Chapter 6: The Eve
Lyra deliberately suppressed the feelings that were trying to surface.
“Are you disappointed?”
Hannah, who had been watching Lyra from the corner of her eye, asked carefully. However, a small smile hung at the corners of her lips.
“Huh? No, it’s not that…”
Lyra hurriedly waved her hands in denial, but it was useless. Even with her makeup, the heat seemed to be seeping through.
Hannah quietly laughed out loud as she opened the door to the lesson room.
“I’ll bring Mrs. Beightle. Please wait a moment, miss.”
Hannah’s retreating footsteps seemed particularly light.
* * *
Mrs. Beightle’s steps halted the moment she entered the lesson room. The elderly woman quietly gazed at the woman standing by the window, looking outside.
Lyra Norris. A girl who lacked confidence, was passive, and had grown accustomed to only reading others’ moods. A girl who didn’t know her own strengths, what she wanted to do in the future, or what kind of life she wished to live—one without even a plan. A girl who had barely made it through each day with meager self-esteem now stood before her as a proper woman.
Mrs. Beightle stared at the somewhat dazzling blonde hair for a while before releasing a low sigh.
Hoo. She couldn’t understand why her heart was aching so. Though not born of her own flesh and blood, thinking about this fragile one walking a treacherous path made her heart heavy.
What right did she have to feel this way?
Just as Mrs. Beightle was about to press her hand against her throbbing head, Lyra, who had been looking out the window until then, suddenly turned her head.
Her smile, reflecting the sunlight, felt indescribably lovely.
Mrs. Beightle gently bit the soft flesh inside her mouth and continued walking toward Lyra. By then, her face had been wiped clean of even the slightest emotion.
“Let’s do one final check.”
“Yes.”
Lyra sat down in a chair, following Mrs. Beightle. Soon, sketched portraits of individuals were placed one by one on the table from the elderly woman’s hand.
Lyra looked at the faces of key figures presented by Mrs. Beightle and answered without difficulty.
“Marchioness Fontpagneu, whose husband passed away early. She is the central figure among society women. She maintains close friendship with the Duchess of O’Neill, and she is the first person whose favor we must win.”
“Well done. Next.”
“This is Count Kyle Bowler. He recently discovered large oil deposits and newly earned the title ‘Oil King’…”
Mrs. Beightle’s lips loosened into a subtle smile at the answers flowing smoothly without hesitation. She showed a few more portraits, and likewise, Lyra recited the memorized information without a single mistake.
Mrs. Beightle placed the last portrait in her hand down. After staring blankly at the woman drawn on the paper for a moment, Lyra soon raised her head.
“This is Miss Davira Claudia. She is the object of admiration for young ladies just debuting in society. With her pure image and gentle, innocent personality, she monopolizes the love of Brikna’s society. Moreover, as she is praised as the incarnation of ‘Saint Lucilia’…”
“That’s enough. You seem to have already sufficiently mastered the basics.”
“Yes.”
Recognizing the praise hidden in the somewhat stiff tone, Lyra smiled shyly.
Mrs. Beightle quietly observed her faintly flushed face, barely managing to suppress the corners of her mouth from rising, and continued the test.
“Next, let’s check your understanding of social tactics.”
Social tactics was precisely what Mrs. Beightle had put as much effort into as teaching etiquette and society information. After all, high society was no different from a battlefield where fans replaced guns.
“What would you do if someone takes your hand without permission?”
“I should politely express my refusal without hurting their feelings.”
“Why? It might simply be intended as a greeting.”
“Even so, taking a lady’s hand without permission is rude. If the purpose is greeting, depending on the social hierarchy… hmm, I think I need more details about the other person, madam.”
As Lyra, who had been speaking softly, glanced up with her eyes, Mrs. Beightle nodded, responding, “I see.”
“Let’s make the other person Miss Claudia. Let’s change the situation a bit.”
After thinking for a moment, Mrs. Beightle elaborated.
“Let’s assume Miss Claudia came to greet you along with other young ladies. Given her temperament, she wouldn’t immediately show hostility. But the women around her would be different.”
“…”
“What would you do if they disparage your background and speak rudely?”
Given the specific situation, Lyra became engrossed in thought.
Most situations would arise unexpectedly. If that were the case, improvisation would be crucial, but perhaps because she hadn’t faced it yet, her deliberation naturally took longer.
Just as Mrs. Beightle’s expression began to gradually harden, Lyra finally gave her answer.
“First… I think it’s essential to hide my emotions to avoid being swept into an argument. The more I contrast with Miss Claudia’s character, the more unfavorable remarks will circulate about my personality. Then, I would point out their rudeness without appearing servile.”
“Even though they’d be from higher-ranking families than you?”
“Yes. Because my actions directly reflect on House Lianton.”
“Hmm…”
Though it was quite a satisfactory answer, Mrs. Beightle couldn’t say much one way or the other.
Nobles strictly evaluate others based on hierarchy. Unless there’s deep friendship or an approved relationship, they can’t help but be exclusive.
Of course, she wasn’t advocating accepting all insults without resistance, but the key was how much such assertive behavior would be tolerated.
No matter how much she might feign politeness, Lyra Norris was precisely the type of woman unlikely to be viewed favorably.
Hoo, what’s the use of all this?
Perhaps because the time was approaching, negative emotions kept intruding at every turn. However, Mrs. Beightle adeptly composed her expression and continued with her questions.
In any case, she couldn’t waste this time, which was virtually the last, with trivial talk.
As Mrs. Beightle’s questions and Lyra’s answers continued, the sun that had been high in the sky was already setting.
Mrs. Beightle shared dinner with Lyra and left her with final words of advice.
“Society is never easy to navigate. Especially with women who are intensely competitive.”
“Yes, I’m keeping that in mind.”
“Try your best not to reveal any weaknesses. If someone pries into personal matters, it’s enough to just deflect appropriately. There’s no need to explain everything honestly.”
“Yes.”
“Try not to display your level of knowledge if possible. It can’t compare to women who have attended finishing schools and received education from private tutors since childhood. Ideally, lead the conversation, but if you can’t, make an excuse and leave the situation. It might seem like running away, but that’s better.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t assume the Duke will always be by your side. He’ll need to spend time with people to maintain connections and form friendships. Whatever happens, you must learn to resolve matters on your own.”
“Yes.”
“Lastly…”
Mrs. Beightle’s auburn eyes, which had been moving her lips several times, were shadowed deeply.
“Congratulations on your society debut, Miss Norris.”
* * *
The night had deepened. Silence had fallen over the Lianton manor, which had been bustling all day. Though occasionally one might spot someone who hadn’t yet retired, they would quickly disappear, hidden in the night shadows.
Lyra was reviewing the contents of the novel she had discussed with Mrs. Beightle during the day when she turned her gaze toward the window.
For some reason, she couldn’t forget the elderly woman’s bitter, downcast eyes.
What was it she really wanted to tell her? Is it arrogant to think she might understand?
Lyra wiped away the drowsiness that was slightly seeping in. And just as she lowered her eyes to the book she had stopped reading—
Knock, knock. There was the sound of knocking, and soon Kaylon entered.
“Do you have a moment?”
“Yes, it’s fine. What brings you here…?”
Lyra quickly stood up. Though she was in light nightclothes, she was so surprised by the Duke’s sudden visit that she hadn’t paid attention to her attire. It couldn’t be helped since he had never visited her bedroom before.
“Shall we take a walk?”
“What? Oh… yes.”
Only then did Lyra check her appearance. She hurriedly went to the wardrobe, took out a loose-fitting coat, put it on, and followed Kaylon outside.
