Chapter 9
The carriage rattled incessantly, its wheels grinding against the uneven, frozen earth of the northern road. Mikhail sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the passing landscape of the Novgod Empire, which was rapidly blurring into a monotonous stretch of grey and white.
"The Lauderdale estate is in a state of complete disarray, sir," Yuri said, his voice barely rising above the rhythmic clatter of the carriage.
Mikhail did not turn his head. He merely adjusted the cuff of his glove, his expression as cold and unyielding as the winter frost clinging to the windowpane.
"Disarray is a generous term for a house that has been rotting from the inside out for decades," Mikhail replied, his tone devoid of warmth. "Is the Count still clinging to his delusions of grandeur?"
"He is," Yuri confirmed, shifting slightly in his seat. "He refuses to acknowledge the extent of their debts. He believes that as long as the name Lauderdale remains, the creditors will keep their distance."
Mikhail let out a short, sharp sound that might have been a laugh, though it held no mirth. "How pathetic. A name is nothing more than a hollow shell when the coffers are empty and the land is barren."
He leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he recalled the image of the woman he had seen in the forest—the one who had vanished like smoke into the trees. She was a variable he had not accounted for, a strange, disheveled creature who seemed entirely out of place in the rigid, suffocating hierarchy of Edenhurst.
"What of the girl?" Mikhail asked suddenly.
Yuri hesitated, his brow furrowing. "The one from the forest? We have found no trace of her, sir. It is as if she never existed."
"Nothing simply ceases to exist," Mikhail murmured, his fingers tracing the edge of the leather seat. "She was there. She was real. And she was wearing something that did not belong to her."
He thought of the shoe he had recovered—the delicate, worn thing that had been discarded in the mud. It was a small, insignificant object, yet it felt like a thread he could pull to unravel the entire tapestry of the Lauderdale family’s secrets.
"Keep searching," Mikhail commanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet register. "I want to know who she is, and more importantly, why she was trespassing on my property."
"Understood," Yuri replied, bowing his head.
Mikhail turned his attention back to the window. The carriage was nearing the outskirts of the Lauderdale estate, a place that had once been a bastion of nobility but was now little more than a crumbling monument to failure. If he was to secure his position and defy the Empress Dowager, he would need more than just a title; he would need a pawn. And if the rumors were true, the Lauderdale family had exactly what he required.
"Is the daughter still there?" Mikhail asked, his eyes scanning the horizon for the first glimpse of the manor.
"Catherine Lauderdale? Yes, she remains at the estate," Yuri answered.
"Good," Mikhail said, a thin, predatory smile touching his lips. "Then let us see if she is as desperate as her father."
"You are late."
"I apologize. The young lady... she broke a bowl."
At the Countess's brief reprimand, Sophie bowed her head deeply, as if in contrition. A moment of hesitation was palpable, as if the very act of calling her "young lady" was distasteful.
Sophie did not consider Anastasia to be a young lady she was meant to serve. No, she regarded her as lower than the lowliest servant. Yet, she used the title only out of loyalty to the name Lauderdale that clung to Anastasia.
Standing behind Sophie, Anastasia gripped her trembling hands and bowed even lower than the maid. Because she had frantically swept up the shards of the bowl with her bare hands, her palms were covered in small, blood-streaked cuts. The stinging sensation made it clear that a sliver of glass was surely still embedded in her skin. But there was no time to remove it.
The Countess looked at the bowing Anastasia with cold eyes. Then, suddenly, tears welled up in the Countess's eyes.
"My Lady."
The head maid called out to the Countess in a voice filled with pity and moved to approach her. However, the Countess waved her hand as if to tell her not to come, then pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes.
"I am fine. I was just thinking of Edward for a moment..."
Edward. At that name, the air in the room grew heavy. Even the head maid, who had been trying to comfort the Countess, felt her own eyes grow red.
The heir to the Lauderdale estate, who had always been affectionate and kind to everyone.
His brilliant blonde hair, which resembled the Countess's own, shone like an angel haloed in sunlight, and his gentle, delicate nature was praised by all. Even the Countess, who had once chided him for being too soft-hearted to be the next Count, had not truly disliked it.
"If only that child were still alive, none of this would be happening."
They had waited for him to return after the war ended, only for that noble life to be snuffed out so pointlessly by the mistake of an ally, not even an enemy.
The Countess, who had been thinking of her son—always so lovely and a source of such pride—shifted her gaze toward the bowing Anastasia. Her thin lips, which remained composed even when she wept, tightened. Her eyes, previously clouded with grief, sharpened.
