Episode 12
In truth, Sasha knew herself better than anyone.
Even without the abusive words of Mrs. Mom, the governess who had told her since childhood, as if cursing her, that one could never hide one’s nature, Sasha had known her own nature better than anyone from the time she was young.
She had been born lacking patience, lacking perseverance, and her personality was not particularly pleasant, either.
That refined and gentle image everyone knew was merely the product of many years of education.
Lady Rosalyn had seemed to know that well from the moment she brought Sasha here. Was that not why she had not let Sasha leave this place until the day she died?
That damned dignity, that damned propriety. Now that she was an adult, it only became even harder to understand.
At any rate, if she had followed her heart, she would have thrown Jeffrey—or whatever his name was—straight out, and not satisfied with that, beaten him besides. But Sasha somehow endured him. It was not for any other reason, but because there was something else she was hoping for.
Marriage.
Through that marriage Lady Rosalyn had so brazenly demanded of her before she died, Sasha intended to become perfectly free.
“These are the only letters?”
“……Yes, my lady.”
It was late afternoon. Not even a few hours had passed since Jeffrey, after suffering what could be called humiliation in the study, had gone back to the annex, fuming as he loudly declared that he would overlook her mistake.
Looking down at the seven letters placed on the desk, Sasha asked the maid for a moment as if she were dumbfounded.
The maid answered yes to her young mistress’s face, which had stiffened in some indefinable way.
“……I see. All right.”
Sasha answered calmly, then sat at the desk.
Then she checked the senders of each letter and sorted them out.
The many letters from suitors that had flooded in by the dozens every day before she left this place had dwindled to a mere handful, as if none of it had ever happened. All those many letters that had passionately confessed love regardless of whether Sasha replied or not had vanished in an instant.
Ah, but fortunately, among those mere seven letters were their replies.
Dylan Henson, Elliott Favrel, Floyd Campbell.
They were the candidates for husband whom she had marked out in advance even before the birthday party.
Those men of respectable standing, who either possessed immense wealth or were set to inherit a title of count or higher.
Those men who perfectly matched the criteria for a “suitable husband” that Lady Rosalyn had unilaterally notified her of.
“I should write replies to these gentlemen first. There are only a few sheets of new writing paper left. Could you bring me more?”
“Yes, my lady.”
With only the letters from the three men separated out, Sasha hurriedly took out a quill and began by dipping it in ink. Then, as she mechanically began to write the greeting, she lifted her head.
Belatedly, Sasha opened the letter sent by one of the three men, Floyd Campbell, first. Whatever its contents, she thought it would be better to shape her greeting to match the last thing he had brought up.
Sasha was reading Campbell’s letter with a somewhat tense yet happy expression.
“…….”
A moment later, the maid who had brought her the new writing paper could not help glancing at her face as she set the sheets down, seeing her young mistress’s expression rapidly harden.
“……What is this?”
Sasha murmured. Then, without even finishing Campbell’s letter, she pushed it aside and read Favrel’s letter next.
Then she opened and read Henson’s letter without finishing that one to the end, either.
“……My lady?”
Seeing her face, now not merely stiff but twisted as though with rage, the maid could not help carefully asking about her condition.
Even after hearing the maid call her, Sasha looked down at the letters in silence for a while. Then she quietly turned her head toward the maid and asked.
“……Where is Jeffrey right now?”
＊＊＊
Jason, the butler who had known from early on what state the annex was in, tried to dissuade her. Sasha ignored him and headed for the annex.
The sturdy male servants stationed at the annex recognized their young mistress and bowed their heads.
Then, once she passed them, they exchanged meaningful glances among themselves, as if the time had finally come.
From the entrance, the annex was strangely noisy. As soon as she stepped into the hall, Sasha found that the carpet on the floor was badly wrinkled and even wet with some unidentified stain. She lifted her head with an expressionless face.
The sound of music came swelling from afar. As if luring her here, it sang in an even higher melody.
