual. That was likely because most of the parties Claisey left Merran behind for were orchestrated by Florence.
‘As expected. I knew it.’
While riding in the carriage, she looked back to see Merran’s carriage following her. Claisey clicked her tongue and closed the carriage window.
Ledon, the coachman, also noticed the familiar carriage following them and asked.
“Miss, it seems someone is following from the manor. Shall I stop for a moment? It might be Miss Merran.”
“Never mind. Just keep going.”
Claisey pressed her temple against the cold wall and instructed. The coachman followed her orders, and the carriage did not stop until it reached the destination Claisey had first ordered.
The carriage stopped in front of a large bakery on Valowal Street. Claisey, fluttering her conspicuous cloak that stood out even from a distance, walked inside, bought two cakes the size of a person’s head, and returned to the carriage.
Then, when she told the coachman to head to the square, he followed her instructions again. Claisey crunched on the sugar cookies she had received as a freebie and opened the rear window of the carriage just a crack.
Merran’s carriage was following her again. Claisey closed the window and gazed intensely at the two large cakes.
She looked down.
‘Merran likes Dernic. What if I invite Dernic to our house on the day of the party? If I do that, Merran won’t follow me even if I go out, because she’ll want to stay by Dernic’s side. No, she’d actually prefer that I leave. That’s a great idea!’
Once her plan was set, Claisey gave instructions to the coachman.
“Ledon, take me to Driblue Street.”
“The street, not the plaza, My Lady?”
“Take me in front of the guard station.”
When the coachman stopped the carriage in front of the guard station, Claisey took two cakes and stepped out.
As she walked toward the station, a guard who recognized her face wore a troubled expression.
“Lady, what brings you here this time?”
It seemed that after Kishin had informed Claisey of his rejection, he must have instructed the guards never to let her in, even if she came looking for him.
Claisey felt her heart twist with frustration.
‘He guarded himself so thoroughly in case I tried to woo him again! If he’s going to do this, why did he nag me about my feelings changing so quickly? If my feelings change quickly, isn’t that a better thing for him?’
But she hadn’t come for Kishin this time; she was here to use him. This level of humiliation was worth enduring.
“Could you pass these on to Sir Kishin? Tell him one is for him as a gesture of apology, and the other is to be delivered to Sir Dernic.”
As Claisey pleaded in a pitiful voice, the guard felt embarrassed and replied.
“I will do that. That much is fine.”
It seemed he misunderstood the situation as that of a noble lady, hopelessly in love with Kishin, clinging to him no matter how many times she was rejected.
Having lived in her hometown after being falsely accused of killing her sister and being rejected day in and day out, Claisey could scoff at this level of misunderstanding and move on.
Claisey offered a sweet word of thanks and climbed back into the carriage. When she returned home, as soon as she entered the foyer, Merran chased after her and demanded an explanation.
“Aunt! Aunt! Why are you sending a gift to Sir Dernic?!”
It seemed she had been tailing Claisey all day long. Claisey felt happy, like a fisherman who had just caught a plump fish on the hook.
Hiding her true feelings, Claisey turned back to Merran with a surprised expression and asked,
“How do you know that?”
Merran glared at Claisey with an angry face.
“Does it matter how I know?”
Merran was glaring so intensely that tears were even welling up in her eyes. Claisey pinched Merran’s cheek and teased her.
“You fool. It’s almost the end of the year. I invited him to the house as an excuse.”
Merran’s tears vanished instantly.
“An invitation? You invited Sir Dernic? Then… why did you send the gifts?”
“You fool. We don’t know where he lives or which family he belongs to, do we? I told you to find out, but you didn’t.”
“Ah.”
“So, I asked Sir Kishin to deliver a message to Sir Dernic while giving him a gift. But it would have looked strange to send a gift only to Sir Kishin, so I sent them to both. Do you understand?”
Perhaps relieved of her anger, Merran’s face turned red as she nodded quickly. Claisey felt a sense of pride.
‘Good. With this, I can keep Merran at home on the 20th.’
* * *
Viscount Emul, who had returned home, handed his wife the album of fabric samples he had picked up from the tailor’s on his way.
“Is this what you asked me to bring?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Florence hugged her husband tightly for a moment before letting go and accepting the album. She hummed a tune while browsing through the pages.
As Viscount Emul took off his coat, he watched with satisfaction as his wife tilted her head in delight.
Those who entered into political marriages often tended to look down on their spouses. This was especially true during the early days of marriage when they were full of romantic fantasies.
Viscount Emul had been the same before he was married. He simply hated the marriage partner his parents had unilaterally chosen and forced upon him. Moreover, wasn’t ‘Florence Amite’ the best friend of that infamous ‘Claisey Kalasi’?
However, he had fallen head over heels for his wife in less than a month. His wife was not a terrifying woman who recklessly hung out with her infamous friend.
She was a loyal, brave, and strong-willed woman who trusted, supported, and protected a friend who had been falsely accused. And, she was the most adorable person in the world.
“Don’t stress yourself out too much. You are the one who chooses, and the fabrics are just waiting to be picked. You are already perfect.”
Unable to suppress his overflowing affection, he leaned in and showered kisses on Florence’s cheek.
Florence pushed his shoulder and laughed.
“Thank you! But I wasn’t choosing clothes for myself. I was choosing a gift for Claisey.”
Viscount Emul turned bitter.
“Why for Lady Claisey?”
“Because something good might happen soon!”
“Something good?”
Florence slammed the album shut, hid half her face behind it, and smiled proudly.
“There is a man showing interest in Claisey. And he might just be the only son of Grand Duke Siwil!”