Previously
Henrietta returns to the seal shop safely, having been 'preyed upon' by friendly merchants in Heresruen who fleeced her through hospitality and salesmanship. Kalinin surprises her by gifting her the expensive magic stone seal she wanted, claiming it is a reward for her help with his nephew's gift.
Mist spilled down the ridgeline like a gathering wave, blanketing the Kalatian estate.
With autumn fast approaching, the air was chilly morning and night. Baroness Alunde already felt drained whenever the temperature dropped, and the heavy dampness only weighed her down further. Waking early, she dragged herself into the parlor, sank into a cushioned chair with a sour frown, and sipped her tea.
“Madam, a letter arrived in the early hours.”
The maid stepped in to present the missive, smoothing the creases on the Baroness's brow.
“A letter?”
“Yes, Madam. The sender is listed as Matyas….”
“Matyas?!”
Startled, the Baroness bolted upright despite her leaden limbs and snatched the letter from the maid's hands. There was only one living soul who could still bear that family name.
She inspected the envelope; there it was, spelled out with unmistakable clarity: Matyas. A sinking feeling seized her, and the color drained from her face.
‘Henrietta! Just where are you, and what on earth are you doing…?!’
With trembling hands, Baroness Alunde ripped the envelope open and unfolded the parchment.
[Aunt, it’s me. I doubt you're all that curious about how I'm doing, but I thought I ought to send word at least once. I am doing well. Don't bother asking where I am. If you ever receive a notice of my death, please just come and arrange the funeral. Well, to be honest, I don't even expect that much. Just don't come looking for me.]
A tangle of anxiety and fury contorted the Baroness's face as she read the lines.
It was true that she had never shown much affection when raising her orphaned niece. But she had been forced to walk on eggshells around her husband and children; she hadn't been in a position to treat the girl kindly. Truly… she had had no choice.
That was why she had rejoiced with all her heart when Henrietta married into the Count's family. To think that the daughter of a ruined house could become a Countess! It had felt as though the nagging pang of guilt in her heart had finally been wiped away.
Baroness Alunde had assumed Henrietta would be just as delighted as she was. And, quite naturally, she had expected the girl to be grateful.
Yet that ill-mannered niece had shown no gratitude for such an advantageous match. Instead, she had beaten her husband, filed for divorce, and landed herself in prison, earning the reputation of an unprecedented villainess in the process.
“I intend to keep beating my husband in the future.”
At the sudden, unbidden memory of Henrietta's voice, the Baroness clutched her racing heart. Even now, the mere thought of that courtroom made her flush with humiliation and sent her pulse soaring. The sheer fact that she shared blood with such a creature mortified her.
Henrietta had always been a headache. No matter what one's upbringing was, wasn't a woman's happiest path to marry well and live quietly as a devoted wife and wise mother within the secure bounds of a home? What a comfortable, bountiful life that was.
Were it not for Henrietta, she herself could have enjoyed a far more peaceful life. Though she had lived in utmost deference since marrying into the barony as an impoverished noblewoman with nothing to her name, she had still enjoyed plenty of privileges as the Baroness.
Yet from the moment she took Henrietta in, she had been forced to watch her husband's every mood. Whenever Henrietta caused a disturbance in the house, the Baroness had trembled in terror.
She had endured all that hardship hoping to finally hold her head high with a Countess for a niece. There was a limit to bringing shame upon a family name, but the girl had blackened it beyond recognition. And now, this?
‘Doing well? That ungrateful wretch! If you've been released, you should have come straight back home! Still haven't come to your senses, have you?!’
With nowhere else to turn, the girl was supposed to have crept back to this house. The plan had been to pack her straight back off to Count Zalt. Yet here she was, refusing to reveal her whereabouts and telling them not to look for her!
As the Baroness nervously bit her lip, her husband, newly awake, stepped into the parlor.
Startled by his presence, she instinctively tucked the letter behind her back.
“What are you hiding so frantically?”
Baron Alunde asked, his gaze narrowing with suspicion.
“It's nothing. Just a letter from a relative.”
