The Whipping Maid of House Calley - Chapter 92

“Wash it and put it back where it belongs.”

As if he had eyes in the back of his head, Cedric gave the order to Sheila, even though he’d been facing his desk and issuing instructions to Rufus just moments ago.

“Yes? If you’re done using it, then….”

When Sheila, startled, tried to keep talking so she could somehow get the handkerchief into her hands, Cedric turned around and stared at her.

“What are you going to do by taking back something I used. Don’t tell me you’re planning to sell it.”

“I’ll wash it and hang it out to dry right away.”

Sheila, stung by his spot-on guess, cut him off and answered quickly. Then she snatched up the handkerchief and disappeared into the bathroom attached to Cedric’s room.

Watching her, Cedric let out a small snort of laughter and went back to giving the rest of his instructions.

Cedric found the handkerchief in Sheila’s room the evening before.

In the middle of the banquet, Cedric came upstairs to his room for a moment. After finishing what he needed to do, he was about to head back down when his gaze landed on the maid’s room, and he stopped and glared at it.

“What on earth is she knitting that’s so important….”

Unable to swallow his irritation, Cedric yanked open the door to the maid’s room.

What caught his eye was an unfamiliar handkerchief.

Cedric knew well what kind of items Sheila usually made.

He’d seen plenty of the tablecloths and coasters she said she sold whenever she went to the market. But a handkerchief was a first.

The lace handkerchief she crocheted was used more for decoration than practicality.

Or it was something given to someone leaving on a long journey, or someone entering a match, as a wish for safety and good luck.

On his face, which was about to face the joust finals the next day, the anger from earlier faded.

“You said you were going back to your room to rest, and you were making this?”

Given everything, he was 99.99% sure. It was a handkerchief meant for him.

But this morning, Sheila, who refused his order to stay at his side all day, only returned to Cedric’s room after running around on errands for a long while. Then, as they were about to head to the arena together, she said,

“If you’ll allow it, I’d like to rest in my room for a bit, like yesterday.”

Cedric froze in confusion for a moment, then answered shortly out of habit, “Sure,” and entered the joust that would decide the winner.

The whole match, Cedric kept staring toward the stands.

And only after he claimed victory and raised his lance in celebration did he finally spot the woman’s face, buried in the crowd.

After casually dedicating the honor of victory to everyone else, he spurred his horse toward her.

As he neared, she grew more and more wide-eyed and flustered, and he demanded she give him something to wipe sweat with.

From the pocket of her apron came the handkerchief he’d seen the night before.

For some reason, she startled and tried to pull it back, and Cedric snatched it from her hand like he was stealing it.

He finally had in his hands what had been lingering in his head the whole match.

And there was no way he was going to give it back…

Stopping her from taking the handkerchief off his desk, Cedric felt pleased that today was the last day of the banquet.

The time he’d resolved to spend faithfully was coming to an end.

***

Inside the bathroom, Sheila handled the lace handkerchief she’d crocheted with gentle care as she washed it.

Could she really have sold this to someone else?

Sheila knew her own personality.

From the start, it wasn’t something she crocheted to sell. And it was a handkerchief she’d made while wishing Cedric wouldn’t get hurt in his match. There was no way she could sell it….

Even so, she tried to take it back because she felt embarrassed that a handkerchief she’d crocheted with feelings like that was sitting in his grasp.

Still, going to watch the match, even if it was late, was the right call.

Even if he only used it to wipe sweat, the handkerchief reached its owner, if only for a moment.

Without thinking, Sheila recalled the moment he rode toward her, and her face burned hot.

Cooling the heat in her cheeks with the back of her wet hand, Sheila carefully wrung out the water so the lace wouldn’t warp, snapped it a few times, then hung it by the bathroom window.

Now, the only thing left on the schedule was the sword presentation ceremony, the event that could truly be called the appointment ceremony.

Sheila planned to watch that from afar as well.

No matter that she was a maid, she could do at least that much.

When Sheila came out of the bathroom, the servants who’d come in to take down the paintings and Rufus withdrew from the room, and she began helping Cedric change.

He had to change clothes three or four times a day on average to keep up with the schedule.

On the evening of the fourth day of events, the outfit he would wear was the final attire that would bring the heir appointment ceremony to its close.

Up until now, everything had been nothing more than preliminaries for the appointment ceremony. The true main event was the sword presentation ceremony, where Cedric, as the next heir, would inherit the family sword passed down through generations.

As the central figure, Cedric would wear the finest of his newly tailored clothes, then drape the family cloak that had been handed down for generations over his shoulders.

Sheila helped him change with a more maidlike attitude than ever.

Cedric looked down at her in silence.

At the way she lowered her eyes, so meek-looking, as she fastened his buttons down his front. At her neat, efficient hands smoothing his clothes into place. At the way she rose up on tiptoe, working hard to settle the cloak over his shoulders.

In the awkward silence that had continued since she came back from washing the handkerchief, the dressing came to an end, and Cedric spoke in a dry voice.

“Don’t come near the presentation ceremony.”

For an instant, dissatisfied eyes lifted to him. But a maid’s obedient answer still came out of her mouth.

