Chapter 5
I opened Cecilia’s diary. Flipping past the densely written pages, I found a blank one.
—Cecilia Linton, Countess.
I wrote the name and immediately crossed out Countess Linton.
—Cecilia.
“Cecilia…”
I shouldn’t naively believe that Edgar will keep his promise.
Even if I live quietly, completely unnoticed, if he someday meets a woman he wants to give his entire life to—then it’s over.
“So, you owe him nothing.”
I had to build wealth. Enough to live alone, without him.
My mother had been thrown out without a penny from my father.
He was the one at fault, but the law didn’t care.
He was ordered to pay alimony and child support, but if he didn’t follow through, that was it. Nothing happened.
I wondered if there was any concept of alimony here. I’d have to ask the nanny when she arrived.
That was part of why I wanted to bring her back—to ask about such delicate things comfortably.
Sarah said she’d only been hired after Cecilia moved into the Linton estate.
And according to the diary, the marriage had lasted less than two years.
That meant Sarah had only been around that long—and Cecilia, having refused her role as Countess, probably didn’t accept much help.
The nanny, who had clearly grieved when Cecilia collapsed, seemed like someone I could rely on more.
“She should have work, too.”
Even if the nanny had loved Cecilia deeply, she wouldn’t value her more than her own child. I’d need some leverage to keep her in check.
I felt a pang of self-disgust at the thought.
The real Cecilia would never have considered manipulating the woman who raised her.
While I was fulfilling her wish, I was also stripping away every trace of her warmth.
“I don’t love Edgar anymore—but I’ve lost everyone’s affection in return.”
I inhabited Cecilia’s body. Even if I looked like her, my essence hadn’t changed.
“I’m sorry… about that.”
Love is fleeting. A momentary emotion that always fades to coldness. And yet, I’d never experienced even that brief warmth.
To my father, I was a burden. To my mother, a betrayer.
There had been people—men—who showed some interest in me. But the moment they saw my shadowed nature, they backed away in fear.
“You get used to it.”
That phrase—it’s fine—had long been a habit of mine. And truly, it was fine. If love was only temporary, it was better not to receive it at all.
My mother, once stripped of love, couldn’t endure.
“I’m really, honestly fine.”
I kept repeating it to the Cecilia in the mirror, even knowing she was no longer there.
The morning light streamed through the large windows—I hadn’t drawn the curtains.
I had stayed in bed, burying my face in the pillow, drifting in and out of sleep for another half hour.
Then I heard it: the distinct, unfamiliar sound of carriage wheels rolling over cobblestones.
The nanny and her son—I’d summoned them, hadn’t I?
My half-asleep brain slowly came back to life.
I sat up sluggishly and called for Sarah.
She brought in a silver basin filled with water. I washed my face and changed clothes.
“The nanny?”
“She’s speaking with the head maid. Shall I tell her you wish to see her?”
“No, I’ll eat first.”
I returned to the dining room I’d visited yesterday—and Edgar was there.
“Good morning,” I greeted him casually and sat down.
He frowned as if I were something distasteful.
“I don’t recall us being close enough to dine together.”
“Eating in my room is… surprisingly uncomfortable.”
I met his gaze directly and continued.
“After breakfast, I’m thinking of taking a walk through the gardens.”
Just as I’d planned last night, I would start changing Cecilia’s image.
Bit by bit, I would restore her reputation.
If Edgar ever fell in love with someone else and decided to cast me out, I wanted people to say he’d lost a kind and capable Countess.
Edgar looked like he’d lost his appetite.
“Why?”
“I told you—I’m content with my role as Countess.”
I scooped up a spoonful of chickpeas and brought it to my mouth.
They were so soft, they melted without the need to chew.
“I won’t pretend to be the perfect wife. But I’ll tend the gardens, make friends, and spend my days on hobbies suitable for a Countess.”
Edgar’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“And what other suitable hobbies might a Countess have?”
He studied me briefly, then returned to his newspaper.
“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since we hosted a banquet at the Linton estate.”
“A banquet?”
“A proper hostess would be concerned about the family’s reputation. But you—no, the Countess—wasted her time clinging to meaningless things.”
He sharpened his words like blades, but I let them pass and bit into a perfectly roasted carrot.
“You’re right. I’ll prepare one.”
Still focused on the newspaper, Edgar added:
“A banquet’s not complete without music. Fortunately, I know an excellent soprano. Isn’t that right, Countess?”
He was clearly referring to that theater actress he was seeing.
I could tell, even though Edgar pretended to read the paper, all his attention was focused on me.
“Sounds like a wonderful idea.”
I replied as I brought a second piece of carrot to my mouth.
“I’ve heard she has a beautiful voice. This would be a good chance to hear it for myself.”
