7.
“Please step down, my lady.”
Helen, who had gotten down first, extended her hand into the carriage.
I lightly placed my fingertips on her hand, then slowly stepped out of the carriage.
The Marquisate of Ceylon.
An influential family in society—one for which the word extravagance fit perfectly.
That extravagance was likely due to the marchioness’s tastes rather than the marquis himself, but…
“As expected, needlessly gaudy.”
The fact remained that excessive luxury only lowered one’s dignity.
Murmuring softly, I looked at the garden of the marquisate spread out before me.
A meticulously decorated garden.
Every single flower and tree had been carefully tended, a perfect piece of landscaping.
Amid that garden, something incongruous caught my eye.
Several dazzling, pure-white tables for a tea party.
“Ah.”
At the sight, my brow furrowed on its own.
They were objects announcing what I would have to do from now on.
“My lady. It’s about time…”
“I know, Helen.”
I knew. I knew that revealing my true feelings in a place like this was foolish.
I took a deep breath.
Then I straightened my back, smoothed out my frown, and raised the corners of my lips at the proper angle.
A face I had practiced my entire life. The light smile found its place in an instant.
As I moved forward with Helen in tow, the servants of the marquisate quickly approached.
“Welcome, Lady Levantia. We have been waiting for you.”
The maid at the front bowed gracefully and gestured with her hand.
An introduction as natural as flowing water. As expected of someone from a marquis’s household, it was proper work.
“I hope you have been well.”
A courteous greeting for a courteous reception. The maid who received my greeting naturally took her place at my side and matched my pace.
There was still a little time before the tea party began, so I walked through the garden under the maids’ guidance.
Pretending to smell the flowers, pretending to admire the garden, pretending this, pretending that.
“Because all of this will reach the marchioness’s ears.”
Even with such thoughts inside, the smile did not fall from my lips.
After all, this was the very habit I had drilled into my body.
***
I ended the stroll at an appropriate time.
In front of the mansion, a noblewoman was welcoming the guests.
“Oh my, you’ve already arrived?”
The Marchioness of Ceylon.
An elegant bearing. And yet an impression that seemed youthful for her age.
Unlike her extravagant tastes, she had a warm manner, which gave her a good reputation in society.
I lightly took hold of my skirt and offered a greeting.
“Thank you for inviting me, Marchioness of Ceylon. Seeing your delicately arranged garden makes my heart feel much clearer as well.”
“Oh my, Lady Levantia, it seems your way with words improves every time you come.”
A conventional greeting. A conventional compliment.
Nothing more was necessary.
After all, what we needed was merely the picture of a “well-regarded lady of society” and “the young lady of a venerable house” exchanging greetings.
Just as I thought this should be enough and was about to move on, the marchioness stepped half a pace closer to me.
Then, with a light wink, she whispered softly enough for only me to hear.
“I’ve also prepared tea I brewed myself today—the kind Lady Levantia likes so much.”
Who in the world would like that thing when she didn’t even bother getting the water temperature right?
But I could not say such a thing.
At least, not in front of this person.
“Truly? I’m already looking forward to it.”
The marchioness smiled in satisfaction.
“Levantia… no, may I call you Lady Chloe?”
“It would be an honor.”
You are not the one I want to call me that.
For an instant, a man in a shabby alley flashed through my mind.
That voice, which always called me “Lady Levantia” instead of by my name, flickered in a corner of my heart.
Once again, my heart gave a sharp little ache.
I barely managed to keep my smile without so much as blinking.
“Ah, there are ladies of a similar age over there. Why don’t you relax with them?”
The marchioness said so and pointed with her fingertips to one side of the garden.
A place set apart from the other tables.
There, I could see young ladies around my age gathered together.
“Thank you, Marchioness. Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
As I moved in that direction, I swallowed a sigh inwardly.
They’re the same age, so relax with them, she says.
As if she didn’t know that in society, being the same age meant being rivals.
No matter how warm her manner was, it was a reminder that, in the end, she too was a person of society.
***
“Welcome, Lady Levantia.”
“Why don’t you sit here?”
When I reached the table, the young ladies who had been seated there all rose at once.
The young lady of House Levantia, one of the influential families of society.
We were all nobles, but there was a clear difference between us. It was only natural, perhaps, that they would react this way.
Still, acting arrogant would do me no good, so I returned a greeting appropriate to their reception.
“I hope you have all been well.”
A suitable greeting. Suitable modesty.
A conversation in which each person praised the other, without a single handful of sincerity mixed in.
Even if it was a table made up only of young ladies, as long as it was society, nothing was any different.
“So, how have you been lately?”
“With the ball season approaching, I’m already worrying about dresses.”
“Me too. I wonder what color will be fashionable this year…”
Light, trivial talk flowed from them.
