MAC 15

Chapter: 15

The young nobles gathered in the private room were scattered around the card tables, billiard table, and sofas, chatting and drinking.

Beatrice sat near the fireplace, idly smoothing the hem of her dress. Her pale, watery-blue dress, chosen to match her turquoise eyes, reflected the light with a subtle sheen.

“I heard that shares in the mines of Kent have been rising quite a bit lately. Have you heard the rumors?”

“Ah, yes, I heard about that too. I made a little profit investing in the railway business there.”

At the billiard table on the left, people loudly discussed whose mines were doing well and who had invested where and increased their fortunes.

“I think I’ll be having my engagement ceremony before the season is over.”

“Oh my! Congratulations. You must be terribly busy now!”

Different conversations were taking place on the right. Marriage, engagements, and other people’s marriages.

As the voices around her entered one ear and went straight out the other, Beatrice opened her fan again.

Beatrice had never been particularly interested in fashion, but an ostrich-feather fan was useful in many ways. She could use it when yawning to endure a boring stretch of time, or to cover her face so she wouldn’t make eye contact with men.

And right now, if she closed her eyes as though she were completely exhausted and gently waved the fan, no one would try to speak to her.

Everything had been going well until…

“Beatrice! It’s been such a long time!”

Startled by a hand patting her shoulder, Beatrice found someone’s face filling her vision.

Large eyes that looked as though they might roll right out of their sockets, a thin body, and a slightly twisted smile. The person standing before her was Eugenia Norton.

“Uh…”

“I heard your uncle was appointed director of the museum today. Director Edward Rockwell, I mean. Congratulations, Lady Somerset!”

At the sharp, exaggerated laughter, Beatrice’s body stiffened.

“Uh… yes. Hello.”

Beatrice instinctively checked the entrance.

Would it be better to get up and leave right now? Perhaps being harassed by reporters would actually be preferable.

There were many reasons Beatrice avoided social gatherings, but one of the biggest culprits was Eugenia Norton herself.

“It’s really good to see you, Beatrice. I heard that you completed the entire course at the Royal Academy of Art and have returned. You were away from society for quite a long time, weren’t you?”

“Mm-hmm. That’s right.”

Aware of the attention gradually turning toward her, Beatrice forced the corners of her lips upward.

“I always thought you painted merely as a light hobby, like the other ladies of high society. But I truly admire the fact that you devoted yourself to it so seriously and managed to accomplish something.”

It was praise that was almost excessively kind, but beneath its outward warmth was something strangely twisted.

A bad feeling slowly raised its head somewhere in Beatrice’s chest. Eugenia’s chronic desire to monopolize the attention of high society must have flared up again.

Perhaps she was extremely irritated that, after her uncle Edward had just been appointed director, attention had suddenly shifted toward the daughter of the Somerset family.

“Everyone, come over and say hello! This is Lady Beatrice, the young lady of the Marquess of Somerset’s family and the niece of Sir Edward Rockwell, who has just been appointed the new director of the Natural History Museum.”

As Norton raised her voice toward the interior of the private room, the nobles who had been leisurely chatting began gathering one after another as though they had been waiting for the opportunity.

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for a while, but you looked so tired that I was waiting for the right opportunity.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I’m also a fan of Mr. Greenleaf.”

With the added distinction of being Director Rockwell’s niece, the hottest topic in high society that evening, people quickly began flocking toward her.

Some brought up memories of playing with dolls together in the garden of a grand mansion when they were children, trying to establish a sense of familiarity. Others introduced themselves as enthusiastic readers of Sir Greenleaf, whose work they had known only through newspaper pages for the past ten years.

As Beatrice became surrounded by people and her mind began to grow hazy, Norton started her malicious game as though she had been waiting for this very moment.

“Now that you’ve finished your studies, I suppose you’ll be getting married soon? What about marriage proposals? Is there anyone you’re seeing?”

“…No, there isn’t.”

While looking for a chance to escape, Beatrice glanced at the entrance once again.

If I can’t get out of here, I almost wish everyone here would just leave instead. Though, of course, that’s not going to happen.

Even now, someone was entering the private room. A young man with a face covered in freckles, who looked extremely loose-lipped, accompanied by his companions.

“Oh my, Viscount!”

Eugenia, who had been about to say something else to Beatrice, suddenly froze. She quickly straightened herself, cleared her throat, and waved rather elegantly toward the man behind them.

“Hello.”

Following her gaze unconsciously, Beatrice realized that the person Eugenia was warmly greeting wasn’t the freckled young man, but the tall and exceptionally handsome man standing behind him.