Edgar folded his newspaper and stared at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He frowned instinctively, then let out a brief, amused chuckle.
“If you’d been like this from the start, things might’ve been much easier for both of us.”
Edgar raised his glass in a mock toast, wearing a smug smile.
Poor Cecilia.
I mirrored his gesture and raised my glass too, silently thinking:
She loved a man who couldn’t even appreciate kindness.
As I swallowed the wine, it took with it the dull, lifeless expression Cecilia once wore.
I’d have to tell the nanny I had partial memory loss.
She probably knew much more about Cecilia than Sarah did—and it would be better to get important questions out of the way sooner rather than later.
The nanny teared up immediately and launched into a flood of grief about Cecilia’s unfortunate life.
“My poor girl… Lost her mother at birth, suffered under a wicked stepmother, finally thought she’d found her real family… and yet the heavens remain cruel…”
“The heavens are always cruel,” I muttered awkwardly, unsure how to comfort her.
That only made her cry harder.
“Maybe it’s for the best that I lost my memory. Look at me, nanny—I’m fine. I think I can manage being married to Count Linton.”
But my clumsy comfort wasn’t enough to calm her storm of tears.
It took a long while for her to finally settle down.
“How’s your body holding up?” she asked eventually.
“Better than ever.”
And it was true. My original body had been a wreck.
Compared to the stress-induced vomiting and hair loss I’d once suffered, Cecilia was healthy. Remarkably so.
It didn’t seem like she’d need a lengthy recovery, even after ingesting poison.
Or maybe it was because the original soul had left, and my own had taken over.
Watching the nanny wipe away her tears, I finally got to the real reason I called her.
“I’ve been given a chance to earn Edgar’s trust again. I want to host a banquet.”
“A banquet?”
“Yes. I’ve carried the title of Countess, but I’ve barely done anything to earn it. If I pull off this first banquet well, Edgar might not see me as a wife—but at least he’ll see me as a proper lady of the house. And the public will start to change their opinion.”
There was only one problem: I didn’t actually know what a proper banquet was supposed to look like.
The extent of my cultural knowledge consisted of knowing that people in elaborate dresses bowed a lot.
“Nanny, I’ll need your full help.”
“Of course, my lady. I’ll do everything I can. My son, too. He’s not well-educated and he’s built like a bull, but he knows his place. He was furious when he saw there wasn’t even a single guard with you when you arrived.”
She was gently suggesting I use her son as a bodyguard.
“A guard, huh…”
“No way!”
Sarah, who had just entered with a tea tray, practically shouted.
“You can’t have a commoner—someone without even a knight’s title—acting as the Countess’s guard!”
She set the tray down, then stood with her hands on her hips, fuming.
“It would bring disgrace to Count Linton’s name!”
“What do you know, child?” the nanny snapped, eyes flaring.
“What the lady needs is someone she can trust! Look around—do you see anyone in this house genuinely concerned for her safety?!”
“Still… having a commoner as a guard is just unthinkable!”
Both arguments made sense.
It was true—I had no one I could fully trust here.
But Sarah was right too. If I installed a commoner as my personal guard, Edgar might see it as tarnishing the Linton family name.
“I’ll think about it.”
Both women nodded, though disappointment was evident on their faces.
I looked at Sarah again.
Deep down, I still suspected she wasn’t entirely loyal to me.
“The banquet is what matters most right now.”
“You’ll need to redecorate the estate first,” the nanny said firmly.
“This mansion has its charms, but nothing about it reflects you. A home reflects its mistress. Right now, it still looks like the former Countess Linton lives here, not you.”
Sarah chimed in brightly, scribbling notes and exclaiming:
“Finally—we’ll get to know what the lady actually likes!”
“Lady?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.
“Ah! Sorry. Is that uncomfortable to hear?”
Sarah blushed.
“Servants like us should always refer to our mistress as ‘my lady,’ but you were always very firm about being called Countess instead…”
So there was a social distinction between who could call me “Countess” and who was expected to use “my lady.”
“No, it’s fine. I must’ve forgotten. Could you make sure the other maids use the right title too?”
“Absolutely!”
Sarah looked overjoyed.
And her next words revealed why.
“If I’m the one giving orders as your personal maid, no one will dare talk back to me!”
Apparently, delivering the lady’s instructions was a privilege reserved for close attendants.
In other words, Sarah had just been promoted—dramatically.
“Shall we start by redoing your room? It’s so gloomy in here. It’d suit a much older woman, maybe—but someone young like you should have something brighter!”
She babbled on excitedly.
I glanced around the room.
A bit dark, sure—but gloomy?
Honestly, I couldn’t tell.
I’d never really had a “taste” in décor. That kind of thing was for people with time and comfort to spare.
