Chapter 4
Neither Countess Rosette nor Isla came out to see me off.
I considered asking to summon the nanny, but decided against it—saying something unnecessary might just give them more to gossip about.
I’d hoped to meet someone who truly cared for Cecilia.
I hid my disappointment and was just about to climb into the carriage when—
“Lady Cecilia.”
A low voice called out to me.
“You only brought one maid?”
I turned to see a tall man standing there.
His sun-kissed skin and solid build suggested someone who spent a lot of time outdoors—he carried a rugged, healthy sort of charm.
“Yes,” I answered cautiously, unsure of who he was.
“And Count Linton doesn’t provide any sort of guard for his wife?”
I looked at the carriage I had arrived in. It was large and sturdy. Besides, I had only come to my family home, just thirty minutes away.
“I didn’t think about it,” I replied.
“Lady Cecilia, you’ve always been careless about your own safety.”
He spoke as if he knew Cecilia well.
“Madam was worried about you.”
The only person I could think of who would worry that deeply about Cecilia was the middle-aged woman I had seen crying so sorrowfully in my memory.
“How’s the nanny?”
Judging by his face, I had guessed right.
“Her eyes are swollen, but other than that, she’s in good health.”
“Take good care of her.”
Feeling I had said enough, I moved to step into the carriage. But something impulsively made me turn back.
“I’m thinking of calling the nanny back soon.”
The man looked at me with puzzled eyes.
It wasn’t surprising—after all, Edgar Linton was the one who had sent the nanny away. Why would his wife now summon her back?
“The Count is so busy, I doubt he’d even notice a few more mouths to feed in the house.”
That explanation wouldn’t fully satisfy his curiosity, but I stepped into the carriage and shut the door anyway.
“Let’s go.”
Sarah knocked twice on the carriage roof, and it soon began to move.
I knew the man was still standing there, but I didn’t look back.
Pity—I despised it.
The Linton estate was quiet.
No one came to greet me, even after seeing I had returned.
“Shall I bring your dinner to your room as usual?” Sarah asked.
I almost said yes, but then shook my head.
“No. I’ll eat in the dining room.”
“…The Count won’t be back until dawn.”
Sarah’s voice was careful.
“My memory’s still fuzzy, but… is the Countess not allowed to use the dining room without her husband present?”
“N-no! Absolutely not!”
Startled, Sarah rushed off to inform the kitchen.
“You there.”
I called out to a maid who had been wiping the window frame.
“Yes, Lady Cecilia.”
Her response lacked the deference one might expect toward the lady of the house.
“Send someone to my room to help me change.”
She blinked in surprise.
“Pardon?”
“I need to change clothes. Choose a maid with soft hands—nothing rough.”
My tone was firm, surprisingly so for a first command.
I wasn’t used to this class-based society, but if this was going to be my life, I had to adapt.
The dress Sarah had helped me into earlier couldn’t be taken off or put on alone.
It was better to act the part of the proud but clueless daughter of a noble house than to be caught struggling alone in my room with buttons and corsets.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
I called out as the girl turned to fetch someone.
“If you ever call me Lady Cecilia again, your job may not last the night.”
She stopped in her tracks, then bowed deeply.
“Yes, Countess.”
Satisfied, I headed up to my room.
Compared to my old life, Cecilia’s wasn’t so bad. As long as I didn’t chase after her husband’s affection, this could be quite a comfortable life.
Humming quietly, I looked in the mirror.
Cecilia, looking far more relaxed than the first time I saw her, was smiling back at me.
Evening had come.
For some reason, my—Cecilia’s—husband returned home earlier than usual.
I had just sat down to eat after changing clothes when it happened.
Cecilia’s life was far more luxurious than mine had been, though most of it was sustained through the labor of others.
Once the sun set, uniformed servants moved throughout the estate, placing candles in every corner.
The table was so full of food it made my eyes spin—but in the dim light, I could barely tell what anything was.
I picked dishes that looked tasty based on shape and smell alone.
So, when Edgar walked into the dining room, I didn’t immediately recognize him.
“Changed your method of protest, have you?”
Only when I heard his voice did I realize the man sitting across from me was Edgar.
“I told you—whatever you do, do it quietly.”
I didn’t stop bringing food to my mouth.
“I asked for just one thing—that you keep out of sight.”
Even if the estate was massive, staying unnoticed while living under the same roof was impossible—unless one of us made it a point to hide.
Cecilia must’ve been playing a very determined game of hide-and-seek.
