TMIAP Chapter 35

"I went out alone last night... And I stopped by the doctor's house. Hans should know about it..."

She frowned slightly as she spoke.

"The doctor? Why?"

"I haven't been sleeping well. I asked him for sleeping medicine."

"Oh, really?"

Maria tilted her head.

"Hans didn't mention that."

"That's strange."

"Well, maybe you're seeing the doctor! Dr. Mekal isn't married, after all!"

Another maid laughed and slapped Maria's shoulder.

Maria giggled too. But both of them quickly sobered when they noticed Monica's face had stiffened slightly.

They all worked as servants for the nobility and knew all too well how such rumors could affect a young unmarried woman's reputation.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine."

Monica answered while looking at Maria. Maria spoke up, though she looked embarrassed.

"Well, I went to pick some vegetables from the garden this morning and ran into Hans. He suddenly asked me if I knew whether Monica had gotten a sweetheart. I told him I didn't know."

It wasn't strange for him to ask Maria, certainly—she was the closest to Monica among the maids.

Still, knowing that Hans had asked such a thing left her feeling rather uncomfortable.

'He was so polite yesterday, though?'

Maria sighed and patted Monica's arm lightly.

"Hans seems pretty interested in you. But I'll tell him not to ask about such things anymore."

"Mm... No, I'll talk to him myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Even as she said it, Monica worried her tone sounded sharp, so she made an effort to smile.

"I won't let it cause you trouble, Maria."

"Oh, what trouble could it cause me! I only feel sorry for Hans, looking at a tree he can't climb!"

Maria waved her hand dismissively. The other maid standing nearby glanced around before adding:

"Still, Hans is decent. Hardworking."

"Right, right. Monica, if you don't have a sweetheart, what about Hans? He's a bit thick, but he's kind! And he doesn't gamble much."

"Kind? What's kind about him? He's incredibly pompous. He's always interfering with the laundry work!"

When one maid added this sulkily, another chimed in:

"Still, he's better than those weird perverts who only date women with certain names."

Perverts who date by name? Monica glanced over, and the maids giggled among themselves.

"You mean that incredibly handsome man Rose was seeing recently?"

"The one who only dated her because her name was Rose."

"That was just an excuse! Rose threw herself at him so much, of course he got tired of her. Ugh, honestly. If someone dumped me for a reason like that, I'd just go hang myself!"

"Oh, be quiet. Everyone go back to your own work!"

Maria snapped efficiently, shooing the maids away with her hands while putting away the dried dishes. The maids scattered, still giggling.

Monica stood up awkwardly and helped Maria move the dishes. When they'd finished, Maria added briefly:

"Sorry. It's my fault."

"What are you talking about? It's fine. It's nothing. Really, it's fine, so don't worry about it."

She said it was fine several times, but somehow things only grew more awkward. Monica left the dining room with a forced smile.

She felt rather out of sorts, but it seemed excessive to go find Hans and make a scene. After all, Hans hadn't actually said anything particularly objectionable to her face.

Going to him first with 'Do you like me? Please don't' would only make her look ridiculous in an instant.

Monica was a servant who'd only recently arrived here, while he was a gardener who'd worked at the estate for years.

"Good grief."

Monica sighed and rolled her shoulders back a few times. She resolved to avoid Hans for the time being.

Even without thinking about Hans, she had far too much to do today.

Martinael would be awake and washing up by now, so before he finished breakfast, Monica needed to hurry back to her room and write a letter.

A letter to Diana, the fellow nurse who'd written her letter of introduction to the Mollette estate, asking about the formula for the 'green medicine.'

'I even considered marrying Miss Mollette at one point.'

The image of the man who'd said that rose in her mind again.

His fingertips trembling slightly, his tired, languid face.

Monica shook her head vigorously. The man who'd contemplated marrying Liella because the townhouse was too noisy and he wanted to sleep peacefully in the largest mansion.

It was ridiculous. Strangely, though, the thought of him standing beside Liella in formal dress was something she absolutely did not want to see—even more than worrying about whether the 'green medicine' was good or bad.

Time passed more quickly than expected.

While waiting for a reply, the season ripened until it became difficult to go out during midday.

With the hot winds, social gatherings naturally shifted to smaller affairs within estates. Tea parties for ladies, small friendly gatherings—such events were held one after another at the Mollette estate as well.

"But they can easily gather in gazebos at the beach. The swimming competition coming up, too. Hot weather is just a convenient excuse. For instance, to throw me and him together."

It was rather forward talk.

The girl with beautiful, tightly curled dark brown hair was Isabella, daughter of Countess Valentina, who'd held a birthday celebration at the Mollette estate not long ago.

Like Martinael, she was ten years old. Today she'd come with her mother to a ladies' charity gathering being held at the Mollette estate.

'Her mental age seems more like twenty-two, though?'

