Miss Charlotte’s Case Journal - Chapter 18

The ominous feeling hadn’t been wrong. On the surface, her marriage appeared peaceful. Her husband loved her, treated her kindly, and gave her whatever she wanted. But it was all only on the surface.

The baron certainly loved her, but Lucy found his love unbearably suffocating and selfish. Using the excuse of ‘I love you,’ he constantly interfered and clung to her. He monitored her attendance at social gatherings, controlled who she spoke to, and even censored the letters she exchanged with her friends.

Outwardly, he was a self-made man of remarkable ability, a cheerful and positive young noble admired by all. But in truth, the baron lived under the shadow of an inferiority complex, having not been born the first son. On days they returned from a party, he would rage about why he had to be addressed merely as ‘Baron,’ why his father’s countship had to go to his brother. And when his business wasn’t going well, he would lash out about why he, without an estate, had to work so hard to survive.

Of course, because he was deeply conscious of his reputation, he only showed that side of himself inside the privacy of their bedroom. It was all out of fear that the servants might speak carelessly to outsiders.

The baron’s inferiority complex flared up often, and over the pettiest of things. He harbored jealousy and resentment toward everyone he met, subtly cutting them down behind their backs. Only his foolish younger brother was an exception.

That wastrel, who had not a single redeeming quality to his name—no, not one better trait than anyone else—was the only person the baron could look down upon to fill his hollow sense of superiority.

Lucy endured all of it in silence. Her marriage wasn’t as ‘good a choice’ as she had once thought, but it wasn’t entirely unbearable either. She could tolerate being confined by him, his constant outbursts of frustration and bitterness, and even the unpleasant brother-in-law always hanging around.

At the very least, as long as she stayed quietly within her husband’s home—within his sphere of influence—he left her alone. Financially, too, he never let her lack for anything. When she wanted to build Toby’s gravestone, he didn’t say a word against it and let her do as she pleased. His restrictions on sweets under the pretext of keeping her figure irritated her, but since she didn’t want her looks to deteriorate either, she managed to bear it. Lucy decided that, though she wasn’t happy, she would simply live a quiet, peaceful life this way. She truly believed she could.

But her husband’s unwanted love began to change shape over time. It didn’t mean she gained any freedom, but at least his obsession had eased a little, enough that she could finally breathe.

It happened on a particularly sunny summer day. Lucy had brought a table beside Toby’s gravestone and was enjoying her tea there. Under the shade of the tree, it wasn’t hot, and the occasional chirping of birds filled the peaceful air.

The problem arose when she finished her tea and tried to return to the mansion. The moment she stepped into the sunlight, she was struck by a violent dizziness. First came the nausea, then her vision turned white. She tried to stand still and let the dizziness subside, but it was no use. In the end, she lost consciousness and collapsed to the ground.

The servants panicked and hurried to fetch a doctor. The doctor first took her temperature and checked inside her mouth. Then he studied her face closely, and suddenly, his expression hardened.

“Have you recently experienced sudden weight loss, or felt unusually fatigued?”

“I have lost a little weight, but that’s because I’ve been eating less lately…. And isn’t it only natural to feel tired in the summer heat?”

The doctor glanced around at the servants who had followed into the room and hesitated. Lucy, confused, urged him to speak.

“Is it… some sort of terrible illness?”

“Well, Madam….”

The doctor opened his mouth, then asked for all the servants to leave the room. Though puzzled, Lucy complied. Once they were alone, the doctor lowered his voice and whispered softly.

“I beg your pardon, Madam, but this is… well, it may be unpleasant to hear… It’s syphilis.”

“…Syphilis?”

“It’s a type of venereal disease….”

The doctor explained gently what kind of illness syphilis was and how far her symptoms had progressed. Lucy just sat there, staring blankly as she listened to his every word.

“You were most likely infected by your husband. It isn’t immediately fatal, but lesions have already begun to appear on your face….”

Lucy hurriedly pulled a mirror toward herself and examined her face. Small reddish spots dotted her cheeks and under her eyes. She had simply assumed they were freckles or blemishes…. Her shoulders trembled violently.