Fearing she might arouse unnecessary doubt, she brought the letter forward, holding it demurely in both hands. Even though the name Matyas was emblazoned on the front, it hardly mattered. Knowing her husband, the name Matyas would never bring Henrietta to mind; to him, Henrietta's surname was still Zalt.
Sure enough, the Baron merely glanced at the envelope before asking:
“Do you have any relatives left?”
“A distant… very distant relative. You wouldn't know them even if I told you. They sent word after a long silence to say their daughter is getting married.”
“I had no idea.”
Brushing it off, the Baron took a seat. He sipped the tea the maid set before him and remarked offhandedly:
“I take it this relative serves in the Krakow military.”
“…Pardon?”
“The seal on the envelope. That's the insignia of the Krakow military, is it not?”
Her husband pointed toward the torn flap of the envelope. The unfamiliar motif encircling the word 'Express' was partially damaged where the paper had been ripped open.
“A fledgling breaking from an egg with its wings spread is the Krakow family crest, while the Krakow military uses an insignia where the bird's feathers form a circle.”
‘Krakow? She's in the Krakow military? Henrietta?!’
The Baroness turned ghastly pale. She could immediately fathom why Henrietta had enlisted there.
‘Have you lost your mind? Enlisting in such a perilous place? Do you intend to end up like your father?! You're insane! I knew you had gone mad when you caused that uproar and divorced, but this is simply throwing your life away!’
Had she been alone, she would have screamed at the top of her lungs, but her husband's presence forced her to swallow her cries, making her complexion look all the worse.
Never one to scrutinize his wife's expressions, the Baron unfurled his newspaper and pressed indifferently:
“They are serving in the military, correct?”
“Yes, of course. You know what my family's heritage is like. You must be hungry, aren't you? Let's have breakfast.”
Forcing a smile, she steered her husband toward the dining room.
True to the Baron's austere philosophy—or rather, his stingy nature—the breakfast spread was as sparse as could be.
Though there was hardly anything to eat, Baroness Alunde dined with deliberate, elegant slowness before laying down her fork and venturing tentatively:
“About that relative… We parted when we were children, and I've missed them dearly. Since their daughter is marrying, I was thinking of paying a visit.”
“Do as you wish. You are a baroness in name; see that you prepare an appropriate gift.”
“Thank you.”
For her penny-pinching husband to offer permission—and even suggest a gift first—was an unexpected relief that lightened her heart.
‘Henrietta, don't you dare move an inch. I'm dragging you right back out of there.’
As soon as breakfast ended, the Baroness hurried to pack for the journey.
Watching the maids bustle about with luggage, the Baron summoned his secretary.
“Something is foul here. My wife always shuddered at the mere mention of Krakow, and I've never heard of any relatives living there. Follow her. I want to know where she goes and whom she meets.”
“I shall see if there is a suitable servant among the household staff.”
“Go yourself.”
“Me, sir?”
The secretary blinked in surprise. The Alunde barony held wealth far beyond its noble rank, and the secretary responsible for managing those assets was hardly idle enough to spend his days tailing the mistress.
“How can I trust the others? You know as well as I do how loose the servants' tongues are.”
Taking in the deep scowl on his master's face, the secretary had no trouble reading the Baron's wrath. It was obvious what this stingy lord suspected.
‘That stifling woman wouldn't have the wits or nerve to carry on an affair to begin with…’
Still, an employee had no choice but to obey when the master gave an order. Nodding loosely, the secretary quickly excused himself from the study.
Left alone in his armchair, the Baron mulled over his wife's behavior that morning. Ever since their marriage, she had severed all ties with her past, whether friends or family. Yet out of the blue, she claimed she was going to see a relative? Did she truly think he was foolish enough to swallow such a lie?
Come to think of it, she had been acting strangely of late—averting her eyes whenever she looked at him, zoning out in thought, and jumping out of her skin at the slightest touch. Women who behaved like that always had one thing in common.
‘First the niece, and now the aunt looks set to get a divorce.’
A quiet fury simmered within the Baron.