I gave appropriate responses and tilted my teacup.
At that moment, one young lady lowered her voice.
“Come to think of it, Lady Sinclair…”
Sinclair.
She must mean Veronica Sinclair of the Duke of Sinclair’s family.
My insides grew uncomfortable at that unpleasant name, but the words that followed soon eased my mind.
“They say her headache was severe, so she couldn’t come today. What a shame.”
“Is that so? We must hope she recovers quickly.”
Though I said that aloud, inwardly I was grateful. If that arrogant person had been here as well, my nerves would have been even more on edge.
“Come to think of it, I hear there are many people with headaches these days.”
“That’s true. Is it because it’s spring?”
The topic naturally flowed toward the headaches that were currently going around. However—
“Ah, Lady Arcel as well…”
Their words broke off there.
Lady Arcel.
The moment that name fell, the air above the table subtly sank.
Hands that had been lifting teacups to lips stopped, and gazes scattered over the tops of cups or to the corners of the table.
A silence in which not one person could continue first.
Because no one had the courage to add anything to that gloomy and frightening name.
Only the ominously severed end of the sentence hung in the air.
Watching them, I set down my teacup and opened my mouth naturally.
“It is simply a shame that we cannot see Lady Arcel’s elegant black hair today.”
One sentence.
That was enough.
At my words, the stiffness on their faces eased, and they let out light sighs such as “You’re right” and “It truly is a pity.”
Not a single person brought up what lay behind the name Arcel.
To survive in society, this much was necessary.
Covering a dangerous topic with a simple appreciation.
Embarrassingly enough, being worn smooth by society meant being skilled at such things.
***
Talk that could come up at any tea party in society continued.
Which family had acquired a new villa.
Which house had sent invitations first for this year’s ball.
I only matched my words to theirs and nodded appropriately.
After all, conversation in a place like this was an exchange of information, not the passing of sincere feelings.
It was then.
“You know…”
One young lady set down her teacup and lowered her voice slightly.
She spoke in the tone of a girl bringing up a secret.
“My maid says there’s a decent place somewhere in the back alleys.”
“A decent place?”
“Yes. Some kind of counseling office, and they say if you go there, your body feels refreshed, or your head stops hurting…”
Counseling office.
At those words, my heart beat a step faster.
Without disturbing the posture of the hand holding my teacup, I quietly listened.
“Ah, my Marie said something similar too. She went on and on about how her shoulders stopped hurting.”
When you stood in line at the same shop, there were names you naturally grew familiar with.
She was a maid from another household, but I never thought I would hear that name in this place.
“It must be a suspicious shop, right?”
“Marie goes often, and she says it’s fine. Though since it’s Marie, it’s not exactly trustworthy.”
“Oh, but if even we’ve heard its name, doesn’t that mean there’s something to it?”
For the first time, girlish laughter spread among them.
I lowered my gaze over the teacup and pretended to be calm. But I could not help the slight trembling at the tips of my fingers.
“Ah, I remember now. The name of that shop was something Counseling Office…”
Ah.
So it was his shop after all.
One side of my chest tightened coldly.
Normally, at a time like this, my way would have been to take control of the conversation by acting as if I knew, saying, “Ah, that shop, you mean?”
But my mouth would not open.
It felt as though I must not say anything.
Sharing that place I knew with them…
Somehow, it felt terribly wrong.
The young ladies seemed not to know the shop’s exact location yet.
They only vaguely knew the name. It seemed they had not gone beyond the rumors circulating among the maids.
I slowly opened my mouth.
“For those in our position, wouldn’t it be a little improper to take an interest in a suspicious shop?”
A line drawn gently, but clearly.
At my words, the young ladies nodded.
“That is true.”
“To be honest, I don’t even know what a counseling office is…”
“You’re right. Whatever it may be, it surely isn’t a place for us to go.”
Voices of agreement came one after another, and the topic instantly moved on to the colors of dresses for the next ball.
I smiled lightly and watched their conversation.
I was smiling.
I was smiling, but when I recalled that brief moment when they had shown interest in the counseling office, something rose within my chest.
“Ah, I see.”
Only then did I realize it.
I did not want to share it with them.
That shabby alley.
That little shop.
Those light moments when he listened to my complaints, drank tea with me, and taught me the correct hand movements.
I did not want them taken from me.
“Lady Levantia? Are you all right?”
“I’m quite all right.”
When I sat silently without saying anything, they asked me in concern.
Instead, I gave them my familiar smile, as usual.
Hoping they would never take an interest in the counseling office again.
“I was looking at the pattern on this teacup. It’s very delicate, isn’t it?”
Still, it would be fine.
Because I had the key.
Because if I did not go, he would not be able to drink that tea.