Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 7

A young maid who had worked at the Cladnier mansion for generations raised her voice.

“She may be unwell, but she is still our young madam. A royal we wouldn’t normally dare to look in the eye.”

Who could argue with that? The maid firmly addressed the newcomers who looked displeased.

“The world may be as it is, but our job is to do as we’re told, nothing more.”

“Yes, the marriage was ordered by His Majesty the King, and both the master and the young master have accepted it. Our duty is to serve her well.”

With the experienced maids taking a firm stance, the newer ones, who hadn’t worked at the mansion for long, fell silent. They quietly exchanged glances and resumed mending the seams they were working on.

The discipline at the Cladnier household was far stricter than that of other noble houses. Starting from the head of the family, boundaries were clear, and frivolity was not tolerated, making the staff even more diligent in their duties.

However, the newly hired maids, brought in due to a shortage of hands following the victory, found this ethos strange and hard to understand.

“Oh, we shouldn’t be idling like this.”

One of the maids suddenly snapped out of it and ran to inform the butler that the princess was with them and that the royal maid was absent.

When Eirik returned to the Cladnier mansion after completing his afternoon training, he inquired, “Where is my wife?”

“She wandered around the mansion this morning and is now in the maids’ workroom,” the butler replied.

Eirik headed to the workroom, where he overheard the maids’ chatter through the slightly open door.

“So, the cat I saw a few times in the backyard had fur as white as this. You didn’t see it, did you?”

“No, I was always at the estate. This is my first time at the capital mansion this year. It must have been so cute.”

Eirik listened for a moment before knocking on the door. Entering, he found Miesa lying on a pile of clothes, snoring softly. It seemed the maids had covered her with a blanket.

The maids, who had been chattering away, were startled by the young master’s sudden visit and quickly stood up, flustered.

“Where are the palace maids? Mrs. Maleca or Mrs. Dialle?” Eirik asked.

“They went to eat during the shift change,” one maid replied.

Eirik’s eyes narrowed. The maids, seeing his displeasure, were at a loss for words until one brave senior maid hurriedly explained, “So we’ve been looking after the young madam. We informed the head maid and the butler.”

Knowing that his mother was aware of the situation, Eirik felt somewhat reassured. He picked up Miesa, blanket and all, and left the workroom.

As he carried her up the stairs, the princess remained calm in his arms. However, once they reached the bedroom, she started to squirm. He gently placed her on the bed, but she crawled away towards the other side of the bed as soon as she was set down.

Eirik watched her, puzzled. It didn’t seem like she had any particular reason for wanting to get down or move away.

Approaching his wife, he brushed some loose threads from her tangled hair. She seemed to stay still for a moment but then quickly slid off the bed and sat on the floor, staring blankly.

It seemed she didn’t particularly like his touch. Perhaps she only saw him as a means to transport her from one room to another.

Eirik let out a small, involuntary laugh. He recalled the maids’ conversation about the white cat they had seen in the garden. Her face, when not wearing that odd smile, did have a rather aloof look to it.

***

A few days passed, and on the fourth day since the princess arrived at the Cladnier mansion, the Margravine of Cladnier was in the sitting room discussing the poetry reading scheduled for next week with her maid.

“Princess, please walk slowly.”

A loud thud sounded from the hallway, and the door to the sitting room swung open as the princess hobbled in.

“Ah, Princess, you’ve arrived,” the Margravine greeted warmly, her eyes fixed on the maid following behind.

“Oh madam, calling her ‘princess’ sounds so formal,” said Edil, the exclusive maid of Margravine Cladnier, with a carefully crafted smile, initiating the planned performance.

The Margravine said, seemingly troubled, “Indeed. I’m not sure what to call her.”

Standing behind the princess was Mrs. Maleca, the royal maid. Despite her duty of attending to the princess, she had remained aloof even to the mistress of the house. With a broad smile, the Margravine addressed the maid.

“Mrs. Maleca, I’ve spent so much time in the provinces that I’m not well-versed in court etiquette. How should I address the princess in this situation?”

“I don’t know,” Maleca replied curtly, clamping her mouth shut. As expected, she wasn’t going to be of any help or make any effort to get along.

“Madam, I looked into it and found a similar case from three generations ago,” Edil chimed in.

Though the Esquillir Kingdom was only 130 years old, there had been a precedent of a princess marrying a domestic noble. According to the kingdom’s strict laws, the princess, now married to a noble, would no longer receive royal treatment and should thus be addressed differently.

However, due to the uncertainty of the king’s intentions, they had to handle the matter delicately. Edil continued her predetermined script with a cheerful tone.

“At the time, the head of House Edvard and his wife addressed the princess by her given name. And since the young master calls her ‘wife’…”

At this point, the Margravine glanced at the royal maid, who seemed uninterested, flicking her nails.

The Margravine gently called the princess. “Then I will call the princess by her given name. Miesa?”

Miesa was squatting on the carpet, tracing its patterns with her fingers.

The Margravine spoke in a tender voice, “I’ve heard that the princess’s name is Miesa. Miesa?”

Suddenly, the princess looked up and let out a snorting laugh.

The Margravine, pretending to be pleased, exclaimed, “My, the princess has permitted me to use her name. Miesa, what a beautiful name…”

Before she could finish her sentence, the princess flopped onto the floor. The brief performance ended, and the Margravine simply looked kindly at her son’s wife.

From a distance, Mrs. Maleca, the royal maid, spoke with a touch of indifference, “Since the princess seems to like you, madam, could you look after her until dinner?”

“Of course. Go and rest.”

As Mrs. Maleca left, the Margravine maintained her smile until the door closed, and then her expression turned cold.

“Nothing can be done easily. We never know what they might use against us.”

If she called her “princess,” they could claim she was being treated as an outsider; if she used her name outright, who knew how they might twist that simple act.

With a chilling expression, the Margravine leaned in as Edil whispered in her ear, “Both of the royal maids leave the princess with the maids all day while they lounge around. Yet they make sure to bathe her daily.”

“…There must be a reason they’re being so obviously lazy,” the Margravine said, her voice icy. She paused for a moment, then added, “We don’t know what they’re trying to pin on us, so we’ll have to play along for now.”

By then, the princess had gotten up and was struggling to take off her long socks. The Margravine, unable to hide her exasperation, watched her for a moment before pressing her temple with her fingers.

“Edil, fetch me some headache medicine.”

“Yes, madam,” Edil replied politely as she walked past the princess and headed towards the butler waiting outside the living room. She relayed the order and then heard the Margravine’s voice behind her.

“I had some last night, so it should still be in my bedroom. Look there first.”

“Did you hear that?” Edil confirmed with the butler before returning to the living room. In the short time she was gone, the atmosphere had changed dramatically.

“Madam?” she called out.

For some reason, the Margravine’s face was now gravely serious, her gaze fixed intently on the princess as if observing something.

“Madam, are you alright? Should I call a doctor if the pain is too severe?” Edil asked with concern, but the Margravine only nodded half-heartedly, her attention entirely on the princess.

Edil, noticing this, carefully chose her next words.