TMIAP Chapter 7

Madame Mollette had been pleasant and affectionate throughout. Even as she frowned at Liella, a smile never left the corners of her lips.

But now, for the first time, bewilderment settled across that gentle face.

At the same moment, her gaze shifted to Monica's hands.

"Miss Monica?"

Monica felt the weight of that scrutiny but calmly bent at the waist and gathered the torn pieces of the letter of introduction from the floor.

If Madame Mollette's gaze had been a sword, Monica would already have been run through. Monica spread the letter—torn twice, now in four pieces—before Madame Mollette.

"What on earth—"

"I'd forgotten how worn my bag was, Madame."

Monica held up the small handbag she wore at her waist.

"The letter was neatly folded inside, and it tore when I pulled it out. I'm terribly sorry."

"Miss Monica, I'm afraid I don't quite understand—"

The shape of it looked as though someone had deliberately torn it. It was even crumpled.

Madame Mollette looked at Liella with bewildered eyes.

The moment their eyes met, Liella also reflexively glanced at Monica. But Monica wasn't looking at Liella at all—her gaze remained fixed on the letter of introduction.

Suddenly, Madame Mollette's eyes fell upon Monica's hand.

"...Miss Monica, you're bleeding."

"Ah."

Only then did Monica glance briefly at the back of her hand. Beads of red blood had welled up.

Madame Mollette looked at Liella again. A brief, pointed look: Do you know something about this? Liella appeared flustered, then finally spoke.

"Well, Mother. Miss Monica scraped the back of her hand on a splinter in the doorframe when she entered this room."

"Good heavens. Is that true?"

Madame Mollette turned in surprise toward the door behind her. Monica blinked, then glanced briefly at Liella.

Liella was babbling incoherently.

"So I was startled, and, well."

"Of course you were startled! My word. What were the maids doing?"

"Ah, Mother. Please let me finish."

Liella quickly stopped Madame Mollette from approaching the door to examine it. Yet she herself seemed uncertain of what she was saying.

"Well, um. So I offered to treat the wound."

The uncertain tone. Even Madame Mollette, who had stopped in her tracks, seemed to sense something was amiss. She looked at Liella with suspicion.

"Liella, are you quite all right? You seem rather—"

"...I remembered that I had ointment in my bag."

It was Monica who finally intercepted Liella's scattered words. Monica sighed and swiftly fabricated a lie.

"I have ointment in my bag, so I said I'd apply it myself. As you know, I'm a trained nurse, Madame. But then I realized the ointment was back at my lodgings. In my confusion, I remembered I hadn't yet given you my letter of introduction."

Monica could see from the corner of her eye that Liella was staring directly at her. Monica struggled not to look in that direction as she continued.

"But pulling it out hastily from my bag, the letter tore."

"But this looks as though someone deliberately tore it—"

"Mother, about that."

Liella interrupted again.

"I was also startled and flustered trying to ask if she was all right, and I accidentally tore it once more."

"...You did?"

Madame Mollette's kind eyes narrowed. Liella nodded.

"Well, you know how clumsy I am. This carpet here—"

Liella pulled her foot out from beneath her dress hem and lightly tapped the carpeted floor.

"The maids must have forgotten to smooth it properly while cleaning—it was wrinkled, and I nearly tripped. And Miss Monica—"

When she said "Miss Monica," Liella drew a deep breath. It seemed as though she were steeling herself for something.

"...caught me."

"Oh dear."

Madame Mollette sighed. Still, a trace of disbelief remained in her eyes. Her plump lips parted.

"But Liella, I hardly think that's the maids' fault. Are you quite certain you're not lying to me now?"

"...Pardon?"

Seeing Madame Mollette's eyes still narrowed, Liella clutched at her dress in confusion.

Monica was too tense to breathe properly, but even in that moment, she saw it clearly.

'You're clever and pretty. I'm always being scolded by the Director... I'll never have a chance. I'm stupid and useless! But you'll have other good opportunities!'

Lizzie Orphen, clutching her apron every time the orphanage director scolded her.

Suddenly, Monica felt a pang in her chest. But Madame Mollette pulled in her chin and fixed her tense daughter with a sharp look.

"My darling girl, your mother knows everything."

Poor Liella stiffened her shoulders and stared only at Madame Mollette. Madame Mollette placed her hands on her hips and spoke sternly.

"That dress—didn't you have it fitted recently at Madame Noyer's establishment on Yellow Brick Street?"

"...Pardon? Yes, but—. Oh."

Liella's expression shifted as though she had just realized something. She lowered her head with apparent embarrassment and glanced about nervously.

"I'm sorry, Mother. Actually, I had the hem lengthened a bit."

"I knew it!"

Madame Mollette stamped her heel against the floor and glared. Monica was bewildered for a moment, but soon understood from Madame Mollette's indignant tone what the two of them were discussing.

This Madame Noyer, it seemed, had recently recommended to Liella and Madame Mollette the fashionable style with hems that brushed the floor.

That dress—which had become all the rage after a young lady nearly tripped in one that didn't fit her height properly, was caught by the young Duke of Nottingham, and subsequently became the Duchess of Nottingham. As Monica well knew, it was a garment only the daughters of very wealthy families could manage.