“…Countess, shall I bring out dessert?”
A maid, after cautiously observing the atmosphere, asked with a hesitant voice.
She must’ve heard what I told the other maid earlier. This time, she got the title right.
Edgar’s brow twitched.
“Countess?”
I nodded, watching his lips curl with a smirk.
“Yes.”
The maid, clearly terrified, backed out of the dining room once she got my answer.
“Countess, huh?”
Edgar repeated the word with mocking disdain.
“My dearest wife—your madness deepens by the day. One moment you’re beating and driving out innocent people, and now you want to act the proper lady?”
I quietly wiped my lips with a napkin.
Cecilia had feared this man.
Because she loved him.
Love puts the other person above you—hands them the power to destroy you with your own bare hands.
But I had no reason to fear Edgar.
“I’ve accepted reality.”
“Reality?”
“I’ve decided not to care who you amuse yourself with.”
I mimicked his tone and smile, matching the tilt of his lips with my own.
“My dear Count, no need to worry.”
Edgar looked genuinely surprised.
“We were brought together because of my father’s request. And not just a request—a deathbed wish.”
Cecilia, who had always lived with her shoulders hunched in fear, had probably never spoken like this before.
“I just confused things for a while. That’s all.”
“Confused, huh.”
He gestured with one hand, as if urging me to go on.
“My father’s dying wish was that we marry—not that you love or cherish me for life.”
But surely, Cecilia’s father had hoped for that. Or had he?
I didn’t know.
I understood not all fathers were like my own, but because of my past, I couldn’t trust any family affection I hadn’t personally experienced.
Cecilia’s father had remarried.
And Cecilia had lived with wounds she didn’t even recognize, slowly cut open by the gentle blades of a stepmother and half-sister.
“I was foolish, Edgar.”
I gave him a soft, yielding smile.
“As long as this marriage remained intact, I had no right to interfere in your life.”
Edgar stared, clearly unable to believe this sudden change in me.
“I won’t ask you to believe me right away—that would be shameless.”
Just then, a maid arrived with strawberries and fresh cream for dessert.
I picked one of the plump fruits, dipped it generously in cream, and took a bite.
A luxury I’d never enjoyed before becoming Cecilia.
I closed my eyes and focused on the rich sweetness melting across my tongue.
“…Fine.”
Edgar finally spoke, after watching me eat in silence.
“I’ll believe you.”
He pointed a finger at me.
“But if it turns out you were lying again—don’t think your father’s last wish will save you.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left.
It didn’t matter what I said.
And I was probably right.
Cecilia’s father was long dead. She’d caused countless scenes and breakdowns.
According to Sarah—the only person currently feeding me information—people whispered that Edgar, poor Count Linton, stayed married only out of respect for his late father-in-law’s dying wish, enduring his mad wife.
If I caused one more scandal, Edgar would have the perfect excuse to cast me out. And he’d be pitied for it.
That’s probably why my declaration of disinterest barely fazed him.
After finishing the last strawberry, I finally rose from the table.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such a satisfying meal. So long ago, the memory was hazy.
Every day, I’d cooked for my mother—but I never ate properly myself.
She’d gained weight from stress and medication, and that, too, became my fault.
“Don’t think about it.”
I shook my head and scolded myself, a reflex I’d long grown used to.
I buried the bad memories deep down. That was the only way to avoid ending up like Mom—someone who gave up on life.
“Sarah.”
“Yes, Countess?”
“Tomorrow, go to the Rosette estate and bring back the nanny and her family.”
Sarah hesitated, then carefully asked,
“Shouldn’t we get the Count’s permission first?”
“It’s fine.”
Edgar wouldn’t care.
I knew men like him well.
Every time my father came home angry, it was because someone didn’t let him do whatever he wanted.
Any man with a family should know he needs to sacrifice a bit of freedom—but my father never understood that simple truth.
Or maybe he pretended not to.
“If it makes you anxious, I’ll tell him myself tomorrow.”
Relieved, Sarah’s face softened.
“May I ask… why bring the nanny back so suddenly?”
“There’s no one here I trust.”
I didn’t know what century this was, but from what I’d observed these past two days, a trustworthy maid was a priceless asset.
“Not that I don’t trust you.”
“I understand.”
Her smile wavered for a second before she forced it back onto her lips.
“I’d like to rest now. I want to be alone.”
“Yes. Call if you need anything.”
After sending Sarah away, I sat in front of the vanity.
