Chapter 13
I was just kneeling on the bed, trying to look out the window, when a strong force suddenly pulled me away.
The abrupt movement caused a cramp in my leg.
“Ugh…!”
When I looked up, Edgar was glaring down at me with a face full of anger.
“Were you trying to jump?”
Edgar strode across the room in large steps, slammed the window shut, and pulled the curtains closed.
“I was just getting some fresh air.”
“Hah. Do you think I’d actually believe that?”
I pointed to the plate that had fallen to the floor as Edgar stood with his hands on his hips.
“People who want to die don’t snack.”
The half-eaten snack had made a mess of the bedsheet and the carpet.
Edgar gave it a lazy push with his foot.
“I thought you were staging another dramatic episode.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Weren’t you planning to collapse before I arrived?”
As always, conversations with Edgar went nowhere.
I brushed the crumbs off the bedsheet. The cramp in my leg was easing.
“Why would I do that?”
“You had a secret rendezvous in broad daylight.”
I didn’t.
“And with that bastard illegitimate son I explicitly told you to stay away from.”
“Oh.”
I finally realized what Edgar was going on about.
“I ran into Lord Ricardo by chance.”
“By chance. Didn’t you say that last time too? Got another excuse?”
No. Not that I need one.
“It’s the truth, so I don’t need to make up another excuse.”
Edgar blew out a sharp breath. The hair that had fallen under his brow fluttered for a moment before settling again.
“I was going to ask if you had any free time tomorrow. Perfect timing, I guess.”
I patted the empty space on the bed where I had just cleaned the crumbs.
“You want me to sit?”
“Yes. There’s something we need to discuss.”
Edgar scoffed but turned around.
“It’s about hiring help.”
He paused just as he was about to leave.
“According to the head maid, we’re short-staffed around the house, and it seems things haven’t been handled properly because of me. I know I should probably take care of household matters myself, but since it involves bringing people into the home, I thought I should hear your opinion too.”
“So at least you’re aware that it’s your fault.”
Edgar sneered, but he changed direction and sat at the edge of the bed where I had indicated.
“Just take care of it. Nothing makes a man look worse than meddling in housework.”
Edgar had a rather delicate appearance.
Setting aside his harsh tone, I wondered if his clear distinction between domestic and external affairs came from the way he looked.
A silly thought crossed my mind.
“If we want to hire staff and clean up the garden, next month would be the perfect time for the dinner party.”
“Don’t mess it up. If you embarrass me in front of everyone, there won’t be another chance.”
“I’ve already found someone to help. You don’t need to worry about the party. I’d just appreciate it if Miss Elodie could let me know her schedule soon.”
Edgar rubbed his face with his hands, clearly annoyed.
“El… I mean, Elodie…”
“Madam Rosette already knows Miss Elodie is coming. It’s too late to back out now.”
“I know. I get it.”
I didn’t like uncertainty. I wanted a firm confirmation.
“Let’s meet tomorrow night.”
“What?”
“With Miss Elodie. You’re seeing her tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then tell me the day after tomorrow. But I need a set date.”
Edgar let out a dry laugh.
“You seem like a different person.”
“After almost dying six times, a person’s bound to change.”
I replied calmly.
Edgar nodded vaguely, still looking unconvinced.
“So you really weren’t trying to die?”
“That won’t happen again.”
I answered firmly.
“I’m sure you weren’t actually worried, but I’m sorry for making you worry anyway.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“Right. Still, unlike poison, a body that’s fallen to its death is hard to hide and even harder to explain. So I understand why you overreacted earlier.”
“I didn’t think that far, honestly…”
I had said everything I needed to say.
I yawned softly.
“I should sleep now. Tomorrow will be busy. Good night, Edgar.”
I lay down on the bed, even though some crumbs still lingered on the sheets. Then I pulled the blanket over my head.
The sound of Edgar moving around gradually grew distant.
“Good night, Cecilia.”
With an awkward goodnight, Edgar left the room.
The person Ricardo had introduced arrived dressed quite flamboyantly.
Sarah’s nostrils flared as she took in the vivid pink dress and dramatically exposed shoulders.
“This is Madame Penelope.”
She looked far too young to be called “Madame.”
“Madame,” I echoed.
She had asked to be addressed that way, and it felt awkward to object, so I simply went along.
“Oh, come now. At times like this, you should just call me Penelope,” she said, twirling shyly.
Despite dyeing half her hair pink and the other half green, she acted bashfully.
“Pepe works too!”
My lips twitched despite myself.
“Pepe?”
“Yes, my lady,” she replied, eyes sparkling as she took my hand.
Like her hair, her fingernails were painted in various colors, though surprisingly well-groomed.
