A Mad Lady’s Confession - Chapter 32

The attendant who had been waiting inside flinched at the sight of Matthias appearing without a sound. As if there were no need to guide him, the man strode across the corridor, and the attendant hurried after him.

His strides were so wide with his long legs that the attendant had to half run just to barely step ahead and pretend to lead the way.

Whether there was such frantic movement beside him or not, Matthias walked as he pleased. As always, his expression was calm and unreadable, but at the moment, he was in a very foul mood.

His mouth felt bitter and astringent, as if he were chewing on licorice leaves, and heat rose to his head, burning even the tips of his ears.

It felt as though he had been insulted to his face.

He couldn’t understand what Daphne Fram had said. What on earth did she take him for?

To be treated as the kind of man who would promise a secret rendezvous a year later while having a wife was absurd, and he couldn’t believe it.

Even if it was a contract marriage with a set term, Matthias was a man who understood fidelity.

A noble bears not only authority but also duty. Within that duty lies responsibility accompanied by morality, and that responsibility extends not only to business but to people as well.

When Lady Jules expelled the maids of the estate over the perfume bottle incident, he instructed Mrs. Nella to provide all of them with new letters of recommendation and a small sum as consolation. It wasn’t only because Eleanor Brynhill had pleaded with a face on the verge of tears.

In any case, he believed the punishment had been too severe compared to their fault, at least in regard to the perfume bottle incident, and as the master who had once employed them, it was his responsibility to do that much.

To cleanly bear and take responsibility for the business, people, and emotions he chose. That was his duty and his authority.

He intended to take full responsibility for Eleanor Brynhill. Of course, only for one year.

After that time, they would naturally part ways. He would pay a generous settlement and ensure that they would not become the subject of further gossip, handling it quietly and cleanly.

However, Daphne Fram’s words, which assumed that one year later as a given, made him angry.

What right did she have to comment on his choice? It was thoroughly unpleasant.

Because he had overlooked it once, she was now overstepping—no matter that she was of the imperial family, he truly thought so—her attitude of trying to meddle in the affairs of the head of the Nielsen family was extremely irritating.

Whether they lived together for one year or two, what could they possibly do about it? Would they drag him out and force them apart?

‘What if I refuse to part? What if I don’t end it after a year?’

As his thoughts reached that unfamiliar conclusion, the large strides he had been taking in suppressed anger suddenly came to a halt. The attendant heading toward the carriage bearing the Nielsen crest in the distance looked back at him in confusion.

“Your Grace?”

“….”

Of course we’re supposed to part, Matthias Nielsen. What are you thinking?

He frowned at himself for impulsively adding another option to the time limit with the woman.

That woman doesn’t suit Nielsen. You know that.

She had neither the dignity nor the noble conduct befitting it. Even the maids subtly looked down on her, and she idled around chatting with trainee maids at best.

If judged by appearance alone, yes, he could admit that much. Even to his discerning eye, Eleanor Brynhill was quite beautiful. If belonging to Nielsen were based purely on outward appearance, she possessed the necessary and sufficient conditions. But that was all. And moreover, the woman….

As if telling him to get a grip, a voice echoed in his mind.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to see you.”

Ha. Even thinking about it again, wasn’t it absurd? A woman who would say something like that.

And on top of that, he had been about to get into that carriage and head to the second house.

Why was he still in this state? As he retraced the sequence of events, heat rose to his head once more. After hesitating briefly, he resumed his steps and climbed into the carriage.

As the coachman, who knew the destination, slowly drove the carriage forward, he leaned back against the seat. His head throbbed, pounding as if he were being punished for indulging in pointless thoughts.

***

‘What on earth am I supposed to do in a situation like this?’

Eleanor wanted to ask anyone.

She went to the study and even opened a book of etiquette listing the virtues of a proper noble lady, but the methods written there were far too abstract.

Drink hot tea, bathe in water scented with ylang-ylang, then quietly close your eyes and meditate as if offering a prayer to God.

She doubted anything would be resolved that way, but Eleanor tried it anyway. It was difficult as drowsiness came over her during meditation, but she endured it to the end. Even so, nothing really changed.

‘It seems like the best way is to meet him and talk directly.’

But she had no idea how to do that. With her own husband, of all people.

“My parents used to fight like that too.”

A small girl in a cute headscarf and a large, shabby maid’s uniform chattered on. Munching on the apple caramel Eleanor had given her, the girl swung her legs that didn’t quite reach the ground.

By the well, sitting side by side with Eleanor on a pile of straw stacked to one side, Ellie was an eleven-year-old trainee maid who knew a great deal for her age.