Monica lightly wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Though it was called a ladies' charity gathering, it was little more than a small party using afternoon tea as a pretext to collect charitable funds.

The excuse was good—helping the poor of the defeated kingdom.

'But isn't this far too lavish for that purpose?'

In the hall on the second floor, which had the best ventilation in the estate, a party was in full swing.

The sound of people laughing could be heard faintly through Martinael's window, mixed with music.

The children, however, were exceptions. Immediately upon arriving at the Mollette estate, Isabella had been transferred from Countess Valentina's hands to Monica's.

Isabella was the only child among those at the party who was Martinael's age, and naturally the three of them—including Monica—ended up drinking pink tea with ice floating in it in Martinael's room.

"Ah, this is so annoying. Why didn't you go?"

Martinael whined, holding his cup.

"You think I want to be here?"

Isabella shot back. Even while doing so, she extended her handkerchief to Monica with her small hand.

"Use this to wipe your sweat. You must have such trouble because of Martinael."

"Ahaha. Thank you, Miss. Seeing such considerate behavior, I'm sure Countess Valentina must be greatly pleased."

"Too bad he doesn't know that."

Isabella lifted her chin, quite satisfied with Monica's words. Martinael frowned.

"Fine, go to the party and show off how I don't know!"

"I'd really love to, Martinael. Unfortunately, I can't."

"Why not?"

Monica decided to give Isabella a chance to show off as much as she liked. Isabella shrugged as if she'd been waiting for this. The way she mimicked adults was impossibly forward.

"Because Mother told me to get along with him. I have to marry him later, you see."

Martinael choked on his tea and started coughing.

Monica reflexively wiped the tea spilling from Martinael's mouth with Isabella's handkerchief, then looked flustered.

Isabella said "It's fine, Miss Monica, please keep it," and lightly swept back the hair draped over her shoulder with her hand. The blue ribbon attached to her brown hair fluttered.

Martinael, having barely recovered, burst out:

"I'm not marrying you!"

"You think I'm happy about it?"

When Isabella retorted sarcastically, Martinael stood up indignantly. But good Martinael, having stood up, immediately read Monica's troubled expression and said quickly:

"I'm going to finish building the castle I was making. Don't worry. I won't leave."

"Thank you, Martinael."

"It's not fair if you get in trouble because of her."

Having spoken with adult-like maturity, Martinael turned his head sharply away without even looking at Isabella and went into his room. He left the door open, so Monica could watch Martinael building his castle with blocks even while sitting in front of Isabella.

Isabella said "Hmph," and took a sip of her tea. The pose was so elegant it brought to mind a princess.

Monica guessed that the 'unpleasant child' Martinael had mentioned not wanting to approach his family about at the Countess's birthday party was probably this young lady.

This was the first time she'd seen Martinael dislike someone so much.

"Miss Isabella is remarkably clever."

"Thank you, Miss Monica. With such a foolish potential husband, I can't help but feel a sense of crisis. That's why I've been studying hard lately."

"Ahahaha."

Monica laughed awkwardly. In any place, there are children who are far too mature for their age.

Though it was surprising that such a child was the daughter of a family as high-ranking as a Count. Isabella answered as if reading Monica's thoughts.

"Our family has no sons. All daughters. So Father's title will pass to my cousin. That's why Mother said I should marry Martinael. The Mollette family's lack of honors was a flaw, but Lord Solivén is going to marry his older sister."

Solivén. At the familiar name, Monica closed her mouth.

Isabella seemed to interpret Monica's stiff expression differently and added:

"It's all right. Our family affairs aren't exactly secret. My sisters hurried up and got married for that reason too."

Isabella picked up a cookie, broke it in half, then broke that in half again before putting it in her mouth.

The series of elegant movements testified to how fiercely this ten-year-old girl had been trained. Monica watched carefully before asking:

"But I thought Miss Isabella disliked young Master Martinael too."

The girl continued chewing the cookie slowly, working her mouth for quite a while even after Monica finished speaking. Then she suddenly brought up her governess.

"My governess's name is Rosemary. She's from the east and even got into Beryl Collegium. Isn't that incredible?"

"My goodness. That is truly impressive."

Beryl Collegium. Monica expressed admiration at that familiar yet still aspirational name, and Isabella shrugged.

"But she didn't even finish her first year before Father dragged her out. If I go to university, our father will probably do the same thing."

Monica's green eyes rolled sideways, wandering. Isabella giggled.

"This isn't really a secret either. All my sisters debuted in society and got married within one season. He believes that if a woman so much as makes eye contact with a man, she should marry him."

Usually young ladies took at least three seasons to choose a husband. If they chose carefully, they might even take up to two years. But one season? Wasn't that too rushed? Isabella added again:

"So marrying that fool Martinael is the best thing for me."