“You want the perfect dinner party? Just leave it to me. Madame Penelope never fails!”
Sarah’s nostrils flared even more. Thank goodness the nanny wasn’t here to witness this.
I explained the basic plan—that Elodie would be singing, so I wanted a whimsical, fairytale-like theme to match her image.
“Fairytale? You think that kind of atmosphere suits a singer performing at a dinner party?”
I didn’t think anyone’s eyes could go rounder, even if the world were ending tomorrow.
They were huge and round enough to rival Sarah’s nostrils.
“No, absolutely not!”
“It doesn’t work?”
“Of course not! A dinner party is a stage for the hostess to showcase her skills!”
Penelope finally let go of my hand.
She circled around me, sometimes squinting with one eye, sometimes striking a pose like she was framing a photo—if this were my world, that is.
“You and ‘fairytale’ are a total mismatch.”
That, I already knew. Cecilia herself looked like a princess out of a storybook, but with me inside her, an eerie and melancholic air clung to her.
“If you must insist on a fairytale theme, I’d suggest A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“Midsummer Night’s…?”
“Dream. The ‘dream’ part is important. My lady has this… how do I put it… fleeting, ephemeral quality. Like something that might vanish if you blink.”
That was quite the exaggeration. I was just gloomy, really.
“Like a spirit! No, not a fairy—more like a forest spirit, something that disappears the moment you look away.”
Now I was completely lost.
“Yes! You’re a spirit! Your dress should reflect that. Spirits wear blue. A blue spirit! Ah, just imagining it is exhilarating!”
Sarah’s nostrils finally shrank back to normal.
Instead, her lips trembled, probably from trying to hold in laughter.
A blue spirit, huh. I wasn’t even sure what a “spirit” was supposed to be, and there was no way something like that would suit me.
“We actually have a blue dress that came in recently,” Sarah added.
“Do we?”
“Yes. My lady hasn’t even glanced at it, though.”
The dress I was currently wearing had been in the wardrobe already.
A dark grey one, slightly short at the ankles, so it was easy to walk in.
Sarah had left it behind, likely thinking it wasn’t worth selling.
“What about the neckline?”
“Excuse me?”
Penelope suddenly rushed over to Sarah.
“With your posture and beautiful collarbones, the neckline absolutely must be shown! How deep is it cut?”
“Uh, about this much?”
Pressed by Penelope’s intensity, Sarah traced a line around her own neck with her finger.
“Oh, no, no!”
And before I knew it, I was being fitted into the dress.
Penelope held pins between her lips and stuck them precisely into places that needed adjustments.
So, this is what passionate people look like, I thought as I admired Penelope in the mirror.
“We’ll make the sleeves sheer, and the neckline will go down to here.”
She gestured just above the bust.
“No way!”
Sarah, who had also been drifting along blankly like me, suddenly snapped out of it.
“My lady is a noblewoman! She absolutely cannot wear something so indecent!”
“Indecent?”
Penelope’s eyes narrowed.
The neckline on her own dress dipped far lower than the one she had just pointed to.
“You might be fine wearing anything, but my lady holds a social position.”
Sarah stood firm.
“So, because of her social status, she can’t wear something that suits her?”
“That’s right.”
Penelope’s nostrils flared. Sarah’s weren’t backing down either.
Half-dressed between them, I thought maybe I should sit down before this turned into an all-out war.
“Better to wear something bold than to hide in frumpy clothes for the sake of appearances.”
“No. Appearances are more important. My lady is a proper, modest woman. How can she appear before guests with her chest completely exposed?”
I wasn’t particularly modest, and I didn’t find the neckline Penelope suggested to be indecent.
“Plenty of noblewomen wear dresses like this!”
“Those are other noblewomen.”
Sarah’s tone was final. Penelope looked baffled, but I understood instantly.
A wife unloved by her husband must quiet even her breath.
No matter how well I dressed up, to Edgar, the dinner party would only be another stage for Elodie.
If I put effort into everything and still failed to catch his eye, that humiliation would be worse than anything else.
“I’ve decided to leave the dinner party to Penelope.”
I interrupted, leaning to one side and propping up my elbow.
“Just like I left the room decor to the nanny and the wardrobe to you, I’m entrusting this event to Penelope.”
Sarah looked deeply wronged.
“If you nitpick everything after saying you trust someone, how are they supposed to do their job?”
“My lady!”
Sarah couldn’t accept it. My words didn’t carry much weight anyway.
She likely thought she was doing this for my sake, so her frustration was understandable.
But I was getting tired. I was about to say we’d stop the fitting here and let the two of them work it out themselves when—
“Cecilia, are you in—”
The door burst open.
It was Edgar.
“She’s here.”
He stood at the threshold, face stiff, as if rooted to the spot.
