Duchess Mecklen’s Elegant Revolt - Chapter 10 Part 2

Of course, they knew each other well, but Eleanor couldn’t easily respond to such a simple question. Her mind raced as if it had been scalded by fire, and soon, her lips delivered a short answer.

“No, this is the first time I’ve met her.”

“I see.” Raul nodded at the Duchess’s firm response.

“If you need anything, please call for me anytime.”

“Thank you.”

Raul slightly raised his arm in a gesture of farewell and then left the room. As soon as the door closed behind him, Eleanor let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. It seemed she would have to stay by Becky’s side until she woke up.

Becky finally opened her eyes in the early hours of the morning.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” Eleanor asked, gently bringing a cup of water to Becky’s cracked lips.

With disbelief in her eyes, Becky looked at Eleanor and croaked, “Lady Eleanor…”

It really was the Duchess. The name she had heard as if in a hallucination came back to her, and she vaguely remembered reaching out desperately, thinking she couldn’t let this chance slip away. And now, against all odds, she had actually met Eleanor. Whether it was a dream or reality, Becky couldn’t tell, but she eagerly accepted the water Eleanor offered her.

After drinking, Becky’s voice improved, and she let out a long sigh.

“How did I… end up here?”

“I found you collapsed in an alley. I took you to a doctor, so you should recover quickly,” Eleanor explained, her voice full of relief. She couldn’t express how worried she had been that Becky might not wake up.

As she listened to Eleanor’s explanation, tears welled up in Becky’s eyes.

“I’m so glad we met, even like this. I really wanted to see you, Young Madam.”

“How did you end up here? What about your family? And Carol… line?” Eleanor’s voice faltered slightly when she mentioned Caroline.

At the mention of the name, Becky’s body trembled violently. Eleanor squeezed Becky’s hand, trying to calm her down, but Becky still looked terrified.

“To be honest… I’m not sure.”

Becky had much to say, but when she tried to speak, her thoughts tangled up, and she struggled to find the words. Eleanor waited patiently for her to continue.

“It happened while I was cleaning Madam Caroline’s room.”

That was how it all began.

“I accidentally dropped one of her books. I quickly picked it up and put it back on the shelf, and at first, Madam Caroline didn’t notice my mistake.”

At first, Becky had been anxious, but as days passed without incident, she felt relieved, thinking she had gotten away with it.

“But then, a week later, I was suddenly dragged into Madam Caroline’s study. She accused me of being a spy sent by someone, but I insisted I wasn’t and pleaded my innocence.”

“Becky…”

“But she didn’t believe me, and in the end, she…”

“Stop. You don’t need to say any more.”

Eleanor could already guess the source of the horrific wounds on Becky’s back. She hugged the crying woman tightly. “It’s alright. We’ve met again, and that’s all that matters now.”

“Sob… Madam, I really wasn’t a spy. But Madam Caroline wouldn’t believe me, so I had no choice but to run away. It’s so unfair…”

“I know. I believe you.”

Eleanor comforted Becky, knowing better than anyone else that she wasn’t a spy. Although Becky’s escape from the estate differed from what had happened in the past, it didn’t matter. The future was changing anyway, and all Eleanor cared about was Becky’s safety.

“You’re with me now. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

“Lady Eleanor…!”

Becky, who had been quietly sobbing, finally broke down into loud, uncontrollable cries.

***

On the first day, the report came in. Ernst, dropping what he was doing, was the first to receive the pigeon Raul had sent.

[First day of slum investigation: During the group’s survey, a young woman was found collapsed. The Duchess personally brought her back and ensured she received treatment.]

“…Always doing unnecessary things,” Ernst muttered, his brow furrowing. Her actions seemed more like meddling than the work of someone with a compassionate nature. From what he had seen before, she wasn’t entirely uncalculating, but he couldn’t understand what she hoped to gain by concerning herself with the slums.

Ernst had been skeptical about Eleanor’s decision to investigate the slums from the start. He placed the note on his desk, and at that moment, his aide approached.

“Your Grace.”

“What is it?”

“A letter has arrived from the estate.”

“Who is it from?”

“It’s from the Duchess Dowager of Mecklen.”

The aide presented the letter so that Ernst could easily see the sender’s signature. It was unmistakably Caroline’s handwriting. Despite knowing it would be the usual drivel, Ernst decided to read it.

[…I hope that this year, we can have a grand celebration for your birthday. Just imagine how envious other nobles would be to see you two welcoming guests together, as a harmonious couple. Please ask His Majesty for permission so that you and Eleanor can both come down to the estate…]

Having finished reading, Ernst folded the letter back into its envelope.