“……My lady. Inside there, for a moment…….”
“Enough. Move.”
She brushed aside the servant who tried to stop her while carrying an armful of liquor bottles, and pushed the door open without hesitation.
What greeted her the instant she opened the door was daylight so bright it seemed her eyes might burst.
It was the reception room of the annex that Lady Rosalyn had loved most in life. That radiant place where, at midday, sunlight poured into the entire room.
Her vision, which had flashed white, cleared. And the first thing she discovered was a half-undressed man and woman tangled together.
“…….”
“…….”
The two, who had been devouring each other’s lips in a thoroughly disheveled state, hurriedly sprang apart the moment they saw Sasha. The woman’s face gradually flushed red, as if she knew shame, but the man looked at Sasha as if annoyed by the interruption.
How shameless.
“What is it, Sasha? Why are you here?”
Jeffrey, who had snatched a violin from a musician on the other side and was playing it as loudly and wildly as he pleased, acknowledged her.
“You wrecked my foot. Did you come to apologize?”
Jeffrey returned the violin to its owner and strode toward Sasha.
Another woman near Jeffrey was slumped over the table, dead drunk.
“……Jeffrey Grayson.”
Only after seeing the desperate looks in the eyes of the servants attending to them did Sasha realize her mistake.
Without even trying to look into the matter properly, she had simply changed the attendants because they said it was difficult. It seemed they had taken that as their young mistress tacitly permitting her cousin’s rampage.
“Take your friends and leave this place, would you?”
“…….”
“Properly clothed, too.”
The man who had been kissing a woman with his entire upper body bare, without the slightest shame, heard Sasha’s words and snickered.
“Right now.”
“Then does that mean I have to endure whatever the other person says to me?”
“Yes. That is the dignity of a noble. And not merely enduring it, but returning it to the other person in our own way.”
At the young girl’s question, her governess Mrs. Mom answered with an irritated face.
“But what if it is someone words do not work on?”
At her impudent follow-up question, Mrs. Mom no longer hid her displeasure.
She looked down at her with a face that seemed to say that seeing how the child was already thinking only of fighting back rather than learning etiquette, the vulgarity of her birth truly could not be helped.
“Verbal argument is not the only means available.”
The old lady, who had been silently listening to their conversation from behind, cut in.
Lady Rosalyn, that stern-looking old woman, looked down at young Sasha and said ominously.
“There is also the suitably courteous physical method known as a duel.”
“My lady. What are you telling this child!”
Jeffrey staggered toward Sasha. He must have drunk an astonishing amount in the meantime, for even at this distance, the stench of alcohol reeked from him.
Not the slightest trace of a young duke’s dignity or face could be found in him. He was like a shiny fruit rotten inside, glossy only on the outside.
The man everyone had treated like mud, calling him a thug unworthy of his origins, had at least been better than that.
No, it was not even a comparison worth making. At the very least, that enormous man had been uncomfortable dealing with her. In his own way, he had shown manners.
“You’re being fucking boring.”
“Don’t touch me, Jeffrey.”
Ignoring her, Jeffrey placed a hand on Sasha’s shoulder and, as a joke, deliberately grabbed her pinned-up hair tightly before letting go.
He ran his fingers through the hair that had fallen loose and breathed against her as if he were going to kiss her.
One of Jeffrey’s friends, watching the entire scene from behind, burst into laughter and mocked her.
“Don’t be like that. I’ll teach you how to have fun.”
“…….”
“It’s obvious how Grandmother raised you.”
Sasha, who had been silently staring into empty air, lowered her gaze to the table.
“……Poor Sasha.”
A vulgar genre painting. A picture of a naked man and woman tangled together.
“Ah, my friend was painting that. As for who the models are…….”
Before he could finish speaking, Jeffrey Grayson’s head snapped to the side.
Instead of a slap, there was a thud.
Sasha lifted her hand as if sharpening its edge and struck Jeffrey’s right cheek as though bringing it down to crush him.