Maylily - Chapter 30

To strip away all those cumbersome garments and conquer the woman by force would have been as easy for Hugh as moving a finger.

And then, his revenge against Victor Heywood would also end with this night.

But if, at the end of that revenge, the one crushed into the mire was not Victor Heywood or his daughter, but Hugh himself, what meaning could that revenge possibly have?

The woman before his eyes was beautiful enough to stir a parched thirst. Yet for nothing more than that, Hugh had no intention of casting aside the dignity and pride he had built as a Skaard.

Maylily Aile was not worth that much.

Recalling that fact and suppressing his desire, Hugh admitted that tonight’s attempt had been hasty and withdrew his hand from the corset.

Then, with the hand that had gripped Maylily’s chin, he wiped away her tear-streaked cheek and said, “Don’t cry, Maylily.”

His voice was soft and calm, so different from the forceful hand that had cornered her just moments earlier. Bewildered by the sudden shift in the flow of the air, Maylily blinked her tear-soaked lashes slowly and looked at the Count.

“I’ll wait for you to open your heart. Just allow me a little closeness.”

Through her blurred vision, she couldn’t clearly see the Count’s expression. It made no difference, for there was no change in the fact that she must refuse him. Yet still, she wanted to confirm his expression, his gaze, his sincerity.

As Maylily, unable to let go of her lingering attachment, hastily wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, the Count pressed his lips to her fevered forehead and turned away. As if to leave no room for refusal.

When the Count closed the door and left, Maylily’s legs gave out and she collapsed before the vanity, staring blankly into the mirror. At the center of her still-trembling shoulders, a sapphire no larger than a thumbnail glimmered brilliantly.

Its deep, transparent hue suddenly reminded her of the man’s eyes, impossible to fathom. With that thought, her heartbeat, which had begun to calm, quickened once more.

Swallowing dryly, Maylily hastily unclasped the necklace and buried it deep in the vanity drawer. Even so, the suffocating weight on her neck, like a shackle, did not ease in the slightest.

When Maylily, her hair neatly brushed and clad in her nightclothes, came into the sitting room, the Count of Everscourt was gone.

She didn’t know with what face she should meet him again. Feeling both relieved and slightly hollow, Maylily collapsed onto the sofa.

Out the window she had gazed at carelessly, the serene night view of the Fez River stretched beneath the full moon. Yet even that peaceful sight, which she loved so dearly, couldn’t calm her restless heart.

Before long, rising from her seat, Maylily went to the kitchen to prepare bathwater. Though it was late and her body exhausted, she was determined to bathe, if only to wash away the strange sensations left wherever the Count’s hand had touched.

As she carried heated water from the kitchen to pour into the tub again and again, sultry steam filled the bath. When she finally slipped into the water at just the right temperature, the muscles that had been taut with tension slowly loosened.

When the soapy sponge in her hand scrubbed carefully down from her neck and shoulders and touched her chest, Maylily suddenly remembered the large hand that had pressed over her corset. Then, for a while, she thought about what had stayed her hand as it moved, led by that impulse.

“I’m not particularly weak to a woman’s tears, so it won’t do you any good. Besides, it’s a waste to shed useless tears.”

Once, he had mocked her tears so coldly. Now Maylily, who found herself pondering what the change he had shown tonight might mean, shook her head violently and slapped both cheeks.

“Of course not. Get a hold of yourself!”

Though she scolded herself and tried to steady her heart, she couldn’t shake off thoughts of the man, because the hand that had comforted her tears had been so warm.

It was the first warmth from another person that Maylily had ever encountered in this city. And in the moment she realized she had been desperately longing for someone’s warmth, she remembered her aunt’s face, and thus was able to endure without falling into the Count’s arms.

“No more…”

Murmuring like a sigh, Maylily drew her knees up and buried her face. Then she thought of her aunt weeping in front of the train, of the filthy graffiti on her cabinet, of the troupe members whispering about her.

When even that was not enough, she plunged her head deep into the water and shook it fiercely. She wanted to wash away the change that had begun to stir in her heart, no matter what.

***

The dressing room of the chorus members before the evening performance was, as always, crowded and disorderly. Unlike the soloists, who shared several dressing rooms in small groups, dozens of chorus members had to share one space, leading to such conditions.

Even though today the room was relatively less crowded, Vanessa was sick of this marketplace-like place, filled with dust from costumes and floating powder.

This fall, I will escape from here, no matter what.

She firmly renewed her determination to be chosen as a soloist by any means necessary. Just then, Kate, who had just finished fixing her hair at the vanity, sneaked up and tapped Vanessa on the shoulder.

“Vanessa, did you hear?”

Her whispering voice carried secrecy.

“What?”

At Vanessa’s indifferent reply, Kate gestured with her eyes toward Maylily, who was putting on her stage costume a short distance away. Beneath her neatly pinned-up hair, her pale, slender nape drew particular attention.

“A few days ago, she was seen coming out of a tavern in Buhin in the arms of some older man. Looks like that rumor was true.”

After the patronage party, word had spread within the opera company that Maylily was being sponsored by a commoner man from Cartia, and that story soon twisted into a rumor that she was prostituting herself.

It was not unheard of for women working in the performance industry, struggling with pitifully low wages, to resort to prostitution, though it was something usually kept quiet. For whatever reason, prostitution was never something to boast of.

Moreover, the Roden Opera Company, with its many singers proud of their craft, was hardly tolerant of such choices.

Naturally, the female members cast scornful looks and whispered about Maylily, while the male members consumed the rumor as a source of amusement and harassment. Watching Maylily creep about quietly among them for a time had been immensely satisfying.

Of course, when Vanessa had first set the rumor in motion, she hadn’t intended things to go this far.

But neither did she feel any need to correct it. Receiving patronage from someone unqualified in status or dignity was no different from prostitution.

Besides, considering she had been seen fooling around with some man on the streets of Buhin, swarming with riffraff, the label of prostitute seemed perfectly suited to Maylily.

“In the end, this is what came of it. Why did she refuse patronage all that time? I can’t understand it.”

“She’s just too stupid to know better.”

Wearing the long, ornate earrings that completed her costume, Vanessa snatched up a handkerchief from her cabinet. Then she walked over to Maylily and tossed it at her as if giving alms.

“Why don’t you clean yourself up before going on stage? Though I doubt that little handkerchief will be enough to wipe away all your filth.”

“What is this, all of a sudden…”

Catching the handkerchief thrown at her face, Maylily blinked slowly. That sight was utterly loathsome.

“I heard you rolled around with some old man in Buhin. I don’t care what you do, but don’t drag down our opera company and disgrace your colleagues.”

At Vanessa’s relentless accusations, fired off without even pausing for breath, Maylily’s lips trembled violently.

“I never did such a thing! Don’t slander me with unverified rumors.”

Anyone would think she was truly the victim of some grave injustice. Vanessa sneered scornfully at Maylily’s face, flushed with humiliation.

“You claim you don’t deserve to be called a prostitute, but aren’t you ashamed to face your family? Well, from the look of them when they came the other day, they were nothing but beggars. To feed that family, what else could a girl like you do but sell herself? Or did your family send you here telling you to sell your body?”

When her insults turned toward her family, Maylily, who had been on the verge of tears, suddenly widened her eyes and clenched her fists tightly.

“Apologize for what you just said.”

“What?”

At the absurd demand, Vanessa’s voice sharpened.