TMIAP Chapter 8

The dinner was quite delicious.

Madame Mollette asked Monica various questions and informed her of several matters concerning the household. Mr. Mollette was busy with work and traveled frequently between the capital and La Spezia, so she wouldn't see him often; this estate was most beautiful in summer, and so forth.

Even during dinner, Monica kept glancing surreptitiously at Liella.

Liella wielded her spoon with the graceful manner of a model aristocratic young lady. She cut her meat, then drew Martinael's plate toward her, cut his meat as well, and pushed it back—all without a wasted motion.

"Marty's physician comes tomorrow at lunch. He visits once a week, and after you meet with him, could you look after Marty starting in the afternoon?"

"Of course, Madame."

"Excellent."

Madame Mollette smiled warmly. Then Liella interjected.

"Mother, might I teach Miss Monica tonight how to help Marty prepare for bed?"

"You?"

"I've been looking after Marty occasionally of late."

"Oh, have you?"

Madame Mollette looked at Liella with evident approval. Liella shrugged lightly.

"I know that too!"

Martinael protested sulkily. Liella smiled.

"You keep chewing on the thermometer. That won't do."

"I don't chew it anymore!"

"And you can't button your clothes properly either."

Wasn't that the maids' work...? As Monica gazed absently at Liella and Martinael, Madame Mollette kindly explained.

"The age gap between them is quite large. The children get along remarkably well. Others criticize it as unbecoming of nobility, but what does it matter? I'm pleased by it. Aren't I right?"

At those words, Liella nodded. Monica felt strangely conflicted but nodded along as well.

Liella's hands were practiced as she inserted the gleaming mercury thermometer into the boy's mouth, withdrew it, and checked the reading.

When Liella gestured, Martinael burrowed into the bed as though he'd been waiting for it. Once he was lying down, Liella arranged his pillow and smoothed the blankets neatly.

"Record Martinael's temperature every evening. When Marty's ill, fever spots appear first on the back of his neck, so check there—if nothing seems amiss, you need only arrange his bedding."

"Thank you."

"Sister, can't I just finish reading that before bed?"

The boy whined that he wanted to finish his book, but Liella was a strict older sister.

Seeing Liella shake her head, Martinael stuck out his lower lip but didn't press further and lay down. With a "sleep well," the door closed.

"We need to talk."

"...All right."

The moment the door shut, Liella spoke those words. Monica nodded and admitted Liella into her own room.

Immediately upon entering Monica's room, Liella closed the door and looked around. Nothing had changed except for the trunk the maids had brought from Monica's lodgings during the day.

"Mother noticed. That we both lied."

"...I know."

She'd rather expected as much. Who wouldn't notice a lie two young women had creakily fabricated on the spot?

Liella crossed her arms and regarded Monica with arrogance.

"Mother is considering what to do with you."

"..."

Monica gazed quietly at Liella. Liella frowned.

"Have you nothing to say?"

"What would you have me say?"

The immediate retort seemed to irritate Liella.

"Don't you want to work in this house?"

"I do. What of it?"

"Then—"

"Then what? Do you wish to say that since Madame Mollette is displeased, I should take myself off of my own accord?"

Liella's face crumpled. Monica barely suppressed the urge to sneer. She mustn't do that.

After Liella had left earlier, Monica hadn't simply remained sitting on the floor in her room until dinnertime.

Mistress Oraingne had been the first to visit. While being shown around the estate by Mistress Oraingne, Monica had greeted the servants she would primarily encounter.

"Oh, you're the new nurse! How lovely to meet you!"

The servants were generally welcoming. Monica exchanged light conversation with them and asked various questions.

Her mind was in turmoil, but for precisely that reason she thought it necessary to understand the situation. It wasn't particularly strange for a new servant just arrived at the estate to inquire about its circumstances.

Thus Monica learned several things. This estate had not originally belonged to the Mollette family; up until about a decade ago it had belonged to a wealthy high-ranking noble family, but during the war that family had fallen and the Mollettes had acquired it.

There were few servants the Mollettes had brought from the capital, and now only Mistress Oraingne remained.

Naturally, Monica also learned what the servants hadn't told her. Including what it was that Liella feared.

"You want to see me on my knees before you, begging to work in this house, is that it, Li...ella?"

She'd nearly said Lizzie, but Monica just barely corrected herself. Liella tilted her head threateningly.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well..."

Monica opened her mouth, then closed it again.

'None of the servants in this estate know that you were adopted into this family.'

That was what Monica had realized.

Liella's adoption had occurred before the Mollette family came to La Spezia. In the capital it might have been different, but the servants here had encountered Liella as a Mollette daughter from the very beginning.

Moreover, Monica distinctly remembered what Madame Mollette had said earlier.

"I'm so forgetful these days. After having two children..."

