TMIAP Chapter 14

Martinael was a good child.

Monica—who'd tried not to expect much from a boy raised with every comfort in a wealthy household—felt rather ashamed of herself. The child walked only in shade for Monica's sake and offered her his fan.

"You look hot, Miss."

Just as he faithfully addressed Madame Mollette as "Madame," Martinael faithfully called Monica "Miss"—despite knowing she wasn't a proper governess.

Which is to say, Martinael was clever enough to have learned and practice the principle that respecting others appeared far more adult than condescending to them.

"These trousers are far too childish. Don't you think?"

Martinael grumbled, displaying his short trousers.

"Well, they don't give you such trousers because you're a child. It's hot today, isn't it? Have you been down to the harbor?"

"The harbor?"

"The sailors at the harbor work in exactly the same short trousers as yours."

The boy's eyes lit up. Martinael said he'd rarely visited the harbor even since arriving in La Spezia. Monica told him about the harbor she herself had seen only once.

"I want to go."

"When you've grown a bit taller. It's rather dangerous there."

"What's dangerous about it?"

Instead of answering, Monica tapped her knees. Tap, tap. Martinael, who remembered Monica's injury from days ago, opened his mouth in comprehension.

"Even an adult like me was injured badly enough to tear her clothes."

Though that hadn't been Monica's fault, naturally. Martinael nodded.

"So that's why you keep wearing the same clothes, Miss."

"Precisely."

Wearing the same clothes repeatedly wasn't particularly shameful. For ordinary people, it's perfectly natural. But with Martinael changing clothes three or four times daily mentioning such things, Monica felt slightly embarrassed and added something unnecessary.

"I'll be buying new clothes soon."

"Do you like buying clothes too, Miss?"

Martinael opened his eyes wide and asked.

"Madame and Sister both like buying clothes. Madame likes it more than Sister, and Sister pretends not to like it but actually does."

Most people probably would.

"Madame and Sister like the yellow brick dressmaker's. What about you, Miss?"

Though she didn't know which establishment that was, surely it wasn't somewhere she could afford? Thinking thus, Monica smiled.

"This is my first time in La Spezia, so I don't know. I'll have to see."

"Ah, I see! Then you should definitely visit the yellow brick dressmaker's. I don't know much about it, but Miss Violet said it's good too."

"Miss Violet?"

At the suddenly introduced name, Monica asked—and abruptly the boy's cheeks flushed.

Monica learned shortly that Miss Violet was a lovely girl approaching fourteen, and this boy was remarkably smitten with an older woman. It explained Martinael's puzzling maturity.

Apparently, addressing Madame Mollette as "Madame" was also Miss Violet's habit.

"It's a secret from Madame."

Martinael immediately added, "Though Sister knows."

Monica asked casually.

"You're close with Miss Liella, then."

"Yes. But she's getting married soon."

"I heard. When Miss Liella marries, you'll feel lonely."

"It's all right. I'll marry and establish a household myself."

Apart from the boy's maturity, a ten-year-old discussing establishing a household was rather amusing. Monica tried not to laugh. Boys this age despise being considered cute above all else.

As expected, Martinael seemed pleased that Monica only nodded. His eyes sparkled as he expounded various plans.

Listening to him say he wanted two children and would plant many blue flowers Miss Violet loved in the garden made her smile.

However, remarks like "The Goldfield family are middle class, so they won't greatly benefit us, but wouldn't Miss Violet still be a decent match?" didn't sound particularly pleasant. Though one statement did make Monica's ears prick up.

"Once Sister becomes mistress of the Solivén household, even if I say I favor a Goldfield daughter, Madame won't object terribly!"

A familiar name.

"If I stumble dangerously before Lord Solivén, wouldn't his lordship catch me?"

It was the name Liella had mentioned while taking Madame Mollette's arm. And... Monica smiled at the boy before her thoughts deepened.

"Everyone will be happy."

That included Monica. Which is to say—if Liella married quickly and departed this household, Monica's work wouldn't be quite so trying, would it?

Meanwhile, the boy and Monica had circled the estate's walking path and entered the garden.

One might call it timely. Beneath the morning sun, a young lady in a white dress tending the garden came into view. A brown-haired maiden cutting roses with small pruning shears, having a gardener bent excessively low hold her rose basket.

