The Serpent of Paradise - Chapter 74

At first, she wondered whether Edward was sick. With so many people visiting, it couldn’t have been easy to receive them all. Even so, she never imagined he would be suffering that badly…. Thinking she should look after Edward, Elizabeth was about to enter. She would have, if not for the sound mingled with Edward’s breathing.

It was a strange sound. A sound like someone struggling because something was being forcibly shoved into their mouth. And it was clearly a person’s voice. A woman’s.

“…!”

Elizabeth remembered where she heard such sounds before. The parties held during the summer social season in the capital. And the sounds that came from various patches of grass or lounges under cover of the dark night, hidden from the eyes of others.

She felt her blood run cold.

Edward?

At Father’s funeral?

Edward was usually a well-behaved boy praised by everyone. He was called an angel because of his beautiful appearance, and even at the military academy, which was said to have a harsh atmosphere, he always received numerous commendations for his excellent grades and conduct. Just what was Edward doing now…?

Elizabeth remembered what her friends said. That among the maids of an estate, there were those who didn’t know their place and set their sights on their master or his son. They said there were especially many who tried to ensnare a young and innocent master.

‘Which one is it?’

Determined not to let whoever dared to do this with Edward on the day of the funeral get away with it, Elizabeth held her breath and peered inside through the gap.

Edward was sitting on the large sofa the Count usually used. She never thought he resembled the Count very much, but seeing the way he sat now, his posture was so identical that for a moment, she thought the Count himself was sitting there. And a woman was kneeling between his legs.

But contrary to Elizabeth’s expectations, the woman wasn’t wearing a maid’s uniform. Just as she wondered who it could possibly be, the lamplight flickered, and the woman’s hair, which appeared dark brown, gleamed red.

Elizabeth swallowed a gasp. There was only one person in the estate with hair that color.

Anastasia.

Revulsion rose to her throat. She thought the wench was so ignorant that she lived without even knowing shame, yet this was what she was doing. Covering her mouth to suppress the urge to vomit, Elizabeth watched the scene in the room that she didn’t want to hear.

Just then, with a sound as though she were desperately suppressing vomit, Anastasia’s body collapsed onto the floor. Edward, who was breathing heavily, let out a languid breath. Then he said something unbelievable.

“Why? Is a murderer’s disgusting?”

A murderer? At that moment, Elizabeth remembered the scene she kept buried in her heart. Dalby, whom the coachmen brought back, began thrashing when Edward emerged from the estate. When Edward saw it, he immediately brought out a gun and shot the horse. He continued firing over and over when once would have been enough. Like a madman….

The pieces of a puzzle began forming a horrifying picture in Elizabeth’s mind.

“That’s cruel, sister. If it weren’t for me, you’d be crying beneath that man right now. That day was supposed to be today. The day your mother was going to be held by my father.”

At those words, Anastasia’s shoulders flinched violently.

“You were happy that I killed Father for you, weren’t you? That’s why you didn’t tell anyone even though you saw me kill him…. You even hid the evidence for me. Where did you hide that stone?”

“….”

“Sister?”

Without fastening his loosened trousers, Edward raised his leg and stepped on the shoulder of Anastasia, who lay sprawled on the floor. An angelic smile still graced his face.

“In the forest… in the stream….”

Anastasia writhed beneath Edward’s foot as she answered. Listening to the conversation that followed between them, Elizabeth learned what happened.

With every ounce of her strength, she desperately fled the spot. Then she turned at the end of the corridor and hid behind the railing of the staircase above.

A short while later, Edward emerged. He immediately went downstairs. A little later, Anastasia walked out weakly. Avoiding everyone’s eyes, Anastasia slowly descended into the dark basement.

The funeral ended without incident. Elizabeth couldn’t tell anyone what she learned that day. Of course she couldn’t. How could she say that her brother, the Lauderdale heir, killed the Count?

‘Edward will keep his mouth shut.’

Of course he would. What good could come of anyone finding out? The problem was Anastasia. So when the Countess tried to send Anastasia away, Elizabeth brought up the letter Edward sent and prevented Anastasia from leaving Edenhurst.

Who knew what that thing might say once she went outside? As an accomplice who concealed the crime, she likely wouldn’t speak easily, but even so, Elizabeth couldn’t rest assured.

After that, Edward was called up because of the war, and Anastasia began behaving like a madwoman. She hid her face and body from people’s eyes, spoke to no one, and spent her days concealed in darkness. That reassured Elizabeth. She thought that thing would never crawl out among people again.

