Ch#63
Barnes roused late from slumber, his fingers stretching toward the Northern News resting on his nightstand.
He’d grabbed a copy yesterday on the trek home from the office, though the sheets already showed creases—undoubtedly from his wife’s eager preview.
He unfolded the page creased most sharply of all.
‘Cecilia’s Recipe #6: Beef Stew’
“Beef stew for lunch it is,” he grumbled under his breath.
Whenever a fresh issue of the Northern News hit stands, Cecilia’s spotlighted dish graced their table the following day.
The rich, mouthwatering aroma already drifted upward from the kitchen below as he leafed through the pages.
Soon, a particular piece snagged his attention.
It detailed a brand-new “Couples’ Night Package” debuting that week at Marie’s Inn.
“…On checking in, pairs with offspring enjoy a brief, delightful parting.
As the lovers savor a candlelit night, the young ones receive top-notch amusement and supervision from dedicated inn attendants.
Come morning, the duo indulges in in-room breakfast before rejoining their children and departing in style via a parting coach.”
“Four trial families showered it with glowing praise.
Mrs. Bennett, who journeyed there alongside her spouse and two boys, raved about recapturing her honeymoon magic and vowed to come back.”
“What peculiar notions this place dreams up,” Barnes murmured.
The story sparked a memory: his wife’s birthday loomed near.
“Perhaps I ought to reserve a spot…”
She’d likely scanned the feature herself by now.
If he dropped the booking news over the meal, her gaze would sparkle with delight.
Buoyed by the notion, Barnes dressed in haste and ducked out unseen by his wife.
Grinning inwardly at her impending joy, he made for the inn.
Yet a sign affixed to the entrance halted him cold.
“The Couples’ Night Package stands fully reserved through next month.
Restaurant patrons, enter for a queue number.”
Barnes scanned it twice, head still spinning.
“You’re the tenth fellow today.”
The remark came from a man idling beyond the eatery’s doors, his tone laced with pity.
“What?”
“Tenth one frozen in that stunned pose.”
“So everyone devoured the Northern News? How’s it jammed up already?”
“It’s been a full day out. You unaware how swiftly word spreads these days? Slots vanished hours after the magazine dropped.”
Dejected and empty-handed, Barnes trudged back home.
The “Couples’ Night Package” soared beyond even my wildest projections.
“I could scarcely credit it,” Cecilia confessed.
She’d swung by the inn clutching the latest Northern News, intent on gabbing with Mrs. Marie and plugging the deal a touch.
But the throng clamoring for bookings left scant chance for conversation.
‘Northerners harbor hidden romantic souls?’
The inn’s rising renown played no small part, naturally.
Mrs. Marie had brimmed with zeal from the outset when I pitched the concept.
Far beyond mere meals and lodging, it promised a curated, heartfelt escape—one that clearly captivated her.
— “Let’s repurpose a chamber into a children’s play area.”
— “Why not pair wines with an array of dessert options?”
Unlike our “Menu of the Day” collaboration, she contributed ideas with fervor.
— “This is your inn, after all. Tailor it to your vision,” I encouraged.
Still, I insisted on a baseline rate.
— “Wine and the coach aren’t pricey… and we’ll mind the children in-house. Won’t it price out the guests?”
— “Value isn’t solely expense. Effort counts heavy. Bookings could overwhelm you, demanding extra hands. For anything beyond a trial run, price it to sustain top-tier hospitality.”
I’d urged prioritizing visitor satisfaction too—and judging by the frenzy, double the fee would’ve been fair.
“How do you dream up such gems, My Lady?” Cecilia wondered, eyes round with awe.
“Had you chased commerce, you’d outshine any merchants’ guild in riches!”
“I’d scarcely go hungry,” I quipped.
“My Lady, come now,” Cecilia chided, eyes sharpening.
“The Duchess of Blenheim would never know want, come what may.”
“Who knows if I’ll hold the title eternally? Fate twists unexpectedly.”
I’d spoken idly, yet Cecilia and Leta went rigid.
Their stares pinned me as if I’d heralded doom.
“…Why utter such a thing? It hints at fleeing the duchy…”
“Should I lose the Duchess mantle, I might open an inn in Rondoris,” I ribbed.
Meant to rattle Cecilia, the fancy nonetheless struck me as intriguing.
Post this isekai chapter, launching a venture didn’t sound half bad…
“My Lady!”
Cecilia’s face crumpled in dismay.
“Merely a stray thought.”
“Spare us such jests, I beg.”
Her brow furrowed tight.
“No soul could supplant Your Ladyship.”
Leta dipped her head in solemn accord nearby.
“Thank you—words or not.”
“I mean every syllable!”
Cecilia grumbled on until Leta pressed tea and treats into her hands, at last soothing her.
Meanwhile, Perel descended the manor’s grand staircase, humming softly.
He wrapped up duties ahead of schedule for once.
The Duchess’s arrival had scrambled his rhythms entirely.
Nights slated for overtime might end abruptly if his superior craved a twilight ramble.
Mornings eyed for early exits stretched long when dinners piled tasks on him.
‘Yet it beats trudging through winter chill nightly, as in old days…’
With Duke and Duchess sharing supper tonight, Perel earned an early release.
He savored the rare liberty—until
“Sir Perel.”
Ice edged the voice drifting from the entry stairs.
“L-Lady Cecilia?”
Drawing nearer, he found the Duchess’s attendant, expression frosty.
“Why loiter here…?”
“I’ve been awaiting you.”
“Me?”
Cecilia’s whisper sharpened.
“A word—in private.”
Thus Perel trailed her to a vine-shrouded garden nook.
“What’s afoot?” he ventured, palms clasped deferentially.
Cecilia exhaled briskly.
“Sir Perel, you harbor feelings for Her Ladyship, yes?”
“…Come again?”
“I do.”
She pressed on sans pause.
“Thus, I yearn for her utmost bliss here in the duchy—indefinitely.”
“Y-yes, naturally. As do I.”
“Her departure… the very thought chills me.”
“What’s this nonsense?”
Perel’s gaze flared wide.
“Did Her Ladyship mention quitting?”
“It wouldn’t shock me,” Cecilia snapped, proffering a faded bouquet.
The blooms, once vibrant, now hung brittle and spent.
“Recognize this?”
“A preserved posy?”
“Orphans by the lake crafted it for her.”
“Ah…”
Perel grasped little yet.
“She treasured it in her quarters ages. Then bade me dry it. Guess her words?”
“What’d she say?”
“Her very first bouquet—she meant to cherish it always.”
Perel’s eyes darted.
“You grasp the import?”
Cecilia’s stare bored in.
“It signals the Duchess received no blossoms from her husband post-wedding.”
Perel’s lip caught between teeth.
‘She demands too much of the Duke…’
Swords and beast trophies were that man’s sole deft domain.
“And I caught the maids gossiping…”
Cecilia’s tone dipped; Perel bent closer.
“…Has the Duke and Duchess truly not shared their wedding night?”