Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 69

“It’s not possible.”

Gella hung her head in embarrassment. She had encouraged the young madam without knowing the young master’s response, and now she felt deeply sorry.

“Moreover, for the foreseeable future, my schedule is―”

Eirik trailed off, unable to reveal the details. He sighed, and his expression seemed conflicted, which gave Gella the courage to speak again, cautiously.

“I could accompany her. If we say she’s a noble lady with a scarred face and cover her with a veil, who would know?”

Eirik shot Gella a sharp look, but Miesa, sitting on the sofa, murmured something that made him pause.

“So, I can’t even go outside.”

Miesa felt disheartened. If she wasn’t allowed to go outside, Eirik might not grant her request to do anything at all. She still hadn’t received a clear answer.

“……”

Eirik, trying to ignore her dejected look, sighed and began to explain slowly, “Dear, if I cannot be there with you, I cannot guarantee your safety. Is it worth taking such a risk now?”

“What if Sir Cullen accompanies us?” Gella interjected again.

Eirik quickly signaled her to be quiet before asking Miesa gently, “Are you comfortable revealing your condition to Cullen? Do you really want to go out that badly?”

“No, no,” Miesa replied, looking even more downcast. She accidentally repeated the words she had been muttering to herself all day.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

“No, it’s not about being wrong,” Eirik said, closing his eyes and tilting his head back in thought.

Seeing her so disheartened… he finally asked her again, “Alright, what exactly do you want to do?”

“I want to visit a shop…”

“What kind of shop exactly?”

Miesa glanced at Gella before answering in a small voice, “A dressmaker’s shop…”

“……”

“A confectionery…”

“Haa…” Eirik sighed deeply, calculating quickly in his mind.

“Alright. In three days, meet me in the library on the first floor of the East Wing. Bring Gella with you.”

“What?”

“To prepare your appearance, we need at least that much time. Anyway, three days from now, wear the clothes I give you and exit through the library’s passage. There will be a carriage waiting.”

Miesa’s face brightened. Eirik was indeed generous. And if he listened to her so well…

“Does it make you that happy?” Eirik shook his head, unable to resist her happiness but set his terms. “One confectionery shop and one dressmaker’s shop. One hour each.”

“Young master, do you know how long it takes ladies to look at dresses?”

“She’s not getting measured; she’s just browsing. How do you measure someone with a veil on?”

“Even just browsing takes time. There are so many things to see—dresses, shoes, accessories…”

“One hour per shop. You must go to the places I choose. Understand?”

He looked into Miesa’s eyes as he asked. Miesa, caught off guard, nodded.

“An hour? Even three hours is too short.” Eirik’s mother scolded him when he lightly asked about the average time it takes to visit a dressmaker’s shop in the capital.

“Honestly, what do you know? By the way, who’s going? Miesa?”

Eirik tried to excuse himself, “I’ll be getting up now,” but Margravine Cladnier grabbed him and made him sit back down.

“I was already planning to summon the dressmaker for this Wednesday, since there’s a banquet coming up.”

“Oh… I see.”

“I also mentioned that Miesa would need some new clothes.” Margravine Cladnier clicked her tongue in displeasure and shot a glance at Eirik. “Is she still afraid?”

At that time, Eirik had only said that Miesa seemed confused. The perceptive Margravine Cladnier understood without needing more explanation and had refrained from visiting Miesa. Since then, she hadn’t properly seen her face.

“So…” Margravine Cladnier didn’t know the exact state of Miesa. She wasn’t sure if Miesa fluctuated between clarity and confusion, or how much she could communicate.

Instead of asking, Margravine Cladnier frowned. If Miesa was uncomfortable, there was no help for it.

“Mother, is the dressmaker discreet?”

“She’s been in business since before I got married. She knows well enough not to gossip.”

This implied that the dressmaker knew that loose talk could threaten her business and even her life.

Eirik nodded. “It’s best to use her for the banquet attire, then.”

However, for this outing, he would have to find another place. Using the same dressmaker might risk her noticing something.

Margravine Cladnier, thinking about Miesa, rubbed her forehead. “It’s sad.”

“…I understand.”

“But I’m not ignorant of why she’s confused.”

Eirik nodded.

“I was also thoughtless.”

Eirik, about to nod absentmindedly, quickly shook his head. “Mother, please don’t think that way.”

“Still, I should have consulted you first before making it known.”

“Of course, it would have been better if you had, but it can’t be helped now.”

“…That’s the best comfort you can offer.” Not wanting to vent to her stoic son, Margravine Cladnier quickly changed the subject. “By the way, I haven’t heard about your visit to Grand Duke Hagail.”

“It’s difficult. The grand duke is still very mentally unstable.”

That’s all Eirik said, but his mother’s expression was unsettling.

