Chapter 3
“It’s fine. I’m okay. But… there’s one small problem.”
The woman’s eyes lit up, eager to help with anything.
“I drank poison.”
“Yes, you did. That was already the sixth time. Thank goodness you were tricked by those awful swindlers. If not, you wouldn’t be here now.”
I quietly disagreed with her inside.
Maybe Cecilia was fooled the first five times. But the last time—she knew exactly what she was doing.
She must have planned it very carefully.
“Because of that… there are a few gaps in my memory.”
“…Pardon?”
She looked alarmed, so I raised a finger to my lips.
She immediately lowered her voice.
“Gaps in memory… how much are we talking about?”
“I know I’m Cecilia. I know I’m married to the Count. I know who Countess Rosette is.”
Those were the only names mentioned in the diary.
“And beyond that…?”
“Nothing. I don’t even remember your name.”
The woman’s lips parted slightly in surprise.
“Could you tell me?”
“I’m Sarah. I’ve been serving you ever since you came to the Linton estate.”
After a brief hesitation, she continued, cautiously—her face full of worry.
“Sarah. Yesterday, I saw someone standing outside my door. Do you know who that was?”
“Oh—that must have been Jane. I was newly hired after you moved here, but Jane’s worked at the estate for a long time.”
Perhaps her initial shock had subsided, because Sarah made herself comfortable, eager to share everything she knew.
“I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you everything I think you need to know.”
“Thanks. That’d be helpful.”
Sarah’s storytelling continued all the way until it was time for the tea invitation with Countess Rosette.
“Let’s pick this up after I get back.”
“Yes, of course!”
It still felt strange having someone else dress me and do my hair.
Cecilia, with a light touch of makeup, was beautiful.
“I’ve prepared the carriage—you can leave as soon as you’re ready!”
The doorknob that had been locked shut yesterday turned with ease today.
I let out a small sigh and stepped outside.
* * *
The Rosette estate, which I arrived at by carriage, was… not quite what I’d expected. It wasn’t overly extravagant.
The old me might have gaped in awe, but after seeing the Linton estate, this seemed almost modest.
Judging by their homes, Count Linton and Count Rosette were of equal rank, but the gap between their families was noticeable.
“Cecilia.”
A young woman waited where the servant led me. From her demeanor, I assumed she was Countess Rosette.
She didn’t look nearly old enough to have a daughter Cecilia’s age.
“Ma’am.”
Relying on vague memories from free period dramas on TV, I bent my knees slightly in a curtsey.
“You look terribly pale.”
Countess Rosette spoke to her stepdaughter with gentle warmth.
The unexpected touch of her hand on my cheek made me instinctively stiffen.
“I heard the news.”
Ignoring my reaction, she naturally took my hands and gestured for me to sit.
“What news?”
Rather than answering, she turned to a maid and asked for the tea to be brought in.
“Your nanny returned to the estate last night. The poor woman was so shocked, she nearly collapsed.”
In this situation, I was probably supposed to express concern for the nanny—but I didn’t even know who she was.
Remaining silent, I waited for her to go on. She seemed slightly flustered.
“…Are you alright?”
Her voice was warm and kind.
“Yes.”
My answer, in contrast, was flat and cool.
“I shouldn’t have asked. Of course, you’re not fine.”
“I am. Really.”
I hated pity. Even when it came from sincere kindness.
“I was foolish.”
I fixed my eyes on the stream of tea being poured into my cup by the maid.
“You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”
And neither will Edgar. I swallowed the last part with my sip of tea.
“If that’s true, then I’m relieved…”
She didn’t sound convinced.
Understandably so—Cecilia had poisoned herself five times.
Six, if you counted the one the nanny must have reported.
Even if Cecilia hadn’t been her stepdaughter, anyone would worry upon hearing that someone they knew had repeatedly attempted suicide.
“Oh, before you go, make sure to see Isla.”
“Isla?”
“She’s been excited since she heard you were coming. Didn’t sleep until late last night. Please don’t scold her if she’s late—she just missed her sister.”
I nodded quietly.
According to what Sarah had told me, Isla was Countess Rosette’s biological daughter and Cecilia’s younger half-sister.
If, like me, she had entered my original body, she would certainly have drawn the shorter end of the stick.
I’d heard I had a half-sister too—but I’d never met her, not even once.
“Count Linton…”
“He hasn’t been seen today.”
“He went there again, didn’t he?”
“Most likely.”
Worry deepened on Countess Rosette’s face.
“He was such a dependable man before the engagement. I don’t know what changed…”
She paused, the hand holding her teacup frozen mid-air.
