BRRC CH 29

Chapter 29 – The Duchess’s Misunderstanding

“Why is she still so small?”

Inside the carriage heading back to the Abner estate, Sharon Abner frowned as she spoke.

Across from her, Wendel lifted his head to look at her.

“You mean Lady Annelia? Why hasn’t she grown? Is she not eating properly?”

“No, Your Grace. Every meal sent to Lady Annelia’s room is inspected personally. The maids take very good care of her.”

“Then what’s the reason? She’s still skin and bones.”

Wendel tilted his head slightly, thinking of Annelia’s plump, rosy cheeks lately.

“She’s actually gained quite a bit of weight, Your Grace. Compared to when she first arrived, there’s a world of difference.”

“That’s what you call ‘gaining weight’?”

Sharon furrowed her brows.

So the child had been that thin when she first came to the mansion?

Just then, the carriage turned around a bend.

Out the window, Sharon could see a smaller carriage following behind—the one Annelia was riding in, together with her maid.

Sharon looked at it for a long moment, then muttered irritably,

“That child really keeps me busy. I can hardly live in peace anymore.”

When she first met Annelia, she’d been running around the territory hunting down Longton spies.

After that came preparing a separate room for the child, expanding the kitchen menu, and overseeing the household changes that followed.

That tiny thing would wander through the main estate, exploring every corner. Sometimes, she’d sneak into the library to read random books.

When she got bored, she’d go to the training grounds to watch the knights practice—bowing her little head politely to the soldiers as they passed.

And recently, she had somehow—out of nowhere—picked up a skilled magic engineer off the street and made him one of Abner’s people.

“…What about the thing I asked you to look into?”

Her voice was casual, but her gaze was sharp.

Wendel was silent for a moment before replying.

“We haven’t seen any signs of her trying to contact Anne Clarke.”

“I see.”

Sharon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She still remembered the first time—the letter.

When that little girl had used the family’s secret crest to send a strange message, giving her crucial intelligence about Longton’s spies and saying, ‘Please don’t ask me how I know.’

***

“If you just let me stay and don’t ask anything, I’ll study really hard! I’ll make lots of magic formulas when I grow up!”

“And I’ll succeed in all the research the Duchess tells me to do…!”

It had been the kind of story no sane person would easily believe.

And yet, Sharon’s answer had been simple.

“I won’t ask you anything. Not how you found that crest, nor how you got the spies’ information.”

But that promise—to not question her—wasn’t the same as letting the whole matter drop.

“So, you’re saying the person behind her isn’t Anne Clarke?”

“Do you want my opinion, or do you want the most likely explanation?”

“The latter first.”

Wendel nodded.

“Anne Clarke remains the most suspicious. She’s the only one who could have given Lady Annelia such sensitive information.”

“And?”

“I can’t think of any other candidate. My investigation shows that Lady Annelia barely interacts with anyone else—apart from Anne Clarke. And after all… she’s only four years old.”

“So you’re saying the child must’ve used Anne Clarke’s information to get close to me.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Sharon gave a slow nod.

Then Wendel hesitated before speaking again.

“May I tell you what I personally think, Your Grace?”

She looked straight at him. “Go ahead.”

“As I said, it’s undeniable that someone is behind Lady Annelia. Otherwise, there’s no way she could’ve known about the spy network or the existence of the family crest.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Even with her sharp intellect and prodigious magical ability, it was impossible for a four-year-old to know that much.

It was only natural to assume someone had been guiding her.

Perhaps even using her for some ulterior motive.

That was why Sharon had moved Annelia’s quarters to the main estate—to keep a closer eye on her.

“But…” Wendel continued, “I don’t believe Lady Annelia approached you with bad intentions.”

Sharon slowly lifted her eyes.

“Without her, we never would’ve uncovered the Coel family’s corruption.”

“…”

“And today, with the Empress Dowager and the Crown Prince—if I may speak plainly, Your Grace, that was an unexpected but tremendous stroke of luck for the Abner family.”