That thing. That snake-like girl.
'Why did Edward have to cherish that thing so?'
If not for his request before he left to take good care of her, she would have already been cast out onto the streets. Because Edward had asked after Anastasia's well-being in the letters he occasionally sent home, the Countess had been forced to keep her in the mansion.
If her son returned and found her missing, he would be heartbroken. He had cherished her so much. Yet that thing... she hadn't even shown a single strand of hair during the funeral, let alone wept or offered flowers.
That was why the Countess resented Anastasia. Even so, the reason she kept her in the mansion was that every time she saw her, memories of her son surfaced. A doll that she loathed, but her son had cherished. That was what Anastasia was to the Countess.
Barely managing to suppress the image of her son that refused to fade, the Countess cleared her throat. She did not want to keep that girl here any longer. Seeing her looking like some madwoman from the streets only made her feel that way more.
Whether she had truly gone mad or not, the girl had been dressing in such bizarre ways ever since Edward left. The Countess had considered telling her to stop, but left it be. She felt such an appearance suited the girl. But she could not show such a thing to the guest who would soon arrive.
The Countess covered her nose and mouth with her handkerchief for effect and spoke.
"An important guest is coming to Edenhurst."
"..."
Anastasia listened to the Countess's words as obediently as a submissive dog.
"While that guest is staying, if you are seen, I will not let it slide. If you disobey my words..."
The Countess knew well what Anastasia feared most.
"I will cast you out of Edenhurst immediately."
Anastasia, who had been bowing her head low, flinched violently. Not expecting a reply from Anastasia anyway, the Countess commanded the head maid.
"Tell them to send this one to the basement."
"Understood."
As the head maid turned, Anastasia bowed her head repeatedly and followed her out of the room. A maid who had been standing in the corner then swept the spot where Anastasia had been standing and wiped it with a rag.
"Open the windows wider."
"Yes, My Lady."
After perfectly erasing the traces of Anastasia's presence, the Countess ordered the head maid to bring tea. A short while later, the head maid returned, pushing a cart with a tea set, hot water, and simple tea snacks, and placed them before the Countess.
Watching the head maid pour the tea, the Countess's eyes narrowed slightly. She was a maid who was quite capable at other tasks, but even after long training, her tea-pouring remained imperfect. Moreover, it seemed her skills had regressed while she had been holed up in her room mourning the son.
Thinking of the guest who would visit the estate in a week, she wondered if she should strictly retrain her, even now.
The Countess shook her head.
'Mikhail Sokolov would never notice such a thing.'
He was an unblessed bastard who had spent his childhood in a shabby inn at the harbor. When would such a man have ever learned noble refinement? He would surely gulp down whatever tea was handed to him without even knowing what it was.
While she was imagining his vulgar and ignorant demeanor, a knock sounded, and her two daughters entered the room. They greeted her with flawless posture.
"Mother. Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, sit."
She had explained to her daughters a few days ago about the current state of the Count's family and the reason for Mikhail Sokolov's visit to Edenhurst. Perhaps because of that, her daughters' faces seemed to have grown gaunt over the past few days.
Though she had showered much love upon her heir, Edward, it was not as if she had not given affection to her two daughters. No matter how well one raises an heir, the credit usually goes to the father.
If a noblewoman wants to maintain her reputation for a long time, it is important to raise her daughters well. When a daughter marries into a good family, other mothers constantly approach to express their respect and ask how she raised her daughters so well. That was the surest way to solidify one's position in high society.
That was why the Countess had poured quite a lot of effort into her two daughters. In particular, her eldest, Elizabeth, who resembled her perfectly, had grown up just as she had hoped—as much as Edward had. With her appearance, education, and poise, she was a beautiful daughter without a single flaw in noble society.
That was why she had turned away all the marriage proposals that had poured in. To the Countess, Elizabeth was a child to be married off to a family at least equal to the Count's, or to royalty, or to a noble of Ils.
'Mikhail Sokolov will choose Elizabeth.'
Even if his origins were base, he would surely recognize the nobility of her daughter. Or rather, because he was base, he might try to get his hands on the most sparkling thing available.
The Countess looked at Catherine, who was sitting next to Elizabeth. Though not as much as Elizabeth, Catherine was also a beautiful child who resembled her. It was a slight concern that she looked younger than her peers despite being twenty, but she had a healthy complexion and a strong body. Perhaps Mikhail Sokolov would want a healthy, young woman who could bear many children. He might make her give birth every year, just like the commoners for whom children were assets.