When she felt stifled, Eleanor would come here on her walks and often chat with the trainee maids like this. The children were cautious, but innocent, and they happily ate the snacks Eleanor offered as if they were something special.

Some of the older trainee maids would sometimes be surprised and ask why such a high-ranking lady came to a place like this, but to Eleanor, the well wasn’t an unfamiliar place at all. When she was thirsty, she would draw water herself and drink it.

“On days my parents fought, dinner was terrible. Though it wasn’t much better on other days either….”

“I see. But I didn’t fight with His Grace.”

Eleanor hurriedly added. Ellie nodded as if she understood, then continued with what she wanted to say.

“Madam, have you never seen your parents fight?”

“My mother passed away when I was young. So I’ve never seen anything like a husband and wife arguing.”

At her words, the child’s small face grew gloomy.

“I’m sorry, madam. I, um, brought up something sad….”

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago.”

Her mother died giving birth to her. It was something she’d heard ever since she was old enough to understand, so it wasn’t particularly sad anymore.

“Anyway, seeing a mother and father fight is really unpleasant.”

Saying it wasn’t something worth watching, the girl puffed her cheeks as she chattered.

“Ellie, you know… I said something really harsh in the middle of an argument.”

She had said she didn’t want to look at him. At the time, it was the truth, but she regretted it as something she should never have said. To tell someone to their face that you couldn’t even stand to look at them.

When she had heard such words from her father—of course, far harsher ones—how deeply she had been hurt.

She had said something she herself hated hearing, and not to just anyone, but to him. In reality, Matthias had looked bewildered, but to Eleanor’s eyes, it had seemed like he was hurt.

It had already been eleven days since he last returned to the mansion, and he likely wouldn’t come back today either. Now, Eleanor wanted to take back the words that she couldn’t even stand to look at him.

“They say when couples fight, they say everything, both what should be said and what shouldn’t. My parents were like that, and so were Mrs. Nigel and her husband next door.”

“…Really?”

“They also say a couple’s quarrel is like cutting soft fruit.”

It was a phrase she had never heard before, but Eleanor nodded anyway.

“Then, Ellie. Your parents and the… Mrs. Nigel next door, how did they make up?”

That was what Eleanor wanted to know. How to reconcile with someone after a rift.

She knew how to ask for forgiveness. You kneel, press your forehead to the ground, clasp your hands, and beg earnestly.

But somehow, she felt that method wouldn’t work on Matthias Nielsen. It seemed like he would want to receive an apology in an elegant way.

“It’s nothing special. Um… if my mom did what she was best at, my dad would calm down right away.”

“What she was best at?”

“My mom’s potato and dried jerky stew is really the best. On days they fought, she’d cook that stew. Of course, the jerky was only a tiny bit… but anyway, on days that dish came out, my dad would go ‘ahem’ and sit at the table, and by the end of the meal, he’d give my mom a kiss on the cheek.”

Ellie pursed her lips, mimicking a kiss as she chewed her caramel.

Listening seriously to the little girl, Eleanor thought carefully about what she herself was good at.

She recalled the few times she had received praise from others. She didn’t know if doing those things would help them reconcile, but she still felt glad she had asked.

“Thank you, Ellie. Ah… and also.”

Eleanor remembered something else and asked, “There’s someone I want to find. Do you know a way?”

Ellie tilted her head, then spoke, “For something like that, wouldn’t it be faster to ask the master? Nielsen is everywhere, so they’d find anyone right away!”

Eleanor nodded with a slightly downcast expression. It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought of that, but she felt cautious. She didn’t know what Matthias would think if he learned she was trying to find ‘that person.’

“Anyway, thank you for everything, Ellie.”

Eleanor placed the small linen pouch hanging from her wrist into the child’s hand.

“It’s caramel. Share it.”

“Wow, thank you, madam!”

Ellie beamed brightly, showing the gap where her front tooth was missing.

If someone saw it, they would surely whisper that it wasn’t befitting of a noble lady’s dignity, but Eleanor liked maid children like Ellie.

They were honest, they didn’t speak in roundabout ways, and they were quite fond of Eleanor. For her, who struggled to adapt to noble society, they felt like a place where she could breathe.

As she faced Ellie, who was giggling, Eleanor let out a youthful smile befitting her twenty years.

“Madam!”

She heard Mrs. Nella calling her. Thinking she might be scolded again, she turned, only to see Mrs. Nella hurrying toward her, clutching her skirt, her face pale.

“What… what is it?”

At her anxious question, the answer came immediately.

“Master, His Grace—”

At that moment, Eleanor’s heart dropped.