Previously
To ensure Jeanne remains motivated, Baldur arranges for her salary to be deposited into her family's bank account and provides a fund for her to improve her appearance.
At every meal, I sat Lady Ana on my lap, holding her hands in mine from behind, gently guiding her through the use of each utensil one by one. Just as I had done for my sister long ago. The most important thing here was to praise every small triumph lavishly, and never to scold a single mistake. Many believe that sparing the rod spoils the child, but my sister was prideful; when she blundered too often, she would refuse to do the thing at all.
Above all else, anyone naturally wants to listen to someone they love. People want to do what pleases those they hold dear, and to earn their approval. I am no different.
At first, I made no attempt to cling to rigid lessons or force rapid progress, focusing instead on winning Lady Ana’s trust. Yet she opened her heart to me far swifter than I could have imagined. In truth, it was no different for me. Here in this desolate expanse, I too starved for affection. I was lonely in this place. How could I not be? With nowhere to anchor my heart, this darling child had appeared as my pupil. I could not help but love her.
Though we began with the dull memorization of words, Lady Ana followed along admirably. Before long, she was able to read illustrated fairy tales. Where did I find such books, you ask? I discovered them in the Duke’s library. It seemed that so long as it was a book, no matter the kind, the Duke’s shelves held it.
Lady Ana’s reading advanced so quickly that I had to borrow the key from the housekeeper with increasing frequency. Even in this land famed for its bitter cold, the summer sunshine was gentle and warm. On fair-weather days, we often held our lessons outdoors, sitting in the nearby garden outside the mansion.
‘Stepping just outside should be fine, since I’m with my pupil…’
I had been cautious the first few times, but no one seemed to mind in the least.
And so, basking in the sun, I taught her the histories of great powers—including our own—as though reciting old legends. There was no telling, after all, what realm Lady Ana might one day rule as queen.
As I wove my tales, Lady Ana would often plait clover and wild blossoms into lush, intricate flower crowns. Her deft fingers clearly possessed ample practice. When I praised the crown’s beauty one day, she told me her mother had taught her.
“Teacher, I… I miss my mama…”
Tears welled in her wide eyes before long, and Ana began to weep, her shoulders trembling. When I gathered the child into my arms, tears slipped unbidden down my own cheeks as well.
‘I miss mine too. I shouldn't cry.’
Would I ever see my mother again? Or my sister?
We were holding an outdoor lesson on the very day His Grace returned to the estate. Catching sight of a rider approaching and gazing in our direction, I looked up, only to be struck with sudden astonishment. Astride a black stallion was a man clad in dark armor.
‘Who was he again? Ah!’
To tell the truth, I had entirely forgotten that he had even left the estate.
‘Wait… is that blood on his armor?’
He glared at us with chilling coldness and passed by as though we were a sight unfit for his eyes. Then, toward evening, I was summoned to his office and informed that I had become the ‘formal governess.’
‘Formal?’
I had not even realized I was merely temporary.
Becoming ‘formal’ certainly had its perks. Even as an exile, I could now earn money—a tremendous sum, at that. I had never received such a wage even while serving as a royal governess. Though I had insisted that Lady Ana’s success was none of my doing, he seemed convinced I had worked some manner of sorcery. My first thought had been how on earth I could spend so much coin here, but a solution presented itself before long.
Late that night after my audience with the Duke, just as I was preparing for bed, Madame Pauline came to my room.
And so, treated to tea and pastries in Madame Pauline’s room, I was asked how I wished to spend the single gold coin provided as my Dignity Maintenance Fund.
When the Duke had pointed out my attire, I had wanted nothing more than to crawl into a mouse hole and hide. What woman would not want to dress cleanly and neatly? Yet when I had asked the maid for clothing, all I received were three plain brown dresses and three sets of undergarments. I had rotated through those three, striving to keep them as tidy as possible, but it was a losing battle. Madame Pauline looked startled by my words.
The housekeeper rose and, from a large chest in the corner of the room, drew out several gorgeous gowns that appeared exceedingly costly even at a glance.
As she spoke, Madame Pauline shook out each gown to display them one after another. Her assessment was entirely accurate. Though substantial time had passed since they were first tailored for the mistress she served, they looked neither worn nor dated, carrying instead an air of refined elegance. Through the garments, the exquisite taste of their former owner was unmistakable.
Though I had declined, Madame Pauline insisted. Feeling it would be rude to refuse her goodwill repeatedly, I agreed to try it, which inevitably meant stripping down. Despite my belated embarrassment, I stood before her in only my shift. The gown she selected was made of deep green satin with a soft pink lining; though the neckline dipped somewhat low, the fabric shimmered into breathtaking hues depending on how the light caught it.
Once I put it on, the dress hugged my figure as though tailored precisely to my measurements.
Having helped me fasten the dress, Madame Pauline stood me before a full-length mirror and breathed a soft sigh bordering on wonder.
From the ring of keys hanging at her waist, she selected one and took it off.
Beyond that, Madame Pauline saw to my comfort in numerous small ways. From the housekeeper’s changed manner, I could feel in earnest that I was now truly a member of this household.
Hearing my inquiry, Madame Pauline simply tilted her head in utter bewilderment.
‘Of course not.’
Even with an armful of gowns that were plainly exquisite despite their years, the lingering question refused to leave my mind.
‘Why on earth must I run?’
And on the Training Ground used by the soldiers, not even the front grounds.
‘Why only me, when no other governess had to? Is it because I’m an exile? But why? When he just said I taught the child so well?’
I could not begin to comprehend my employer’s mind.
* * *
Waking at dawn the next morning, the thought struck me again.
‘Must I… must I really go out there and run?’
The suspicion that His Grace had merely played a cruel prank swirled inside my head. Yet even if going to the Training Ground meant being mocked for taking his words seriously and humiliated, I could not afford not to show up.
‘I don’t want to be sent to Fortification Work—whatever that actually entails…’
Unlike other governesses, if I were dismissed, I would not be sent home; I might be condemned to hard manual labor.
‘Besides, he’s paying me, isn’t he? A great deal of money, too… If it means sending coin to my family, I would sell my soul. What is a mere jog compared to that?’