The Serpent of Paradise - Chapter 32

The next day, Anastasia was invited to breakfast with him again.

As though she had known this would happen, Natasha took another new dress Anastasia had never seen before from the wardrobe and dressed her in it. Having realized that Anastasia disliked clothes that exposed her neck, she chose only dresses that buttoned neatly up to just below her throat and completely covered her arms.

When Anastasia looked at the shawl she had folded the day before with a hesitant expression, Natasha quickly picked it up, opened the door, and handed it to a passing maid.

“This seems to have gotten stained and needs to be washed. Please take care of it.”

Had there been anything on it? Anastasia couldn’t understand when the stain had appeared, since there certainly hadn’t been one when she folded it. All she knew was that she couldn’t wear the shawl today.

Natasha didn’t stop at merely choosing her clothes.

“Miss, would you sit here? I’ll arrange your hair in a new style.”

Natasha seated Anastasia before the dressing table that had been newly placed in her room a few days ago. When Natasha brought over a large brush and hair ribbons made from cloth in various colors, Anastasia waved her hands.

“I’m fine. I can just….”

Just as she was about to say that she would brush it herself as usual, Natasha spoke first.

“Doesn’t your hair get in the way while you’re eating?”

“It does, but….”

“You’ll be able to enjoy your meal much more comfortably if you tie your hair up neatly. I think Lord Mikhail will like it too.”

At the mention of Mikhail’s name, Anastasia slowly lowered the hands she had been waving.

“Do you… think so?”

“Of course! Hold still. I’ll fix it for you quickly.”

Natasha had already realized that the young lady she served would unconditionally follow any advice related to Mikhail. That was why she deliberately mentioned him. Sure enough, just as Natasha expected, Anastasia immediately gave in.

Taking up the brush, Natasha twisted Anastasia’s long hair upward and secured it with a slender wooden stick, then carefully began brushing the remaining hair from the bottom. Anastasia’s hair, which Natasha had washed thoroughly the night before, smelled pleasant.

As Natasha’s hand moved, the tangles in her hair came undone. Although it had a slight curl, her hair was naturally fine and smooth.

The only thing that bothered Natasha was how dry and brittle it had become from years of inadequate nourishment. She set the brush down for a moment, poured some oil from a bottle on the dressing table into her palm, and rubbed it throughout Anastasia’s hair. The oil calmed the dry strands somewhat and gave them a sheen.

While Natasha brushed through Anastasia’s hair, which had become much easier to manage, Anastasia looked at the dressing table. It, too, was filled with wondrous things she had never seen before. Even the piece of furniture known as a dressing table was fascinating to Anastasia. But objects used to adorn one’s face? They were things she had never imagined, and when she learned what they were for, she recoiled and pulled her hand away as though she had touched the mark of the devil.

But after Natasha left, she approached it one step at a time and cautiously opened the boxes.

Beautiful containers neatly filled with pretty powders in colors she had never seen before. They even carried a lovely fragrance, as though all the flowers in a summer garden had been gathered and pressed together.

According to everything she knew, these were wicked tools of the devil used to seduce men. But could something like that… truly be so beautiful? Anastasia breathed in the scent of the oil that now filled the room. It smelled of roses, a fragrance that could be enjoyed only briefly in summer.

A tempting flower whose rich scent and color held people’s steps for a long while. The moment she realized that, Anastasia’s fingertips trembled.

‘Is it really all right to do this?’

Her heart pounded fiercely at the thought that she was doing something wrong. But… she didn’t want to stop Natasha. More precisely, she wanted to look a little more presentable at Mikhail’s table. She wanted him to see her in a slightly better light.

She knew how wicked such thoughts were. Adorning herself because she wanted to look good before a man. According to her father’s teachings, according to the count’s teachings, that was something vulgar women did. Perhaps this was what it meant to be lewd, a word whose meaning she still didn’t fully understand.

‘But….’

Anastasia looked back and forth between the dressing table and Natasha, who was brushing her hair. Natasha, who had been working diligently to untangle it, quickly noticed that Anastasia wanted to say something and stopped.

“Is something wrong?”

“Um, these things… are they only for me?”

“Pardon?”

For a moment, Natasha didn’t understand what Anastasia meant and asked again. Just when it seemed Anastasia might close her mouth, she apparently gathered her courage and spoke once more.

“Do Miss Elizabeth and Miss Catherine have these things too? Other people use them as well… don’t they?”