Whichever one Mikhail chose, it was a heartbreaking matter for the Countess. These were not children she had poured her efforts into raising just to send them to such a base wretch!
"As I said a few days ago, in a week, Mikhail Sokolov will be coming here. They say he is currently staying at an inn in the neighboring village."
"..."
"..."
Elizabeth and Catherine kept their mouths shut and said nothing.
"I have already told the maids, so make sure to prepare the dresses you will wear that day."
At that, Catherine, who had been reading the room, spoke up cautiously.
"But... those are all things we have already worn."
"It cannot be helped. Mikhail Sokolov announced his visit on such short notice."
The Countess hadn't said it, but Catherine felt as if the words "how rude" were implied behind her mother's statement.
Then, Elizabeth looked at her younger sister and said,
"He is a man without a title, so you don't need to worry about such etiquette. So don't worry and go pick something out."
After giving Catherine a light reprimand, Elizabeth said to her mother,
"Then we will go prepare."
"Yes, you may go."
Elizabeth stood up, bowed, and then took her sister and stepped out into the hallway. As the two walked a bit and moved away from the drawing room, Catherine grumbled.
"Who would want to look good for a commoner? I just wanted to have a new dress made..."
"Endure it. Besides, even if we wanted to, there isn't enough time to call in dressmakers from the capital to prepare."
"Still..."
It had already been over two years since she had been able to have a new dress made. For Catherine, who had ordered a mountain of clothes every season since she was born, she felt like the most pitiful and impoverished young lady in the world.
When Elizabeth remained silent, Catherine chattered on again.
"Mikhail Sokolov, he's a commoner, but they say he's handsome. They say the women in the capital lined up just to get into his bed."
"Catherine. Where did you hear such low-class rumors?"
"In a lady's salon. It's an interesting magazine. They say all the women in the capital read it these days."
Catherine said triumphantly, confirming that she knew more about Mikhail than her sister did. The time when the two sisters were unable to go to the capital overlapped with the time Mikhail was frequenting the royal palace, so the two had never seen him even once.
Elizabeth, perhaps not wanting to respond to her sister anymore, walked ahead and returned to her room. Catherine pouted a few times and then lifted her head.
No matter how little interest she had in the family finances, Catherine could not be unaware of the fact that their house was rapidly declining. From the inability to buy new clothes to the tea leaves they drank every day becoming increasingly inferior in quality, and the meals, too, losing their flavor as the chef brought from the capital was replaced by a woman from the village. Furthermore, water stains remained uncleaned in various places throughout the mansion, and the paint on the exterior had peeled, becoming an eyesore.
‘But a great deal has been settled.’
It must have certainly cost a significant amount of money. To provide this much help when they hadn't even married yet, or even had a formal visit—it was astonishing.
‘He must be intending to marry my sister.’
As she imagined it, Catherine felt even better. Her sister always acted as haughty as their mother, if not more so. Since she was young, she had always declared that she would marry into the imperial family or a high-ranking noble house of Ils, so how wounded her pride would be to become the wife of a commoner. Of course, she would be a Countess after the marriage, but she would be subjected to pitying gazes in high society for the rest of her life.
‘It won’t be much of a problem for me.’
As a young lady of the Count Lauderdale family, whose name would continue, she would be able to marry into a decent house with the massive dowry Mikhail was providing. Then, she could simply borrow her husband’s power. Let her sister have all the pity from the people.
Catherine headed to her room with a light heart. She hadn't been able to get a new dress this time, but she would surely be able to when her sister got married.
"Look, the Edenhurst estate is visible."
At Yuri’s words, Mikhail, who had been gazing into the forest, turned his head. A large mansion stood on slightly elevated ground near the river. In front of the mansion lay a vast meadow where a flock of sheep was grazing, and deep woods could be seen surrounding it. Having already seen it from a distance and turned back once before, Mikhail felt no particular emotion at the sight of the estate.
"Edenhurst, is it? The person who first named it must have been quite moved."
Edenhurst. Did that not mean 'Forest of Paradise' in the Ils language? Mikhail clicked his tongue as he examined the mansion, which was drawing ever closer.
Setting aside the fact that it was an old and antiquated style of mansion, it clearly showed signs of neglect. He could only imagine how much money it would take to renovate and repair the place in the currently fashionable style.
'I should finish the negotiations quickly and return to Sokolov.'
There was nothing here that could pique his interest.
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