But Madame Mollette had refused such a dress on the grounds that it was dangerous.

"Young people never think about the danger for the sake of some passing fashion! Liella!"

Madame Mollette stamped her foot.

"I'm sorry. But Mother, do consider."

Liella made a show of speaking through her nose.

"You've been concerned that I haven't married yet. I've recently had the desire, for the first time, to make a good impression on a certain gentleman."

"Oh my. Could that be—"

"Yes, Sir Solivén."

"Liella!"

Whatever that name meant, it clearly pleased Madame Mollette. She laughed playfully, her earlier glaring quite forgotten.

Liella drew her shoulders together shyly, like a young lady quite in love.

"So you saw that handsome man in person and your heart was moved?"

"Rather."

"But Liella! That dress is far too dangerous!"

"If the danger makes me stumble in front of Sir Solivén, wouldn't he catch me as well?"

Liella pouted her lips with a perfectly foolish expression. Madame Mollette began to laugh outright.

"My daughter! Really, at your age, still so thoughtless!"

"At any rate, I'm sorry. I did play a part in Miss Monica's letter getting torn..."

Only when her own name was mentioned so suddenly did Monica come back to herself.

Liella truly seemed like a sheltered young lady who had known nothing but affection all her life as she linked arms with Madame Mollette. Each time she blinked, her long, thick lashes fluttered like a doll's.

"Please understand Miss Monica's difficulty, Mother."

"Oh, you impossible girl."

Madame Mollette, merciful yet strict with her children, pinched Liella's arm. Liella made a theatrical show of distress.

"It can't be helped, I suppose. But there are conditions. Miss Monica, listen carefully. Since you bear some fault in this as well, you must promise me you'll follow what I'm about to say from now on."

"Pardon? Ah, yes."

Madame Mollette had suddenly grown stern as she addressed Monica. Monica started in surprise, but then Madame Mollette winked at her with one eye.

"From now on, whenever my daughter wears a dress longer than her ankles in this house, you must tell me. Understood?"

Liella protested loudly.

"Mother!"

"I'm pleased you're becoming friends with my daughter, but you must also become my most faithful informant."

The affectionate mother and daughter had a brief tussle. Monica forced a smile and nodded.

Madame Mollette took the torn pieces of the letter from Monica's hand and gathered them up.

"I'll have Mistress Oraingne mend it properly. In any case, I'll send emergency supplies with a maid shortly. Your bag must be back at your lodgings. Do you like your room?"

For courtesy's sake, Monica mechanically assembled words about how very pretty the room was, how grateful she was, how it seemed too much for her, and how as a nurse she could treat her own hand.

All the while, Monica's eyes remained fixed on Liella, who stood with her arm linked through Madame Mollette's.

Liella was watching her with a face utterly cold, all trace of the playful expression she'd worn for Madame Mollette completely vanished.

"Shall we go, then, Liella? I must find my darling son as well."

"Seeing as he hasn't returned, he must have followed Anby to the incinerator."

"That boy really! Oh, Miss Monica. Don't forget dinner. Rest well until then."

The lady and Liella walked arm-in-arm from the room.

Monica curtsied and continued to watch as the two of them passed through the open door and disappeared down the corridor. Liella never once looked back.

Only when the two had completely vanished did Monica finally close the door and sink to the floor.

She was alone in the beautiful room, but her mind was in complete chaos, like a battlefield. The sudden air raid named Lizzie Orphen had left devastating wreckage in its wake.

The fear etched in Liella's eyes, the confusion and hostility directed at her, that clenched fist gripping her skirt.

Liella smiling with a completely transformed face at kind Madame Mollette... No, Lizzie Orphen.

Monica scrubbed at her face roughly.

"But Liella, should we really employ a young lady so careless she even tears up her letter of introduction?"

Madame Mollette asked Liella as they walked down the corridor.

Liella glanced briefly at her adoptive mother's face. She knew very well that the lady was always gentle, but showed no leniency whatsoever when it came to Martinael.

"Mother, that was—"

"You tripped, indeed. I know everything, Liella. My kind-hearted daughter."

The lady sighed.

"Really, you simply cannot pass by anyone in difficulty."

Liella bit her lip.

Madame Mollette was certainly not a woman of narrow vision. She had already grasped, at the very least, that the story the two young women had stammered out was fabricated.

So if she wanted to send Monica away, a single word would suffice.

'Yes, actually I lied. I said that because she's my age and I felt embarrassed for her, but it really does look as though someone deliberately tore it... Might she not be involved with people of poor character? She claims to be a nurse, but a letter of introduction doesn't prove skill...'

Countless words passed through Liella's mind. At last, Liella smiled and closed her eyes.

"I don't think it was deliberate. Besides, it was true that she caught me when I stumbled. She was quite quick."

"And so?"

"You know well that Marty's knees are never unscathed. I think she'll look after him properly."

"I certainly hope so! Well then, let's give it a few days while the butler verifies the letter..."

Madame Mollette's thoughts had turned to her beloved son, and she began to chatter. As Liella half-listened to complaints about the mischief of a son who would soon turn eleven, she looked down at her own dress.

The front of the expensive linen dress was hopelessly wrinkled.