‘But to think things would turn out this way.’

Elizabeth turned her head and looked at the mansion.

The wench was terrified from the moment Mikhail arrived and did nothing but recite prayers. Yet she liked Mikhail so much that she cast aside even those precious teachings of hers, crawled into the annex, and bowed her head to the new master of the estate.

Fortunately, it seemed she hadn’t forgotten all her former teachings, since she appeared to understand the weight of the sin she committed. If so, what Elizabeth had to do from now on wouldn’t be difficult. She would shake her again and again, constantly reminding her so she could never forget her sin.

Elizabeth headed toward the mansion with her usual elegant gait.

Until now, the serpent survived by receiving the love of Edenhurst’s masters. Elizabeth resolved that this time, she would cast that disgusting thing out for good.

***

“He said something like that….”

Mikhail sank into thought as he listened to what Natasha reported. It was strange. A coachman who returned to Edenhurst was looking for Anastasia? And claiming he had something to tell her about the Count?

“What should we do?”

“….”

Even when Natasha asked, Mikhail couldn’t answer easily. Why on earth was the coachman looking for Anastasia? He could summon the coachman immediately and find out, but if it was connected to the Count’s death, the man might realize something was amiss and refuse to speak.

Moreover, if Anastasia was involved in that matter… perhaps it would be easier to persuade Anastasia instead.

‘But it may be something entirely different.’

Mikhail spoke to Natasha, “For now, tell Anastasia that the coachman came looking for her. Watch carefully to see how she reacts as well. I’ll decide what to do about the coachman afterward.”

“Understood.”

Natasha bowed her head, then left the room.

Left alone, Mikhail rose and paced around the room. Anastasia’s face as she asked when they were going to Sokolov lingered before his eyes. Yes, he told her he would take her. She was a woman who gave him enough pleasure to make it worthwhile. If he took her to Sokolov, showed her what she wanted, and made her happy, she would give him even greater pleasure. Even so, Mikhail still hesitated.

***

Anastasia stood blankly in the middle of her room. A long time passed since she parted from Ilya and returned to her room, but she couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t believe anything he told her.

‘Mikhail is going to marry Elizabeth? Is that why the Sokolov estate is preparing for a wedding right now?’

Ilya’s gaze and voice were serious. He didn’t seem to be lying. And… she kept thinking of Mikhail, who continually postponed going to the Sokolov estate. Even though he said there was a problem at the estate, he didn’t explain it in detail.

Ilya told her where wealthy men in the capital kept their mistresses and visited them for pleasure. It was exactly like her situation now.

‘If Ilya is right….’

He said that men who kept their mistresses at country villas prevented them from leaving. Because they were people who needed to be hidden away, out of sight.

And if a mistress gave birth to a child… he said they would marry her to a suitable subordinate and register the child as that man’s. He said that was the better outcome… and that depending on the man, some sent their mistresses away to eastern Novgod once they became a nuisance….

Anastasia ran a hand over her abdomen. After spending the night with her, Mikhail told Anastasia that he was taking medicine, so she wouldn’t conceive a child. When she heard that, Anastasia was sincerely relieved.

Conceiving a child before marriage was terribly shameful and also something that wouldn’t be blessed. She was told that if such a thing happened, they would have to marry properly, then go to church, make an offering, and pray for a long time to have their sins forgiven.

So she should’ve been glad that she wouldn’t conceive a child….

‘It would be easier to dispose of me too.’

Anastasia clasped her trembling hands. If Ilya’s words were true… what would happen to her? Just then, there was a knock on the door, followed by Natasha’s voice.

“Miss, may I come in?”

“C-Come in!”

Startled by how loudly she answered without realizing it, Anastasia desperately composed her expression.

Natasha soon entered, bowed her head, and said, “I’m sorry to disturb your rest. Someone came looking for you while you were away.”

“Someone came looking for me?”

“Yes. He said he was a coachman who used to work here…. He said he had something to tell you about the late Count.”

“…!”

At that moment, Anastasia could no longer maintain her composure. She felt Natasha glancing at her. The person Natasha served wasn’t her, but Mikhail. So… Mikhail would learn why the coachman came looking for her. Perhaps he already knew.

Her mind went blank as she remembered Ilya’s words.

“Everything is ready. If you want, you can leave this place at any time.”

There was one thing wrong with Ilya’s words. She wouldn’t be leaving. She would be running away.