“I see… In that case.” After a moment of thought, Margravine Cladnier asked, “What about her?”

“Pardon?”

“Grand Duke Hagail isn’t the only royal bloodline, is he?”

Realizing what his mother meant, Eirik decisively responded, “No. Miesa is out of the question. Absolutely not.” He firmly reiterated, “Once the plan is set in motion, I intend to send Miesa to the estate first. I don’t want her staying in the capital at all.”

“I see… I had hoped, but I guess she really can’t be involved.” Margravine Cladnier sighed. She stared at the teacup on the table for a moment before mumbling, “Or perhaps, find someone who resembles Miesa.”

“I haven’t dismissed that idea either. But we need Miesa for the banquet and other events.” Eirik explained carefully, “People will undoubtedly remember her face. It’s not one that’s easily forgotten.”

“That’s true. Anyone who sees her once will remember her.”

“Moreover, the king will be present. We can’t bring a substitute to such an event, rtaher―” An idea crossed Eirik’s mind and he paused to mull it over.

Margravine Cladnier, losing patience, pressed him. “Rather?”

“Rather, it would be easier to claim the late king had an illegitimate child.”

***

The next day, Miesa cautiously stepped out of her bedroom.

“Young madam?”

Cullen, who was guarding the hallway, looked at the young madam and then turned to Gella, who followed closely behind.

“Is the young madam feeling better now?”

She passed by him, still frail as the first time he saw her, but at least there were no visible injuries.

“Yes, well…,” Gella replied with a wide smile as Miesa walked down the hallway.

“Oh my, the young madam has already gone that far. I’ll be on my way then.”

“I should accompany you,” Cullen suggested.

“No, it’s fine. Just rest as you used to and come by in the evening when the young master returns.”

With that, Gella hurried after Miesa. Cullen, intending to relax, started to walk slowly but then stopped abruptly.

“…Indeed.”

Once a question formed in his mind, everything seemed suspicious.

Ever since a certain point, the guards had been stationed in shifts without any breaks. Originally, they were ordered to guard the hallway from afternoon until morning—the exact hours the commander spent with his wife.

Why was there a need for additional guards outside the bedroom when the most skilled commander was already inside?

Could it be that their true purpose wasn’t to protect the young madam, but to conceal whatever was happening within those walls?

Miesa, out in the hallway for the first time in a long while, was having the time of her life, her previous refined smile replaced by gleeful play. She crawled around, swung from the curtains, and even growled at passing servants. Exhausted from her antics, she lay sprawled on the stairs, resting.

“Dear, I said I would accompany you,” said Margrave Cladnier.

“I told you this isn’t the place for you,” replied Margravine Cladnier.

Margrave Cladnier and his wife emerged from the bedroom in the east wing on the second floor, bickering as they went.

“I am already dressed and ready. I even matched my clothes to your dress.”

“Please, go somewhere else. Why must you follow me?”

“What kind of gathering is this that you’re going without me?”

“Nobody brings their husband to this event. It’s just… Oh my,” Margravine Cladnier stopped abruptly when she finally noticed Miesa lying on the stairs. Following her gaze, the margrave also saw Miesa and immediately frowned.

“Why is she lying there? And why is the doctor there?” he asked, displeased.

“Master, how have you been?” Gella greeted him while Margravine Cladnier quickly explained.

“Miesa gets hurt often, so I assigned Gella as her maid.”

“What? You took personnel from the knights for that? And even a doctor?”

Margravine Cladnier didn’t want the conversation to drag on. She sighed and raised her hands. “Follow me. The gathering today is at Count Pianezza’s house. Surely, there will be at least one man there. You can talk with him and wait until the meeting is over.”

Turning briskly, Margravine Cladnier decided that, with Miesa lying in the middle of the stairs, it would be better to take the stairs at the west wing, even if it meant a longer walk.

In the past, Miesa would at least make a noise, but now she was pretending not to see her. Feeling somewhat disappointed, Margravine Cladnier glanced back at Miesa and muttered, “…It’s frustrating.”

“Frustrating? It’s downright troublesome,” the margrave retorted, pleased that his wife was waiting for him and speaking ill of his daughter-in-law.

He knew how much his wife had doted on Miesa. He even wondered if she was saying these things just to align with his feelings, despite not truly meaning them.

“Still, there’s no need to speak so harshly about her,” he said, his interest in his daughter-in-law now completely gone. He smirked and extended his arm. Margravine Cladnier reluctantly placed her fingertips on his elbow.

“Anyway, let’s go.”

Yes, attending the banquet and aiming for the hunting competition would be wise. The banquet is just one night, but the hunting competition lasts several days. They could only use mourning as an excuse once, so it should be used wisely. With these thoughts, Margravine Cladnier smiled sweetly at her husband.

***