“Why, who is this? Viscount Bennett, isn’t it? How many years has it been?”

Warm greetings flew from every direction, and amid the commotion, a brief opening appeared in the conversation.

Everyone had turned their attention toward the newcomers, so Beatrice thought she should take the opportunity to slip away. She had just begun to move discreetly when—

“Beatrice, where do you think you’re going?”

Eugenia, quick to notice, suddenly grabbed her arm. Her eyes gleamed darkly, filled with inexplicable spite and twisted malice, as though she were desperate to publicly humiliate Beatrice somehow.

“Don’t be so discouraged. Just wait and see. A young lady from the Marquess of Somerset’s family is bound to be popular.”

“Eugenia.”

Beatrice endured the pressure of her tightening corset and straightened her back. Rather than deliberately enduring humiliation just to play along with a madwoman’s tune, perhaps it would be better to simply become the strange one herself.

“I didn’t paint merely as a hobby. I have no intention of getting married. I’m planning to go to Verquion and become a painter.”

“Oh.”

Even Eugenia looked slightly surprised, her eyes widening.

The cheerful laughter receded like the tide, and Beatrice began to feel crushed beneath the strange silence that descended over the drawing room.

“Oh? A woman going abroad all by herself? Are you perhaps dreaming of free love?”

A man who had been listening nearby let out a sly laugh, wearing a vulgar smile. Beatrice’s body stiffened slightly beneath his unpleasant gaze.

“You’ll have to be careful. I hear there are so many men in Verquion who are desperate to defile respectable ladies. Then again, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with enjoying yourself on your own terms.”

“Ah, that’s true. You’ll need money for living expenses, after all.”

“Between the new museum director and this, the Somerset family certainly is an open-minded one.”

The men burst into hearty laughter and returned to their billiards, while Eugenia Norton turned red with embarrassment.

“Are you crazy? How could you say something like that here? What will those men think of you…?”

Not only Eugenia Norton, but the women near Beatrice also wore troubled expressions.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help worrying after hearing your conversation.”

A young-looking lady at the neighboring table, who had been spoon-feeding sherbet to her baby, cautiously spoke to her.

“Lady Somerset, your passion for learning to paint is admirable, but there’s no need to drag your own dignity through the mud. You can simply study it as a hobby.”

“Just look at those men over there. Did you see how their eyes changed immediately? We know that Lady Somerset is a refined young lady, but…”

“A woman studying abroad alone is simply out of the question. Surely you need a husband…”

The kind and gentle women continued offering her comfort and advice, but Beatrice couldn’t simply take their concern at face value.

“I… I think I’ll be leaving now.”

Beatrice smiled awkwardly and had just begun to rise from her seat when—

“…They’re talking about a profession. I don’t understand why anyone needs to bring up what men in Verquion are like.”

It was a low but distinct voice. The men who had been mocking her moments earlier and the ladies who had been offering their concerns could all hear it clearly.

The private room suddenly fell silent.

Beatrice turned her head to find the speaker.

The man reclining against the long sofa was the same man who had entered with the freckled young man moments earlier. The one they had called Viscount Bennett…

“Uh, Patrick? What’s wrong?”

The freckled young man sitting beside him tried somehow to smooth things over, but Patrick Bennett didn’t even pretend to hear him.

“Instead of thoughtlessly saying whatever comes to mind and disgracing yourselves, perhaps you should keep such thoughts to yourselves.”

The man spat the words coldly and abruptly stood up. When his piercing blue eyes settled on the men around the billiard table, they seemed to shrink back. One by one, the men avoided his gaze and cleared their throats.

“Honestly, how utterly ridiculous.”

The man let out a derisive laugh and strode straight out of the private room.

Bang!

When the door slammed shut, a dreadful silence followed. The eyes of those remaining briefly turned toward Beatrice before each of them awkwardly looked away.

Soon, the private room regained the sounds of billiard balls clacking together and cheerful laughter.

But Beatrice alone still couldn’t control her pounding heart, and she fanned her flushed cheeks, trying to cool them down.

…What just happened? Who was that man?

Beatrice tightly gripped the fan in her lap and took a deep breath.

His name was Patrick Bennett…

Thanks to that man’s refreshing rebuke, the indigestion-like heaviness pressing down on her chest disappeared in an instant.

That was incredibly satisfying!

Beatrice repeated the name she had just heard several times in her mind. If she went out into the corridor now, could she see him again?

She wanted to thank him somehow…

After cautiously looking around, Beatrice quietly rose from her seat and slipped out into the empty corridor.