Madame Mollette had also said she'd given birth to Liella. But both of them knew that was a lie.

Monica now understood the true nature of the fear that had risen in Liella's eyes.

Liella was afraid the fact of her adoption might become known.

To mere servants, someone might think. Even if she was adopted, what did it matter? Liella's surname was Mollette, not Orphen, wasn't it?

But that was too convenient a view. People didn't think of human affairs so neatly, as though drawing clean lines.

For that reason, Monica pushed the words she'd been about to speak back down her throat. Instead, she tried to speak in the softest voice she could manage.

"If you meant to drive me out, you wouldn't have shown me how to take Martinael's temperature earlier."

"...Hmm."

Liella narrowed her eyes, arms still crossed. Monica wiped the sweat from her palms against her sides. She could threaten, here and now, to expose Liella's story to everyone.

But that wouldn't be very wise. Madame Mollette would also wish to conceal the fact that Liella had been adopted.

In any case, Madame Mollette was Monica's employer.

Madame Mollette—who had adopted Liella yet loved her enough to claim she'd given birth to her—would hardly wish to keep on an orphanage contemporary who made vicious threats against her beloved daughter, even for pay.

'Even if I tried to spread rumors about the adoption, Madame Mollette could simply stop me...'

Besides, Monica was merely an orphan-born nurse.

For the high-born, dealing with one homeless young woman spreading malicious rumors was hardly any trouble at all. No matter how much Monica shouted, Liella would suffer only a bit of embarrassment at most, but Monica herself could lose her very life.

She looked down and saw her glossy hand with emergency ointment applied. The bleeding had long since stopped; now a scab had formed on the back of her hand.

Monica glanced at Liella's hands. Liella wore new chemical lace gloves. Not those expensive gloves torn during their tussle that afternoon, but yet another pair.

That was the difference between Monica and Liella.

Her lips trembled. But she had to speak.

"Liella, I know my place."

"..."

"I'm poor. As you might guess, I left the orphanage when I turned eighteen. I was never adopted... The money I earned working as a nurse went unpaid because of war reparations. So unless I'm caring for Martinael, I don't even have enough for a train ticket back to the capital."

Half of it was true. She had money for a train ticket, but even with a ticket she had no place to stay in the capital.

The notion that she had money left for an inn was utterly absurd. Before poverty, self-respect and wounded feelings swiftly vanished.

Monica raised her head and looked at Liella.

"I thought Madame Mollette would be suspicious of me. But the fact that I'm safely eating dinner in this house tonight must be thanks to you. And I believe it's because of that small opportunity I gave you ten years ago."

"..."

"So I'll simply think of you as a young lady I must serve. I'll act as though someone named Lizzie Orphen never existed in my life."

To summarize: I know you haven't forgotten my kindness in letting you be adopted in my place, and you defended me. So I'll gratefully accept the opportunity and keep quiet. Something along those lines.

Finally, Monica added:

"I beg you, Miss."

She swore those words were not spoken because Monica knew of the conversation Liella and Madame Mollette had shared.

Monica had simply said it to flatter Liella. For her, the most important thing was to please Liella's mood.

But the moment Liella heard those words, something twisted inside her. She couldn't understand why.

Liella had entered this room for precisely the reason Monica had anticipated. Liella had intended to silence Monica.

Seeing Monica seated at the dinner table, Liella had bitterly regretted defending her to Madame Mollette that afternoon. She should have just had her thrown out!

To bring an orphanage contemporary into this house because of a momentary impulse she herself couldn't understand—it was absurd.

The Mollette family occupied an extremely important position in La Spezia society after the war, and Liella herself had her own significant goals. If it became known she'd been adopted, everything might fall apart.

So she'd meant to tell Monica to shut her mouth and live quiet as a mouse. But now that Monica was being so docile, rather than feeling pleased, she was strangely irritated.

But what could she do about it? Say she disliked such docility and Monica should speak as she pleased? That was impossible. And so Liella sneered.

"Good. I'm relieved you know your place."

"..."

"I'd prefer not to have this conversation again, Miss Monica."

"It won't happen."

Monica answered calmly and turned her head. Liella gripped her dress and swept out of Monica's room.

In the beautiful, spacious room Monica could never afford in a lifetime of work, she was now alone. Monica laughed hollowly and began to unfasten her sleeve buttons.

By any measure she'd done very little, yet she was astonishingly tired. Monica swiftly loosened her hair and removed her dress.

She was pulling underclothes from her trunk—which the maids had brought—when it happened.

Clink. Something fell.

A brooch. Lizzie's brooch, its luster now dull, which she'd forgotten she even possessed.

She couldn't even manage a bitter laugh. Without even looking at it, Monica shoved the brooch back into her bag.

She entered the bathroom attached to her room, where a beautiful faucet awaited her. She turned on the water and buried her face in it. Leaving no space for tears to linger.