Chapter 5: Inner Turmoil

“Oh no. Lyra…”

Sabrina’s eyes darted wildly. Her breathing grew ragged as a fierce fire ignited in her mind. She drew in a deep breath, then lowered her gaze back to the letter in her hand. No matter how many times she read it, the contents remained unchanged.

Kaylon Blaske. Why on earth was that name mentioned alongside Duke Lianton? Her hands trembled uncontrollably, her mind churning with unbridled fury.

Her eyes lingered on the Count’s terse message at the end:

「I expect the contract to be fulfilled promptly.」

A clear warning to catch and hand over the runaway daughter. Since he’d been kind enough to provide the information, they were to restore things to their proper order by any means necessary.

Though the consequences of failure went unwritten, Sabrina felt a chill down her spine. Never mind the unreceived dowry—it was crystal clear they’d be charged with attempting marriage fraud against the Count.

Even if they had been the ones proposing first, the outcome wouldn’t change. The Count wielded that much power.

Sigh. Exhaling deeply, Sabrina turned to look at her husband, who hadn’t been eating properly for days. How had things gotten so tangled?

His condition had worsened since returning from Lumont recently. He’d said the loan debt would be resolved if he just went to the main branch, but it seemed he’d only received bad news instead.

‘How am I supposed to know anything when you won’t talk?’

The interest was snowballing even as they sat here—how long was he planning to wallow in despair?

Grinding her teeth, Sabrina smoothed her expression and walked to her husband’s side.

“It’s not over yet, dear.”

Her gentle fingers carefully stroked Baron Norris’s shoulder. Still, the Baron didn’t even lift his head. He just heaved a deep sigh and said to Sabrina:

“How do you expect us to extract her from the Duke’s household?”

“You’re the way, darling. What can they do when a father comes to find his daughter? I’ll go with you, so don’t worry too much. Once we hand her over to the Count, everything will be resolved.”

Though her measured words carried some logic, the concern wouldn’t leave Baron Norris’s face. Instead, he quietly reproached his naive wife:

“You’re looking at the world too simply. Don’t you realize they can just deny everything?”

“…”

“I shouldn’t have listened to you in the first place. This is what happens when we got greedy over someone of uncertain lineage.”

“Dear.”

“Think about it. Even the servants are leaving now, saying they can’t stay any longer. We need them just to keep the household running.”

His quiet words were full of resentment. But at that moment, Sabrina’s face hardened not from his reproachful words, but from a sudden recollection.

When they’d left for Turia recently, one maid had stolen her jewelry and run away. That girl had always felt off somehow. Sometimes the way she looked at Sabrina had been unsettling.

‘The impudent thing.’

More precisely, she’d sensed hatred from her. Well, there were often employees who resented their employers, so she’d dismissed it. But thinking about it now, it seemed the girl had entered their household with other motives.

No, that was certain. To think she’d been so blind to that thief’s true nature and even taken Dora with her.

It was largely her own oversight for not being more suspicious, even though the girl had been quite competent at her work.

Sabrina made a mental note to deal with that girl if she ever crossed paths with her again, then turned her attention back to her husband. She embraced his hunched back from behind and whispered softly:

“I know your feelings better than anyone. But we can’t just sit here doing nothing, can we? The Count has informed us of her location and expects the contract to be fulfilled soon. It means he hasn’t given up on her yet. So we must find a way to get her back.”

“Ha!”

“Dear.”

“Fine, let’s say you’re right. But do you really think that runaway will agree to come with me?”

“Don’t worry about that. Isn’t it proper to use the whip on livestock that won’t listen?”

The Baron’s heart softened somewhat under her gentle caresses against his chest. He glanced at Sabrina, who was resting her face against his head, and asked:

“Do you have something in mind?”

Sabrina smiled delicately at his words.

“Of course. I’m thinking of using her precious thing as bait.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hehe, you’ll find out soon enough. Now, please get up. We don’t have time to waste.”

A cruel smile spread across Sabrina’s face as she helped her husband to his feet.

* * *

The candlelight flickered gently in the dim room. Mrs. Beightle, dressed in a pristine white nightgown, rested her hand against her temple as she scratched away with her pen. She’d been at it for who knows how long—her brow furrowing occasionally, her hand pausing now and then.

The elderly lady frowned as she reviewed what she’d written so far.

‘What am I doing with myself…’

It was remarkable how dedicated the girl had become in such a short time since refusing a chaperon. But one thing was certain.

‘It’s not entirely terrible.’

Though there was still plenty to criticize, the visible progress made her secretly ambitious, even as the promised month drew closer.

She had been organizing what she deemed necessary subjects to change the direction of tomorrow’s lessons when reality suddenly hit her.

‘I’m not even a governess, tch.’

Though she questioned whether she should be involving herself in such matters, her hand would move on its own whenever she thought of the girl absorbing knowledge like a sponge. Finally, when her irritation reached its peak, Mrs. Beightle set her pen down on the desk with a sharp tap.

“Pointless.”

The girl had only just begun voice training. Judging by Kaylon’s behavior, he seemed likely to present her during the autumn hunting season—an impossible timeline given the work still needed.

“Haah.”

The elderly lady’s worry deepened. Still, the girl’s willingness to learn was considerable; she never showed any sign of displeasure no matter how harsh Mrs. Beightle’s criticisms became.

Of course, she would become dejected—that was natural—but she’d quickly brighten her eyes again with renewed determination. It made teaching her rather enjoyable, in its own way.

“Even so…”

Though her ingrained habits were gradually being corrected, her blank slate of a mind remained troubling. It was obvious people would wonder if they’d picked up some simpleton to be the Duke’s companion.

“You’re truly a headache, Lyra Norris.”

Finally, she drew thick lines through the curriculum she’d been drafting. Instead, she began planning around immediately actionable items, prioritizing the sort of conversation topics exchanged among women of marriageable age.

Reading aloud, art songs, singing, dance, basic instruments, penmanship, literature, gardening…

Even after crossing items off, the list of things to learn and master remained overwhelming. If there was any silver lining, it was that she seemed to have a decent hand for embroidery and knitting. Having at least one talent helped ease her ever-rising blood pressure somewhat.

“That’s right. At minimum, she needs to master these basic accomplishments.”

Even if some things proved impossible, they needed to at least create a polished exterior. For House Lianton’s name, if nothing else.

The elderly lady set her pince-nez on the desk and laid down in bed to retire for the night, all while grumbling about the various ways young people found to work old folks to the bone.

* * *

Lyra rubbed her tired eyes as Hannah set a teacup before her. She’d grown quite accustomed to drinking tea by now. Lyra thanked Hannah with a gentle smile.

“You should rest a bit. You’ll ruin your eyes at this rate.”

“I’m fine. I’m enjoying it, actually. There’s still so much to learn.”

Lyra smiled faintly. Mrs. Beightle’s lessons had been changing lately. While they’d initially focused solely on social etiquette, nowadays the entire afternoon was filled with cultural education.

As a result, she’d had to increase her personal study time to keep up with the rising standards. There was still so much to learn, and with frequent questions about literature and weighty topics, she couldn’t afford to waste time. She’d even started reading the daily papers thoroughly, with Hannah’s help.

It was a time that made her acutely aware of how ignorant she’d been, how foolishly she’d lived looking only one step ahead.

But beyond that, she found joy in discovering a world she’d never known existed. It felt good to take steps forward from a life spent looking only at the ground.

When she saw progress and had moments of genuine connection with Mrs. Beightle, her happiness was beyond words. That’s why the light in Lyra’s room often stayed on late into the night.