“Yes, Young Count.”

He turned away without hesitation, the cloak fluttering behind him. Sheila watched his cold back with bleary eyes, then scrubbed roughly at the corners of her eyes with her sleeve.

***

With the unexpected prize event, the atmosphere before the real appointment ceremony heated up even more.

Those who ended up with precious items that wouldn’t have looked out of place at an auction house, and those who watched it all, admired the Young Count’s wealth and taste.

To people who’d gotten a taste of material reward, the sight of Cedric in his cloak looked even more fantastical than before.

Watching Cedric, the women covered their mouths with their fans and kept sighing and whispering.

“Is it really true he proposed to you?”

Odessa Vivarini, her mouth also hidden behind her fan, quietly asked Eloise.

“I told you it is.”

Eloise snapped back, then couldn’t hold it in and brought her fingernails up to her lips.

Odessa smacked the back of her daughter’s hand with the fan, then opened it again as if nothing happened.

“You didn’t behave as carelessly in front of the Young Count as you’re doing now, did you?”

“I didn’t, Mother,” Eloise answered politely, her voice subdued after being struck.

Eloise had been scolded all her life for the habit of biting her nails.

It would seem fixed for a while, but whenever she grew tense or things didn’t go her way, her hand would inevitably drift back to her mouth.

Odessa looked at her daughter, who couldn’t even correct such a trivial habit, with displeasure.

She’d expected something to be said by his parents, since the Young Count had supposedly proposed, but the Count and Countess of Calley kept their mouths tightly shut. Not only that, if she approached to start a conversation, they put on an act of being busy and hurried to blend into the crowd.

Count Bernard Calley, who had no knack for cutting things cleanly one way or the other, was one thing. But Marisa Calley, sly as a fox, acting like this, could only be deliberate.

Odessa, who’d married off six children before Eloise and been through all manner of situations, knew how quickly their scales would be tipping back and forth now.

What especially grated on Odessa’s nerves was Sylvia Stacy, who’d stuck close to the Crown Prince under the excuse of being his friend from her study-abroad days, and often kept company with Cedric.

Unaware that Odessa was glaring at her, Sylvia was deep in conversation with Marquis.

“Why are you so down?”

“What about me?”

“You know. Cedric’s all dressed up like that, and you’re way too quiet.”

Even while she was telling herself it didn’t matter, that she was fine after being rejected by Cedric, Sylvia snapped at Marquis with a look that said he was being ridiculous.

“At my age, what, did you think I’d start squealing and making a scene?”

“Yes.”

At Marquis’s matter-of-fact tone, Sylvia realized she’d gotten overly prickly and softened her voice.

“Still, he does look good.”

“Right?”

Even at her lukewarm reply, Marquis looked pleased, like he’d just been complimented himself.

‘He’s impossible.’

Sylvia shook her head and looked toward Cedric, who was receiving the sword.

As Cedric knelt with one knee raised, he accepted the sword offered by his father, Count Bernard Calley. Then a high-ranking cleric approached and bestowed a blessing upon the sword and Cedric’s shoulders.

Cedric wore his usual cold expression that gave nothing away.

It was hidden by his handsome face, but if you looked only at his expression, there was clearly something missing.

Sylvia knew. She knew how long he’d been waiting for this moment. So ordinarily, he should’ve been wearing a deeply satisfied, happy expression right now.

Even knowing how badly Cedric wanted to become a count, Sylvia confessed to him because she believed a title didn’t bring happiness.

Comparing the number of siblings they had and the amount of affection in their families, she judged that it made more sense for him to come to her than for her to leave her home.

More than anything, Sylvia believed firmly that living while hiding the nature she’d already realized in herself wasn’t a real life.

‘Cedric, no matter how great you are, just this once, you’re wrong.’

Sylvia hoped that before he went through with some stupid marriage, Cedric would realize he was wrong, too.

And in the end, she hoped desperately that he’d come back to her, following where his instincts pointed.

***

With the sword presentation ceremony, passed down through generations, the heir appointment ceremony of House Calley finally came to an end.

All that remained was to enjoy the banquet freely until sunrise the next day, then return home.

Only one person, Cedric himself, still had the duty to remain late.

One after another, people approached Cedric. Even as he accepted their congratulations and offered his thanks, Cedric’s eyes kept tracking Sheila.

As ordered, she didn’t show her face at all around the ceremony, then at some point appeared and was helping with the banquet service.

Cedric waited, even for a moment, for her to come to his side. He had something he needed to say to her. But even as Sheila moved busily from place to place, she never came near him.

Left with no choice, Cedric took a long stride forward.

“Uh….”

Just then, as Sheila was gathering empty plates to carry away, she noticed him late and stared, her mouth falling open. Then she immediately turned on her heel, showed him her back, and hurried her steps.

Hah.

Letting out a hollow laugh, Cedric closed in right behind her.

“Stop there and go wait in my room.”

Leaving Sheila frozen in place, Cedric said what he needed to say and walked right past.

When Sheila came to her senses and tried to ask why, Cedric was already surrounded by distinguished guests offering their congratulations.