The doctor carefully explained the treatment process to prevent further progression of the disease and what she needed to avoid in her daily life before leaving the mansion. He didn’t utter a single word about the diagnosis to the servants. He was a discreet man.

Lucy felt dizzy and collapsed onto the bed. Her husband… had betrayed her.

It was unthinkable. She had always believed she and her husband shared an unspoken agreement, that he would provide for her, and she, with her beauty, would uphold his social dignity. A mutually beneficial arrangement, in a sense. Of course, there were other trivial things attached to that, but she’d always thought of their relationship as a fair exchange.

Naturally, she hadn’t been particularly shocked by the idea of her husband having an affair. Ironically, that part she had always been sincere about. Lucy truly hadn’t cared whether her husband strayed, as long as he continued to respect her as the ‘Baroness.’ As long as gossip didn’t spread through the social circles, it didn’t matter.

But for him to infect her with syphilis was an entirely different matter. There was absolutely no reason for her to have contracted such a disease. It was entirely his fault. And that, she could never forgive.

Syphilis could never be completely cured. A single lapse in care could lead to the destruction of her organs and death. Now, she would have to receive Salvarsan injections for the rest of her life. And even Salvarsan wasn’t entirely safe. It was, after all, a type of arsenic, and one wrong dosage could lead to poisoning and death.

This was betrayal. Her husband had broken their unspoken contract, their silent agreement. Lucy’s hands began to tremble as she clenched her fists tightly. A hot, boiling fury surged from deep inside her.

Who on earth could he have slept with to catch such a disease? One by one, she considered the possibilities. A maid from the household? Or perhaps he’d been infected at a brothel while wandering around with his idiot younger brother. He valued his reputation too much to make a public spectacle, but if she investigated, there would surely be witnesses.

After that day, Lucy began to watch her husband’s every move carefully. The baron, oblivious, was simply delighted that his wife seemed to be paying more attention to him. But his demeanor resembled less that of a husband happy to be loved, and more like a master pleased that his pet dog had started following him around.

It hadn’t been hard to realize that the maid May was her husband’s lover. Though other servants had given hints, May’s behavior alone had been more than enough. She constantly watched Lucy from the corner of her eye, sneaking glances at the baron whenever they were in the same room, pretending not to while doing it anyway, and sometimes, with that tiny head of hers, she’d look at Lucy with an expression so insolent and ridiculous that Lucy couldn’t help but laugh.

She didn’t know who had infected whom first, but one thing was certain: that maid was infected with syphilis as well.

Lucy slowly and carefully thought about how she should handle this. Every month, on the last day, she secretly obtained Salvarsan and injected it into her own body. When she fell ill for a day or two from its aftereffects, she wanted nothing more than to kill them both immediately, but by the next day, her mind would change again. Death was far too easy. Lucy wanted to punish the two of them in another way.

Then one day, as usual, Robert Turobe swaggered into the mansion. Lucy was utterly sick of dealing with him, but she still greeted him with a polite smile. However, something was different this time. A loud argument erupted from her husband’s room, and soon after, Robert Turobe stormed out, his face ghostly pale.

Normally, he would drink with her husband until late at night, staggering around drunkenly before leaving, or sometimes staying overnight in a guest room. For him to leave so abruptly was strange. Lucy silently watched his back as he exited the mansion.

After that, Robert Turobe continued visiting the mansion persistently, but each time, he and the baron would raise their voices, argue heatedly, and then Robert would storm out angrily within an hour or two. She didn’t know the reason, but it was clear that the two had fallen out.

As she watched Robert Turobe throwing his usual tantrum, Lucy suddenly remembered something. It was an idea, an extremely meticulous and safe plan, though one with a low chance of success. But since she had nothing to lose, it was worth trying.

What pushed Lucy’s hesitation away was May. More precisely, May’s pregnancy. Of course, she had tried desperately to hide it, but the more she tried, the more obvious it became. Watching May, with her still-flat belly cradled tenderly in her hands, Lucy’s lips curved into a sharp, dangerous smile.

“It wasn’t difficult at all. It just took a little provocation.”

She deliberately leaked word through Sir Lau that she was purchasing medicine, intentionally left the pharmacy unpaid on credit, and subtly provoked Robert Turobe’s inferiority complex just as he was storming out of the mansion.