If that comment sounded like she was blaming me for driving away even a once-dependable man, maybe that was just my paranoia. Still, the way her eyes subtly scanned me made my palms damp with unease.
“We may not be mother and daughter by blood, but we’ve shared enough time to care for each other. Please don’t take it too harshly.”
“No, I understand.”
My calm reply seemed to catch her off guard.
“I told your father this marriage was a bad idea, but he insisted.”
The way she spoke made it clear she had said this many times before—it had become second nature.
“The Count—your father—was thinking only of you, right until the moment he closed his eyes.”
Ah, so Count Rosette had already passed. She continued with the theatrical tone of someone reciting lines from a play.
“Maybe he was afraid Count Linton would break his promise. That’s why his last words were a blessing on your marriage.”
So that’s why. That’s why Edgar married Cecilia, even though he disliked her.
If he’d refused the final wish of a dying man, his reputation would have been ruined beyond repair.
Edgar Linton hadn’t had much of a choice.
“But if I had sensed any doubt in you, Cecilia, I would’ve supported breaking the engagement.”
From her tone, I could tell that Edgar Linton had already been involved with that theater actress by then.
“At the very least, if you chose it, you should try to make it work…”
Her voice trailed off, and she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
“No, I’m sorry. We finally meet, and here I am rambling nonsense again.”
“It’s alright.”
An awkward silence settled over us.
Countess Rosette narrowed her eyes slightly, as if trying to gauge whether my response was genuine.
Or maybe that, too, was just my paranoia.
Perhaps she simply didn’t know what to say in the face of her stepdaughter’s miserable circumstances.
“Cecilia!”
Thankfully, the silence didn’t last long.
It was broken by the light footsteps and cheerful voice of a young girl.
“Isla.”
I quickly recognized her and called her name.
Isla ran up with a bright smile. She didn’t look much younger than Cecilia—maybe a year or two at most.
“I missed you!”
She threw her arms around Cecilia’s thin frame.
“Where’s Count Linton? Why didn’t he come with you?”
With the innocence of a child, Isla dug into Cecilia’s most painful wound. Was it really just a coincidence?
“Isla,” Countess Rosette chided gently.
“You think the Count has as much free time as you?”
“But they’re still newlyweds, aren’t they?”
“You’re not even engaged and already talking like that,” Countess Rosette scolded—but it was obvious she adored the girl and was barely hiding her fondness.
“So? Do you like being married, big sister?”
Cecilia had written in her diary that she stayed alive only because of her stepmother and half-sister.
But now that I saw them, it was clear she had been blind.
Their kind smiles and innocent questions must have slowly drained her spirit like water from a leaky bucket.
“Yes, I like it.”
I answered easily. Isla’s playful smile faltered for a split second.
“Does the Count… treat you well?”
Her tone sharpened, like she was determined to get the truth.
“The Count is…”
I let the pause linger deliberately.
“…busy.”
“Oh, right! Of course! Everyone knows how busy he is!”
“That’s why I like it.”
Isla’s face brightened at first—then darkened again at my follow-up.
“A married couple doesn’t need to spend every moment together. The Count has his duties, and I have mine. We each keep our own schedules, and it’s actually more comfortable that way.”
Clink. The sound of porcelain hitting the table a little too hard.
It was Countess Rosette.
“Cecilia, that kind of mindset should be mine, not yours. You’re still newly married—how can you speak as if you’ve already given up?”
At her loaded words, Isla hurriedly brought a handkerchief to her lips.
She pretended to hide her reaction, but I didn’t miss the way her cheeks lifted with a smirk.
“Does it matter? As long as I’m at peace.”
I glanced at the setting sun through the window and prepared to leave.
“Leaving already? At least stay for dinner. You used to love family dinners.”
There was a hidden message in her soft voice—that once I returned home, I’d be eating alone.
“She’s right, sister! Stay for dinner. Mother even prepared your favorite dish.”
Isla clung to my arm, pleading.
“Thank you, but I’m Count Linton’s wife now. My home is the Linton estate.”
Countess Rosette looked at me with disbelief, scanning my face as if seeing it for the first time.
“The Count is busy and often away from home, so someone needs to be there. If both the lord and lady are absent, the staff will be left without direction.”
I gently freed my arm from Isla’s grip.
“You may not understand yet, but being the Countess of the house isn’t a light responsibility.”
I spoke with gentle firmness, then turned to look at Countess Rosette.
As if to say: You should know, as a fellow Countess.
She forced a smile.
“Of course. A proper lady of the house must carry herself that way. I must say, Cecilia, you’ve matured. I used to worry, especially in those early days—but not anymore.”
“I’m sorry for making you worry. That won’t happen again.”
With the formalities exchanged, I left the estate.