Liella Mollette.

"Sister!"

Martinael waved. Liella—holding a pink rose and straightening—startled when she looked their way, then returned the greeting lightly.

Monica waited a moment before bowing when their eyes met. By the time Monica raised her head, Liella had already turned back to the roses.

"Sister doesn't look very happy, though."

Really? She looks perfectly happy to me. Monica swallowed the indifferent response.

Monica had heard the Mollette family came to La Spezia when Martinael was seven. Lord Mollette had evacuated his family to escape the war. Naturally, Liella as well.

Monica gazed at Liella's back as she turned to cut roses. While Monica had been cutting bandages for the wounded at Arvidd's hospital, Liella had been wearing white and cutting flowers in this peaceful resort—the thought made Monica's stomach feel rather unsettled.

"Might it be Sister's engagement?"

"Engagement...?"

She turned to the boy at the cryptic words—Martinael made a startled face.

"This is a secret."

"It's all right. I won't say you told me."

Martinael, rolling his eyes, stuttered it out.

"Sister's engagement broke off once before. And whenever marriage comes up, she's on edge. Ever since I was very young..."

Because of the war? Before Monica could pursue the thought, Martinael added:

"You mustn't tell, truly. Understood?"

The boy clutched her skirts and asked earnestly—finally looking ten years old—and Monica laughed. "Ha, ha."

"I truly won't tell."

When she clasped the boy's hand and swore, Martinael relaxed at last. Such a childish face. Liella would never believe it if she'd heard.

'I suppose I was like that at ten as well...'

Thinking thus, Monica's face hardened. She'd remembered that the age when she'd yielded adoption to Lizzie had been similar.

Saturday morning, she woke unusually early. She went to Martinael's room, washed the boy's face, and began the morning walk energetically. Martinael—who'd followed with sleep still clouding his eyes—soon had his eyes sparkling at the summer raspberries Monica discovered.

By the walk's end, six ripe raspberries rested in Martinael's palm. He carried the raspberries carefully lest they be crushed, and upon returning to the estate, ran immediately to Madame Mollette to show them off.

"How precious."

The estate bustled. Tomorrow evening, a grand reception would be held at the Mollette estate. A birthday reception for a countess close to Madame Mollette. The countess's estate was under repair, so they'd arranged to borrow the Mollette garden.

Even with all five gardeners standing respectfully before Madame Mollette with clasped hands, she willingly placed the raspberry her son had picked into her mouth.

"Delicious!"

"Mm, it may be delicious to our young master, but far too tart for me."

Madame Mollette smiled at Monica despite wrinkling one eyebrow.

"I'm sorry—he made a troublesome request, didn't he?"

"Oh, not at all."

Monica waved her hand. It concerned tomorrow evening's reception. The young lady Martinael adored would apparently attend the countess's birthday reception. Martinael had grumbled that if he remained with Madame Mollette, he'd have no opportunity to greet Miss Violet.

Indeed. Even if Miss Violet—a merchant's daughter—came to greet Madame Mollette, a brief exchanged glance would be all. Madame Mollette would certainly be with the countess.

Yet for Martinael to go alone would appear far too strange.

He'd only draw adult attention and become a source of amusement—Martinael had begged Monica to help. He'd hold Monica's hand, approach that young lady somehow, and attempt conversation.

"Marti, couldn't you ask Liella to help?"

"Not Sister. She'll tease me!"

Surprisingly, Martinael shook his head vehemently. The nearby gardeners smiled awkwardly, as did Monica. A servant attending such an occasion was impossible from the start.

Madame Mollette cajoled Martinael repeatedly. Though close to the countess, bringing a governess was apparently a different matter. But eventually, Madame Mollette surrendered to Martinael, whose face grew progressively redder.

'Which is to say, let him do as he pleases.'

Doctor Mekal's words apparently held no exception for Madame Mollette either. Eventually, Madame Mollette sighed and summoned Mistress Oraingne.

"Select one of Liella's dresses for Miss Monica."

"Madame."

Monica startled, but Madame Mollette raised her second finger. "Mm." Only two syllables, spoken gently—yet the meaning was clear. She wouldn't tolerate refusal. Monica closed her mouth, clasped her hands, and bowed her head.