“…You’re right about that.”

Sharon thought back to how warmly the Empress Dowager had treated Annelia.

The Empress had even said she would personally come to Annelia’s birthday celebration—bringing the Crown Prince with her.

The Empress Dowager herself, who had rarely appeared outside the palace for years.

All to celebrate the birthday of a four-year-old child?

The noble circles would never stop talking about it.

They would say the Abner family had risen so high that even the Empress Dowager would attend their sponsored child’s party.

Wendel’s tone softened.

“And more than that, I can feel something whenever I’m around her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s wary of me, Your Grace.”

Sharon frowned deeply.

A hint of irritation slipped into her voice.

“What did you do to make that little one wary of you? Didn’t I tell you to smile more?”

“That’s not it. Lady Annelia is wary of everyone.”

Sharon fell silent.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t noticed—
but hearing it said aloud left an odd feeling in her chest.

“Of course, she smiles often and speaks politely. But she never fully opens up to anyone. It’s as if she’s always waiting for something bad to happen.”

“…”

“And recently… I’ve heard some unsettling rumors.”

Sharon’s brow rose slightly. “What kind of rumors?”

Wendel hesitated for a long time before lowering his voice.

“I believe… she might have been abused. Since her time at the orphanage.”

Sharon’s eyes widened. “What did you just say?”

“There are stories from the maids—that she’s overly cautious around them, almost fearfully so.”

“What?!”

“They say she’s constantly apologizing, always saying things like, ‘I’ll do better,’ or ‘I’ll be useful.’ As if she’s terrified of being disliked.”

Sharon’s mouth fell open.

Now that she thought about it… she had heard the girl say such things before.

Wendel’s expression hardened.

“When you put it all together… my conclusion is this.”

And before he could even finish, Sharon already knew what he was about to say.

“That woman Anne Clarke used the child,” she said coldly. “The girl’s talented, and Anne must’ve exploited that.”

“…”

“When she heard about Longton’s plan to buy the child through ‘adoption,’ she panicked and wrote me that letter.”

Everything suddenly made sense.

“She must have known that only I had the power to stop Lambert Longton’s scheme—so she reached out to me for help.”

The realization hit Sharon like a thunderbolt.

Even harder than the moment she’d discovered Camilla Coel’s betrayal.

She could almost see it now—
that small, fragile child, trembling and crying before her cruel teacher.

“Annelia! Can’t you do anything right?! I told you to complete that magic formula!”

“I-I’m sorry, Teacher! I can’t—I’ll do better, please—!”

The veins in Sharon’s temples pulsed with anger.

“Bring me Anne Clarke—now—!”

But Wendel quickly stopped her, his face tense.

“There’s no evidence yet, Your Grace. And if you drag her in right away, what if the young lady sees it…?”

Sharon froze.

“…She would be frightened. Badly.”

A long sigh escaped her lips.

Her fists clenched tightly as she looked out the window.

The maids said she acts like she’s begging not to be hated?

That image flashed vividly before her eyes—

“H-hic… I’m scared… Annelia did wrong… please don’t hate me…”

She could see it clearly—
the little girl, crying in a maid’s arms, terrified of making a mistake.

Even on her first night in the mansion, hadn’t she said something similar to Sharon herself?

That she’d be useful, that she’d work hard.

Sharon’s expression hardened with resolve.

“I won’t let that tiny thing relive such horrors again.”

“I agree completely,” Wendel said quietly.

“She was so excited when we mentioned a birthday party, too.”

Sharon recalled the image of Annelia walking back to the carriage earlier that day—trying to look calm, but her little feet practically bouncing with joy.

“The birthday celebration will be postponed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Interrogating Anne Clarke comes after that.”

“Yes, understood.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes sharply.

“And one more thing. Even if we bring Anne Clarke in—
that child must never find out.”

In Sharon Abner’s mind, Anne Clarke had already become an irredeemable monster—
the cruel abuser who had scarred her precious ward forever.