“Burn it.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The aide set the letter on fire and tossed it into the fireplace, while Ernst rested his chin on his hand. His birthday was a month away. Not one for celebrations, he had always let the occasion pass without much notice, but his mother seemed determined to make this year different.

This was already the third letter she had sent, urging him to come with Eleanor to host a grand birthday party. Caroline had her reasons, including quelling the recent rumors of discord between the Duke and Duchess of Mecklen.

“Your Grace, are you not going to send a reply?” the aide asked when Ernst made no move to pick up a pen.

“You write it.”

“Pardon?”

“Pick up the pen.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

The aide, suddenly tasked with drafting the reply, anxiously grabbed some stationery. He dipped the pen in ink, his face tense as he awaited Ernst’s words.

“Cancel the party.”

“……?”

“That’s all. Write it and send it.”

“…Yes, Your Grace.”

The aide hesitated, wondering if it was appropriate to send such a terse response in a regular letter. But there wasn’t much time to ponder. It was, after all, the will of his superior. Surely, he had his reasons. So, the aide wrote exactly what Ernst had instructed on the blank paper.

***

Becky was now staying in a room paid for by Eleanor’s own funds. Over the next two days, Eleanor and Raul continued their work. On the first day, she had been too overwhelmed by the conditions in the slums to do anything but observe, but now a more detailed investigation was necessary.

Most areas were inaccessible by carriage, so Eleanor traveled on foot. Sometimes, climbing steep, rough paths left her breathless. Once again, she found herself struggling up a slope when Raul, who had been following behind, handed her a handkerchief.

“Are you alright?”

“Ah, thank you.” Eleanor took the handkerchief and lightly dabbed the sweat from her face. Despite the chilly wind, her body was radiating heat, thanks to the forced exercise.

As she wiped her face, Raul, who had been watching her bare face, pulled something from his pocket. “If you don’t mind, may I touch your hair for a moment?”

“……?”

“If it’s uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

Though puzzled, Eleanor saw no reason to refuse, so she turned around silently. Raul carefully gathered her hair, tidying up the strands that had come loose during their walk.

“It’s much cooler now.” Eleanor realized that Raul was quite skilled. As she touched the back of her neck, now pleasantly cool, she remarked, “You must have done this often. You’re quite good at it.”

“I used to do it for my younger sister all the time.”

“You must have been close.”

Eleanor assumed that for him to tie her hair so often, they must have had a good relationship. Raul, however, looked serious.

“No, we were enemies.”

“…I see.”

His tone was so serious that Eleanor couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, so she simply laughed it off.

They soon agreed to rest on a shabby bench they came across. Raul tried to stop Eleanor from sitting on the dirty, unkempt bench, but she paid no heed. As she gathered her papers to fan herself, Eleanor noticed that Raul remained standing, keeping watch.

“You mentioned that you serve His Majesty directly?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Unlike the previous day, there was no one around them. Eleanor had brought a thermos of soup in case of emergency, but it seemed this area was completely deserted. As she confirmed the emptiness of the nearby houses, she asked Raul another question.

“What is His Majesty like in his everyday life?”

Raul looked slightly surprised by the question. “He attends to state affairs.”

“And he doesn’t take any breaks in between? Does he have any hobbies, perhaps?”

“There’s no time for that. The line of people waiting to see him is very long. Every day is filled with processing documents, giving orders, and attending meetings. There aren’t enough hours in the day.”

As expected, his schedule was grueling. Raul’s additional comment about how this was an everyday routine for the Emperor left Eleanor even more astonished.

“Everyone I serve is like this,” Raul added.

“Who else?” Eleanor asked.

“The Duke as well. He works just as hard.”

Raul was referring to Ernst. Unintentionally, Eleanor was reminded of Ernst, who had been dragged into the conversation alongside the Emperor. She couldn’t help but feel a bit reluctant at the mention of him.

Raul then asked, “May I say something?”

It wasn’t so much a question as a prelude to a statement. Eleanor, not used to being spoken to in such a way, urged him to speak freely.

Raul, carefully watching Eleanor’s expression, spoke with caution. “It may seem presumptuous of me, but… If you haven’t prepared a birthday gift for His Grace yet, may I suggest something?”

“…His birthday?”

“Yes.”

Eleanor struggled to keep her expression neutral. She couldn’t show her distaste in front of Raul, who was watching her so intently, waiting for her response.