8.
It was common knowledge, as it had been before Max, that Mathilde and Freya were on good terms.
She had likely appeared today, calculating that Freya would never risk a confrontation in front of others. She wore a look of pained betrayal—a posture that relied entirely on the assumption that Freya wasn’t planning something that completely undermined her expectations.
Mathilde forced a look of composed, awkward concern.
“Permission? I only brought it up because I thought, had I known in advance that Madam Pernel was coming, I could have hosted her properly.”
“The two ladies have already shown me more than enough hospitality. Please, don’t give it another thought.”
Madam Pernel expertly cut through the stifling atmosphere. Having expected the merchant to take her side, Mathilde was left speechless as the woman subtly shielded Freya.
“W-well, then. That is a relief.”
“Then, may I take a look at your dresses now?”
The situation smoothed over the moment Madam Pernel took the initiative.
As expected, she did not disappoint. Seeing the woman’s flawless command of the room, Freya smiled inwardly and stepped back.
“With pleasure. They are in the dressing room; let’s go see them together.”
As Freya and Madam Pernel stood, Mathilde followed, reluctant but insistent. Though the primary purpose of today’s visit had been to open a line of communication with Madam Pernel, the actual sale remained a necessity.
“You are selling… all of these?”
It was a volume that would fluster even a seasoned merchant accustomed to high-frequency trade.
“Really, Freya. How can you plan to sell all these dresses at once? Why not sell half and wait until you have time to order new ones?”
“It’s alright. I intend to rent from Madam Pernel’s boutique for the time being.”
This time, even Madam Pernel looked dismayed. She leaned in, her expression serious.
“Madam, if I may be blunt: I do not believe my current stock meets your standards.”
Freya agreed; Madam Pernel’s primary clientele was limited to the petite bourgeoisie and the professional working class. Yet, she dismissed the concern with a breezy smile.
“It’s fine. I don’t intend to wear dresses like these anymore. Besides, there is someone else I wish to commission. I know he is quite quick with his hands, so I am certain the new ones will be ready in no time.”
At the mention of “him,” and the gaze that seemed to seek her unspoken confirmation, Madam Pernel caught the drift of the subtext and dipped her head.
“Ah, I see. In that case… I am sure they will be ready quite quickly.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Mathilde, having been sidelined, finally broke her silence.
“Ah, now that I think of it, I was planning on acquiring some new dresses soon as well. That works out perfectly. Freya, why don’t you let me place an order with you?”
To think she would make such a brazen request. Freya shook her head inwardly, feigning a troubled expression.
“Mathilde, I apologize, but the person I am ordering from is not an ordinary tailor. I barely managed to secure a spot using the name of Blanc, not Russell. I’m afraid I cannot bring you along.”
“W-what… Then… I suppose… there’s nothing to be done.”
Stripped of its polite padding, the implication remained: she could not place an order because she lacked the status of the high nobility. As Mathilde’s face shifted from crimson humiliation to a deathly, blotchy pale, Freya turned to Madam Pernel.
The merchant remained composed, as if she hadn’t heard a word of the exchange.
“Since that is the case, I would appreciate it if we could start by renting some comfortable clothes for immediate use.”
“Certainly. Please let me know if you have any preferred styles or specific designs in mind. I will prepare them and come by again.”
“Hmm… rather than that, I think I will stop by your boutique myself. I would like to see the shop as well. How is this weekend?”
“The weekend… I see. Yes, that is fine. I will set aside some outfits appropriate for your stature.”
Freya confirmed the appointment and concluded the meeting.
✦ ✦ ✦
The moment the carriage carrying Madam Pernel and the boxes of dresses cleared the mansion gates, Mathilde dropped the mask.
“Are you truly going this far? How could you humiliate me like that in front of her?”
“Then why did you bother coming? I told you before: from now on, consider me a person who doesn’t exist.”
As Freya brushed off the venomous accusation, Mathilde glared as if she wished to see her dead.
“You’ve become quite full of yourself just because Max has been paying you a little attention lately.”
So, this was the crux of it. Freya asked calmly, “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I heard you went out with Max today. Don’t tell me it was for your wedding anniversary?”
The mystery was solved. She had wondered why Mathilde was so desperate to intrude; she must have overheard the conversation between Freya and Milla in the hall. It left a bitter taste in her mouth—that others remembered an anniversary she had forgotten—but she lied with ease.
“Yes, my husband suggested we dine out.”
“Ha! When Max wouldn’t even look your way, I was the one who looked after you. There is a limit to ingratitude. So that is why you’ve been treating me with such neglect?”
Mathilde’s face, twisted in rage, betrayed a tremor of insecurity.
“How long do you think this will last? You don’t even realize he is just pitying you. All of this, the position you hold, is thanks to me.”
They say those with a guilty conscience are the first to expose themselves. Freya chuckled softly.
“Come to think of it, I heard you had a conversation with Max, Mother.”
“…Did Max tell you that?”
“No, I heard it from others. Just as you did.”
“What?”
With that single remark, Mathilde would be unable to trust the mansion’s servants for the foreseeable future. Having finished that calculation, Freya leaned into Mathilde’s ear and whispered:
“Someone told me… that you want to have me committed to a hospital.”
As she pulled back, Mathilde looked at her as if she had seen a specter. She gasped, unable to find her voice.
It was inevitable. Even the most shallow of people should have the foresight not to remain unscathed after whispering such things about the daughter of the House of Blanc. And yet, even when she had dared to make such a demand to Max, Mathilde must never have thought it would reach Freya’s ears.
In reality, there had been someone else who told her. When she first heard that secret, she had been trapped in a hospital. That was a past that, as of now, had never come to pass.
‘And she is someone like this.’
Looking at the trembling, pale woman without a shred of emotion, Freya spoke again.
“Mother, I’m telling you this because you don’t seem to know: if you provoke a madwoman too much… she bites.”
She flashed a radiant, bright smile.
“That’s fortunate for you, isn’t it? That I’m not actually mad.”
Leaving that remark in the air, Freya turned away, leaving Mathilde frozen like a stone statue. This time, there was no sound of anyone calling out to stop her.
✦ ✦ ✦
A lady of a prestigious house does not reveal herself carelessly.
Thanks to the lessons she had heard until her ears ached, the number of times Freya had ventured outside the castle before her marriage could be counted on one hand.
That was why, right after her marriage, she had gone on outings with Milla like a horse finally unbridled. It had been possible because Max was running ragged trying to save the failing Russell businesses, and Mathilde was so absorbed in acting as the lady of the house—decorating the mansion with Freya’s money—that she had completely ignored her.
Milla, who had lived a life half-trapped in the castle while serving as her play-maid, shared in this newfound freedom. The two had spent their time overflowing with happiness for a good six months.
That was until Mathilde, having decided to tame Freya just as she had the mansion, kindly informed her—under the guise of advice—how vulgar her outings appeared to other cultured madams.
Even after that, they had snuck out like rule-breakers every once in a long while. But since last winter, Freya’s self-imposed seclusion had made even that impossible.
“Madam, it feels like we’ve entered the palace.”
It was no surprise that Milla was more excited than usual for their first outing in a long time.