Although she bore the same Lauderdale name, Anastasia unfailingly referred to the other two as “Miss” whenever she spoke of them before others. Recalling Anastasia’s behavior thus far, Natasha finally seemed to understand what she was worried about and answered with a smile.

“Of course. Every young lady from a noble family probably has them.”

Relief appeared on Anastasia’s face at Natasha’s answer. If they had been given only to her, Anastasia intended to refuse them. But Elizabeth and Catherine had them too. In that case, they couldn’t be sinful objects.

While Natasha resumed carefully arranging Anastasia’s hair, Anastasia recalled what she had learned yesterday.

Yesterday, Mikhail taught her everything about how to use the utensils, their different types, and the order in which they were used. Since the table was laden with all kinds of food, Anastasia was able to practice with every dish. Mikhail taught her not only how to use the utensils, but also all the proper manners for each kind of food.

Anastasia’s hands moved cautiously through the air. While Natasha skillfully arranged her hair, Anastasia recited what she had seen and learned yesterday over and over again.

‘I don’t want to disappoint Lord Mikhail.’

It was the first time anyone had taught her so kindly. Until now, everything Anastasia learned was either memorized while she was being beaten or learned by secretly listening to others. Had anyone ever taught her so kindly before, listening to what she said without becoming angry?

In truth, even if Mikhail hadn’t been this kind, the mere fact that she was learning things she hadn’t known before made Anastasia happy.

***

“Good morning, Lord Mikhail.”

Anastasia greeted him with a slight bow of her head. Before coming, she had asked Natasha how people normally greeted one another in the morning, and this was what Natasha taught her. At Anastasia’s greeting, Mikhail rose from the sofa. Behind her, she heard Natasha leave the room.

Anastasia expected Mikhail to guide her to her seat as he had yesterday, but he remained standing before the sofa, staring fixedly at her. Under his gaze, Anastasia raised a hand and touched her hair.

Natasha had spent a long time working on it. When Natasha finally lowered her hands, Anastasia had no choice but to stare at herself in the dressing table mirror in surprise.

In the mirror, part of her hair had been woven into a tight, ribbonlike braid and draped around the side as an ornament, while the rest of her long hair flowed freely beneath it. She looked like the noble young ladies in the paintings she occasionally glimpsed in passing.

It was the first time in her life that she had ever adorned her hair like this, so her reflection looked unfamiliar. But… she thought it was pretty. It wasn’t her, only her hair, but even so, it was the first time she had ever thought any part of her body was beautiful.

That was why, despite Natasha’s warning that touching it would ruin the style, Anastasia couldn’t stop reaching for it all the way there. But when Igor, whom she encountered on the way, merely gave a halfhearted response to her greeting and stared fixedly at her, Anastasia suddenly grew frightened. Did it look strange after all? But Natasha had said it suited her.

Her soaring spirits quickly became clouded with worry again.

And now, when Mikhail said nothing, the unease filling Anastasia grew even greater. When he still remained silent, Anastasia hastily tugged at her innocent hair.

“Do I look very strange?”

Her hand, filled with the determination to reduce her hair to the same disheveled state as yesterday at any moment, tugged at the braid Natasha had so carefully woven.

Mikhail approached her and said, “No, not at all. So please, just stay still.”

Hurriedly stopping Anastasia’s hand, Mikhail walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. Had she asked Natasha about this yesterday as well? Anastasia carefully gathered her skirt, dipped her head slightly in thanks, and sat down.

Only a day had passed, yet Anastasia was already showing him a new side of herself that he hadn’t seen yesterday. Mikhail looked at the pale neck no longer covered by a shawl. No matter how high the collar of her dress rose, it couldn’t conceal everything. Had she used rose oil? The red hair neatly brushed over her dress was a deeper, more beautiful shade than it had been yesterday. And then there was the meticulously braided ornament in her hair.

‘Natasha, was it?’

She was the maid Yuri had instructed to care for Anastasia personally when he brought the servants from Sokolov, saying she was perceptive and good at her work. Yuri’s assessment had been accurate. Mikhail could see that she was carrying out his order to care for Anastasia very well. Before the day ended, she would be rewarded for her efforts. Very handsomely, at that.

The table was set much as it had been yesterday. Just as Mikhail taught her, Anastasia unfolded the napkin on the table and spread it across her lap. Then she reached for her fork and knife.

‘I’ll have to teach her again from the beginning.’

But Mikhail’s face stiffened when he saw Anastasia’s movements. She was perfectly replicating everything he had taught her yesterday. As though she had been doing it this way for years.